"Damn it, Spike! You won't be coming with me, period," Lisa yelled at him over her shoulder as she stormed down the corridor. Several people had stopped to overlook the arguing couple's fight. Great, now they had an audience!

The young woman lowered her head embarrassedly and quickly descended the stairs that let down to the lobby. Momentarily her major objective was to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

"Would you please stop running and talk to me, woman?" Spike called at her from the top of the stairs. "Sooner or later I'll get you anyways," he added for good measure.

"You think so?" Lisa quipped back, coolly walking towards the elevator.

Next thing she heard was a growl, followed by the sound of a pair of booted feet landing on the marble floor behind her. He had simply jumped over hand rail. She started pressing the elevator button repeatedly. It was her last chance. He calmly sauntered up to her.

"What are you doing, pet?" Spike asked patiently.

"Use your enhanced vampire eye balls. It's quite obvious," Lisa hissed at him. Just then the elevator arrived and she stepped inside, as did he. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and pressed the button for ground floor. The elevator had just set into motion, when Spike's fist slammed down on the emergency stop button.

"Now, what's that supposed to be?"

"A conversation if you don't mind."

"The presupposition for a conversation are two people willing to talk. Since you're the only one that's up for, it it'll sadly be a monologue."

"Fine, I'll talk you'll listen. I'm going with you and that's my last word in this. That wanker needs a good and proper beating and from what I understood I'll be able to administer it on the astral plain. Plus, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I'd let you have all the fun alone," he looked at her in resolve.

"Spike…I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous," she looked at him pleadingly, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"Love, don't let me just stand there waiting helplessly, while you perform the ritual and get yourself into all sorts of trouble. I'm a go-getter, I can't stand by idly while your in mortal danger," he took her hands in his, looking at her with puppy dog eyes.

"And I won't drag you into this. It's not your fight."

"If this isn't my fight, what is, ducks?"

It was late at night. The darkness outside had turned from a deep shade of black to more a bluish tone, that announced that soon the morning was to come. Lisa couldn't sleep. Too many disquieting thoughts were running through her head. She look at him as he lay there in peaceful slumber and couldn't help, but smile. He had a certain innocent air about him with his tossled hair and the content expression on his face.

She carefully disentangled herself from his embrace, not to wake him, which proved to be kind of difficult with his arm draped over her body possessively. After several tries she finally managed to. He only stirred briefly, but then went back to sleep.

Her feet soundlessly padded over the carpet. Lisa had reached her destination and quickly slipped into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and let the water run for a while before she stepped underneath it. The sound of the water dripping down on the tiles was kind of soothing, as was its pleasant warmth on her skin. When she stepped out of the shower watery mist filled the room, that condensed on the mirror above the washbasin. She stepped up to the basin, as if drawn to it by a magic spell. Her reflection was only a blurry greyish outline masked by a veil of drops. Her hands closed around the cool porcelain of the basin for support.

What had she done! What was she thinking? She had dragged him into this out of selfish reasons. It was true: she loved him, but the fact alone should have been reason enough to keep him out of this. There was a huge possibility she was going to die…who was she kidding – it was almost a certainty. As he wouldn't let her fight Baku alone, his fate would be sealed, too.

Lisa wiped over the mirror with her hand. Her pale face starred back at her accusatorily. The vision of Charlie's death resurfaced from her memory again. The place was still the same: the sewers – cold, wet, smelly. Only this time it wasn't Charlie who lay there dying, but Spike. Tears shimmered in her eyes and the bone chilling feeling of terror rose inside of her.

"No," Lisa said loudly to her reflection. Her fist slammed down on the rim of the basin. No, she wouldn't let this happen. It was true – he had a destiny. A destiny that was probably bigger than protecting his girlfriend from some evil necromancer. For his love, his willingness to give his life for her, she owed him the same in return.

With grim determination she grabbed her bath robe, put it on and silently snug through the apartment towards the door.

The much dreaded day of the ritual had finally arrived. Lisa had been wishing so many times it wouldn't. She had hoped against hope that time could pass a little bit slower, but deep down she knew that inevitably she would sooner or later end up here. Her hand hesitantly lay on the door knob. She was dressed in a simple white ceremonial gown; no frilly patterns, just plain linen. It was not very flattering, in fact it made her look even paler, but she wasn't going to saunter down the catwalk. Nevertheless she had accessorized adequately. She carried a small leather bag with her that contained some magical supplies required for the ceremony.

"You are really sure, you want to do this?" Spike asked her concernedly.

"As I ever will be," she said resignedly before she turned the doorknob and entered.

There were two stone altars situated in the middle of the otherwise unfurnished room. Lisa briefly wondered how they had been transported here. Each of them probably weighted a ton. Candles burned everywhere and the heavy smell of sandalwood and opium lay in the air. She nodded contently. Everything had been prepared according to her instructions.

Lorne stood there with his back turned to them, lightening the last candle. He looked slightly out of place with his turquoise suite and the yellow shirt underneath. Somehow the combination hurt her eyes.

He finally turned around to greet them, then fell silent again. The expression on the green demon's face was unusually grave. Lisa briefly squeezed his hand reassuringly as if to say 'it'll all turn out okay', then let go of it, to focus her attention on the task at hand.

"I'll work my mojo, if you don't mind. Try to keep quite," she briefly informed them.

Though the room was situated in the office building of Wolfram & Hardt's and was thereby ghost-proof, it had to be consecrated in order to serve as their safe haven. As a rule she felt a huge dislike towards people who ran around with a bunch of smoking herbs in their hands, trying to cleanse a room, but it was quite effectively, so she begrudgingly performed the ritual.

"I'm done with burning stinky herbs," she finally announced.

"Are you sure you are ready, Snow-white?" Lorne asked hesitantly. He didn't seem to be too comfortable with being a part of this.

"Not yet. There's still something I have to do."

She stepped up to Spike, reaching inside her bag.

"What's that supposed to be, ducks?" he asked with a critical frown on his face.

"A protection spell. Now hold still."

Lisa closed her eyes for a moment to focus on the spell. It had to be cast in Egyptian. She hadn't spoken this language in years and even back then, when she had used it in everyday conversation, it had been difficult for her. It required her utmost concentration.

"Osris, my master, head my call! See me and my loved one stand before thee. Keep him safe, so he shall return from the perilous path and guide his hand, when he strikes down your enemy!" her voice sounded changed, when she pronounced the foreign words – sexless, ageless. A calm smile spread on her face, as she could feel her master's presence.

Lisa reached into the bag and when she pulled out her hand again her fingers were covered with some kind of greyish dust. She completed the spell, intoning the final blessing. "Ashes we are, ashes we'll become. In thy name we'll fight," Lisa first pressed her thumb to Spike's forehead, then to her own. He looked at her sceptically, but let it happen.

"Now, that we've got our safety-belts on, we're all set and ready to go," Lisa finally announced with fake-cheerfulness - in reality all she wanted to do was run and hide.

"Ever heard of a safety-belt that kept you from turning into a bloody splash on the wall, when hitting it at full speed? I certainly haven't.."

"Yuck, thanks for the imaginary," she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Well, I still don't think this is a good idea," Spike objected gruffly.

"We've been over this a million times. There is no other way," she answered patiently. Her hand stroke gently over his cheek in a gesture of reassurance.

"I know," he said regretfully, pulling her closer to embrace her one last time before the ritual would commence. His nostrils flared as he took in her delicious smell, a mixture of soap and incense. "Just promise you won't get yourself killed," he whispered softly into her ear.

It pained her to utter those words, knowing they could eventually turn out a lie, "I promise," Lisa said, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight tremble in her voice.

The intimate moment between them ended abruptly as embarrassed coughing could be heard behind them. Both turned their heads in unison.

"As much as I hate to break this up, Romeo and Juliet, but we have to get on with the ritual-thingy," Lorne announced regretfully. Somehow they made a nice couple, unlikely, but nice.

"Right," Spike acknowledged, but still didn't budge an inch. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Lisa's lips. She closed her eyes trying to savour this fleeting moment to its fullest. When it suddenly was over, regret was clearly written on both of their faces.

Spike finally managed to pull himself away and walk over to the altar to his left, on which he then stretched out awkwardly. "Not too comfy. Just as expected," he complained mockingly, trying to make the glum situation a little bit parable for her.

"I'm sorry, those ancient ceremonial altars don't come with a cushioning. You're pretty spoiled for someone who calls himself the Big Bad," Lisa shot back, from her place on the other altar and then fell silent again. This somehow had the feeling of stretching out on an operation table. Briefly a memory flashed in her mind of her as a little child, crying softly as the nurse cautiously pressed an respiratory mask to her face. Ironically she'd prefer an appendix operation -no, better make that any kind of operation- to having to go through this ritual.

Lisa had no more time to hang after her thoughts, as Lorne took his place between the two alters. He placed one hand on Lisa's head, the other's on Spike. His fingers felt cool against her skin, letting her assume that the green demon was just about as nervous as she was.

"Okay, off we go, kiddies," Lorne announced grimly and closed his eyes in concentration.

Lisa could feel it starting to work. Her heart rate briefly increased in agitation, before it slowed down considerably and her eyes closed as she gradually drifted into a trance like state.

The room fell silent, as its three occupants were engrossed in the ritual. This was the moment he had waited for. The door opened slowly, willingly granting him entrance. Angel walked up to the altar, on which Lisa rested. The expression on her face was peaceful and made him doubt if he was cable of doing what was required of him. His moment hadn't come yet and hopefully it never would. Until then he would be left to contemplate whether he was ready to accept his role in this. His hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, hidden underneath his duster as if to reassure himself it was still there.