"Anya, baby, we're gonna be late !" The blonde emerged from the bedroom, looking flustered, with only one shoe.

"I can't find it ! It's going to ruin everything !" she wailed. "I'm getting married, and I have an appointment with a real photographer who's really going to be at my real wedding, and I can't find my shoe, and it's all going to be over !" she bawled, and Xander tried very hard not to crack a grin.

"It's next to the couch, honey."

"Oh." she slipped her foot into the shoe and beamed at him. "Ready now !"

"That's my girl." he planted a quick kiss on her lips. "And don't be nervous." he added lovingly, omitting the second part of that sentence, which was 'cause I'm nervous enough for the both of us'.

"I'm not." she replied brightly. "I was hysterical. It's different."

Xander flicked the radio controls absently, while Anya double-checked her list.

"I want a big picture of just us. And then a couple with us and the wedding party... and a couple more of us."

"I think that's the general idea." he grinned. "It's not like they drag people in off the street and say 'hey ! stand here."

"Do you think they'd take one of my dress ? Because it was really expensive."

"You don't know until you ask." he turned left onto a small street that ran alongside the cemetery. Talk about bad business locations, he thought. A photography business across from a cemetery, on the hellmouth. That's like putting an airfield in the Bermuda Triang- it couldn't be. He nearly hit the brakes in the middle of the street. "It couldn't be."

"You don't think they'll take the dress picture ?" Anya frowned. He shook his head.

"That's not what I meant. Look, over there." he pulled the car to the curb, put it in park, and pointed. In the rapidly shrinking shade of a mausoleum, a figure in all black was huddled. "Doesn't that look like..."

"Spike ?"

He could hear voices. A couple of them. Calling him.

"Spike !"

"Hey- Spike !"

Oh, good. I still have both ears, apparently.

He would have liked to get up and see where the voices were coming from. He couldn't seem to remember how to move his neck, though.

I'm not even sure where my neck is, actually. Somewhere to the left of everything that hurts.

"Spike ! What the hell are you doing ?"

"Spike ! Sun ! Lots of sun !"

They were getting closer. Something touched his arm.

"Bhloody helsh." Spike hissed, out of the corner of his broken mouth. "Mffgrhit." Xander removed his hand, and stepped back in horror. He'd seen Spike beaten, seen him bloody, seen him cry. But he'd never seen him look so much like... hamburger.

"What happened ?"

"Mfargit. Bhuffy. Whehrr's Bhuffy ?"

It was hideous, and terribly sad, watching him try to talk. It was obvious his jaw was broken, possibly more than once, and few places on his face had kept a human coloring. Instead, he was painted like a Picasso, in shades of blue and purple. The platinum part of his head stuck up proudly, where it wasn't matted with blood. And for the first time, Xander noticed the hands clutching the duster around him. Split, skinned knuckles, with bone sticking out in several places. The dark-haired man gagged.

"Spike- don't try to talk. We're gonna get you out of here. Hon, get me the jacket from the trunk, ok ?" She ran off, while Xander bent down over the wrecked vampire. "Man. Man, oh, man."

"It's just a simple spell. But he'll sleep for a while." Willow motioned at the back room. "He... he looks like he needs it." Xander ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh. Have you ever seen... ?"

"No."

"We were just driving to the photographer's... that's why Anya's a little sulky, but trying not to show it- we missed the appointment, said we got a flat... but, anyway, we were driving.... and I just see him... sitting there. He was trying to stay out of the sun, I think, but that wasn't going to last for much longer."

"Was there anything else around ? Like, uh, a demon corpse or something ? 'Cause Spike tends not to clean up after himself."

"No, nothing. Just... a lot of blood. A lot of blood, and gushy-ness. All over the cemetery. It was mostly drying up, but... something big happened last night. It looks like it happened right on top of Spike." Willow nodded. She'd never seen hands like that. They were barely hands at all. A message flashed across her brain.

"Buffy should know about this." she said firmly. "We're supposed to be looking out for those-"

"K'bbeth." Giles finished for her, appearing in the doorway with a wrinkled black mass. "Sorry. But that's what the mess all over his coat is. We've been looking for them... and it appears Spike found them."

"In a big way." Xander whistled. "So what's the deal ?"

"We call Buffy." Willow answered. "And hope that she's got some ideas." She went to the phone. Giles turned back to Xander.

"Willow says you found him in the cemetery... was he coherent at all ?"

"Well, minus the broken jaw thing..."

"Mm."

"I second that noise of disgust. He's not on my favorite people list... but he's not on my 'deserves a broken jaw' list at the moment either." Giles gave a slight nod. "All he said was... well, I think it was swearing. You're British, you would've caught it. Oh, yeah, and he was trying to say 'Buffy', but adding extra-slurry syllables."

"I can imagine..."

At that moment, the phone crashed to the floor. The two men whipped around and stared at Willow, who was holding the humming receiver in one hand. Her face was chalk-white.

"Will ?"

"That was Dawn." she said, shaking. "She was patrolling with Spike. And sh-she didn't come home last night."