After dropping Willow off, Xander and Angel went straight up to Xander's apartment. Xander invited Angel in and he strode quickly to the spare room and knocked on the door. "Spike? Are you in there?" he called loudly. No answer.

"See? Just like I told you. He's not here!" Xander spread his hands.

Angel paused only a moment before he turned the door handle and swung the door wide. "Oh, he's here."

Spike was lying on the bed, flat on his back, on top of the covers, still fully dressed. He looked as pale as death and his limp hands were crossed over his unmoving chest. His eyes were shut. "God! Looks like he'd be more at home laid out in a coffin. Or on a bench in the morgue," Xander joked, walking into the room. "Why'd I bother even making up the bed? Do you sleep this way Angel? Is this how regular vampires sleep?"

"Only the idiots," Angel muttered. He went to Spike and shook his shoulders. "Spike? Spike wake up!"

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Xander realised, a little creeped out, when Spike did not so much as stir. "What do we do? Call Buffy!"

"No, wait. I think I know what this is," Angel tried not to panic. "Should've realised," he was kicking himself. Of course there was venom in that bite! Since those demons ate dead flesh, it only made sense they'd have deadly venom. "Xander where's that book?" he snapped. "That demonology book you had last night? With all those facts about the slime demons. Does it say anything about venom or toxins?"

Xander ran to get the book and came back and stood in the middle of the room, flicking through the pages. "No, No. Oh wait, yes! It's all back here in the appendix section. It says," he read aloud. "A paralysing and anaesthetising neurotoxic is contained in a potent venom secreted through needle-like teeth… It says it's… deadly to humans." Xander looked up. "Oh, no! Is Spike dead?"

"Of course he's dead, Xander," Angel was agitated. "He's a vampire for God's sake. But he's not dust, is he? So, this can't actually kill him. But we gotta wake him up." Hopefully that was still possible. Angel had heard of this type of thing happening to vampires. If too much of the toxin reached the brain the effect could be permanent. A bit like that parasite Eve put on him that time that had made him hallucinate all kinds of weirdness. It was Spike who had been there to save him, he recalled.

"How?" Xander asked. "How do we wake him up?"

Angel grabbed Spike and shook him harder this time. "Wake up Spike! You can do it. Open your eyes. Hey, Spikey! Come on!" No effect. Spike's body felt listless in Angel's grasp, his head lolled, his eyes remained closed, his lashes did not lift from ashen cheeks. Frustrated, Angel grabbed Spike and shoved him hard against the bedhead, making Xander jump, and snarled, "William!"

Finally Spike stirred, and with tremendous effort, half opened heavy eyes. "Angelus? That you?" He stared blankly. "What happened to your hair?" His voice was weirdly monotonous.

"What?" Angel's hand flew to his head in a panic, then relaxed when he realised that Spike had called him Angelus. His hair was fine. Spike on the other hand…

Spike's gaze lurched about the room. "Where's Darla? Where's Dru?"

Despite the out-of-context words, Angel felt a rush of relief that Spike was able to speak at all. That had to be a good sign, right? "Spike, you're just a little…"

"I'm confused," Spike drawled hazily, his eyes falling on Xander, who stood with feet rooted to the floor.

"Dru and Darla, they're not here, Spike. Just me," Angel explained carefully. "And him."

"You're the Slayer's boy, right?" Spike wavered vaguely, trying to focus his eyes on Xander.

"Spike, it's me Xander," Xander told him, shocked by Spike's lack of recognition. "Darla's dead, don't you remember? And Dru left you."

"No," A devastated look came into Spike's eyes, as he tried hard to comprehend.

"It's okay, Spike. It's okay," Angel tried to reassure him. When Spike's head sagged against Angel's shoulder he shook him urgently, afraid he was on the verge of blacking out again.

With great effort Spike managed to half-lift his head. "Bloody oath, we must be in that hellhole, Sunnydale," he swore.

"Sunnydale's gone. The hell mouth's destroyed," Xander persisted in trying to fill him in, oblivious to the pointed shake of Angel's head.

"What? Not the hell mouth." Spike's voice held a haunted note of despair. "Who'd do a bloody thing like that?"

"You did."

Spike stared at Xander then swivelled his eyes towards Angel. "You're gonna test out that new chainsaw of yours on him, right Angelus?"

"Maybe later," Angel said quietly, wishing Xander could just shut up.

"Hey!" Xander objected, freaking out.

"Just humour him, okay, Xander!" Angel hissed. "I don't think he can handle any more revelations right now."

"What, you don't think he needs to be reminded that he fell in love with Buffy and has a soul now?"

Spike blacked out, falling heavily against Angel. "Great help, Xander!" Angel reproached him, hefting Spike's unconscious body back onto the bed.

"Okay, I'm calling Buffy," Xander took out his phone but Angel jumped up and stopped him. "I don't think that's such a great idea. Let me handle this."

"How?"

Angel's mind raced. "He's gonna need blood," he realised. They rushed to the kitchen and Angel pulled open the fridge door, his eyes searching.

"I think you drank it all last night," Xander told him. Angel slammed the fridge harder than necessary.

"Guess there's always," Xander gulped, wondering why on earth he was suggesting it, "the old fashioned way."

Angel turned in surprise. Was Xander actually offering his own blood? "I guess… It could help… No, no, no," Angel declined. "Too risky. Besides, I've got plenty of blood at Buffy's. We just gotta get him there. Anyway, he's gotta be conscious to feed, right? First things first." Angel rushed from the kitchen.

"Holy crap, what in the…" Xander swore at the crashing sounds that assaulted his ears as he followed Angel back to the bedroom. Angel had thrown Spike across the room and was violently shaking the undead life out of the other vampire against the far wall.

"Finally," Angel muttered anxiously when Spike groggily came to, for the second time. "I know you've always been a heavy sleeper, Spike, but this is ridiculous." Angel's forced laughter died on his lips.

"M'legs feel like lead," Spike drawled. He was still not himself if his listless voice was anything to go by. He leaned his head against the wall staring vacantly at his unmoving limbs spread out on the floor in front of him in torn, faded jeans and scuffed boots.

Angel leaned over him. "But you can feel them right?" What had Xander said the venom was? A powerful neural paralytic? Hopefully this meant it was wearing off.

"Yeah, guess that's an improvement. Guess it's possible Buffy hasn't crippled me for good."

"Course not," Angel told him, a pained look on his face, realising the time period Spike thought he was in, back in Sunnydale shortly after Angelus had joined Spike and Dru in the factory. But Spike's words also brought to mind everything Buffy had told him last night about how she had treated him during their doomed relationship.

"Did Dru really leave me?" Spike mumbled tragically, seeming to remember their previous conversation at least. "What'll I do without her? Who's gonna take care of me?"

"Forget Dru, Spike," Angel told him earnestly. The whole situation was so ridiculous it would have been funny if Angel wasn't genuinely concerned. He had to get Spike to come to his senses as soon as possible, and he was beginning to realise there was only one sure way he knew how to do that. "She never really cared for you anyway, Spike. Not properly."

"But, I got nothin' else." Spike slipped sideways and Angel caught him.

"Hey, I've got you, alright," he hushed.

"Angelus, you're… helping me?"

"Yeah. Let's get you up." He draped Spike's slack arms around his shoulders and heaved him unsteadily to his feet. "Let's take a walk," he tried to sound upbeat.

"Woah! Woah! What are you doing?" Xander panicked, incredulous. "A walk? Sure that's a good idea? Angel, he can't walk!" Xander gesticulated. "He's barely conscious for God's sake, and clearly delirious. Maybe we should leave him to sleep it off some more."

"He can't sleep it off, Xander!" Angel almost bit Xander's head off. "If we let him sleep for much longer, he'll be sleeping forever! He's a vampire, you idiot! He's got no proper circulation," he explained. "We gotta get him moving!"

"Okay, okay, you know best," Xander backed down.

"And I…" Angel paused. It was probably best that he warn Xander. "I might have to rough him up a bit too," he admitted, dropping his voice. "Once we get outside." He didn't want to damage Xander's apartment too much. "Bring out the demon in him. That's what'll fix this."

"Violence is the answer? Boy, who'd have thought you of all people would jump to that conclusion?" Xander said dryly. "Now I understand what Spike was talking about last night. About the whole violence overload? Have you thought that you might be the cause of that? You really think this is what he needs right now, Angel? I mean, how's he gonna feel about it later? You know, once his brain comes back online?"

"Hey, just 'cause I can't walk no more don't mean I'm not alright in the head, Harris. I'm not delirious," Spike said, perking up just enough to manage some snark. "And I'll take anything Angel throws at me."

"See? He's gonna be fine. He's not delirious," Angel agreed as cheerily as he could manage. "He's just… taking a walk down memory lane." Angel realised Xander had a point but he couldn't let that stop him from doing what needed to be done right now. "Come on buddy," Angel mussed Spike's already dishevelled head of hair, "Let's go say our goodbyes to Buffy."

"Really?" Spike blinked.

"Yeah," Angel told him. "Of course."

Suddenly Spike sniggered disconcertingly "Bout bloody time, Angel! Thought you'd never get 'round to it. We can do this Slayer together Angel, you and me. What do you say?"

"Whatever you say, Spike," Angel told him gently, letting a smile creep onto his lips. Spike stopped abruptly, looking confused to his very depths as Angel made ready to guide him out.

"Wait. Not goin' anywhere without my coat." Spike demanded stubbornly, like a toddler who needed a blanky for comfort, some familiar object to latch onto. He leaned over and made a clumsy grab for the ratty leather duster hanging at the foot of the bed. He pulled it over the now crumpled shirt Angel had lent him the night before, not seeming to notice that one coat sleeve was literally in shreds, and the whole thing hung over him like a decaying, moth-eaten garment dug out of a centuries old grave. He straightened up, oblivious to his farcical appearance, his glittery manicure, courtesy of Dawn, being the only remotely presentable thing about him. "Gotta look the part," he attempted a snarl, "when we take the Slayer down." His feeble attempt at ferocity failed miserably, as he seemed to sense something was very wrong but was at a loss to explain it. "Right?" He toppled backwards again and Angel's quick reflexes just managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

"You're right, Angel," Xander decided. "Buffy doesn't need to see this freak show."