I am a man who has grown from a son
Been crucified by enraged women
I am a son who was raised by such men
I'm often reminded of the fools I'm among
And I have been blamed
And I have repented
I'm working my way toward our union mended

-"A Man" by Alanis Morissette


"This is starting to get boring."

Spike was not at all happy with his lot in Woodridge right about now. His major problems consisted of ghosts (which were incorporeal), an unknown ex-girlfriend with a vengeance demon to use against him (which could strike from anywhere), and a bunch of whiney half-assed vampires and demons (which were an insult to his talents). Of those three, there was only one that provided for any spot of decent physical violence.

After staking the current vamp that he had pinned down, he looked up to see that there was just one left. A girl. He was no sexist, but he couldn't help but offer a handicap at this point. "All right, come on," he told the brunette who was backing away. "Which will it be? A ten-second head start or me going blindfolded?"

Instead of responding to him, she merely hissed and turned on her heels to run away. With an irritated sigh, Spike hurled his stake at her. Approaching her as she stumbled and turned to dust, he said, "If you wanted the head start, you should've asked."

Picking up his stake, Spike kept a sharp eye out. The downside to fighting vampires is that they didn't leave any bodies behind for a head count, meaning that there was a good chance of one of them escaping under the radar. While Spike enjoyed a surprise, most of the vampires who copped out of a fight were sniveling little wimps. He mostly just killed them to put them out of their misery.

Hearing a sound behind him, he whirled around and put down the stake, hoping for some more hand-to-hand combat rather than a quick dusting. With a roll of his eyes and a sound of disgust, Spike muttered, "Oh, I almost don't mind ramming this through your torso. What the hell are you doing here?"

Robbie Wilson had sprinted out from behind a thick grouping of trees. With a grin, he responded, "Figured I'd go for a jog around the park and I happened to smell trouble. Took care of a couple of vamps for you."

"You?" Spike asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Robbie replied, clearly pleased with himself. Putting his hands in his pockets, he reveled, "I wasn't sure what parts from the movies are true, but when one of them turned to dust when he fell on a tree bough, I figured the wooden stakes were a good bet. I hope they weren't, like, cousins of yours or something."

"Think I used to play poker with one of them," Spike remarked. "Might've owed him some money, so you did me a favor in the long run. Still, you can keep your distance, Hercules. I don't want a reputation for tag-teaming with a werewolf."

"Why not?" Robbie asked. "I mean, you said there's no bad blood between us outside of Hollywood, right? So since I'm a wolf who can control most of my transformations and you're a kickass vampire with a soul, there's no reason why we shouldn't join forces and-"

"You're not a ponce, are you?" Spike interrupted. "I've had enough of male groupies with that Andrew twerp."

"Ponce? Is that gay or something?"

With a sigh, Spike answered, "Yeah."

"Um, hello? Have you seen my ex-girlfriend?"

"Now that you mention it...."

His pride gone, Robbie seemed to deflate a little when he commented, "Well, that's a great segue." As Spike started to walk, Robbie followed along besides him. "Marissa's gone AWOL, hasn't she? Ever since the day she told me she never wanted to see me again?"

"Either that," Spike remarked, "or she's a woman of her word and simply resolves to never see you again." With a sideways look at the tall man at his side, he added, "Hasn't come around my crypt in a few nights. Figured that when she realized there was more going on in Woodridge than vamps and ghosts-and that it was affecting people that she liked to call 'normal'-she's gone into hiding."

"This is all my fault," Robbie bemoaned. "If I had just gotten in the cage before the moon was out, I would've never attacked her and Oz, and she would've never known about me being a wolf or about Violet being a faerie-"

"And then the lot of you could still be concealed behind your masks," Spike reminded him. "Nice plan, Robert. Girls just love a man who hides from who he really is and who lies to them." Seeing that Robbie was deeply concerned about this, Spike made an annoyed sound as he added, "Look, so she never wants to see you again. So what? Lots of girls said they never wanted to see me again. I never listened, and they never regretted that."

"What, you're suggesting I just show up at her house?"

"Or you could sit on her porch and wait for her to pass by."

"She'll think I'm a stalker!"

"A lurker," Spike corrected. "Stalking implies hunting. Provided you're not aiming to tackle her in her front yard for a bestial roll around the hay, you're not stalking. And if that is your aim, would you mind if I watch?"

Disgusted, Robbie asked, "What, you get off on watching other people go at it?"

"Well, dirty movies aside," Spike replied, "not particularly. But I would rather enjoy watching her kick your ass if you attempted to throw yourself at her. She's got a nice jab working for her, and if it weren't for the fact that my reproductive bits don't reproduce, I'd be afraid that she'd hit me hard enough to make me sterile." With a nostalgic grin, he sighed, "Those were some good times."

"You're talking about fighting with my ex-girlfriend as though the two of you were flirting," Robbie realized. "I mean, please tell me there's no kind of sexual tension between the two of you, right? Although, I really don't want to think about the possibility that you just get turned on by violence."

"Hello," Spike told him. "Vampire."

"Hi," Robbie responded. "Werewolf. And I still think it's nasty."

"You'll come around," Spike attested. "Give it enough time, and the darkness doesn't look so dark."

"Is that what happened to you?" Robbie asked. "I mean, you were human once, right? Just a regular guy living in England, doing whatever it is you normal English guys do." With a considering glance to Spike, he queried, "Do you remember the first person you killed? What that was like?"

Stopping in his tracks, Spike said nothing for a moment. Finally turning to Robbie, he kept his voice low but stern as he said, "Let's make this clear. There are two things I don't like talking about, particularly not with people who irritate me. One of those things-as you already know-is my sire, the other one is my mum." Continuing on his way, he added, "Keep that in mind."

Robbie stared after him, thoroughly confused. "Hey," he said jogging behind Spike. "What does that have to do with the first person you ki-" Startled by the revelation, he froze in his tracks. His mother. Spike had killed his own.... "Oh," Robbie breathed lowly.

Sensing that Robbie wasn't following after him, Spike put his stake away. Without looking back at the younger man, he told him, "We can make a deal. You stay out of my way until I have business with you and your pack, and I'll pay the pup a visit and see how she's doing. Since you're not man enough for the job, I doubt she'll have anything favorable to say about you anyway."

Robbie was only half-listening, as he was thinking about Spike's relationship with both his mother and his sire. He had hinted that the sire had been a woman, so had they been romantically involved? Had Spike killed her, just as he had his mother? And was it natural for a vampire to kill his own family, or was that a sign that Spike was far more evil than Robbie had thought?

"Yeah," he replied, not sure what he was agreeing to. "Okay."


Marissa hated her work-study.

Because of classes, she couldn't work during the day. And because she didn't rely on her mother to make tuition payments for her, she couldn't not work at all. Spending her evenings filing records in the bursar's office was absolutely mind-numbing, but it wasn't the work that bothered her. It was the long walk home after sunset. It hadn't been much of an inconvenience two weeks before... but that's because she had been blissfully unaware of the increase in demonic activity in Woodridge.

With a stake in one hand to fend off vampires and her mace in the other to fend off the other things that went bump in the night, Marissa found that she was still jumpier than usual since the night she had discovered her old boyfriend was a werewolf. Even with the realization that he had broken up with her strictly to protect her, Marissa still made it a point to change her class route every day to avoid bumping into him or any of the other non-humans she had discovered. So far, her efforts at evading them had been successful.

Halfway up her driveway, she stopped. So much for avoiding the non-humans. "Well, gee," she remarked, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to get a better look at the familiar silhouette leaning against the tree in her yard. "Oddly enough, my Spike-senses are tingling."

"Satisfying tingle, I'd wager," Spike replied with a smirk, pushing himself away from the tree and into full view under her porch light. "Glad to see you haven't forgotten about your friendly neighborhood vampire. No calls, no letters; I was beginning to think you didn't care."

"You? Beginning to think? What a novel idea." Uncrossing her arms and dropping her sarcastic tone, she continued towards her front door. "Please take your thinking cap and use it somewhere else." When Spike moved to block her path, Marissa stopped, aggravated. "Okay, what part of me telling you to leave didn't make it through your skull?"

"A certain mongrel's been pining over you," Spike told her. "He hasn't seen hair nor hide of you in almost a week. And since I don't mind getting a peek at your hide every now and again, I told him I'd come by and make sure you're still in one piece."

"My 'hide' isn't meant for public exhibition," Marissa shot back. "If you're just here to make sure I've still got a pulse, then the answer is yes. And if you try to get any closer to get a better look at that pulse, you did manage to teach me enough in the way of fighting to take you down."

"Ease off, pet," Spike started.

"No," Marissa told him, withdrawing her stake once again. "You ease off."

"We've been through this," Spike said, backing up towards her door as she approached. "If it came down to a matter of survival, I'll break your arms before I let you kill me. I may be a good guy, but I'm not that good."

"Well, lucky for both of us that I don't want to kill you," Marissa responded, climbing her porch steps as she still tried to get past him. "I just want to get into my house. And if I need to stab you in the throat to do it, hey, added bonus!"

"The throat?" Spike asked as he moved enough to allow Marissa to cautiously unlock her door. "That's rich. You've gone above wanting to kill vampires to just sticking holes in them and watching them bleed? Real sadistic streak you've got. Learned that from your kin?"

Opening her door, Marissa glared at him and explained, "Xander's the one you have to thank for me not trying to dust you right now. Before he left, he pretty much told me that you've got a purpose here in town, and he asked me nicely not to kill you on sight, unless you start going evil. Does annoying count as evil? Because at this point, I'll take any excuse I can get."

"Captain Patch is pulling his weight to make sure I don't kick it?" Spike mused. "Well, that's a lovely turn of events. Our little man-to-man the other night must've set me in a better light." Seeing Marissa's bemused glance, he hastily corrected, "Man-to-man talk, you mindless bit. Never thought I'd see the day where I'd say this to a woman, but get your mind out of the gutter, all right?"

"Speaking of the gutter," she told him, "I hear it's lovely there this time of night. You want to go and set up a timeshare or something while I go inside and forget I ever met you?" She moved to step inside her house, but stopped when Spike grabbed her arm. Wanting to flinch, Marissa instead used her fear and surprise in casting a heated glare towards him.

"When exactly did I make myself out to be the enemy, pet?" Spike inquired. "When I chased off the evil ghost of one of your former friends before he drove you mad? When I agreed to your ridiculous request for training despite the fact that I have better ways to spend my nights? Or perhaps it was when I pulled dear old Hercules away before he had a chance to use your liver as a chew toy?" When Marissa angrily pulled herself out of his grasp, Spike held out his arms and cried, "Mind the pun, but throw a dog a bone, yeah? Near as I can figure it, you don't much mind me palling around you and yours, but every time you remember that I need blood to survive, you suddenly go all Anita Blake on me."

"Anita Blake ended up sleeping with more vampires and lycanthropes than she killed," Marissa responded distastefully.

"Well, there's always hope, isn't there?" Spike joked.

With a cringe, Marissa stepped into her house and muttered, "You're disgusting."

"Yeah, you've said that to me before, pet," Spike told her. "And even so, you still had conversations with me about religion and movies and the whole lot. So unless you think there are monsters who enjoy a good discourse about the origins of Christianity before they flail and boil their victims, you know I'm not a monster."

"You're a va-," Marissa cried, but stopped before her voice could alert the neighbors. After making sure no one was around, she turned back to Spike and hissed, "You're a vampire. I don't know if you've noticed, but those monster movies we were talking about the other night consisted of movies about vampires. By nature, you are a monster."

"By nature, I'm a man," Spike retorted. Putting a hand to his heart, he sharply continued, "I was born as a man. The soul within me is that of a man. But for a good portion of my life, that soul was gone. That was when I was a monster. That was when I did things that'd make you lose sleep, if not your lunch." Putting his hand down, he went on, "I can't atone for what I did, Marissa. So I'm not going to strive for something I'll never be able to reach. I'm not going to waste the time that I could spend saving the world by standing her on your doorstep every night, trying to get you to trust me. Buffy was the first to trust me. Then Angel. Now it looks like Patch and Oz are willing to jump on the bandwagon. But if you don't want to trust me, if you don't want to believe that there are worse things coming to Woodridge than one little ensouled vamp and a couple of wolves and a pixie, then by all means, go inside. Close the door. Walk away."

After his speech, Spike watched her reaction carefully. She wasn't a Slayer, nor was she any other kind of superhuman. She was only a girl, hateful and frightened; neither of those qualities had ever appealed to Spike. Yet he couldn't deny that it ticked him off to see that she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him, wanted to even continue on with their training, but wouldn't allow herself that just because he was something other than human.

Seeing her expression soften somewhat, Spike followed suit and reached into his inside jacket pocket. Getting out the compact umbrella designed with rubber ducks that she had loaned him the week before, he said, "Got something for you. If you're willing to come out here and take it."

Spying the umbrella, Marissa's eyes met Spike's. Taking a step back, she hoarsely whispered, "Why? You're not willing to step inside and give it to me?"

Thinking that he had managed to get through to her, Spike smirked and moved to step inside. His smile fell away when he realized that he couldn't. Looking around the doorframe and testing the threshold with both hands, he found that he was kept back by a familiar invisible barrier despite having been invited into the house before.

"A present from Xander," Marissa explained, quickly snatching the umbrella out of his hand as though afraid he'd pull her out of the safety of her home. "It undoes a vampire's invitation. Funny; I guess your soul doesn't have much sway in this house."

Before letting the door slam in his face, she told him, "That's how much I trust you, Spike."


"Okay, I'm just a little confused," Harmony confessed.

"Only a little?" Sadrahd sarcastically murmured under his breath. Completing the circle of sandalwood twigs around the candles in the center of the room, he stood up and looked at her. "It's m-magic, Harmony. If you don't practice it, y-you're supposed to be confused."

Thinking on this, Harmony smiled. "Oh. Good." Watching the vengeance demon light the candles in the center of the circle, she remarked, "I'm so glad I'm dating you and not Spike right now. He would've just been like, 'You're too stupid to understand, Harmony. Go... bloody... away.'... Or something." Skipping towards him, she laid her hands on his chest and dreamily added, "But you, you just sit back and do all the thinking for us, all without making me feel like less of a woman. You're the best, Rahddy-kins!"

Grabbing her hands, Sadrahd replied, "Harmony, I appreciate th-the sentiment, b-but we should really focus on the spell right now."

"Oh," Harmony stated. After a moment's thought, she asked, "Well, can we have sex later then?"

Gaping at her, Sadrahd was too stunned to answer before finally responding with, "Yes. Of course." Seeing her satisfied smile as she turned away, he had a good feeling that he knew why Spike had dumped her. Why a vampire as temperamental as he was hadn't killed her by now was another matter altogether. Trying to ignore that, he turned his attention to the ritual he was practicing. "Pass me the jar of blood I set aside."

Stopping, Harmony widened her eyes and asked, "Um... you mean the jar you told me to bring in?"

"Yes."

Biting her fingernail nervously, Harmony gave Sadrahd an apologetic look. After a moment, Sadrahd disbelievingly asked, "You didn't... oh balls, you did, didn't you?"

"I was hungry!"

"Harmony, th-that was vampire blood!"

"Oh, ew," Harmony cringed. "I thought it had just gone bad or something. At least I didn't drink all of it."

"You didn't?" Sadrahd queried, relieved.

"No," she reluctantly brought up. "I dumped the rest of it in the sewer."

Shifting uncomfortably under Sadrahd's glare, Harmony readied herself for the screaming that she was used to from the previous men in her life. It really wasn't her fault this time! When you tell a hungry vampire to grab a jar of blood, what else is that vampire going to do?

She was pleasantly surprised when Sadrahd merely sighed and told her, "C-come here, Harmony." Stepping into the circle once again, she allowed Sadrahd to take one of her hands as he calmly stated, "We're aiming to b-bring back a v-v-v-very important enemy of Spike's. Someone who won't just kill him, but make sure that all of his friends suffer, including the Harris girl. I want her to go through so much p-pain, it'll bring Xander Harris back here in hysterics."

Harmony cried out at the sudden sting as Sadrahd used a small pocketknife to cut a deep gash into the palm of her hand. "I will not let you ruin my fun," he told her darkly. "If you m-mess this up, I'll gladly go to Spike and get him to make a wish of his own regarding you. Understood?"

"You're just as mean as Spike is," Harmony realized.

"Spike doesn't have my powers," Sadrahd told her. "I'm meaner. By a long shot."

This insight brought another pleased smile to Harmony's lips. It took a while for it to dawn on Sadrahd that, as a vampire, of course the promise of being "mean" was going to be intriguing, if not flat-out arousing. Before he could allow himself to get carried away in that lustful look in her eyes, Sadrahd shook his head and look down at her hand, squeezing it so that droplets of blood fell into the flames of the candles in between them. She murmured a quiet "ow," but nothing else.

"Are you sure you don't know Spike's r-real name?" Sadrahd asked. "It works better if his true name is included in the incantation."

Shaking her head, Harmony answered, "I've heard it once or twice, but I can't remember. It was something boring, like John or Mike or something." Pondering to herself, she listed off, "David, George, Wilson... oh! Wilson! No, wait... that's not it, either."

"It's okay," he told her, taking each of her hands in his as the darkness seemed to begin closing in. "M-maybe it'll work just as well this way. We're calling to the enemy of his Spike persona, n-not his human self. Now keep quiet. My stuttering's bad enough without worrying about any other slip-ups."

Harmony nodded as he closed his eyes. She had been very proud of him, as he had managed to greatly reduce his stutter as they prepared for the spell. She'd have to figure out some way to reward him for that. And oh look; his Latin was just so cute! It was like dating one of those nerds from the chess club for help on a chemistry test! ... only, with less gross and more dark magic.

As Sadrahd continued his chanting, Harmony thought long and hard. She had heard Spike's real name before, plenty of times. It had been on file at Wolfram and Hart, hadn't it? Not that she had actually read any of those files while she was working there, but she knew she had come across it once or twice.

The flames between their feet began to crackle as the darkness nearly enveloped the two of them. Sadrahd could feel the dark energy rising and forced himself not to stutter. So far, so good. Bringing this thing back would be complicated enough without him or Harmony inadvertently messing up. His demonic face forcing itself out, Sadrahd threw his head back and called out, "Reverto. Reverto suus pessimus hostilis,-"

"William!"

Blinking, Sadrahd gaped up at Harmony in horror. Blissfully unaware of what she had just done, she was grinning proudly and nodding her head. "That's his name," she proclaimed. "William. I can't remember his last name, though-"

"Harmony, you idiot!" Sadrahd managed to scream just when an intense green light flashed and something akin to a tremendous bolt of electricity knocked both of them on opposite sides of the room. Sadrahd crashed against the stone wall of the lair and fell to the floor.

Forcing himself onto his elbows, Sadrahd watched the shadowy figure materialize in the center of the circle as it slowly took form amidst the black smoke. Oh, no. Oh, this wasn't good. They hadn't brought back Spike's worst enemy. Because of Harmony's interruption, they had brought back something else entirely.

And that something else was going to cause one hell of a series of punitive damages.


Walking in through the backdoor of Jordy's house, Spike gawked at the people gathered in the kitchen.

Spotting Oz, Spike pointed towards Robbie and Violet and asked, "What the hell are they doing here?" The younger werewolf and the faerie looked up at him, then glanced back to Oz as though waiting for him to explain.

"Relax, Peroxide Man," Oz told him, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Cousin Jordy's a civilian, remember? He's allowed to have friends over. Just so happens that they have a test to study for."

"Oh, bollocks!" Spike scoffed.

"No, it's true," Robbie insisted.

"No, it's not," Violet contradicted.

"Violet!" Robbie argued.

"What?" Violet asked. As though realizing something, she corrected, "Oh, I meant it's not true for me. For Robbie, yes. He and Jordy are undergrads in the same psych class. Not me. I'm a grad student. I'm just here because Robbie said you were going to talk to Marissa, so I decided to tag along and see what the latest word on her is."

"Oh, so this is the Marissa Harris Fan Club," Spike realized. "And here I thought the lot of you were aiming on becoming the next generation of Scoobies."

"Of what?" Robbie asked.

"Long story," Spike responded.

"Our nickname when we used to save the world," Oz elaborated.

"Or not so long," Spike amended. To Robbie, he said, "Your name didn't come up in conversation with the pup. Truth be told, no one's did. She still expects to see us all hiding in her closet as she goes to sleep, and even worked some mojo to keep my out of the house."

"Oh yeah, Xander offered to do the spell here, too," Oz revealed.

"And you didn't take him up on that?" Spike asked, surprised.

"Figured it'd just be more fun to stake you if you get vicious," Oz replied.

"Oh, it's gonna be loads of fun working with you, Sparky," Spike bitterly answered. "Speaking of, send the kiddies off to their study group so we can have ourselves a talk. This ghost business isn't going to solve itself, you know."

"Ooh, we have ghosts?" Violet eagerly asked.

"Come on, Vy," Robbie told her, pulling her away. "It's none of our business."

"Says you," Violet replied, arching away from him. "I don't have to study." Turning to Spike and Oz, she added, "Besides, now that at least the group of you know what I am and can accept me regardless, I should view you as my real friends and do what I can to help. Especially considering that you could use what little magic I've got on hand to your benefit." Quirking an eyebrow at Spike, she mentioned, "That is what you told me last week, right?"

"It does sound suspiciously like logic," Oz remarked.

Spike thought about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Couldn't hurt. Trade in a redheaded witch for a redheaded pixie. Bone up on your magic, and you might actually be of some use. We've reached our werewolf quota, however, so Hercules can go crack the books."

While Oz was mildly annoyed by the constant references to Willow ever since Spike entered the picture, he was good at keeping his irritations out of the conversation. "Jordy's still looking for his psych book," he told Robbie. "If you've got a machete, you can find your way around his room."

"Joy of joys," Robbie remarked sarcastically. "I'm going to go immerse myself in the inner workings of the occipital lobe."

"Not literally, I hope," Violet called as Robbie left the kitchen. "Brain fluids smell funny." Seeing the perplexed glances she got from Oz and Spike, she quickly explained, "I'm a pre-med student."

"Magic and first-aid," Spike noted. "The Powers That Be finally cut us a bit of a break."

"The Powers That What?" Violet asked, surprised.

"Long story," Spike repeated.

"Balance the cosmic scales so that good triumphs," Oz elucidated.

"Where in the hell did everyone learn to be so terse?" Spike inquired.

"Tibetan monks," Oz replied. This time, it was his turn to receive the odd looks. "Well, maybe I didn't learn it from them, but they helped." Hoisting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, he asked Spike, "So what's the latest word on our otherworldly visitors?"

"They got their first victim," Spike answered. "First newsworthy one, anyway. A woman by the name of Eileen Taylor, age thirty-eight. She ran home and claimed that her dead husband revealed he'd purposely walked into the street and allowed himself to get mowed down because he couldn't stand her cheating on him anymore. She rambled the whole story out to her twelve-year-old son just before hanging herself."

"In front of her son?" Violet asked, aghast.

"The papers never said," Spike replied.

"Yeah, I think Aunt Maureen was telling me about this," Oz realized, reaching over for the newspaper on the countertop adjacent to him. Sifting through the pages, he quickly found the article and skimmed through it. "Got it. Husband's name was Maxwell Taylor. He was killed in an automobile accident three years ago." Taking a pen out of his pocket, Oz set about to underlining various bits of information from the article.

"So, what, do we try to contact Maxwell from the great beyond?" Violet asked. "Because honestly, I suck at the Ouija board. Or are we putting his name up with a list of other ghosts, and see if we can find some common ground?"

"I'm not one for Ouija boards myself," Oz agreed, still scribbling. "Unfortunately, we don't have the names of any other ghosts."

"Yes we do," Spike suddenly remembered. "Joe Pollock. A university student, died a few months ago."

"Joe?!" Violet blurted out. "No way. He was like my little brother."

"So you knew him?" Oz asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "He had a class with me and Marissa."

"Anything stand out about him near the end?" Spike queried. "Mannerisms, clothing, a sudden interest in black magic or declaring his eternal servitude to a heathen god of some sort?"

With a reproachful glare to Spike, Violet responded, "Joe Pollock was as normal as normal kids come. Outside from peppering the occasional bland conversation with an amusing anecdote, he would usually fade into the background like a piece of scenery."

"So you're saying he was ignored while he was alive," Oz discerned.

"What? No!" Violet protested. "No, he had friends. Plenty of friends. But not so much that he'd be considered popular. He got good grades, but not enough to be an honor student. He was a happy kid with a good home life, but there was just nothing exceptional about him or the way he died."

"Murder's always exceptional," Spike told her.

"He wasn't murdered," Violet argued. "He had an accident. Fell down the-"

"Yeah, I know, fell down the stairs, broke his scrawny little neck," Spike interrupted. "And he fell down the stairs because he and dear old dad were having a fight. It was no accident, sweetheart. His ghost attacked your friend Marissa in the cemetery less than two weeks ago. Showed her the whole sordid story. If it weren't for me, who knows what she would have done?"

As Violet silently reeled from the horrifying news, Oz answered, "She could have sought out his dad and done something to him. Enacted some kind of revenge."

"Or she could've felt guilty for not seeing the signs of domestic abuse and done something to herself," Spike stated. "Our own problems are hard enough. Being forced to experience someone else's troubles-especially when it results in death-can be enough to break a normal person. Lucky for me, I've had some experience when it comes to countless years of guilt and torment, so I'm virtually immune. Fair play to the immortal bloke with the soul."

"I don't believe this," Violet breathed. "I just... I just don't believe that Joe could be capable of... of fighting. Joe couldn't have died that way, he couldn't have done that to Marissa."

"Well if he didn't," Oz asked, "who did?"

"Death does a lot to a person," Spike proclaimed. "You're stuck in a hell dimension enduring what seems like centuries worth of torment, and if you happen to find yourself back in the world of the living, you discover that only a few short days have passed since you were declared a stiff. Except for the few who manage to make their way into some place akin to what we know of as Heaven, the dead have a natural resentment towards the living. If this Maxwell bloke suddenly found himself face-to-face with the woman he blamed for his death, no doubt he'd be cruel. And if our boy Joe sees someone his own age walking about with a pulse, jealousy's sure to be on the rise."

"So maybe we already have a common link between the ghosts," Oz realized, putting the newspaper down. "They're all dead."

"Diehard optimist here," Violet declared, raising her hand. "You're not going to convince me that the very best among us get into some Paradise while the rest of us become warped, twisted ghosts who get our kicks from other people's misery."

"She's got a point," Spike agreed. "The dead are flawed, at best. But inherently evil? Not quite, and especially not this common. Someone's pulling the strings."

"And I believe we're at that place commonly referred to as square one," Oz remarked, tossing his pen on the counter. He was about to suggest that they head to the library in hopes of finding demonology texts halfway as useful as the ones Giles had, but stopped when the lights suddenly went out.

"Um, guys?" Violet asked, reaching out in front of her.

"It's okay," Oz told her, jumping down off the counter. "Probably someone just blew a fuse or something."

Spike, however, didn't think the answer was so simple. And for someone as powerful as a "transcended" wolf, he was fairly certain that Oz's words were just for Violet's benefit. Moving towards the door, Spike opened it and stepped outside into the yard. No porch lights were on. The streetlights were dead. And judging by the way the air tingled against his skin, he was fairly certain that the source of this wasn't a fuse box.

"Hey Oz," Jordy called as he headed down the stairs, "the lights went out."

"Astute observation," Oz noted, stepping in besides Spike to observe the neighborhood.

Feeling Jordy and Robbie's presences behind him, Spike called out to Violet. When she stepped behind him, he asked, "You lived in town your whole life?"

"Huh? Oh, no. Most of it, though. Moved here when I was three."

"Get your jacket," Spike told her. "You too, Hercules." Turning around, he looked at Jordy's thin silhouette besides that of his older cousin's. "You stay here and keep your mum company. Oz, grab a set of torches."

When Jordy asked where they were going, Oz replied, "Ghost hunting, apparently."


"Rahd, what did we do?"

Pacing, Sadrahd initially ignored Harmony's query as he wondered what to do about the confused figure that was coughing in the smoke. "W-w-w-we did nothing," he finally attested, his stutter more pronounced due to his rage. "Y-y-y-y-you. All you. D-d-damn it, Harmony! D'Hoffryn's g-g-going to skin me alive if we d-don't fix this!" Stopping, he realized that he had more important concerns than the backlash from his superiors. "That is, if the P-P-Powers That Be don't get us first."

"Whoa, hold on, 'us'?" Harmony asked, stepping away from her corner of the room and closer to Sadrahd. "If those dumb Powers That Whatever get involved, I'm not sticking around for that. There is no us. I already escaped their goody-goody wrath when I broke up with Marcus from Wolfram and Hart. And he was a lot better in bed than you are, so I'm not going to stand by my man if it involves-"

"Is it physically impossible for you to just shut up?" Sadrahd screamed. He was satisfied with her shocked expression, though he knew that it probably had more to do with his scarred vengeance demon face than any fear she actually had of him. "It's your self-involved b-babbling that got us in this mess in the first p-place!"

Crossing her arms over her chest, Harmony huffed and turned away from him. "I don't see what the big deal is, anyway," she murmured, looking at the being slowly stepping out from around the circle of sandalwood. "I mean, he's just some skinny little dork that we poofed here by accident. I don't get why that should be such a huge-" She cut herself off, finally able to see his face. "Wait a minute.... I know him!"

Seeming hopeful, the stranger asked, "Do you? I don't see how that's possible, but I'd be much obliged if you'd tell me how we know one another and how I've come to find myself here." With a look around the underground lair, he added, "Judging by your dialects, clothing and the... unusual décor, it seems like a significant departure from the alleys of London."

"Why are you talking like that?" Harmony inquired, crinkling her nose. Whirling around to look at Sadrahd, she found that she was both worried and yet also excited when she asked, "Did something happen to him? Did we, like, make him all crazy in the brain again?"

"No, you insufferable d-d-dolt," Sadrahd sneered. "Y-you interrupted my spell, remember? I w-w-was supposed to b-bring back Spike's worst enemy. Instead, when I was g-going to integrate that n-name in the incantation, you called out William." Turning to Harmony, he raised his voice and pointed to the newcomer as he chastised, "You said his true name in the m-middle of a spell! Th-that's not Spike standing there; that's William! That's his human self!"

"I say," William brought up, taking a step towards Sadrahd, "I don't understand what's going on around here, but there's no reason to speak so harshly towards a young lady." Seeing the demonic face that spun around to glower at him, William made a startled sound and jumped back. "Then again, I've been wrong before."

"No way!" Harmony exclaimed, heading towards William. Stopping only inches away from his face, she observed him carefully as she marveled, "This is what he looked like back then? No wonder he decided to go blond." With an excited squeal, she put a finger on his left eyebrow and told Sadrahd, "Look, it's true! His adorable little scar's gone!"

"Miss," William said, uncomfortably backing away, "you must be thinking of someone else. I've no scar, and to be frank, your and your... friend's behavior seems to be bordering on madness. On the other hand, I'm the one who stepped into a fog and suddenly found myself in a cavern with a beautiful woman and an imp." A strong blush rose to his cheeks as he looked to Harmony and apologized, "Pardon my forwardness, miss." To Sadrahd, he added, "And my bluntness, sir."

As he spoke, Harmony's face twisted into one of shocked revulsion. "Oh my God," she realized. "He's so... oh. I never wanted to see my little blondie bear like this."

"Harmony, y-you're trying to k-kill him," Sadrahd reminded her.

"I know that!" Harmony snapped. With a pout, she explained, "It's just... well... he was my first major boyfriend after I got turned, and there'll always be a place in my heart for my little Spikey-poo. And seeing him like this... ugh."

As though suddenly stumbling upon a comforting thought, she looked up and realized, "Wait... maybe that's the point. Maybe the Powers That Be decided to reward me for being strong enough to leave Wolfram and Hart by myself. So now, I have my very own Spike to play with, starting from scratch!"

William screamed as the charming (if somewhat vapid) young woman's face changed in front of him. Her blue eyes turned a sickly yellow color, and her smooth face became rough with marked ridges. What terrified him most of all was the sight of razor-sharp teeth in a predatory grin. "Best of all," she finished, "I won't have to worry about living in that Drusilla's shadow."

Harmony was about to dart after the human as he turned and ran, but Sadrahd pulled her back. "You idiot! You can't t-t-turn him into a vampire!"

Pouting, Harmony asked, "Why not?"

Moving to stand in front of her in an effort to face her down despite her height advantage, Sadrahd told her, "W-we don't know where he's from! If he's from another d-d-d-dimension, then fine; do whatever you want with him. B-b-but if he's from our timeline, turning him now could have a d-drastic effect on the future. Spike's killed a lot of people, and he's also saved a lot of them. We have n-n-no idea what the w-world would be like if he turns vampire like this."

"So?" Harmony asked. "If it ends up sucking, can't I just wish for it to all go back to normal and you'll make it happen?"

"N-n-no!" Sadrahd cried out. "For all I know, his existence here is already affecting the w-world at large and we'll find that we don't know each other. The next time you b-b-blink, you could cease to exist." Seeing that this still wasn't getting through to Harmony, he sighed and added, "Y-you'd look in the mirror and s-see someone who looks nearly thirty years old."

"Oh my God!" Harmony gasped, horrified. "No! Really? Oh God, Sadrahd, we've got to get that nerd back here and send him back to wherever he came from!"

"Glad you've gained p-perspective," Sadrahd muttered, looking towards the exit. William had effectively run off, but there was no point in both of them chasing after him. "You track him. Bring him b-back, alive. I'll stay here and see if I can't f-f-figure out how to undo what you did."

"What I did?" Harmony shot back. "Oh sure, always blame the hot vampire chick."


"Why do I feel like I belong in an Abbott and Costello movie?" Violet asked.

Robbie shot her a look from the corner of his eye. They were cautiously walking behind Spike and Oz, both of whom seemed to know where they going. As far as Robbie could tell, they were headed in the general direction of the cemetery, but in a roundabout way. And judging by the way the two supernatural beings in front of them kept tilting their heads and headed in the same direction without speaking to one another, he could bet that they were tracking something.

"Abbott and Costello were classy," Oz mentioned, though he seemed distracted. "Less with the apocalypses, more with the smacking one another with their hats. None of us wear hats, which sets us significantly lower on the classy meter."

"Not that I know who these Abbott and Costello guys were," Robbie brought up, "but I don't think we should be too concerned with being 'classy.' I mean, it looks like the lights suddenly went out all over town, and Spike hasn't said a word since we left Jordy's. And judging by the way the hair on the back of my neck is standing up, I'm thinking there's something neither of you are telling us."

"Then you feel it, too," Spike murmured, still looking around for some sight unseen. "That makes three out of the four. What about you, Pixie?"

Bundled up in her green wool pea coat, Violet looked up at the mention of what she had come to accept as Spike's nickname for her. Saying nothing at first, she finally offered, "I don't know. I feel off, but I can't tell what it is. It's like my skin's gone all... tingly."

"Great," Robbie remarked. "So what exactly's happening?"

"Something big, kiddies," Spike responded. "Something that shouldn't be happening. It's as though the world's changing little by little."

"A reality shift?" Oz asked. "Oh great, it's been a while since a good one of those cropped up."

"Not a reality shift," Spike corrected, stopping. As the group came to a halt around him, he cocked his head as though listening for something. "Just something... happening. Something that could tip the scales. Just wish it'd hurry up and reveal what sort of tip we're talking about here."

After a moment during which all of them glanced around the empty streets, Robbie asked, "Why did we stop? Is something here?"

Oz was staring under an unlit streetlamp, his eyes far away. "Yes," he comprehended. "Something's here." He knew this place. He had never actually been in this part of the neighborhood, but he had a newspaper clipping of this exact location. Even though it had been seven or eight years before, he was glad that Jordy wasn't here. "This is where Uncle Ken died."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an eerie form began taking shape in the darkness under the streetlight. While Spike tensed up and Violet cringed against Robbie, Oz balled his hands into fists at his sides and stepped in front of the group. "Oz," Violet said, "stay back-"

"He had a stroke," Oz stated resolutely, staring at the being that had definitely took the form of Jordy's father. "It was a completely natural death. If this thing tries to tell me different, then it's not really him. Someone's just using other people's faces."

While Spike agreed with the idea in theory, that didn't make him any more willing to see Oz get himself sucked into a mind game. Without him, Spike would need to figure out how to handle two less-than-normal werewolves all by himself. Seeing as how he'd never been a big fan of werewolves, that thought didn't exactly sit well with him.

Oz braced himself when he saw the specter fly towards him. If these ghosts forced others to see their final moments, then this shouldn't be traumatizing. Not unless the ghosts were lying and using some kind of mind control on their victims, in which case they weren't real ghosts at all, but something else. Unfortunately, he didn't know that they didn't just reveal details of their deaths.

When Oz fell back and nearly crashed into Spike, it wasn't this shady corner in Woodridge that he saw in front of his eyes. Instead, he suddenly found himself walking down a vaguely familiar street and feeling a small hand in one of his. Looking down, he saw a six-year-old Jordy smiling up at him. This was a long time before Uncle Ken died. This might've even been before Jordy was-

He, or rather, Uncle Ken, looked up at the sound of growling from around the corner. Though Oz realized that the moon was full and that they were in Sunnydale, his uncle clearly hadn't known anything about the town's strange history. As far as he knew, it was a dog, and dogs weren't anything to be afraid of.

When the werewolf lunged into view, Oz felt his uncle's fear as his veins seemed to suddenly fill with ice rather than blood. While Oz would have pulled Jordy away and beat the wolf back, he was horrified by what happened instead. His hand slipped away from Jordy's, and he found himself running off in the opposite direction, leaving Jordy behind to fend for himself as the werewolf approached. What are you doing? Oz screamed out inside his head. You left him? You left him behind?! You let your son get bitten by a werewolf?

It wasn't until Spike smacked him soundly across the face that Oz slowly began coming out of it. "He left him," he rambled. "Left him to... you just left him?!"

"What's he talking about?" Violet asked, concerned.

"Talking rot, that's what," Spike realized, looking up from the fallen man to the ghost that returned to its place under the streetlight. "He's seeing something that ain't there. For all we know, he's seeing something that never was."

"No," Oz breathed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His eyes met that of the ghost's, and he pointed to it accusingly. "Keep him away from me," he growled. "I never want to see that son of a bitch again."

As soon as he realized that Oz's wolf form was on the verge of slipping out, Robbie pulled Violet away from him and crouched besides Oz. "Keep it together, man," he told him. "You said so yourself; whatever he made you see, it can't be real."

"It's real," Oz affirmed, still glaring at the ghost.

"It's not just a matter of seeing the manner of death," Spike informed them. "These buggers can make you see things. Things you've done, things they've done. Anything to inspire hate or any other sort of strong reaction, even from someone as metaphorically cool as a cucumber." Rising to his feet, he harshly pulled Oz up to his and sternly told him, "You go all pooch on me, and I'll collar you so fast your head'll spin around in circles, you got that?"

Though it took him a moment, Oz rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. "Just keep him away," he said lowly as the wolf in him began to subside. He wondered if Aunt Maureen knew how Jordy had gotten bitten, and he decided he'd have to have a talk with his younger cousin to verify what he had seen. He had never asked how Jordy got bitten, but he would have never thought it had been as a result of Uncle Ken's cowardice.

"Uh, guys?" Violet brought up. "Call me a crazy optimist, if you want, but let's try looking on the bright side. We were looking for a ghost. This might not be the one we wanted, but it is a ghost. Now we can make some headway in figuring out why they're driving people crazy."

"And how do you propose that?" Spike asked bitterly.

"Well," Violet offered, "we could just ask."

Spike was about to argue until he realized, "Huh. Crazy enough that it might just work, at that." Approaching the ghost, he put on an uncompromising face and said, "So, Uncle Ken, yeah? We're gonna try the straightforward approach, and if that doesn't work...." With a grin, he continued, "We'll try it the fun way. So unless you want a couple of supernatural bodies going around desecrating your grave with the intention of bringing you back from the great beyond for a little half-assed poke and prod, I'm thinking it'll be in your best interests to give us whatever answers we're looking for right off the bat. What do you say?"

"It's all coming down," came the response from the ghost. "Everything is coming down."

Blinking, Spike remarked, "Huh... that was helpful. In a very vague, not-helpful-at-all sort of way. What's coming down?"

"This," replied the phantom. "That. Everything in between."

"This is almost as bad as using a Ouija board," Violet muttered.

"Look," Spike told him, "if you don't start talking sense soon-"

"She's so enlightening," Uncle Ken interrupted, looking down. "So liberating. And you denied her. You wrecked her. She was dancing to the music of the grave, at the height of her power, and you ruined her." He suddenly looked up, glaring directly at the vampire. "The world is ending, Spike. And it's your fault."

"You've got a knack for pissing off the wrong people," Robbie asked, "don't you?"

Ignoring Robbie's comment, Spike narrowed his eyes at the angry ghost. "So my sins are catching up to me. What a bleedin' surprise. I seem to be noticing that my kicks to the crotch seem to be delivered by lots of lady-folk. You wanna clarify which 'she' we're talking about here? There were a whole lot of she's in my time."

"Not that he's bragging," Violet uttered.

"You know," Uncle Ken told him. "You know which one it was. You've always known. It's the first she. The first." He looked past Spike then, seeing movement behind the group of them. "She'll come. She always comes back for what's hers."

"Hey!" Spike called out, stepping towards the ghost as it disappeared. "Still not helpful!"

"The First," Oz remarked. "He mentioned the First."

"Yeah, I'm trying to ignore that fact and hope for something less complicated."

"What's the First?" Violet asked, having looked back to follow the ghost's gaze. "Because I sure hope that isn't it."

Spike whirled around at Violet's words, nearly praying that they wouldn't encounter the First at all, much less as unprepared as they currently were. He caught sight of someone emerging from a sewer opening about two blocks away, and the very fact that she was corporeal enough to climb out allowed him to answer, "No. From the looks of it, that's just your standard vamp." Seeing the tight bright red jeans the blonde vampire was wearing as she pulled herself out of the manhole, Spike cocked his head. "Hold on, I've seen that ass before."

While the werewolves and the faerie exchanged bemused glances, Spike slowly approached the blonde who was dusting herself off as she tried to nudge the manhole cover back in place with her foot. Judging by her obliviousness to his presence, Spike didn't even need to ask to be sure of her identity. "Harmony."

With a startled gasp, Harmony spun around. "Spike!" She began fixing her long hair before putting her hands back down, as though thinking better of it. Opening her mouth, she didn't seem to know what else to say before finally squeaking out, "Hi."

"Hi," Spike greeted with a genial smile. "What a small world, eh? I haven't seen you since... oh yeah." Quickly withdrawing the stake he had in his pocket, he coldly finished, "Since you stabbed Angel in the back and tried to get me killed."

"What? No!" Harmony exclaimed, taking a step back and putting her hands up in defense. "I don't know what you're talking about! Angel totally staked himself! I never touched him, honest!"

"It's a figure of speech, you stupid bint," Spike told her. "Means you betrayed him. And you set me up to take a nasty fall. I'm thinking it's time that someone repays you for all of the minor annoyances you've caused."

"We haven't even been talking for a full minute and you're already being all grumpy!" Harmony whined. She was about to say more, but she caught sight of the group of people coming up behind Spike. Surprised, Harmony grinned widely and called, "Oz? Oh my God, hi! How've you been?"

"I've had better days," Oz replied.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Harmony muttered, moving to approach him. "You wouldn't believe the night I've had-" She almost squealed when Spike darted in front of her and blocked her way, vamp-face at the ready.

"We're not interested in your bad night," Spike growled. "We've sort of got an apocalypse to stop. Funny how you always find yourself busy when you're being useful."

"Hey, I've been useful!" Harmony protested. "I was just helping my new boyfriend with this spell and... actually, I kinda messed it up, which is why I'm up here." Realizing that she probably said more than she should have, she quickly added, "Not that that's any of your business!"

"Spell?" Spike asked. "What kind of spell?"

"Oh, there you go, being all nice when you want to know something."

"Harmony, tell me what you did or I'll smash your face into the pavement."

"Did you not hear me say that I've got a new boyfriend?" Harmony petulantly asked. "If it weren't for the fact that I need to track you down before I start getting old, I'd totally wish you into a cockroach... but one that isn't so gross, so I don't get sick when I squish you."

"Track me down?" Spike queried. "What, are you blind or did you just... wait. Did you say 'wish'?" Remembering about his conversation with Clem, he barked out, "Harmony, are you shagging a vengeance demon?!"

"Maybe," Harmony yelped. "Or maybe I'm just... um... gonna do this." With that, she suddenly lurched forward and pushed Spike as hard as she could. As he fell backwards against Robbie, she took the opportunity to jump back into the sewer. When she landed heavily on her feet, she murmured, "Ow."

Thinking fast, Oz stepped forward and got out a small vial of holy water that he kept in his jacket after learning he'd be spending time with Spike on a regular basis. Opening it, he poured it down the sewer, hoping at least some of it would get Harmony. Judging by the second and sharper "Ow" that echoed from beneath him, he had managed to scald her at least a little.

To Spike, Oz said, "She's hurt. I can track the smell of the burn and keep up with her."

"Take Hercules with you," Spike replied, pushing Robbie towards him. "Pixie 'n me are gonna see if we can figure out what this bloody spell is so she can reverse it."

"We are?" Violet asked.

"I told you you were going to bone up on your magic." As Robbie and Oz hurried down into the sewer, Spike looked around the surrounding area, searching. Sniffing the air experimentally, he remarked, "She said she was trying to track me down."

"Well, she found you," Violet replied.

"It's not me she was looking for," Spike responded, his face returning to its human appearance. Still searching the premises, he mumbled, "If she wanted me, she wouldn't come after me on her own. She'd come with this boyfriend of hers, thinking she can rub that sort of thing in my face."

"Let me guess," Violet said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Old girlfriend?"

"Back from my evil days."

"Yeesh," Violet shuddered. "So I'm guessing this 'vengeance demon' that she's with now isn't exactly just a nickname, huh?"

"She makes a wish," Spike told her, still on alert, "he grants it. Luckily for me, she's not as intelligent as the other ex I had thought it was, so I'm probably going to end up getting off with nothing but a bad hair day."

"How would you be able to tell?"

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Violet remarked. "It's just... wow, you weren't kidding when you said you had a bunch of girls that were out to kick you in the 'nads. Do I have to worry that I'm going to suddenly turn against you, too?"

"Well, if you do, you're either wrong or evil." With a smirk, he commented, "Either of those would be reason enough for me to kill you in a heartbeat, since I've got it on good authority that I'm not fighting for the wrong side."

"Luckily for me, you don't have a heartbeat," Violet said. After a moment during which Spike continued to skim the vicinity with his eyes, she brought up, "Which side is it that you're fighting for, Mister Vampire With a Soul?"

"The side that seems to give you the heebie-jeebies, from the looks of it." Turning his attention to the surprised girl, Spike stated, "Don't think I didn't notice that start you had when we mentioned the Powers That Be earlier."

"I didn't start."

"Did too."

"I didn't!" Violet affirmed. "I just... I've heard of them before, and I'm surprised you have, too. I don't hear people outside of my family talking about the Powers or anything. Next you're going to tell me you're chummy with an Old One."

"Matter of fact...."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Name of Illyria. Looks a bit like an overgrown Smurf."

"I'm not familiar with Illyria," Violet replied. "But you do not refer to one of the Old Ones as a Smurf. That tends to invoke all sorts of bad karma, or whatever it is that comes around once it goes around. She's not your ex-girlfriend too, is she? Because speaking of things that go around, it seems like you've been doing a bang-up job at that yourself over the centuries."

"Century," Spike corrected. "Only one century. And a half. And no, I've been insane, but never insane enough to give the Blue Wonder a go. She made a nasty first impression on me, and it's hard to look past that." After another look around, he shook his head and remarked, "There's nothing here. Harm must've gotten herself turned around in the sewers if she thought she was trailing something up here. All these years and she still couldn't find an ice cube in Antarctica. C'mon. Assuming you have some magic books lying around, we should go back to your flat and see if we can at least determine what it is she did to make the lights go out and set us all on edge."

After that, he was going to have to fill Oz in on more details about the First.


"So this First," Robbie asked, "how much do you know about it?"

Still on the hunt for Harmony, Oz quietly replied, "Just the major points. Short for First Evil. Destroyed Sunnydale. Can't be killed. Has reason to hate Spike and anyone else that was fighting against it that fateful day. You?"

"Pretty much the same," Robbie remarked, noticeably put off by the whole thing. "Plus, Spike told me it liked to pretend to be this Buffy girl that he was apparently into. Made it easier for it to control him. Speaking of, am I the only person who's a little uneasy about the fact that not only was Spike a soulless killer, but the ultimate evil managed to manipulate him even after he joined the good guys?"

"On the contrary," Oz responded. "I was beginning to feel like I was the only one."

"Then why are we down here?" Robbie inquired, stopping. "Maybe he wanted to get us away so he could.... I mean, he hasn't done anything bad lately, but after everything I've heard, I just... maybe we shouldn't have-"

"You're afraid he's going to hurt Violet," Oz realized, coming to a halt and looking at Robbie. When the younger man nodded, Oz glanced down, trying to figure out the way to say what was on his mind. "Spike isn't my friend," he finally said, meeting Robbie's eyes. "But Xander is. And while Xander didn't give me any details, he believes that Spike's not all bad. And in the end, that's the most you can believe about anyone these days."

Looking back down towards the tunnel where Harmony's scent was fading away, Oz continued, "Harmony, on the other hand, wasn't even a decent person when she had a soul. If she's managed to fall in with a vengeance demon and is casting spells, there's a good chance she may even have something to do with these ghosts that are popping up. She's not the brightest bulb in the box, but in some ways, that makes her even more dangerous."

"Spike did say that he liked booze and women too much to destroy the world," Robbie remembered.

"And he's smart enough to keep from doing anything that'll kill all the women and the people who work in breweries," Oz replied with a smirk. "But while Harmony's got a few ties to the earth herself, she's bound to do something catastrophic by accident. Greater of two evils, man."

"I'll go with that," Robbie agreed as they continued on their way.

They walked in silence for some time before hearing sounds of a struggle down another tunnel. Raising a hand to Robbie for silence, Oz led him down the passageway as quietly as possible. His sharp hearing managed to pick up Harmony's irritated voice quite easily, but he was surprised by who she was speaking to. "It's Spike," he whispered to Robbie. "I guess he decided to head down here after all."

"Wish he'd make up his mind," Robbie muttered in response as they crept along to the source of the voices. While neither werewolf said anything, both felt that there was something odd about Spike's presence in the sewers. For one thing, Oz wondered how Spike had managed to get so far ahead of them so quickly, unless he had simply abandoned Violet and used his superhuman speed to cut Harmony off. But the more prominent thing that bothered both of them was the quality of Spike's voice. It sounded... different, somehow.

Oz and Robbie broke into a run when they heard Spike scream. Spike? Screaming because of something Harmony had done? Not likely. What was far more likely was the possibility of Harmony's new vengeance demon boyfriend having appeared on the scene and deciding to exact some painful hand-to-hand vengeance.

They both scrambled into the cavern, prepared to act as Spike's back-up against an unknown demon. They were surprised, then, to see that Harmony was alone in the room with a wavering body slumped at her feet.

Looking up and seeing the new arrivals, Harmony rolled her eyes. "Oh great, I knew that was way too easy. Can't you good guys ever stop being nosey? It makes it really, really hard to be a badass when you've got people coming in from everywhere."

"What'd you do to him?" Robbie inquired, shocked by the condition of the person on the floor.

"Who, him?" Harmony asked, pointing to him. "All I did was smack the big baby and he's crying on the floor, begging for mercy." With a kick to his ribs, she smirked and added, "Actually, I don't think I mind this version all too much. It makes me feel... powerful."

"Funny," Oz remarked, getting out his stake, "I feel the same way about my little friend here."

"Speaking of him," Harmony responded, glancing up at Robbie, "it's really rude not to introduce us."

"I'm talking about the stake, Harmony," Oz replied. "But hey, if you're anxious for an introduction with it, I've got no qualms against that."

Backing away hastily, Harmony asked, "Where does everyone get these stakes from? Do you guys just, like, ram them up your asses or something in case of an emergency? And besides, how come Spike doesn't get staked while I'm over here being threatened by the guy with the worst taste in girls in the history of ever?" Making a face, she choked out, "Really, Oz, you were in a band and were all cool and stuff. Why'd you ever waste time with Will-"

"That's it," Oz interrupted. "Robbie, get Spike out of here. I'm going to do what we were all too nice to do back in college."

"What? Whoa!" Harmony cried out as Oz came into the room, charging at her. With a duck, she tried to explain, "Wait! Hold on! I didn't mean it! And besides-ow, don't hit me there!-besides, that's not Spike!"

Robbie had crouched by the crumbled form that he had believed was Spike before glancing at his hair. "She's right," he told Oz. "This isn't-" It wasn't until he looked at the man's lost blue eyes and recognized the face that he began second-guessing himself. "Whoa," he uttered, finally looking over the person's clothes. "This... who are you?"

"Not Spike, apparently," he coughed out, slowly pulling himself up. With Robbie's help, he managed to get himself onto his feet. "I seem to have found myself a little worse for wear, and... oh dear! It looks like your friend may be in need of some help."

Robbie whirled around just in time to see Oz receive a solid punch across the face from the blonde vampire. "Oh, that bitch is going down," he growled as he went to Oz's assistance. To the Spike lookalike, he commanded, "Stay here and keep back."

William was about to reprimand Robbie for his harsh language, but he caught sight of something disconcerting. It seemed that the smaller man who had initially come to his rescue was suddenly... hairier. Taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses with the hem of his waistcoat, William tried to convince himself that it wasn't real. He had simply knocked his head and became quite mad. When he put his glasses back on, he saw that, not only did the short redhead definitely take on a more animalistic appearance, but the blonde woman's face had contorted into the monstrous façade he had seen earlier. Not wanting to stick around in case the much larger man involved in the fight decided to change his form, William turned on his heels and sped out.

"Oh crap!" Harmony cried, shoving Robbie clear across the room when she saw William head out. "Damn it, you guys, you suck." Avoiding another lunge from Oz, she grabbed hold of the fur that had sprouted around his neck and remarked, "And you're ugly." Glad that his crazy wolf form didn't make him that much heavier, she heaved him towards Robbie and hoped that they'd need a few moments to get back on their feet.

Not wanting to lose William again, she took off without finishing the job.


"Jebus, what a night to be home alone," Marissa muttered.

With her arms crossed over her chest, she was standing on her front porch and looking out into the inky black neighborhood. She had been through blackouts before, but this was different. There wasn't even moonlight offering to illuminate the streets. As soon as she thought about the moon, she shivered as she remembered what sorts of things were probably out frolicking in this impromptu darkness and turned to head inside.

She froze in her tracks when she heard a blood-curdling scream in the distance. Spinning around, Marissa jumped down the porch steps and gazed down the street. Though she couldn't see anything, she had to stop herself from going off in the direction of the yell. She had no weapons and besides, it was none of her concern. If Xander said that Spike was supposed to be some kind of hero, then he should be able to take care of it, right?

She became less sure of that thought when the screams turned into words. "Oh God, help! Somebody, please, get her away from me!" Marissa didn't know what was worse: the fact that the words were spoken in sheer terror, or the fact that the voice sounded familiar.

When the cry came again, Marissa knew she couldn't waste anymore time. Darting back into her house, she grabbed her purse before racing out into the street. That voice, she thought as she put her messenger bag over her shoulders. Oh God, it can't be....

It was Spike. While she wasn't exactly too keen on the idea of possibly saving his life, she had to see what it was that would make him cry out like that. From what she had managed to read about William the Bloody, he had been on both the giving and the receiving end of a whole lot of torture. Couple that with the fact that Xander told her Spike was supposed to be some kind of "champion of the world," and she knew she couldn't just sit on her porch and listen to his screams echo in the night.

Breathing hard, she turned a corner onto a dead end street and saw him. Or rather, she saw his legs as he struggled with a girl who was pawing at him. "What the hell is this?" Marissa uttered in spite of herself. When the blonde turned around and revealed a vamp-face, Marissa cringed and remarked, "Oh, okay, this makes a little more sense now."

"Back off," the blonde vampire told her. "I'm cold, I'm hungry, and I'm pretty sure I just broke a nail. You do not want to make me any madder than I am right now."

"Please help," said Spike's voice from behind the vampire. "She's already quite mad."

"Shut up," screamed the blonde. "Jeez, all you do is whine, whine, whine. And then I had to beat up those two werewolves while you hightailed it like a coward."

"Whoa, wait, wolves?" Marissa asked. Knowing of only two werewolves that hung around with Spike, she brought up, "Robbie and Oz? You beat up my ex-boyfriend?!"

Gawking at Marissa, the vampire asked, "Oh, ew. You used to date Oz, too? And I thought he was lowering his standards when he dated Willow."

Insulted, Marissa was about to argue, but she caught sight of the man that was being held down. Though it was dark, she could see that he was wearing glasses and didn't have radioactive-colored hair. "That's not Spike." Looking up at the vampire again, she realized, "You're about to hurt a human."

"Duh," came the reply. "It's what I do. Evil vampire, right? Now buzz off, you social reject, before I get really cranky."

"Sorry," Marissa replied, pulling the stake out of her bag. "A cranky vampire's not exactly a human's best friend." Even as she held the weapon poised, she tried not to pale. Not only would this be the first time she used her two days of training with Spike to face down an actual vampire, but a human's life was in danger. And to top it off, it wasn't until she gripped the stake in her hand that she realized it'd be of no use against her enemy. It was the plastic one that she used against Spike.

"Okay, why does everyone in town carry stakes around with them?!" Using the beaten man as a shield, the vampire slowly began backing up. "Was there like some kind of vampire epidemic recently, or have you all been watching way too many movies?" With a gasp, she asked, "You're not a Slayer, are you?"

"I'm worse than a Slayer," Marissa told her as she cautiously approached. "Slayers kill your kind because they're destined to do it, because someone tells them to. Me? I'm just a human being who hates vampires. I've got my own agenda. And it involves seeing you turn to dust before I let your hurt anyone else."

"Oh please," the vampire scoffed. "Like you're really gonna have the balls to come and-" When Marissa lunged for her, her yellow eyes widened as she pulled away. "Holy crap, you're attacking me!"

Tossing William out of the way, Harmony grabbed the human girl's wrist to keep the stake back and punched her in the stomach. "I don't know who you think you are, Little Miss Buffy Wannabe, but you are so gonna pay for getting on my nerves. I wasn't even gonna eat him... much."

With a sharp kick to the vampire's shin, Marissa pulled her hand out of her grasp and jabbed her opponent sharply in the face. "So you've met Buffy, huh? Great. So here I am, cleaning up a mess that she didn't want to take care of before it got out of hand. What, she was your 'friend' too or something?"

"That little bitch messed up my precious blondie bear!" Harmony grunted out, grappling with Marissa. "She turned him all goody-two-shoes and he wouldn't give me another look! If it hadn't been for her, Spike and I would've made it!"

"You were with Spike?!" Marissa groaned. "Now I'm dealing with psycho exes? News flash, missy." Kneeing Harmony hard in her lower abdomen and pushing her away, she proclaimed, "Spike was messed up way before Buffy. Vampires and love, they don't generally mix. But vamps and obsession? Oh yeah, you're a textbook example."

"Please," Harmony jeered. "I'm so over him."

"You brought him up," Marissa said, dodging a lunge. "You don't bring someone up if you're over him." Realizing that she had immediately recognized one of the vampire's werewolf opponents as her ex-boyfriend, Marissa made a frustrated sound and struck at her with the stake.

Harmony screamed as she stared down at the stake protruding from her chest. After a few moments, she realized that she hadn't turned into ashes. "I'm not dead," she gasped, her hands feeling at her chest. "Oh my God, I'm... I'm not dead! I've got a stake sticking out of my chest and I'm... I'm alive. Ow, but alive! Really ow, but... I must be, like, invincible or something!"

While the less-than-intelligent vampire marveled over her newfound immortality, Marissa grabbed hold of the man that she had initially mistaken for Spike and pulled him into a run. "Come on," she told him. "Hurry it up, before her power trip fades away."

They had only been running for two blocks before Marissa had realized that he had fallen behind. Stopping, she turned around and tried to find him in the gloom. When she saw the panting figure leaning against a car, she approached him and whispered, "Hey. Hey guy, come on. We can get to my place, and she can't follow us in there."

"I can't," he wheezed. Putting a hand on his back, she could feel his trembling heaves of breath. The man was clearly frightened out of his wits. "Please, I... I can't anymore. Carry on without me; I'll keep her away from you."

"It's you she's after," Marissa argued. "And I'm not exactly jumping at the idea of you keeping her from me by feeding her your blood." Gently pulling at his arm, she laced it around her shoulders and attempted to prop him up. "Come on. I only live on the next block. We'll get you over there and you can rest on the sofa."

It took a little pulling and prodding, but he eventually acquiesced to her leading him away, though he tried not to lean too heavily on her. Marissa suspected that he just didn't want the rest of his pride to be completely broken down. "Thank you," he told her. "I apologize for my rudeness, but I simply must ask: you're not going to change shape in front of me too, are you?"

With a small laugh, Marissa replied, "No need to worry about that. If you're talking vamp or werewolf, I'm very much not one of them. Just your average human girl, trying to cope with living in a world filled with monsters."

"Oh, thank God," he sighed. "I'm not quite sure how much more of these ghastly surprises I can take. One minute, I'm wandering the streets after a most depressing evening, and the next, I'm being poked at by a woman with some sort of demon living under her face and sneered at by a small troll with boils all over his skin. Just when I think I'm safe, she catches up to me and I get rescued by a man who seems to be turning into an animal and his accomplice who may or may not transform in the same way."

"Sounds more eventful than most of my evenings," Marissa remarked. "If you're talking about the woman we just fought, that's a vampire. Apparently, their faces go all lumpy and scary when they're about to feed. I don't know who the troll would be, but the other two were probably Robbie and Oz. They're a couple of werewolves. Well, not a couple, because they don't swing that way. At least, Robbie doesn't; I don't really know about Oz. Not that there's anything wrong with them deciding to.... I'm Marissa."

As though he needed a moment to follow Marissa's train of thought, he hesitated before responding, "My name is William. It's a pleasure to meet you, Marissa, albeit under rather... unorthodox circumstances."

"Not too unorthodox where I come from," Marissa responded. "If you think this is bad, you clearly don't know what really happened to the town of Sunnydale, USA."

"I don't believe I've ever heard of it," William replied. "And USA... then I was right in my assumption that I've somehow found my way into the States?"

"Oh, um... you're not from around here, then?" Marissa asked. "I mean, I know you're not from around here because of the way you talk, but you're actually not from around here. So... I'm guessing you got yourself mixed up in some magic or something?"

"An hour ago, I would have told you that such talk was nothing but balderdash," he answered. "But after seeing the things I've seen, I don't believe I'll ever again define magic as merely swindles and chicanery."

"Balderdash?" Marissa asked. "Chicanery?" Under her breath, she muttered, "With a vocabulary like that, I can't believe I mistook you for Spike."

"Who is this Spike fellow?" William queried. "It seems that everyone I've met has taken me for him. There must be some sort of resemblance."

"Your voices sound the same," Marissa informed him, leading him up her driveway. "Now that I think about it, though, it might just be that you're both English. It doesn't even sound like the same part of England. He's a lot more harsh and grr and, well... snarky. Snarky's a good word for Spike. Careful, there are steps coming up."

As they ascended the porch steps, a light came on from behind them. Turning around, Marissa saw that the streetlights have come on. "Huh, looks like they got the public wiring fixed." Looking up, she saw her porch light was still dim and added, "I'll probably have to go play with the breakers to get the house lights on, though."

"Remarkable," William marveled. "I've never seen automated lights quite like that."

"Really?" Marissa asked. Looking at the man she was propping up, she began, "I didn't think England was stuck in a time wa-" Widening her eyes, she cut herself off as she pulled away from the man that had introduced himself as William. "You! What are you trying to pull?"

"Pardon me?" William asked, shocked.

"Oh, right," Marissa sneered. "First, you're some proper Englishman who happens to sound a lot like a prim version of Spike, and now you just happen to look like him? Get real, Spike, how stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't make any assumptions about your intellect," William hurriedly said as the girl turned away and opened her door. "I've told you, apparently I have some sort of double here, and I suspect that he's the reason I've been assaulted."

"Oh, I'm so killing you," came a familiar female voice from the street.

Marissa and William turned to see Harmony storming up the walkway. "Go ahead and hide in the house, you human-stealing skank. It doesn't matter. I'm invincible! If a stake won't take me down, then that means that I don't even have to worry about not getting an invite."

"Inside!" William told Marissa, pushing her into the house. "Hurry!" Marissa suddenly found herself stumbling into her house, William following after her and slamming the door shut. His hands fumbled for the lock before he felt the wood tremble under his hands. Retreating towards Marissa, he asked, "Is there anything we can do to brace it?"

"You came in," Marissa realized. "How'd you come in?"

She didn't get an answer, as her front door suddenly came crashing down. Harmony stared down at the two of them, still drunk on the power of her own "invincibility." Not wholly aware of what she was doing, Marissa found herself clinging to William, despite knowing that they were safe.

"That's right," Harmony proclaimed. "Go ahead and tremble and be all scared and stuff. Because this little vamp doesn't play by the rules anymore. I defy all logic. I-... I... I can't come in." Looking around at the empty space where the door had been, Harmony tried to push her way into the house. "Hey! Hey, what gives? I can be invincible but I can't just waltz in?"

Getting a hold of herself, Marissa edged away from William and said, "You're not invincible, you moron! That was a plastic stake that I use for training. You're about as good as practice. So why don't you turn around and get off my property before we find out if you're invincible against holy water?"

"Plastic? Oh, that's so cheating!" Harmony argued. "You don't have to be all... self-righteous about it. Ugh, getting my hopes up and then-wait, I need the dork. Send him out."

Marissa glanced back at William. Though she couldn't see him very well in the darkness of the house, she realized that there was something very, very singular about him. It was Spike. She knew it was. There was no way someone could look and sound that much like a person without being a twin, and she figured she'd probably have heard something about Spike having a twin brother that was also a vampire. And the female vampire had referenced Spike earlier as though he hadn't been there, so there was clearly more to this than met the eye. Looking back at her, Marissa answered, "No."

"Aw, come on. Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"As effective as your pleas might be, I'm going to have to go with no," Marissa told her, picking up her door. It was heavy and awkward, but she managed to keep that effort out of her voice as she added, "You broke my door. Get out of here before I hack out a pointy section and charge at you with it."

No longer dependent on her invincibility, Harmony slowly retreated. Chancing another glance at William, she growled, "This isn't over." To Marissa, she repeated, "You hear me? This isn't over! I'm gonna get my boyfriend!"

"Oh, be still, my feminist heart," Marissa replied dryly. As the vampire turned and sped off, Marissa shook her head. "I knew vampires weren't playing with a full deck, but that's just ten shades of special." She began setting the door back in place, hoping to be able to get the lights on and not find any cracks in the wood so she could set about repairing the hinges. "Mom is going to kill me if I don't get this fixed."

She was surprised when a good deal of the weight lifted. Looking up, she saw that William was adjusting the door in its frame. "I apologize for the inconvenience," he told her quietly. "If there's any way to send for a handyman, I will gladly pay the costs for any repairs."

Holding the door in place, Marissa leaned against the frame and looked up at William. All she could see of him was what the streetlights showed through the windows, which wasn't much. Though the tone of his voice was all wrong, the face was the same. "You say your name is William?"

"Yes."

"What year is it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The year," Marissa told him. "What do you think the year is?"

"Why, it's 1880, isn't it?" Seeing the crestfallen look on her face, William gathered that he had guessed wrong. "Did I have an accident? I know I've seen many strange things, so perhaps I've hit my head and have fallen unconscious for some time. That's not a very encouraging thought, perhaps, but-"

"You're William the Bloody," Marissa whispered. "Good God, you're... you're William the Bloody. Before he becomes bloody. You're Spike before he became a vampire. That's why you were able to come in without having been invited."

"I'm not sure I..." William began. "Wait... this Spike. He's... a vampire? Like that wretched woman out there? Is that why everyone seems to be having adverse reactions to me?"

"Just... just keep quiet," Marissa told him. "Hold on, I need to think." Running a hand through her hair, she tried her best to reason out her next course of action. "First, lights. We need lights. You stay here and hold the door up. I'm going to go downstairs and mess with the breakers, then grab some tools and see if I can get this door standing on its own."

William watched her as she moved in the darkness. Though he had heard a good number of confusing things during his time in this strange place, the idea of her getting tools was by far the strangest. "Shouldn't you allow a man to do that for you?"

"You are in for one hell of a lecture about women's lib when I get back upstairs."


"Ugh, this is all bloody pointless!"

Violet watched as Spike pushed the large tome away from him and stood up. "No," she told the pacing vampire. "This is research. If you don't like the idea of flipping through hundreds of pages in romantic candlelight, maybe you shouldn't have made this date."

Slamming his hands on the table, he leaned in towards her. Violet flinched at the intensity in his aura as he nearly yelled, "You're a bleeding Sidhe! I thought you'd be able to sense trace magical residue and we'd get this bit over and done with in a matter of minutes."

"My mother's people were Sidhe," Violet told him levelly, trying to imbue her words with as much patience as she could muster. "I might've inherited some of their flaws and their magical sensitivity, but that doesn't mean I can be your little fairy godmother and wave a magic wand to get things done. There are some things that come naturally to me, like glamour tricks, enchantment, aura reading-the basic stuff. But the rest depends on how much I'm willing to learn about the ways of my ancestors. Quite frankly, all I know is that their weak constitution means I'm probably going to die before the age of forty, and that's all I care to know."

"Excuse me while I play you a song on the world's smallest violin," Spike remarked, continuing with his pacing. After a moment of restless movement, he shook his head and proclaimed, "I don't know how the sodding Scoobies did it before Red mastered her powers. Sitting in libraries for hours on end, hoping to find a picture or a word that jumps out at them before the world ends. And they always managed to get lucky. Why can't I get lucky once in a while?"

"Because you're still stuck in your Billy Idol phase?" Violet offered as she turned back to her book.

"None of your lip!" Spike warned, pointing a finger at her. "I mean, is it really too much to ask? I'm the last remaining vampire with a soul; if all goes according to plan, I've got a major prophecy to fulfill. Is there really enough time for me to run about, cleaning up after my idiot ex?"

Just then, the lights in Violet's apartment came on, momentarily blinding the vampire. Glancing up from her reading, Violet remarked, "Oh look. The Powers That Do Nothing actually did something. Fancy that, you got cut some slack."

"A shame the same can't be said for my optic nerves," Spike muttered, rubbing his eyes. Heading towards the window, he glanced out and saw that streetlamps were turning on all throughout the block. "So now we're looking for a spell that not only knocks out the electricity and is linked to the ghosties, but one that brings the lights back on after, what, forty-five minutes?"

"Either that," Violet said, turning a page, "or Robbie and Oz killed your ex and broke the spell."

"Really?" Spike asked, casting Violet a hopeful glance. "You think they managed to kill her? You're not just humoring me?"

"Wow," Violet commented, "I've seen bad break-ups, but I think you're the first guy whom I actually believed wants to see his ex dead. Or, well, dusted, since she's technically already dead. You're not the one who turned her, are you? Because that would make you look even worse than the whole formerly-evil thing."

"Please," Spike scoffed. "I don't go around making vampires willy-nilly. Never have. Except for that time when the First brainwashed me into making about a dozen or so and setting them against the Slayer." After a pause, he realized, "I'm sure that's not helping my case any."

"Not in the slightest," Violet remarked, still skimming through her book. "But hey, I hear that once you hit rock bottom, you can't get worse than that. You've still got a couple more marks before you get there, I think."

Ignoring her comment, Spike crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on the windowsill, gazing out into the street. Like Oz, he recognized that Harmony's idiocy could end up destroying them all. She could probably ignite an apocalypse just by misusing a toaster oven. If he had known that Violet would prove to be so unhelpful in finding out the spell Harmony conducted, he would have gone after the dumb cow on his own and indulged his bloodthirsty side until she talked about something relevant.

"Oh!" Violet exclaimed, putting her book on the table and pointing to a passage. "Here!"

"You found something useful?" Spike asked, moving towards her.

"Yeah, I think so."

"And my opinion of you has just risen considerably. What have you got?"

Spike looked over her shoulder as she re-read the segment to herself. It looked like the handwritten words were written in Gaelic or some other language with lots of apostrophes and unnecessarily long words. It took her a moment, but Violet eventually managed to fully decipher the paragraph that had gotten her perked up.

"Okay, this is an old journal that my great-great-uncle used to keep," she explained, furrowing her brow as she stumbled through the translation in her head. "He used to record strange happenings and see if he could link them back to our people as favorable signs or ominous portents or something. It says here that he was at a gathering in London with a client of his when the lights all flared up and then died out in unison. It only lasted for a minute, but the strange thing is that he felt something that he called a... a jolt, or a tremor is the closest I can come. Then the lights came on by themselves." Looking up at Spike, she mentioned, "The really weird thing is that I'm pretty sure this happened before electric lights were introduced into most homes, and gas lights don't just flicker on by themselves."

"Incandescent lights have been around for a while," Spike informed her. "Is there a specific date?"

Flipping back to the beginning of the entry, Violet replied, "March 22nd, 1880." Violet continued to search the passage in anticipation of further questioning from Spike, but the vampire said nothing else. Turning around to face him, she saw that he had a rather disconcerting expression on his face. "Spike? What? What is it?"

In a low murmur, Spike responded, "That's the day I died."


"I must say, this is quite extraordinary," William remarked.

Drilling in the last screw on the door, Marissa smirked at him. "What is? The power tools, or the fact that there's a woman working them while you hold the door steady? Speaking of, you can let go of it now. I think it's good."

William gingerly released his hold on the door, watching as Marissa experimentally opened and closed it. "Both, actually. Well, that and the fact that you seem to be under the impression that I've found myself in a future world in which I still exist as a vampire."

"You've got a better explanation?" Marissa asked as she locked the door.

"Delirium," William answered simply. "Not that it's better, but it's far more conceivable."

"It's probably better that you think you're delirious anyway," Marissa told him, moving into the living room and setting the drill on the coffee table. "I don't really keep up with the latest theories in physics or anything, but I'll bet that knowing ahead of time that you're destined to become a vampire is going to affect how likely you are to walk down dark alleyways from now on. Ooh, with any luck, your existence here might just cause such a huge temporal paradox that Spike will never exist! That'll make avoiding him so much easier."

"Temporal...?" Adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, William clasped his hands behind his back and stated, "Yes, well, I'm surely going to be more careful when I venture out at night. If I ever find my way back, that is."

With her hands on her back as she stretched, Marissa looked William over in silence. Now that she had managed to get the lights back on, she found that William and Spike looked less alike than she had initially imagined in the dimness. Still, just because William still had his natural hair color, a tan, a soft voice, and a kind face whereas Spike... didn't, it didn't mean that the similarities were lost on her. Just when she found herself looking back into his blue eyes, she saw with some embarrassment that he was offering her the same sort of scrutiny. Looking down at herself, Marissa realized that he probably wasn't used to seeing girls wearing sweatpants and tank tops, their hair tied back into sloppy ponytails.

Clearing her throat as she self-consciously tried to fix herself up, she asked, "Would you like something to drink? Some water? Or, uh, tea? I think I have those little Arizona tea bags that... you've... probably never heard of."

Offering her a weak but grateful smile, William politely replied, "Tea would be lovely, thank you." As Marissa returned his smile and went off towards what he assumed was the kitchen, he looked around. The house was filled with many strange devices but, if he was indeed in the future, he was glad to see that this place was still recognizable as living quarters. The lights were quite bright, and a few interesting yet tasteful decorations hung on the walls, leaving William to believe that this girl was among the upper class. Still, upper class or not, she was just a girl, so there was sure to be a chaperone about. "If I may ask, do you live here on your own?"

"No," Marissa called. "I live with my mom. Or, uh, my mum, I guess. That's what you call them, right?" Emerging from the kitchen, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. "She works nights, though, so I don't see that much of her."

"Works nights?" William asked, surprised. With a slight blush rising to his cheeks, he said, "I, er, I see. If I... that is, if it's not too bold of me to ask, what, ah... what sort of profession is she... is she involved with?"

Marissa widened her eyes as she realized what sorts of "professions" were available to women during the nighttime hours back in William's time. "Oh, no! No, she's not a... I mean, not that I'm assuming that you're assuming anything, it's just... no. No, my mother works at an airport, at the baggage terminal."

"Airport?"

"Oh, they didn't have those back then, did they?" Marissa realized. "Uh... airplanes. Big flying machines, take people around the world. You can go from California all the way to England in less than half a day, from what I've heard. I can't afford to take a trip like that, but I did go to Vegas with my high school class. Pretty cool, even if it was kind of stupid taking a bunch of teenagers to Sin City." After a moment, she asked, "This isn't making any sense to you, is it?"

"No," William remarked. "Yet I find it absolutely... intriguing."

"You do?"

"Flying machines taking children to a place called Sin City?" William marveled with a grin. "Clearly, this is a sign that my imagination is finally being put to work. If I ever regain consciousness, I hope I remember all of this well enough to write it down."

With a small laugh, Marissa commented, "Another J.M. Barrie, huh?"

"I don't believe I know the fellow."

"The guy who wrote Peter Pan."

"Is that a poem or...?"

"What?" Marissa asked, nearly aghast. "You've never heard of Peter Pan?! It's... it's legendary! How do you not... hold on." Walking into the living room, she approached a bookshelf and skimmed through it. Fascinated by the small shelf containing literature from "the future," William found himself drawn to it.

Plucking out her paperback copy of Peter Pan, Marissa glanced over the summary in the back. "Oh, it was published in 1911. You've got another thirty years to-" She turned around, then jumped when she saw that William was standing right behind her. "Jesus! And I thought it was a vampire habit!"

"I apologize!" William blurted out, taking a large step back. "I should have respected your boundaries. I forgot my manners."

Unused to hearing Spike's voice being so contrite, Marissa knitted her brow and stumbled on her words for a moment. Finally she said, "No... no, it's nothing like that. It's just...." She paused again before handing him the book. "It's one of my favorites," she told him as he took it and looked it over. "My dad used to read it to me before bed. At least, I think it was my dad." Seeing him look up at her, she looked down and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't really know who my dad is. There'd be a bunch of guys that came around that I was told to call 'Dad,' but I don't know if I ever actually met him. But the guy who read that to me, I think that was him. He was the one guy my mom never allowed to stay the night."

Not wanting to talk about her mother's past discrepancies, Marissa put on a smile and told William, "Hey, if you promise not to plagiarize anything when you get back to your time, I'll let you read it while I make us some mac 'n cheese. You... probably don't know what mac 'n cheese is, so I'll just go into the kitchen and prepare some surprising cheesy goodness for the both of us."

William watched as the young girl turned and walked back towards the kitchen. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father, but that was because his had died when he was only four years old; his mother had never remarried. He couldn't imagine what it was like not even knowing the true face of his father, never mind having a row of imposters trying their hand at raising him before disappearing. That was what he gathered had happened, anyway, considering that Marissa hadn't mentioned a current father figure living with her. With a deep breath, he looked down at the book and sighed, "O brave new world, that has such people in it."

Stopping, Marissa glanced back at him. "That's from The Tempest, isn't it?"

Pleasantly surprised by the acknowledgement, William replied, "Yes, yes it is."

Turning to face him, she looked absolutely bemused as she asked, "You know Shakespeare?"

Not knowing how he should view the confusion with which she said those words, William answered, "My dear young lady, I happen to be well-versed in most of Shakespeare's works, and the works of his contemporaries. It's always wise for a poet to know to whom he must pay homage."

"Poet?" Marissa queried, completely shocked. "You're a poet?" When William affirmed that he was, Marissa was taken aback. "William the Bloody, the scourge of Europe, started out as a mild-mannered poet? Wow, someone was a repressed ball of rage for most of his life."

"Now see here," William started, slightly offended. "You're speaking of crimes which I've yet to commit; crimes which I can't even fathom committing. If I do indeed find myself attacked by some creature of the night, chances are that the person I am right now will no longer exist. I doubt that young woman who attacked us acted in such a way when she was still a human being. A vampire is a loathsome, soulless, amoral beast, a fiend of pure evil. Surely, the actions that I'll commit under the mantle of this Spike persona bear no reflection on the person standing before you right now. All I am is a good, decent man, striving to live a life that would make his mum proud."

Marissa was rendered speechless by his sudden passionate speech. While she had never heard Spike speak ill of vampires as a whole, she realized that she had heard certain bits of this lecture before. A man. Just a man. A man who thought that his vampire self would be perpetually soulless and unaccountable for his actions, not knowing that his human soul would one day be returned. Hearing the whistle of the tea kettle, Marissa told him, "You know, I think you and Spike have more in common than either of us would like to believe."

Judging by the contemplative tone of her voice, William was unsure of how to take that.


"I know this neighborhood," Oz breathed.

Panting as he looked around for Harmony, Robbie responded, "Yeah, this is close to where Marissa lives. Are you sure you tracked Harmony's scent down this way? Because man, if Marissa gets involved in this-"

"She won't," Oz told him sternly. "We'll find Harmony, and we'll find that hostage that she had taken with her, and Marissa won't have to get in the way. Hey, isn't that Marissa's place over there?" Looking to where Oz was pointing, Robbie nodded. "Oh," Oz murmured. "Never mind, then."

"What?!" Robbie asked, horrified. "Don't tell me the vampire's in there! There's no way. If Marissa knows that vamps need an invite to get into a person's house, she's not going to let someone she's never met come in after dark."

"Maybe her mother invited her in?" Oz brought up.

"No," Robbie protested. "Her mom works nights. Even when she is at home, she usually doesn't leave her room. Maybe Harmony's met Marissa before, made her think she was human. Because, you know, she figured that she might need a human friend so she'd have some place to hide out in case she was being chased or even-God-even as an emergency snack."

Shaking his head, Oz remarked, "That'd require Harmony to have a shred of foresight. Come on; there are lights on inside. Let's play some spy games and see what we can find out." Breaking out into a sprint, the two of them followed Harmony's scent up Marissa's drive.

Careful not to be seen when he spied movement in the living room, Robbie crept towards the window and looked inside. "That's him!" Robbie exclaimed in a loud whisper.

"Who?" Oz asked, moving to look.

"The guy," Robbie replied. "The guy we thought was Spike. What the hell is going on here?"

When Oz followed Robbie's gaze, he saw the man in question sitting just a few feet away from them. He was calmly seated in Marissa's living room, reading something that appeared to be of great interest to him. In the light, Oz could definitely see something familiar about his face. He not only sounded like Spike, but bore a strong physical resemblance to the brash vampire.

"Maybe it's a spell book," Robbie realized. "Maybe he's like some evil Spike clone and Harmony was going to use him for some evil purposes. And, and maybe when he touched me, he could see Marissa and... and now he's looking for an evil spell so he can brainwash her and-"

"I'm getting forgetful in my old age," Oz told him, "but I don't recall Peter Pan having much to do with magic." Robbie glanced at him, and Oz pointed towards the book. "That's what he's reading. It doesn't seem like a particularly malevolent piece of literature."

"Fairies!" Robbie exclaimed. "Tinkerbell's a fairy, and maybe he's plotting something against Violet-"

"You are a very nervous young man, aren't you?" Oz asked. Shaking his head, he observed the Spike lookalike and mentioned, "I can see a shadow behind him, so it looks like Marissa's in the next room." Seeing movement from the man inside, he narrowed his eyes and kept a quiet watch. "It looks like he's talking to someone. I think-duck!"

The both of them dipped out of sight as Marissa entered the room. Robbie was astonished to see what she was offering the stranger. "Her Donald Duck mug! No way, she's letting him drink from the Donald Duck mug?!" Gaping at Oz, he explained, "I'm the Donald Duck mug guy! She's letting that jerk drink from my mug? That has to prove she's been brainwashed!"

"Or it proves that she doesn't see him as a threat," Oz remarked. "Neither did you, until you saw him sitting in her living room." Though he was amused by seeing the larger man nearly pouting in his petulance, he tried to stay on-track. "If we thought he was Spike and came to his rescue, maybe she did the same."

"Marissa? Rescue Spike?" Robbie nearly laughed. "The only one of us 'monsters' that she has any actual reason to hate are the vampires. Personal vendetta and all of that."

"But when we heard Mr. Looks Like Spike scream, we thought there was something really wrong," Oz brought up. "Maybe he screamed again and Marissa thought we were all in trouble? Or that something had gone wrong with the ghosts? Would she just be able to turn away if she thought innocent people might be getting hurt?"

Backing away from the window, he continued, "Whatever the case, Harmony was definitely here. And since he's in there, I think it's safe to assume that she's chasing after him for some reason. The fact that he looks and sounds just like Spike is probably connected to this spell she was talking about. You head back to Violet's, see if the two of them have figured out what's going on. I'll stay here and make sure Harmony doesn't come back."

As Robbie nodded and ran off, Oz turned his attention back to the window.


"You're saying this tea comes from Arizona?" William choked out.

"Um, maybe?" Marissa brought up, noting his distaste. "I mean, that's the name of the company that makes it, but I don't know if that's where it's from. Does it, um... need more sugar or something? I think there's a beer in the fridge, if you don't mind Coors Light."

"I'm not much for alcohol, thank you."

He looked up at Marissa as she suddenly giggled wildly. "Sorry," she apologized, covering her mouth. "I mean, the poet thing is a bit hard to swallow on its own, but not liking beer? Man, you've changed a bit in the past hundred years."

"Have I?" William asked. "Or, I suppose the better question would be, has he?" Looking down, he thoughtfully remarked, "This Spike that you know, it can't be me, can it? You claim that I'm still alive, but it's only a demon using my body. My soul's been laid to rest long ago."

Unsure of how to respond, Marissa slowly sat down besides him. If she told him about his soul, would he still make the effort to get it back all those years later? Was this even the same person? After all, because of William's presence here, shouldn't their current Spike's memories be altered, if he's not fading away altogether? But if that's not happening, then nothing she told this William mattered at all, since he was probably from some alternate dimension or something.

At length, she quietly said, "I won't go into detail but... basically, I hate vampires. I hate werewolves. I hate faeries, trolls, gremlins, banshees, and anything that isn't quite human." Taking a deep breath, she admitted, "But I don't hate Spike."

Surprised, William asked, "Why not?"

"I don't know, really," Marissa replied. "He... he's imperfect. He makes mistakes. He does bad things. But he never hides that. He is who he is, and he calls it like he sees it. It's hard to hate someone who's just that comfortable with what he is, especially when he's never actively tried to hurt me."

"He's comfortable?" William queried, as though it were an inside joke. "Well, that certainly isn't me." Seeing Marissa's quizzical glance, he looked towards his tea as he grimly explained, "It's quite difficult being the only creative mind in a world that focuses only upon one's social standing and financial worth. Being comfortable within my own skin is a foreign concept."

Marissa noted the redness that rose to his face as his words came out sounding a bit strangled. A bitter, misunderstood poet. Well, that would certainly explain why William became William the Bloody. She wondered now if he had actually wanted to be turned into a vampire when presented with the option, if he had considered it an escape. "It's stifling," she realized lowly.

William turned his gaze back to look at her. "Yes," he whispered fervently. "To have this... this passion. To have this fire burning in my soul, only to have it put out with every rejection, with every scorning laugh. And still, my heart doesn't learn. An ember remains, and it catches to something, and the fire begins all over again." Breathing hard, he shook his head as he concluded, "It's a vicious cycle." Raising the mug to his lips, he murmured, "At least vampirism will finally put out the inferno and grant me repose."

"No," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Lowering the mug, William gawked at Marissa as she vehemently shook her head. "Being a vampire doesn't work that way. It's still... it's still you. Just a you without a soul. And that's what makes it worse." Remembering Spike's various speeches to her about the return of his soul, she lowered her voice as she continued, "You know what you're doing, and you just don't care. And I guess the not-caring is part of what makes it feel so good, but... but once you become you again, once your soul.... It'll all come back. It'll crash, and it'll hurt, and it's probably better if you don't let your soul take that vacation to begin with."

After a moment, William realized, "And then your Spike will never exist."

"Maybe," Marissa agreed. "But you will. And you can write poems for the rest of your mortal life."

"Oh, I don't think that would be anything but a blight upon mankind," William laughed. "I'm not a very good poet, it seems. My words don't quite manage to capture the glory of the things they mean to revere. Speaking of that, what's your opinion on the word effulgent?"

Surprised by the random question, Marissa blinked and replied, "Um... I don't even know what that means."

"It's another word for gleaming," William informed her.

"Why not just use gleaming?"

"Trouble is, nothing rhymes with it."

"Seeming," Marissa offered. "Teeming?"

"Teeming," William uttered contemplatively, putting his mug on the coffee table. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out several sheets of paper and shuffled through them. He stopped at one and read through it, silently mouthing the words to himself. "Yes, teeming. I think that can work quite well."

"You carry your poetry around with you?" Marissa asked, interested. "Can I see?"

"Oh," William responded, flushing at the idea of someone genuinely wanting to read his work. "Well, you see...."

William didn't get to finish his statement, as the front door suddenly burst open. Marissa jumped to her feet, crying out when she recognized the thing that had catapulted through her door as Oz's half-transformed beast. When William realized what it was, he let out a shout and cringed back against the sofa.

Oz quickly rose into a crouch, his back to Marissa and William. Glancing at Marissa over his shoulder, he told her, "Run. Get out through the back." Marissa looked past him, out into her front yard. She saw a small figure clad in black ascending the porch steps, but she didn't question his aptitude when she saw his hideous face. This was a demon, and the familiar blonde vampire next to him was clearly strong enough to have tossed Oz straight through her door.

"Troll!" William called out, pointing towards the demon. "It's the troll and his woman!"

"It's okay," Marissa said. "The vamp can't come in."

"Rahddy-kins," the vampire said sweetly. "I wish I can walk right into this house and give that fat-assed tramp her stupid little plastic stake back."

With a smirk, the small demon replied, "Wish granted."

"Run!" Oz screamed.

Seeing the blonde vampire storm into the house, Marissa shrieked and grabbed William. "Come on," she told him, pulling him towards the backdoor in the kitchen. He yelled as the vampire lunged at him only to be stopped by the wolf-thing. Without another word, he followed Marissa out.

Punching Harmony as hard as he could, Oz grunted out, "What are you planning, Harmony?" Hitting her again, he asked, "Who was that guy? Why does he look so much like Spike?" Though she managed to block his next jab, she couldn't prevent him from butting his head soundly against hers.

Staggering backwards, she whined, "Ow! How do you expect me to answer you if you just keep hitting me?" Looking back at Sadrahd, she requested, "A little help here, Rahd."

Stepping into the house, Sadrahd glared at Oz and waved his hand sharply, sending Oz flying back. The werewolf crashed against a wall and fell to his knees, looking up just in time to see the vengeance demon keep Harmony from kicking him in the ribs. "W-we're not here for that, y-you idiot." Sneering down at Oz, he elaborated, "We need their help."

"What?!" Harmony cried out. "Did you go all softie on me, too? What is it with you evil guys not staying evil?"

With another wave of his hand, Harmony suddenly found herself flung across the room, though she landed much more gently than Oz had. Squatting down in front of Oz, Sadrahd said, "Now listen to me very, v-very carefully. I c-c-can fix this, but we need to hurry. If Spike encounters his p-past self, something t-terrible will happen."

When Oz asked what would happen, Harmony remarked, "Does the phrase, 'it's the end of the world as we know it,' mean anything to you?"


"You've been about as useful as something not very useful at all," Spike groaned.

Buried in yellowed parchments that had fallen out of her family's collected journals, Violet put down the papers she was working on translating and snapped, "Hey, I'm doing the best I can, okay? The Sidhe don't exactly care much about the life of one vampire. So the lights went out while one of them was being made back in the nineteenth century, big deal."

"It is a big deal," Spike told her sharply, getting in her face. "That's not exactly a usual occurrence while someone's getting himself sired, so it has to signify something. And since I also happen to be the only ensouled vampire walking about, I'm guessing that there has to be some sort of prophecy about tonight somewhere." Running a hand through his hair, he mentioned, "You say your kin knew about the Powers That Be. If I'm one of their current champions, shouldn't there be some reference-"

"Look," Violet told him, finally losing her patience. Rising to her feet, she told him, "I've been reading through tons of old books written in a language that I rarely ever speak. You've been glaring out the window and being all moody in the corner. You've been around long enough to pick up different languages." Nearly shoving a book into his stomach, she said between gritted teeth, "Start learning."

"You don't learn Gaelic overnight!"

"Impress me."

Waving the book threateningly, Spike told her, "Oh, there's something I'd like to impress on you, all right." Hearing a flurry of knocks on the door, Spike lowered the book as Violet went to answer it. "If that's not good news, I'm going to-"

"Oh, you're going to what?" Violet asked. "Empty-threat me to death?"

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Robbie burst in. He spared her a quick glance before turning his attention to Spike. "Oh good, you're here," he remarked, breathing hard after having run all the way to the apartment. "That takes care of the 'Spike-is-brainwashed' theory."

"Of the what?" Spike queried, tossing the book on the table.

"Robbie, what happened?" Violet inquired, closing the door and putting a hand on her friend's shoulder.

Robbie took a quick moment to catch his breath, then stated, "Marissa."

"Oh please," Spike scoffed. "Must everything come back to the pup? We're dealing with something serious here, so get yourself a cold shower and-"

"We tracked Harmony to her place," Robbie interrupted. "When we looked inside, we saw a guy sitting in her living room. This guy looked exactly like you."

"Like him?" Violet asked.

"Well, not exactly," Robbie amended. "His hair was brown and long-ish, and he was wearing glasses. And the body language was all wrong. But I saw him up close when we cornered Harmony, and besides the hair and the weird clothes and the different accent, it was Spike's double."

"Uh-huh," Violet remarked. "Robbie, has anyone told you that you're quite skilled at jumping to conclusions?"

"I'll deal with this," Spike said, suddenly solemn.

As the vampire walked past the two of them to leave the apartment, Violet whirled around to look at him. "What? Spike, that's nuts. What does-"

"If there's some bloke walking about that looks like me," Spike told her, "even if it's not a very good imitation, it could be bad news. Harmony said she messed up a spell, so maybe she tried to create her very own bloody blondie bear and screwed it up somehow. If she's looking for him, then I've got to find him first and figure out why she wants him around." Before either Violet or Robbie could argue, Spike was gone.

After a moment, Violet looked confusedly over at Robbie. "Blondie bear?" Robbie shrugged his shoulders and shook his head just as Violet's telephone rang. "With a pet name like that," she said as she walked towards the phone, "no wonder he wants her dead." As Robbie crashed into a chair, Violet answered the phone. "Hello?"

Robbie sat up when Violet asked, "Oz?" It didn't help Robbie's worry when she continued, "Whoa, wait, slow down. ... No, Spike just left. He's looking for his evil twin, apparently. ...What? ... time displacement? Are you kidding me?! ... I've never done that before. It's tricky, but I could give it a try, if I can connect with him and we pool our resources. ... okay, yeah, I'll work on it; tell him to do the same. Find Marissa before Spike does."

When she hung up the phone, Robbie was on his feet and approaching her warily. "What is it?" Robbie asked. "What happened?"

She pushed past him and moved towards a trunk that she kept in a corner of the room. "That guy that you saw didn't just look like Spike; it was Spike. Spike circa 1880." Opening the trunk, she began fishing through it as she explained, "A powerful incantation was spoken incorrectly, so a time portal ripped through the dimensional walls and brought him here. It's unclear if he's from the past or from another dimension altogether, but if the first part's the case, we need to send him back before Spike sees him." Realizing something, she looked back to the books on the table and uttered, "Judging from the history texts back there, I think it's safe to say that we're on a tight schedule."

Making room for Violet to move as she quickly knelt in the middle of the room and spread out an armful of jars and candles, Robbie tried to get a handle on the situation. "Okay, whoa... if that's Spike from back then, why can't Spike from now see him?"

Quickly sifting through her materials, Violet explained, "It's like a... like a pop. The exact same individual can't exist in the same place twice. Different versions of him can, like dimension-hoppers and whatnot, but our past selves and present selves were never meant to converge. It'll break down the walls of reality, maybe even cause an early, unintentional apocalypse."

"But... but what about fate?" Robbie asked. "I mean, if past Spike and present Spike are the same Spike, then shouldn't present Spike have the same memories as past Spike? Doesn't this mean that this whole thing already happened in his head? And if that's the case, and present Spike doesn't remember past Spike sparking an apocalypse, then we know that present Spike and past Spike aren't going to end up meeting because fate-"

"Robbie, I love you, but if you don't shut up, I'm ripping your tongue out," Violet snapped. When Robbie finally shut his mouth and Violet's headache subsided just a little, she clarified, "We can't trust fate to do anything for us, even if things are 'fated' to happen. They only happen if we do our parts, and since there are an infinite number of parallel universes where one small change alters that entire universe's landscape, I'd like to be in one of the universes that doesn't go boom because of a little temporal imbalance. So keep quiet while I try to connect with this demon Oz told me about."

"Connect with a demon?" Robbie queried.

"Harmony and this vengeance demon guy," Violet told him, pouring out a circle of red sand around her. "They might be bad guys, but they don't want the world destroyed, either. The demon wants to put past Spike back as much as we do, but he wants to do it in a way so as to subvert any permanent repercussions from the Powers That Be. Oz asked me if I could do that, so I'm going to try and psychically connect with the demon, combine our magics, and open up a portal while Oz goes off and finds Marissa and past Spike."

"They're not there?"

"Harmony and the demon scared them off," Violet explained, sitting cross-legged in the center of the circle. "Oz is going to track them, and the demon's going to keep a beacon on Oz so we can open the portal close to their location."

Watching as Violet lit three green candles and placed them in a triangle in front of her, Robbie was at a loss. He could deal with being stuck in a horror movie, and he dabbled in the realms of science fiction, but this whole time traveling vampire thing was too bizarre even for him. "Right," he said. "Well, is there anything I can do?"

Closing her eyes, Violet replied, "If you see me starting to pass out, try to catch me."


"I can't... I can't run anymore," William panted.

Pulling William into an alleyway, Marissa backed against the wall and kept an eye out behind them. "They're not chasing us," she wheezed. "Why aren't they chasing us? Is it Oz they want?" As her chest heaved in fear, she murmured, "Oh God, they're probably ripping him to shreds right now. Mom's going to come home and find fur and blood all over the living room."

"I'm quite sure he could take care of himself," William remarked, sinking to the ground.

Marissa looked back at him, hoping this wasn't going to take its toll on him in the long run. After making sure that they weren't being hunted, she lowered herself down to stoop besides him. "That's more than I can say for us, at least."

"I don't understand," William bemoaned. His hand was cramped, and he saw that he was grasping his papers in a death grip. Easing his hold on them, he looked down at the crumpled sheets and stated, "I'm not anyone special. Not the son of royalty or the husband of a wealthy lady. I'm simply a struggling poet, so what on earth could a troll and a vampire want with me nearly one hundred and thirty years in the future?!"

"I don't know," Marissa murmured. "But now that vamp can come into my house whenever she wants, because of that scabby little gnome. He must be working some kind of crazy magic to defy the basic vampire laws like that." Glancing at William, she asked, "What's the first thing you remember after you came here? The first time you saw the vampire, did she say anything? Anything that'll explain how or why you're here?"

Still breathing hard, William thought back on it for a moment. "They were arguing," he recalled. "Possibly about my presence. She then claimed to know me, but realized that she must have been thinking about this Spike person instead. There was mention of a spell, of someone accidentally stating my 'true name' in the middle of it. And when the young woman proclaimed that she never wished to see Spike like this, her troll responded that she was trying to kill him."

"So she was trying to put a spell on Spike," Marissa slowly reasoned out. "But said your name instead of his. Maybe she was trying to bring him to her so she could kill him or something. But now that she has you... now that she has you, all she has to do is kill you, and he'll never exist."

Realizing what she was saying, William remarked, "Well, that would be convenient, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

"Get rid of me, and Spike will no longer be around," William brought up. "Spike is a vampire, and you hate vampires. My death will spare the world from one more creature of the night and the deaths of countless innocents. Poetic justice, in a way."

"Are you crazy?" Marissa blurted out. "There's no justice in that. You're still a human being. I won't shed any tears if Spike ends up kicking it, but you...." Seeing William gaze up at her, Marissa pressed her lips together before turning away. "You're just a man. I'm not going to let you die."

William looked her over carefully. Just as he was about to reach out to her and say something, a shadow came from the other side of the alley. With a shout, William flinched against Marissa, causing her to look up at the newcomer.

"Oz!" Marissa exclaimed, not sure whether or not she should be relieved to see him in one piece. At the very least, he was in his human form once again. Aside from looking a little weary and on edge, he didn't seem to be too hurt. "What do they want with him?"

"The same thing we do, ironically enough," Oz said. He reached for Marissa, hurriedly pulling her up. "Come on. Violet and the vengeance demon are going to try and synch up their magic to open another portal."

"Get your hands off of her!" William called, rising to his feet and staring down Oz. Though he didn't know how well he'd fare against a werewolf, he felt a little better when he saw how short all of the men from the future apparently were. "There'll be no more of this magical nonsense, do you hear?"

"Spi-... William, take it easy," Oz told him, obligingly backing away from Marissa even as she pulled herself away from him. "We need to put you back in your time. From what they told me, you sticking around here is going to have one hell of a bad effect if our Spike finds you."

"And who told you that?" Marissa asked suspiciously. "The things that brought him here to begin with?"

"It was an accident," Oz explained. "They wouldn't say what they were trying to summon, but it definitely wasn't something that could end the world."

"End the world?" William scoffed. "Piffle! How can I end the world?"

"Sci-fi physics," Oz told him quickly. "Similar to the temporal merging hypothesis. Think of the movie The One, only light on the Jet Li and heavy on the apocalypse."

"What are you talking about?" Marissa asked sternly.

"If Spike gets a load of William," Oz stated bluntly, "the world as we know it will no longer exist. It's like a computer coming across an improbable scenario. If it doesn't know how to handle it, its circuits will overload. That's what'll happen to the world." Seeing Marissa's downcast eyes, he said in a quieter voice, "Marissa, I'm not making this up."

Picking up a familiar scent, Oz glanced out of the mouth of the alley. Though it was several blocks away, Oz recognized the blond figure in the black trench coat speeding in their direction. "It's Spike! You two better-"

He was cut off by a sudden blow to the head and fell on the pavement, dazed. William dropped the trash can lid that he had used to hit Oz and grabbed Marissa's hand, pulling her further into the alley. "Come! There has to be someplace we can go to-"

It was his turn to be cut off, as a green flash of light burst into the dark alley and a shock sent them both flying to the ground. Marissa glanced up as the streetlights flickered, understanding that the wavering portal in front of them was causing some kind of energy disturbance. That was what had caused the blackout earlier that evening.

The two of them pulled themselves up. Looking through the flickering gateway that was being powered by the faerie and the demon, William remarked, "Why, it's London! It's the alleyway in which I was sitting before I...." Looking down at Marissa, a bit of disappointment snuck into his voice as he concluded, "It's home."

Marissa turned back to look at Oz. "You hit him," she gasped. "Why'd you hit him?"

"He was hurting you," William replied. "He was, wasn't he? I didn't gather he was a friend of yours. But this nonsense about me destroying the world-"

"It's not nonsense," Marissa told him, looking up at him. "At least, I don't think it is. I mean, it seems a little far-fetched, but... but if it's true and Spike's on his way, you need to get going. He's probably doubling his speed right now, after seeing Oz fall and the lights and... you need to go!"

"I think I'd rather like to meet this Spike person."

With an irritated sound, Marissa grabbed his arms and pulled him towards the portal. "William, go!"

When he crossed over, he took hold of her arms and quietly said, "I don't want to."

"What?"

"I need a spot of excitement in my life," William explained, staring at her intently. "This world is full of it. Teeming with it, if you will. And yet out of all of the exciting things I've seen, you're the only one that hasn't terrified me. You've made it possible for me to ignore the snide remarks of my cohorts and to move on after my heart was dashed to pieces. You-"

"You can't throw away the life you're meant for just for an adventure," Marissa told him. "You'll have plenty adventure soon enough, so you need to go back so we can set things right."

"Even if it leads to vampirism?" William asked. "Even if it kills the spark entirely?"

"The spark won't die," she replied. "You're the spark. The embers might be weak for a while, but they'll catch to something again, and that vicious cycle will continue. But it won't if the world ends." Hearing movement behind her, she whispered, "See you in another hundred and thirty years," just before shoving him through the portal and stepping back.

"What in the bleeding hell is going on?" Spike cried out, racing from around the corner. The wind from this lane was suddenly billowing almost hard enough to knock him off his feet, and nearly stumbling over Oz didn't do much to help his balance. Getting his bearings straight, he saw what looked like a dim green light fade away, leaving Marissa staring into it.

After a few moments, the streetlights stabilized and Marissa slowly turned around. Without meeting Spike's gaze, she silently walked past him as Oz slowly made his way onto his feet. When he saw the pensive expression on her face, Spike followed her onto the well-lit street.

Standing under a streetlamp, the pair said nothing for a while. Finally, Marissa whispered, "You knew, didn't you? You always knew that you'd... that we'd...."

"Yeah," Spike admitted, his hands in his pockets. "There were times when I thought it had been just a case of the crazies, but it wasn't much of an accident that I happened upon you and Hercules at Neon that night."

Taking this in, Marissa needed a moment before she breathed, "How much longer until you became-"

"You pushed me through," he responded, "I had myself a cry-fest, ripped up the bits of paper in my hands, and then she approached me. I'll give it three minutes before I traded up on the food chain."

"Oh God," Marissa choked. "I might as well have turned you myself."

"No," Spike remarked. "You were just trying to save the world. It would have happened regardless, if Harmony hadn't screwed up the spell. Wish I could've put the pieces together and remember the details a bit faster, though; would've saved us a whole lot of time."

"Time," Marissa mused quietly, still not looking up at him. "Seems like we've already got all the time we need. It just... just happens. Even if we find ourselves all disjointed, we eventually find our way back." Realizing that she was babbling, Marissa covered her face in her hands and declared, "And what's worse is that I was actually preventing the stupid vampire from putting you back where you belong."

"You're a regular agent of chaos," Spike smirked jokingly. "But that's all right. Makes you more interesting. Which is just as well, since you'd otherwise be as boring as a dry piece of toast." After a pause, he asked, "So, do you still think I'm this big scary beastie that's going to drink you dry at the slightest provocation?"

"All vampires started out like you," Marissa told him sharply. "Then once they get turned-"

"They become loathsome, amoral, soulless beasts, or something to that effect," Spike said, putting on his original dialect as he echoed the words that he had said over a century ago that Marissa had just heard only half an hour ago. "Thing is, I'm not soulless."

"But loathsome and amoral?"

"No one's perfect," he replied. "Near as I can recall, you considered that part of my charm."

"'Charm' isn't quite the word."

With a faint smile, Spike responded, "Fine then. A pact. You concede to view me as a neutral force rather than a bitter enemy, and I'll promise never to tell anyone how terrible your tea is." Seeing her smirk and the roll of her eyes, Spike stuck out his hand. "Truce?"

"Car," Oz said from behind them.

Looking at him, Spike asked, "What?"

"Car!" Oz cried, pointing to the street.

Spike and Marissa whirled around in time to see a green Chevrolet convertible speeding towards them with no clear intent of stopping. Grabbing Marissa, Spike pulled her out of the way and the both of them went tumbling along the sidewalk as the vehicle screeched to a halt just before it could crash into the streetlight they had been standing under.

Oz sped towards the two of them as they sat up, gawking at the near-accident. Spike froze when he saw the person behind the wheel stand up, gazing at him coldly. Though it took him a moment to recognize him, this was another blast from his past. The difference was, he was fairly certain that the man who was now aiming a revolver at the group of them was long dead. Still, that had never stopped the baddies before. The difference? As far as Spike knew, this new aggressor didn't have much of a history for being bad.

In a low whisper, Allen Francis Doyle remarked, "Hello, Spike."