Warnings: Character death. Who dies? If I tell you, I'd have to kill you.
"""
The rest of the school day passed without much fanfare. Like every day-after-Halloween, the younger grades had a stash of candy in their backpacks that they were trading with each other, and the older grades had hoards of candy in their desks to snack on whenever the teacher wasn't looking. The nurse's office was filled with kids of assorted ages that had overdosed on sugar, trashcans were full of candy wrappers, and every so often the crinkle of a wrapper being unwrapped could be heard somewhere.
Spike seemed to enjoy playing the popular new guy, and he'd already gotten two party invitations, five coffee-at-the-Bronze offers, eight handfuls of candy including several king-sized candy bars, and fourteen girls' telephone numbers before the seventh period bell rang. Xander watched out of the corner of his eye as Spike laughed and flirted with the girl next to him, and started getting irritated as she became lucky number fifteen to blush and scribble her number on a spare piece of notebook paper. Spike winked and slid the paper into his pocket, and Xander felt nauseous as the girl, Marci something-or-other, giggled and blushed again. He couldn't believe how easily Spike had waltzed in and become everybody's idol. He wouldn't be surprised if bleached-blonde spikey hair became the newest fad to sweep through the school. He wanted to scream at his fellow classmates, "What is wrong with you people? Can't you tell he's a freak? He claims to be a vampire, and he's threatened my life!" But that would be the final nail in his own unpopularity coffin, not to mention Spike actually looked kind of cute and harmless munching away on his chocolate, so he kept his mouth shut.
The final bell rang and Xander stood, collecting his books. His personal Spike-shaped shadow followed him out of the classroom and down the front steps of the school, and Xander breathed a tiny sign of relief. Part of him had been afraid that one of the girls would've captured Spike's attention enough to make him forget about this whole vampire thing, while the other part was steadfastly refusing to examine why the fact that Spike hadn't left him for some girl sent a little thrill down his spine.
Xander stopped and rewound his train of thought. "Left me"? Makes it sound as if we're going out and I'm afraid to be dumped. I'm just glad he's following me is because then he isn't alone with one of those girls and possibly killing them with a barbecue fork. Yeah. And that makes me feel so much better about my own safety. Xander snorted. They arrived at Mystic's Marvels and Xander entered with Spike on his heels, "Hey, George?"
George was, per usual, standing behind the counter and arraigning the loose crystals. He was running low on white quartz, and was marking down notes on a clipboard. "Hey, Xander. How's it going?" His gaze fell on Spike, "Who's your friend?"
Xander half-chuckled. "Funny story, that." He explained about using the vial and the mysterious light, and about Spike's claims of vampirism.
Shock and intrigue passed over George's face as he listened. "Well, huh," he murmured after Xander was finished. He turned to look at Spike, who'd begun to browse around the shop while Xander was busy talking. "I've never heard of a vampire turning human from a dose of Mohra blood, but I suppose it's theoretically possible."
"You mean, you believe him?" Xander blurted out. "Vampires exist?"
"Well, yeah," George said, tilting his head. "You didn't know?"
"No!" Xander exclaimed, "I didn't!"
"Oh." George replied, and then nodded slightly. "Xander?"
"Yeah?"
"Vampires exist."
Xander couldn't help smiling a little. "Thanks for letting me know."
George smiled back. "No problem."
"As much as I hate to break this sentimental bonding moment," Spikeinterrupted, looking hard at George, "the boy here said that you would know how to reverse it. So?"
George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you've considered simply being turned again by your sire? Although Heimlan's Hypothesis described the idea that a vampire's control over his own supernatural powers and bloodlust is directly proportionate to the number of years the creature has existed factored by the quality and quantity of blood the creature has ingested, with the variable of bloodline training and experience. He speculated that upon the circumstance that a vampire turned human, if he was turned again he would have to start the entire process from the beginning."
"I know Heimlan's Hypothesis. I'm quite familiar with his writings." Spike retorted, "But I'm not asking for hypothesizes and theories, I want answers. Is there a cure for this?"
"I honestly don't know." George replied. "I would have to do some research and contact a few people in the field."
Spike sighed, and opened his mouth to say something when Xander began coughing harshly, doubling over from the force of the coughs. He pulled a dark green bandanna from his pocket and held it over his mouth, and Spike could see the flecks of blood that appeared with every expulsion.
In a flash George was beside Xander, guiding him through a door that lead to the back room and fetching him a glass of water. Spike followed them and watched from the doorway as Xander was settled gently on a cot and sipped the water before laying down, George setting the glass on the floor next to the cot and pulling a blanket over Xander's shaking form. Xander kept holding the cloth to his mouth as coughs wracked his body.
George felt his forehead and pushed his hair back. "I'm going to go talk to the vampire. Will you be okay?" Xander nodded in between coughs that were gradually becoming less frequent. "All right. I'll be right in the other room if you need anything."
He left the back room, closing the door behind him. With a glance at Spike and a sigh, he picked up the clipboard and went back to doing inventory. Spike noticed, however, that George kept part of his attention on the door to the back room at all time.
"What's wrong with the kid?" Spike asked. Not that he was worried or anything, it's just that being a close friend of Xander's, George would probably know what was going on. He was just curious, that's all.
"I don't know." George admitted. "My guess would be tuberculosis, or something of that nature. It's never been diagnosed."
"Why not?" Spike said, incredulous. "Why hasn't a doctor been able to diagnose it?"
"Probably because he's never been to a doctor." George said.
"Never been to a doctor?" Spike repeated.
"Have you met his parents? As long as Xander stays under the radar, they barely acknowledge his existence. And believe me, it's better that way. When they do realize he's around..." George sighed, "...let's just say there have been times that Xander hasn't stopped by the shop for days, and at those times I pray that he isn't lying in a ditch somewhere, bleeding to death."
Spike lifted an eyebrow in a vaguely accusatory manner. "So they don't give a rat's arse about him. What's your excuse?"
"Do you think I haven't tried?" George said, steadily meeting Spike's gaze. "Xander is a proud boy, and can be stubborn as a mule when it comes to accepting help. Time and again I've offered to cover any medical bills, but Xander won't hear of it."
"Too bad you don't have any more of that healing blood tucked into a drawer somewhere." Spike remarked idly. George didn't say anything, and silence settled over them as they waited for Xander to sleep and heal.
Several minutes later, George murmured, "Mohra blood isn't a perfect healing elixir, you know." Spike turned his head and regarded him silently. "Sure, it's said to be the essence of life, but at most it's merely a momentary remedy."
"What are you talking about?" Spike demanded. "You saying this stuff wears off on its own?"
"It doesn't exactly wear off, but the healed is more likely to suffer the same ailment again." George explained, "You were a vampire before the blood healed you, correct?" At Spike's nod, he continued, "The average human has less than a three percent chance of being turned into a vampire. In Sunnydale, because of the high vampire-human ratio, the percentage is upped to around 40. You, having been a vampire turned human via the blood, probably have a 95 chance of being turned back into a vampire. You probably have not had time to notice it yet, but the longer you continue living as a human, the more often you will be attacked by vampires with the intent to turn you. They may not even realize that something is drawing them towards you."
Spike frowned, "So this stuff is, what? A vampire attracter?"
"No," George shook his head, "The world is always seeking a balance. In order for Mohra blood to heal so greatly, there has to be a counter-effect. If Xander were to be healed by the blood, he would be that much more vulnerable to being infected again. The next time he comes in contact with contaminated possessions or another person carrying the disease, he would immediately contract the sickness again and it would be worse the second time."
A pause stretched again as Spike considered the implications of this new knowledge. "So, what happens now?"
"Oh, don't worry my dear. There's to be a party soon." A new voice came from the front door, dark and feminine. Spike turned slowly, growl in his throat at the sight of Drusilla standing in the doorway. "There, there, my pet," she crooned, stepping inside the shop and drifting towards them, "Aren't you happy to see your mummy again?"
Spike made a break for the door leading to the back room but the door opened before he could reach it. Another vampire stood there holding an out-of-it Xander in his arms. "I don't think so." The second vampire chuckled.
"Jesse?" Xander murmured woozily.
"Yeah, Xan?"
"Wills was lookin' for you."
"Thanks for letting me know." Jesse said and cuffed Xander sharply, knocking him unconscious.
Spike cried out and took a step forward, but stopped as he heard Drusilla whispering, "Be in my eyes... be in me..." He turned just in time to see Dru snap George's neck. Dru stepped over the corpse and approached Spike. "Be a good kitten and find your way to me," she told him, "The party preparations are not quite ready. It will be a grand ball. But as for now, I've a present to return." Before he could move to block it, she punched him hard in the face, sending him flying back several feet to impact with a row of bookshelves filled with a large incense display. The shelves shattered on impact and Spike's unconscious body slipped to the floor surrounded by broken vials and sticks of incense.
"Come." Drusilla said and exited the room before her clothes could absorb the stink, Jesse right behind her with Xander slunk over his shoulder. "We've a party to set up before the guest of honor arrives."
"""
Willow walked into Amy's bedroom, tears streaming down her face. After Amy's mom had committed suicide, her father came into money and got custody of her. They now lived in one of the larger homes in Sunnydale, and Amy practically had an entire wing to herself. Since her father gave her as much privacy as she desired, she and Willow usually hung out at her house.
Amy was off the bed in an instant, novel falling forgotten to the floor as she took Willow in her arms. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"It's Jesse." Willow sobbed, clinging to her girlfriend. "They found his body. He was murdered, just like Cordelia was."
"Shhh." Amy held her, swaying gently to comfort her. "It's okay." The shoulder of her shirt was rapidly becoming wet with tears, where Willow's face was pressed.
Willow continued, her voice muffled and tear-hoarse, "And then when I was asking Xander if he'd seen Jesse, he was so mean! I know he was doing it just to rile me up but I got so angry that I stormed away. I just don't know what happened to us. We used to be friends, Xander, Jesse and I, and now Xander hates me and Jesse is dead!"
Amy held her as she wept, and by the time her tears slowed she was so exhausted that Amy tucked her into her own bed and called Mrs. Rosenburg to tell her that Willow was spending the night. Willow fell into a deep sleep and Amy watched over her, stroking her hair. After she was certain Willow wouldn't wake, she slowly got off the bed and collected ingredients from their hiding places in her room.
Her bedroom was big enough to have its own fireplace, and she knelt by the hearth with matches, a white quartz crystal, and a sprig of Lethe's Bramble from the vase atop the mantle. Chanting an incantation, she lit the bramble on fire and touched the crystal to the flame, invoking the Goddess to work her will. She commanded that Willow's grief over Jesse's death be lessened, and that the memory of her conversation with Xander that afternoon vanish. The clear crystal turned a solid black as the magic confined the memories and emotions within the crystal.
Humming to herself, she tied a piece of string around the crystal, suspending it to hang against the window . The setting sunlight sparkled off of the dark crystal, as it swung gently next to several other crystals the same eerie shade of black. It faintly glowed green as it absorbed the misery Willow was feeling as she dreamt about Jesse. Amy wanted Willow to be happy, and she would do anything to make sure Willow stayed happy. She crawled into bed and Willow stirred, opening her eyes and smiling sleepily.
"C'mere honey." Willow opened her arms and Amy curled up against her, and soon both were sleep dreaming happy dreams.
"""
TBC...