Title: Webs: Origins - Part 6
Author: Wesley (With input and insight from Stone Cold)
Rating: WARNING PG-13/R (For Violence and Adult Language)
Feedback: For the love of God YES!!!! I need Feedback, its my motivation!!! Plus kudos give me a happy :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack-Diddly
Notes: I wanted to bring together my two favorite
worlds, Buffy and Spider-Man, so here we go. Italics indicate thought, where
as * text* indicates a flashback. This Story line is set in Season 4/5.

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As long as there
have been demons, there has been the Slayer. One girl in the entire world, a
Chosen one, born with the strength and skill to hunt vampires and other
creatures of the dark. When one Slayer dies, the next is called.
*********************************************************

Part 6: - Walking in the Spider Webs

* It''s dark here. And cold, so very cold. And very dark. The musky smell of mildew and mold tickles my nostrils as I try to see where I am. Something silky and tough is covering me. I'm not sure what it is, but I can't breath. Oh god, I'm going to suffocate in this... this... tomb. I can't even feel my body, I can't move. I must be paralyzed. I try again, barely sensing my own movements, I can only feel the vibrations of my container. What am I in, its like being wrapped in plastic. Still can't breath, I can feel my lungs starting to burn. It's still so very dark.

LIGHT!! Oh god I can see some light. The wonderful warmth of light, I must be starting to break through, my covering must finally be tearing. I still can't feel my body, but something is moving, pressing me forward. I can finally feel more, I can feel... I don't know what it is, it's silky and liquid and disgusting. It's like being covered in rotten jello. WHERE THE HELL AM I!?!?!? Something isn't right.... kinda weird that I am just now getting that.

There''s more of me. I don't know how to describe it, but there's more. I can feel my arms... more than two? Am I turning into a demon? I can still feel my nose, my lips, and my hair seem the same. But I have more arms, and I'm... fat? I can feel them all now, pushing me forward, through the tube like shape past the icky firmness of my sarcophagus. *

"GAHHHH!!" Xander's scream wrenched him from his dream. His nightmare.

[-Tuesday-]

The boy's heart thundered in his chest and breaths came in short gasping pants. The nightmare had been so real, so painfully real. He gulped air down to fill his exasperated lungs. Xander ran his hands down his sweat drenched face and shook his head to clear the remains of his nightmare.

"God..." Xander reflected. Then something startled him. "Why is my bed on the ceiling?" He asked no one in particular. The boy glanced down to see the room's light at his feet. * Something is definitely not right *. He looked once again at his bed on the ceiling as reality dawned on him.

"Aw shit." He stated when his feet lost their grip on the ceiling and he plummeted head first onto his bed.

"Umph! well that is certainly going to add a whole new dimension to sleep walking." He groaned through a mouthful of pillow. Xander craned his neck enough so the half of his face that wasn't buried in a mixture of pillows and blankets could see his alarm clock. The display's amber glow read six-thirty in the morning.

Xander bounded out of bed heading for the shower. *Ah Damn it, I'm gonna be late if I don't hurry.* There had been a message on his machine when he returned to his basement-home last night. It was Mick Rosenbaugh, head of the photography department at the Sunnydale Bugle. The message was to inform him that he needed to be at The Bugle by eight in the morning to meet with the new Editor N' Chief, who had just arrived from New York.

As Xander stripped his boxers for his daily shower he couldn't help but wonder. * Why would the new Editor N' Chief want to meet me? I'm just like... freelance-guy. * Xander let the hot water of the shower flow down his neck and wash away the confusions of the previous day. The things he had done and seen. He remembered the sheer ruthlessness that had possessed him when he confronted the poorly dressed demon, and the power he had demonstrated. It astonished him. Then again, like he had said, almost dying can change a guy's perspective. The person he had been yesterday was so unlike himself, the confidence, the raw fury that had coursed though his veins. It was unbelievable... and it was fantastic.

Xander smiled bitterly at his situation as he soaped his strangely relaxed muscles with the green bar. The thought that something was different about his body plagued him. The nightmare's macabre imagery had left him uneasy. After all, dreaming one is trapped in a gelatinous coffin with extra body parts could leave anyone a little unsettled. He ducked his head back under the hot water of the steamy shower and rinsed the rest of his Irish Spring lather away.

When Xander finally ripped himself from the warm comfort of the shower he was greeted with a startling discover. The reflection that was starring back at him was strikingly different than he remembered. His face and hair were about the only things familiar to the young man when his eyes moved over the stranger in front of him. Instead of the lean "boy" he had once been, a cut well muscled athlete stared back at him. Xander knew he was no schlub, he had always been lean and well built and the massive amount of physical labor he had been performing since the end of high school had enhanced his physic greatly. Yet, the man in the mirror wasn't "bigger" than him, but it was as if all the excess fat from Ho-Hos and Twinkies had been eaten by his body during the night, leaving large muscles, well defined abdominal bulges and cut-in arms and legs. He cautiously flexed his arms and chest, watching as the swells of his new found body responded, his eyes locked onto that of the man in the mirror.

After about fifteen minutes the young man was broken from his trance by the annoying buzz of his alarm clock, signaling the arrival of seven o'clock. Xander quickly towel dried his hair and hurried to his closet, where he selected a loose fitting navy shirt which he covered with a gray button up shirt and finished off the ensemble with a pair of new gray slacks he had purchased with his first pay check from the Sunnydale Bugle. *Gotta look good for the boss * he thought. * Besides, if anyone sees me wearing something a little to form fitting there would definitely be questions to answers, and right now, even I don't have any answers. * Xander took a moment to imagine the potential hilarity of seeing Willow, Buffy, and maybe even Tara's jaws dropping to the ground, but shook his head in dismissal. * Yup, a bad thing. *

***

The rumbling rhythm of Three Doors Down filled his Uncle Rory's car as Xander turned the corner that led to downtown Sunnydale. He couldn't help but laugh when the lyrics touched his ears. * Superman? * he thought sadly * Not even close. * he thought as a frown crept across his face.

His thoughts turned to that of his own personal Superman, or person as it were, the woman known as Buffy Summers. Despite the volatile rage that he had felt toward her when she brushed him off, he was worried for the Slayer as well. When she stormed out of the hospital Xander could tell something had been amiss, and he hoped it wasn't Riley. * Buffy has had a enough pain in that part of her life, she doesn't need him messing with her emotions. * A rattle rang out from under the hood of the Chevy convertible and Xander just stared blankly at the speedometer as it dropped rapidly.

"Oh yeah, there's a big surprise."

Xander swore silently at the car that slowly puttered to the side of the road. He stared daggers at the wheel when the steering went stiff and left him stranded on the side of the road with the buildings of downtown Sunnydale glinting the early morning sun back at him. The digital display of the Coast-Side Financial clock laughed the time back at him.

"Fan-freaking-tastic!" he blustered, "Twenty five minutes till eight and I'm three miles from the Bugle" The nervous young man sat helplessly upon the concrete curb to collect his thoughts.

* Twenty five minutes, three miles. Twenty five minutes, three miles. Come on Harris how can you make this work. *

-*You can't, that's how, and you're gonna get yourself fired from ANOTHER job you looser. *-

* Hey shut-up damn it I'm trying to think. *

-*Yeah like that ever worked, come on man, you know all your options, you don't have any cash on you so you can't call a cab, no it's not in your wallet you took it out to count it again last night and left it on the night stand, yah big baby. *-

* Well.... um, the buses! Yeah I can take a bus! *

-*Sorry handsome, you know as well as I do that the last bus ran at seven thirty, so what are you gonna do huh? Go leaping from roof top to roof top like that guy in that movie that time? *-

Xander pondered this for a moment. * Why not? * he asked himself.

-*Huh?!? * -

* Proportional speed, strength, and agility of a spider ring any bells? *

-*Um, yeah, what are you getting at there Einstein? *-

* Well, from what I remember from my D minus science education, spiders are pretty damned strong for their size. If I stick to the rooftops as you so wisely suggested oh sarcastic one, then no one will see me, and the Bugle is right across from that cafe so I can drop down in the alley behind. *

-*ARE YOU FREAKING INSANE? *- his mind asked.

Xander laughed out loud at his own insight. * You better believe it buddy! If I'm gonna be stuck a freak, I might as well make it work for me. * the young man mentally declared when he sped into the nearest alleyway.

Xander slung his camera case around his shoulder and breathed a deep replenishing breath. * Okay Xander, just like yesterday, one hand at a time just will it and up we go. Remember the wise words of Yoda, "there is no try, only do". * He cautiously placed both hands on the side wall of 'Bernie's Magic and Such', and with a deep breath, started climbing. One hand after the other Xander's form ascended, sleek and steady. His feet joined his hands and pushed against the vertical surface as he scaled higher into the morning sky. The boy's frame shivered with a mixture of fear and excitement * This oh so freaky. *

Xander hefted himself over the edge of the building and crouched on the ledge to look down behind him for the first time. * Simply amazing * The black haired silhouette against the sun inhaled a deep breath of preparation, and then bolted with rocket like speed in the direction of the Sunnydale Bugle. His newly empowered legs carried him faster than Hermes' winged boots to the ledge of the building, which gave way to a great chasm between roofs. Xander's superhuman might carried him easily over the expanse without even breaking stride. His heavy boots thumped with rhythmic movements, chewing up the space to the next building.

He continued that way for fifteen minutes, allowing his new found instincts to guide him. The powerful young man moved like a panther across the rooftops, he leaped, dodged, and jumped to create an aerial ballet in the early morning sky. The nervous reluctance of the dancer dissipated when the rush of freedom touched his blood. Xander's new body carried him on his way with the great ease and not one hint of trepidation. Intoxicated with adrenaline the young man didn't even pause when he reached the valley carved by a secondary road that ran between two of the building in his path.

Xander knew the building he was traveling along and he remembered the flag pole on the side of the building that he approached. Xander couldn't resist. He plummeted off the side of the Starbucks (part of the shopping center building he was atop) and watched with glee when he fell toward the flag pole with the full intent of a spring board summersault over to the next building.

Have you have ever had one of those moments when you know you need to cut back on your television time? The shrieking buzz in the back of Alexander Harris' head told him that very thing. When his weight descended on the flexible metal rod, it bent like a spring, just as Xander had planned, but the fact that it snapped and sent him flailing the other 20 feet to the ground was not part of the big picture at all.

The would-be comic book character caught himself in the last 10 feet on the wall, and for the second time in as many days, he was slammed into the side of a brick wall. * Ouch * The disillusioned youngster let himself slip the rest of the way to the ground and fall into a heap. * Damn it, they make that stuff look so easy. I should sue! * Xander stood back up against the wall and twisted his neck to a satisfying "pop". He looked at his watch which told him that he had ten minutes left to make it to the Bugle, and thankfully he only needed five to walk it normally.

Xander sighed softly and picked himself the rest of the way up to finish his long walk. He noticed a patron of the Starbucks look at him quizzically, which was understandable. When one considered the fact that he was slouched against the building and a broken flag pole was only a few feet from him, it made for an interesting site. The coffee drinker regarded Xander with a groggy sneer and went on his way. Xander decided to do the same before another, more inquisitive, person came along.

***

"Ah, Xander," Mick Rosenbaugh started with a look at his pocket watch, "Punctual. We like that sort of thing around here. If you would be so kind as to wait here for a moment, I'll call you in when Mr. Jameson is ready to see you."

"Sure thing Mr. Rosenbaugh. " Xander replied taking a seat.

"Call me Mick." he stated before he disappeared into the large office marked "Editor N' Chief". Xander smiled to himself at the middle-aged man's remark.


[-An unknown medical facility somewhere in L.A.: ICU-]

The rhythmic hum of electrical equipment and susurrant gasps from a ventilation device were the only sound to fill room 316. The bleached white walls looked to have recently been constructed, the smell of fresh paint still lingered in the air. Tethered to the each of the 4 walls was a mechanical snake-like appendage, still connected to the metal cylinder that encased the radiation-charred body of Dr. Otto Octavious. Outside the room, a man in a white lab coat gazed at Octavious from through the embedded glass window. He barely noticed the older man who approached.

"How's his condition Dr. Brauch?" Asked the on-comer. The man's six foot three figure towered over the smaller man. His steel gray eyes sat sunken slightly in his chiseled features, accented by the dark black hair that crowned his head. Only a few wisps of gray betrayed his young face.

"Ah, Dr. Mansfield, our patient is resting well." Assured the on looking Dr. Brauch.

"Well I'm glad someone is getting some down time." He said while rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, you'd rest well too if they were pumping as many meds through your veins." The smaller man said with a sardonic grin.

"Why is the control unit still attached? Were you unable to remove it?" Asked Dr. Mansfield as he looked through the portal.

"At the moment, we can't remove it. The radiation burns have embedded the unit in scar tissue, and as you can see, we had to secure the arms of the control unit to the walls. When they brought him in his nervous system was a mess; caused the damned things to flop about like dyeing fish. I'm surprised the people at the burn ward were able to avoid injury." The blond young man looked up at the resident physician, recounting how unfair it was to be saddled with a height of five foot and seven inches. His crystal blue eyes gleamed with excited worry as he spoke.

"The control unit is still functioning, even with the wearer unconscious?" Dr. Mansfield asked in a shocked voice.

"Yes, it's a strange situation. We decided to use nanite therapy to remove the layers of scar tissue, as opposed to hours of operations. We began the treatment as soon as our boys had him transferred here from Sunnydale. I'm predicting at least an eighty-five percent recovery within the month." The young doctor replied cheerily.

"Good, Mr. Osborn will be pleased to hear he will recover. It appears our benefactor has a special interest in the good doctor. You're sure the experimental nanites will be able to repair the damage?"

"Well, our little robot workers should be able to repair the superficial scarring and nerve damage within the week, but … well come with me to the lab, I have something you should look at." Dr. Brauch commented.

The two doctors made their way down the hall to one of the facilities many modern laboratories. The lab was what Dr. Brauch referred to as the "thinking room". Its primary use was for research on the medical data compiled by the doctors. It was an astounding sight, the room housed libraries of medical journals and contained equipment better suited for a starship than a hospital.

Dr. Brauch made his way to a large flat-panel terminal and tapped away vigorously on the keyboard. Within moments, a fully three-dimensional model of Dr. Octavious' body appeared on the twenty-one inch display. Using a ball-shaped device to control the model, he moved the view to base of their patient's skull.

"Like I said earlier, the nanites will be able to repair all of the scar tissue and nerve damage, but look here. " he started. Using his pencil to point out a device on the wire frame he started again," the NICD (Neural Interception Control Device) has somehow been fused to his third vertebra. Even some of the nerve bundles have "grown" into the cybernetic components of the hardware. By all rights, the man should be paralyzed. Yet, somehow the NICD's original Trans-dermal Nerve Induction software is rerouting the signals from those bundles, through itself, to the rest of his nervous system. The techs who downloaded the error logs thought the signal translation subroutines had become corrupted, but it appears as though the "A.I." part of the software is adapting to the new organic components. Its really quite amazing."

"Amazing yes, but if this is correct, any attempt to remove the NICD could be futile, as well as fatale. Best case scenario is that the procedure is successful and our friend here is paralyzed from the neck down, which I don't think Mr. Osborn will be too happy with. Worst case he dies on the operating table, and we will most likely be killed for our failure." Dr. Mansfield said.

"Yes, I don't think even the nanites can separate the fused nerve bundles without killing him. The only person who knows enough about the NICD's operation to even ATTEMPT such a procedure is in the room down the hall trying not to die. One thing is certain though, the longer that thing penetrates the layers of his skin, the greater the risk of infection and compromises. I mean, even if we can seal off the external exposure, I'm not sure what effect the NICD's outer composite materials will have on his immune system. He could go into rejection. I'm not sure exactly what to do here, I don't know about you, but I don't want to face the boss' wrath." He said while rubbing his tired eyes.

Dr. Brauch looked at the older doctor with an exhausted expression. He was silent, his eyelids flickering in thought. The blonde man could tell a violent intellectual storm was brewing behind those steel gray orbs, and he watched with approbation. So intense was the expression on his face, that when he finally spoke, Dr. Brauch almost jumped from his skin.

"How about this …" Dr. Mansfield started, smiling a bit at his associates startled expression. "… the device itself is a self contained unit, correct? So what if we coat the exterior of the device in a hypoallergenic gel or stainless steel, something that won't effect his immune system. Then we reprogram the nanites to stitch layers of skin into the casing. That way, the NICD could act as a type of re-transmitter for his spinal column."

"Hm, that could very well be our only choice. The only problem I can see is this." He stated as he turned back the three-dimensional model. With the eraser of his pencil Dr. Brauch pointed to a small rectangular hole in the back of the NICD. "This is the operations port the hardware technicians use to access the devices programmable features. Whatever we do, we will have to be sure to keep it open in case the device should ever fail."

"I'll relay what we need to do to the developers. Maybe they can give us an idea of what we can use to build a casing. You keep Dr. Octavious comfortable for the time being, I will report back to Mr. Osborn for a green light."


[-Sunnydale Bugle: Editor N' Chief Richard L. Jameson's office-]

Betty Clemens looked over at the young man waiting to speak with her boss. Rick had told him he would need a few minutes with Mr. Jameson alone and they would then buzz her to send the young man, Xander, in. She studied him critically as he fiddled with his camera. The shaggy black hair, slender soft features of his face that dove into a prominent chin. She observed how his clothes seemed a bit loose fitting, but smiled a bit wickedly at how his shirtfront caressed his abs and hinted at a well-defined body. She couldn't help but blush when he greeted her gaze with a lopsided grin.

Xander smiled sadly inside as he grinned at the secretary. He estimated her age to be under twenty-five, and her chestnut brown hair and warm blue eyes reminded him of Anya. Anya, he missed her terribly, the former demon and now former girlfriend moved to New Orleans over a week ago. No one but the two of them knew it though, he was going to tell Willow, before her unpleasant entry into the hospital.

Anya had decided she needed to broaden her human horizons beyond that of Sunnydale. She had told him something that had been quite unsettling, that she was human before she became a demon. Anya went on to tell him of reoccurring dreams and resurfacing memories that told her real name was Jessamine and lived before the times of Christ. She told him how the mantle of Anyanka had been passed down from one scorned woman to the next, each "generation" inheriting the knowledge of the previous. She explained how D'Hoffran had created the Anyankian Necklace from the imprisoned "soul" of a Demonic being known as Zarathos, the fourth son of Satan.

Jessamine had been what was scarcely known as a child-giver, what we would refer to as a surrogate mother. She took the demonic mantle after her first child was bore. Anya loved the child she had carried more than anything, and the Noble Egyptian bastard had stolen it from her arms. He gave her son his name and chicaned the people into believing the child was from wrought from his wife's loins.

Xander was startled by the revelations to say the least, but he hadn't time to say anything before Anya told him of her plans. When they were apart she had spent most of that time tracking down whatever lineage she had left, from the internet to supernatural contacts, anything to help her find her lost family. Anya had found only one woman that could be her kin, and she was in New Orleans.

After much discussion, arguing, crying, and more discussion she made her intentions clear. The former demon was going to move to New Orleans, and try to learn as much about this woman as possible. Xander too made his intentions clear, no matter what she said, he refused to abandon his friends. He had told her he loved her, and that he wished he could just move away without a word, but they both knew he couldn't. They both also knew a long distance relationship just wouldn't work

"Mr. Harris?" invaded his thoughts. "Mr. Harris?"

Xander shook his head lightly to clear it. * Damn those flashbacks *. "Yes?"

"Mr. Jameson will see you now." The secretary said while pointing at the door to his office.

"Oh... thank you." he said with a smile.

Xander stood and walked toward Mr. Jameson's office apprehensively. Nervousness spread through his body like a plague. The boy thought the chattering of his teeth would rattle the glass if he didn't calm down. He felt as if he were going to be put on trial. * Just keep your mouth shut Harris, no dumb jokes, just answer all the questions and smile brightly. * The fact that Ms. Clemens glanced at his backside did not go unnoticed by our hero, and granted him a bit of needed confidence.

Xander examined the office briefly when he entered. It was sparsely furnished, containing only a large desk, a chair, a bookshelf, and a small couch. No decorations adorned the walls or any photo's the desk. The only thing that did stand out was that of a small medal against a black backing on one of the shelves.

Xander looked nervously at the back of, who he assumed was Mr. Jameson's, head. The man stood statuesque gazing out of the large plate-glass window that separated them from the early morning sun. His hair was a silvery gray, styled in a short crew cut, upon a narrow head that sat atop large shoulders. The sun washed over the mans face causing his stature to cast an intimidating shadow on the seat Xander stood in front of. The man wore a white button down shirt with a pair of navy blue slacks with matching suspenders. He was the very epitome of a newspaper editor.

"Have a seat Mr. Harris." Mr. Jameson spoke, unmoving from his position.

"Yes, sir." Xander said sitting. * Don't screw anything up Harris. Think this through, why is he standing over there. He doesn't want you to see his eyes. He doesn't want you to be able to read anything from him. This is some kind of test. Damn, I wish it were multiple choice *

"How long have you been freelancing for us son?  A month. month and a half maybe?" Jameson asked.

"Yes sir, give or take a few days." Xander replied.

"You know kid, we haven't put you on anything big yet, just a few local openings and press conferences. I wasn't sure if you had the stuff, didn't know if you could handle the pressure a photographer faces when he's competing against the best out there. But then they brought me the photos on top of my desk there." He stated, as he motioned toward the pile of photographs.

Xander glanced toward them quickly, realizing they were his pictures of the ruins of the UCSunnydale auditorium. The young man turned his eyes back to his boss, and simply stated, "They are the photos I took yesterday, sir."

"That's right. Amidst all the tragedy that ran rampant, you still held your cool. You were still able to make the shot. I want you to look at the last photo in that stack, son. Tell me what you see."

Xander hesitantly picked up the stack of glossy photos and thumbed through them to the last. The bottom photo stilled his thoughts, as he plucked it from the bunch. It was of him, kneeling over the body of Dr. Octavious. Xander looked at it intently, trying to come up with an answer, something he didn't quite see in the photo. The only answer he could give was, "I see me."

Mr. Jameson turned and smiled at the boy. He strode to his desk and sat down, formed a temple from his hands and spoke. "Do you know what I see Xander?"

*Oh no, he used your first name. Danger on the horizon!  C'mon brain, help me out here. *

"Um, me. sir?" * Oh that was brilliant Harris. *

Mr. Jameson chuckled. "Quite the glib response, but Yes. and No. What I see in this picture is the face of conviction. I see someone who went into a dangerous situation and kept focused and steady through the whole ordeal. I saw the heart of a soldier in there. My Uncle Jonah once told me that a newspaper was like the army, you need strong solid men and women to fight for you. I'm trying to build my own army here in Sunnydale, and I could use a soldier like you, son. What do you say, you want to fight for me full-time Harris."

Xander couldn't hide the elation behind his eyes, "Sir, Yes sir!" his military side barked.

"Good son, Rick will fill you in on the details and get you over to personnel. There is a media coverage event in L.A. in two days; I want you on it. You will be traveling with our "fashion" reporter. " He stated.

At Xander's puzzled look the older man smiled and said, "We are still under staffed, so at the moment we have our fashion critic, Mary Jane, covering media events. Don't worry; I'm sure you two will get along just fine. So get caught up with personnel, get a permanent press pass, and get rested. You're headed for L.A. in two days."

Xander shook his hand vigorously, thankful for every word that came out of his mouth. The young man did as he was told and left the Bugle at nine-thirty a.m., feeling freer than he had in the last year. * Mary Jane. Where do I know that name? * Xander's distant thoughts kept him from noticing that he easily sidestepped Whistler, who happened to be standing on the corner eating a sausage and egg biscuit.

"Morning ki ... err Xander." The balance demon waved.

"Good morning Whistler." Xander replied slightly startled. "Keeping the scales of the fast food chains balanced I see." Xander growled as he strode past the poorly dressed demon.

"Cute, real cute." Whistler mumbled around a mouthful of sausage-y goodness.

Xander grinned as he walked away from him, listening to Whistler's footfalls as he tried to catch up to the quick paced young man. "So what do you want Whistler?"

"Me? Do I have to want something to." He paused as the boy stopped and turned a fierce glare upon him. "Okay, Okay, don't go all 'I'm gonna kick your ass' on me. You had a night to sleep on things, I was wondering what type of perspective you might have on your new... gifts." He said while holding his hands before his as a shield.

"Well crazy dreams and waking up on the ceiling aside, its interesting to say the least." Xander started. "It was rather exhilarating, leaping from roof top to roof top, this morning. Almost as fun as Anya when she... never mind. Though I am gonna have to work on the landings." Xander sighed as he rubbed his sore behind.

"Good then you'll be cleaning up the streets in no time. That's all I needed to know, bye! " Whistler intoned.

"Whoa, hey now, I didn't quite say that."

"So you aren't going to try and fight the plague of crime that is slowly devouring your beloved city?" Whistler asked exasperated.

"I didn't say that either! I just... well I need some time to think okay?  Look I have two days to prepare for my first real photo gig, so lets just put this whole thing on the back burner and I'll get back to you!" Xander expounded.

"Okay, but here are a couple of things that might help you make up your mind." Whistler said as he handed something to the boy.

Xander looked down at the object the demon handed him. Folded neatly in his hand were a newspaper and a small piece of stiff paper. The headline of the newspaper read "Three teens slain in drive-by shooting".  The other, smaller piece of paper was actually a business card which had, "call this person for help" written on the back of it. When he turned it over the card had the name of of one Maggie Stark on it.

"Maggie?!" Xander shouted. "What does she have to do with ... Whistler?" Xander said when he noticed the demon had disappeared.

"I hate it when they do that."


[-Location Unknown: 10:47 am-]

Fire. The rows of florescent lights were like a fire that burned the insides of Buffy's corneas. Her body was still numb as she tried to refocus her blurry eyes and she could barely manage the strength to roll on her side. The tale-tale pounding that rang through her head told her she had been knocked unconscious.

"Uhn, what the hell hit me?" Buffy groaned as she tried to sit up.

"I did." Came an unexpected voice.

The Slayer squinted her glazed green eyes toward the blonde blob directly in front of her. Even though she was unable to make out a face, or even a shape for that matter, the English accent and irritating voice identified the mystery man immediately.

"Spike." She growled.

"That's right pet. Good old neutered and harmless Spike knocked out the Slayer. It was a bloody cinch." Spike gloated.

"How?" She growled again.

"Chloroform. Wasn't all that hard really. You were so incensed by that tin soldier of yours that you didn't even notice me slip up beside you." He paused with an audible sigh as he took another drag from his cigarette. "A rag down your gullet and a moment later you were one-hundred and ten pounds of Slayer meat in my arms. Must say, it wasn't all that satisfying."

"But the chip..." Buffy groaned through her spinning world.

"... stops me from getting nasty. But ya see Slayer, I didn't hurt a bleached strand on your pretty little head. No violence, no bloody bite from that little fucker in my head." Spike leered at her.

"Where am I?" Buffy asked. She shook her head as it started to clear.

"Don't rightly know Slayer. But from the looks of the cells we're in, I'd have ta say Initiative."

"We?"

"Well, aren't we just full of one word question today pet. Yes... We."

Buffy strained against the throbbing pain in her eyes to focus on where Spike was. He sat on his rear, back against the wall, with his legs crossed in front of him. He was in an all white cell, which after looking around, she realized was a fact they both shared. The white hospital scrubs seemed to be another thing they had in common. The thing that struck her as odd was the fact the cell had no bars. In fact, there appeared to be no confinement of any kind.

After a couple of tries, her legs begrudgingly allowed her to stand and stumble toward Spike. She was brought to her full senses when something knocked her back flat on the ass Spike had often admired. All he could do was smile and take another drag from his cigarette.

"Sonic barriers Slayer. Sting like a bitch don't they. Most of the creepy crawlies they try to keep here could probably break Superman's arm. I doubt they would let bars keep them cooped up."

The girl mentally willed Spike to burst into ash but grunted as she tried to stand again. "Didn't take you for much of a comic reader Spike."

"One has to have his hobbies." Spike replied nonchalantly.

"So if you're the one who brought me here what's with?" Buffy asked as she made waving motions to Spikes situation.

"That bloody robot wanker promised to get rid of my annoying friend if I brought you to him. So I did and he buggered me over good. Something about Adam and Eve." Spike sneered with an obscene glint in his eye. "If it wasn't me in this position, I'd be right proud of him."

Buffy simply stared at him disgustedly.

"I've said it before pet. I'm EVIL!" He yelled which was accented by a foppish gesture of his cigarette hand.

Buffy huddled herself against one of the white cell walls and stared at Spike with utter contempt. She had come to see Spike as a harmless pup whose bark was louder than his bite. It was a mistake that had allowed him to get closer than any evil creature should. Amidst the torrents of heated emotion that flowed through her it the shame that burned her veins like acid. She let all of her hate and anger flow into her stare while the rest of her tried to formulate a plan of escape. But the shame... the shame remained.

"Don't worry Buff. I'm sure that crack team you call the Scooby Gang will have everything right as rain in no time." Spike sounded almost genuine.

***

[-Giles' Apartment: Noon-]

"La duh dee, La dum dee, Radioactive la dah dee." Xander whistled as he walked through Giles' front door. He was somewhat surprised to see Giles, Tara, and even Willow listening to Riley go on about something.

"Willow!" Xander yelled happily.

"Xander!" She called back through a bright smile.

With in an instant Xander was at her side hugging the life out of her. Willow squealed in delight at her friends exuberance.

"I thought you were going to be in the hospital till tomorrow?" Xander asked with a confused expression.

"Blame Tara, I think she threatened to turn the doctor into a toad if he didn't release me this morning." Willow said with an elated expression still glued to her face.

Tara blushed and giggled a bit at her secret girlfriends loving eyes.

"I'm so glad you're okay Wills." Xander said as he hugged her tight again.

"And I'm so glad you were there Xand. Thank you." She said as a few stray tears soaked his shoulder. Though his shoulder was a lot harder than she remembered; it was like her head was laying on a brick.

"I don't mean to break up this t-touching reunion by any means. But I am rather glad you are here Xander." Giles spoke up.

"Will wonders never cease." Xander deadpanned.

"Yes it is q-quite amazing." Giles shot back without so much as turning his attention toward the boy. "Have you perhaps heard from Buffy today?" Giles' voice was suddenly a tad nervous.

The young man's lip curled involuntarily at the mention of Buffy. The fact that she had walked away from him with complete disregard still stung. He shrugged it off, as he had so many times, and looked over to the ex-librarian. "No, the last time I talked to her was on her way to meet Riley last night."

"Meet me?" Riley asked clearly confused.

"Yeah..." Xander started slowly. "... she got a message on the Initiative pager you gave her. She went to make a phone call and when she came back she headed straight for the door in full on Slayer mode. Said she was going to meet you, I assumed something to do with Adam, and told me she would call Giles." He finished. His eyes never left Riley. Something wasn't right.

Riley's tone was deathly serious as he spoke. "I didn't call Buffy."

"But..." Xander started.

"... I was called in by the Initiative yesterday at noon to take care of a situation in downtown Sunnydale. There was a pack of Aquilla Demons trying to raid an underground tomb. I was no where near the hospital" Riley said, no emotion entered his voice but his features were twisted in rage.

Riley's admission was followed by the thundering clap of Xander's fist slamming into the ex-Watcher's favorite bureau.

* I should have known! If I hadn't been so wrapped up in myself I would have realized that buzzy thing was warning me of the other Riley! God-Damn you Harris, if you could have just put two and two together you could have stopped this! This is all your fault! * his mind berated.

"Ah!" Willow screeched; still unnerved by Xander's sudden outburst. "Uh, so what you're saying here is someone... or thing was impersonating you?"

"That's fairly obvious." Riley stated. "But the only one who could pull that off, and get access to Buffy's secured pager is..."

"Adam." Giles answered.

"She's not dead." Xander stated coldly.

"Xander..." Willow started, not even sure of what she was going to say.

"No, she is not dead. So far Adam hasn't made with the "kill them all" routine. He doesn't care about us, Willow, we aren't worth his time." Everyone just looked at him.

Though Riley seemed to understand what he was saying. "He's right. Adam doesn't consider us a threat. Look at what he has already pulled off here. If he wanted us dead, we would be dead."

"So if he has Buffy." Willow said.

"Then its because he has some use of her." Giles stated.

"Which means she is alive." Xander finished. "And that means we find her."

"How?" Tara asked.

As if in answer to the blonde witch's question, the phone yipped its Chihuahua like bark. Giles turned his attention toward the shrill sound and mentally sighed. * I really need to replace that bloody cordless abomination *

"Buffy?" He answered.

"No Giles, its Riley. Buffy and I patrolled together last night. Something knocked me out and when I woke up this morning in the park and she was gone. I need you to meet me in the..."

"Y-Yes please hold on a moment." Giles interrupted as he nuzzled the phone against his shirt. "It appears that your doppleganger has decided to extend his rouse." He whispered.

Willow's eyes narrowed substantially at Riley. "How do we know you aren't the impostor?"

"He's not," came Xander's voice. All eyes fell on him at that moment. "Trust me, he's the real deal."

No one doubted the look in his eyes. The cold determination that lived there chilled Willow to the very marrow of her bones. She had only seen this person once before, when Buffy was to meet her death in the Master's lair.

"It's a trap." Riley said.

"Most definitely," Giles agreed, "But he maybe the only way to get to Buffy."

"That sounds really dangerous." Tara added.

"Find the Slayer, kill the bad guys, and save the day. Well it is Tuesday... sounds like a plan." Xander said.

"Yes well..." Giles said turning his attention back to the phone. "I must apologize Riley, I had to excuse myself from s-some Jehovah's Witnesses. Where did you want us to meet you?"