Spike stared back at the sexy brunette sitting across from him.

"So..." he started, taking a sip from the beer that Xander had thoughtfully gotten for them both. It may have been before noon but Miss Manners requires that life altering secrets be accompanied by the comforting anesthetic of alcohol. "I was a mass murdering vampire, got injured, was forced to work for the good guys, turned good, and then died. Is that roughly what you're saying?" he asked, a little incredulously.

"Minus a prophesy or two. Also I edited around some plot points that when spoken aloud just sound silly and distract from your overall story arc," Xander said thoughtfully. As he had been telling the incredibly watered down "Story of Spike" Xander had found himself relaxing. Sitting there, going over their old adventures and sharing a beer with Spike was the closest to content that he had felt in a long time.

"Right..." Spike said slowly. He put the beer down, folded his hands and stared at Xander very intensely.

"Listen, mate-"

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Xander asked, grinning. It honestly didn't matter to him whether Spike believed him or not. As long as he didn't start outright avoiding him, Xander would be happy.

"Well yeah. You're a few crayons short of a box, mate. But I mean, I've seen some shit since I came out of the hospital. Hell, I've seen some shit while I was in the hospital. So monsters and demons? Yeah alright. Magic? Don't know if I believe in that. And this whole story you've handed me...its a bit incredible."

"Yeah, it is," Xander agreed easily.

"If I had to guess about what's actually going on here," Spike said slowly, "I'd say that you've experienced a lot of trauma in your life, and that some of this trauma was likely do to the supernatural underworld. And to deal with it, you've concocted this fantasy world of slayers and witches that fight the bad guys, and you fight along with them. It's a fantasy that lets you feel more in control. And at some point, I'm guessing you lost someone who looked something like me, and when you saw me at the bar you started to fit me into your delusions as your long lost friend who also fought evil, died and came back. You've been fixating on me this whole time, but now your friend brings me into your home and you're left to try to convince me or give up your coping mechanism. You get me?"

Xander blinked, surprised by how plausible Spike's argument seemed. He had a brief moment of sympathy for Buffy's brush with delusion. It occurred to him that if he didn't fight it, Spike would go back to the bar, assuming that Xander was a crazy person who hadn't known him after all. He could continue to live on in ignorance of the truth, and enjoy his reward without his past coming back to bite him in the ass. With this in mind, Xander let out a deep, theatrical sigh.

"You know, I hate to admit it, but I think you're probably right. I shouldn't have gone off my meds this month."

Spike gave him a strange look, as though he had expected Xander to fight harder to prove the truth of his fantasy world.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time-John, was it?" Xander said, getting up and preparing to show Spike to the door. "I promise not to bother you in the future."

Spike was just kind of staring at him, gob smacked. Clearly not taking the hint to leave. Xander was going to start more active hinting when he felt his pocket begin to buzz. He took out his phone and saw an urgent text message from Willow:

"Xan, prepare for emergency transportation. If possible, bring our guests."

Xander frowned at his phone, wondering what could have gone down that would require he come immediately AND bring the newcomers.

"Something wrong mate?" Spike asked curiously. Xan seemed to recover himself somewhat.

"Yes," he said slowly, "I just have to go. Now. So..." he said slowly, gesturing at the door. Spike looked down at himself and shrugged.

"Yeah, I get it. Would you mind if I stuck around and had a shower? I'm feeling grimy after last night."

Xander inwardly groaned. He didn't particularly want to leave amnesiac!spike alone in his apartment, but when Willow initiated emergency transportation, he generally didn't have too long to prepare himself.

"I...sure. Just don't rob us and lock up when you leave," he said quickly, sprinting upstairs.

Sam looked up as Dean entered the room. He was munching on a poptart, spewing crumbs as he walked. He smiled at Sam.

"Hey Sam. You look like crap."

Sam flashed him sour-bitch face.

"Trouble sleeping," he said irritably. "I fell asleep at the computer." Dean flopped on the bed across the room from where Sam was seated.

"I know. I saw you when I came in," he said, happily. Sam glared at him.

"Thanks for waking me up, man," he said sarcastically. Dean just grinned wider. "Why are you in such a cheerful mood?"

Dean smiled for a minute, wondering how best to answer. Eventually he just shrugged.

"Was a good night, is all. Found some strange at the bar and then killed a vampire. Good times were had by all. Except the vampire, I guess," he added thoughtfully. Sam stared at him wide-eyed.

"You got attacked last night? Dude, why didn't you call me?" he demanded. Dean waved him off.

"It wasn't a big deal, man. It was over in two minutes, barely a scuffle. Bar tender helped me out."

"The bar tender?"

"Yeah. Apparently, the supernatural is about as secret here as it is where we're from. It's not that hard to find people in the know."

Sam considered this. As he did Dean watched him closely. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual.

"Seriously dude, you okay? You don't look great."

Sam hesitated a minute before crossing the room and sitting next to Dean.

"I had a dream," he said quietly. Dean frowned.

"What kind of dream?"

"That shadow creature we faced? I think he came to me in my dream." Dean sat up, body snapping to attention.

"What? Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, eyes darting over Sam's form as though checking for injuries.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He wasn't trying to hurt me." Dean did a double take.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, dude. What did he want?"

Sam stared at him for a minute. On the one hand, he knew that keeping important information to himself pretty much always came back to bite him in the ass, and Dean usually found out anyway. On the other hand, if Dean knew that this creature was offering him a way to remove the mark-even though it sounded like a pretty harmless solution- Dean would be dead set against it and refuse to listen to reason.

"He uh...he told me that he wasn't trying to kill us, but it was our arrival in this world that woke him up. That's why he attacked us. He said he was grumpy and he just wants to go back to sleep."

Dean gave him a incredulous look.

"Really? An all-powerful being invaded your noggin just to tell you why he's here? What, he didn't threaten you, try to make a deal?" he demanded. Sam shrugged. Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, well what else did he tell you? Did you learn anything useful as far as how to stop him?" Sam shrugged again.

"To be honest, it's all kind of a blur, you know? Not super clear. But I'll keep thinking on it. If I think of anything I'll let you know." Dean gave him a very intense stare, and Sam tried to look as innocent and dopey as possible while Dean assessed him. Luckily for Sam, Dean was always eager to look at Sam and see his goofy younger brother instead of the cunning hunter he had become. Eventually Dean just sort of nodded and brushed the crumbs off his shirt.

"Alright. Well, keep me posted."

Dean started to get up when the door burst inward. Xander was on the other side wrestling to get his coat on.

"What?" Sam and Dean asked in unison.

"Emergency teleportation to Watcher HQ. Something big is going down, apparently to do with you guys. You ready?"

Dean was pulling on a shirt as Xander was talking.

"Most definitely. Where we headed?" he asked as he and Sam followed Xander out the door.

"LA."