*****

Part 1c. In which Spike and Xander have that talk.

Normally, after the last of the slayers came back from patrol, Spike would walk around the house and the grounds, make sure there was nothing threatening the people who lived there. There almost never was, but it gave him something to do until Buffy, Dawn and the other slayers got up at sunrise. Occasionally he would check in with Angel and his people in L.A. He still couldn't say he particularly liked the man, but the year before he died had given him a good idea of what Angel had gone through when he received his soul, and the past fifteen years, without the anger of his demon to fuel him, had allowed him to mellow a great deal.

He had even checked in with Xander on occasion, as the young man spent the night in his room, alone, visited by what had to be horrific visions accompanied by terrible headaches. In a way, he knew what it was like to carry around pictures like that in your head. Although his demon was dead, he could remember everything that it had done, and the visions still haunted him, when he allowed himself to think about it. Xander had no choice but to think about the things he saw. He was responsible for the salvation of thousands of innocent lives each year. He had come to admire Xander's stoicism, his constant good cheer in the face of such a burden. He was very like Cordelia in that respect, although she still complained about the visions a whole lot more than Xander did. They really were an unlikely pair, to be chosen by the Powers for such an important purpose. He had been worried when Xander had volunteered to carry the visions ten years ago. At the time he hadn't really been aware of the strength the youth contained. But Xander had thrown himself into his new role, determined to be the very best seer that he could be. And like Cordelia, he had managed to surprise them all with his dedication.

Spike thought for a moment about leaving, doing a quick sweep of the grounds, but something in him was urging him to stay and so he sat down on the window seat and prepared to wait for Xander to finish up his report.

He smiled a bit as he thought about the way Xander had been treating him. A part of him kept expecting the same sort of contempt the boy had always shown him when he was alive. Looking back, though, he could see in that last year how the young man's attitude towards him had changed. They had never been friends, but Xander had started to accept him as a... colleague, perhaps, or at least as the man who was in love with his best friend. Now, Xander was being positively nice, understanding even. It was... strange, although certainly not unpleasant.

He watched as Xander pulled a couple of books down from his shelves - the man had an impressive library - and dug out a street directory from thhe bottom of a huge pile. He spent the next half an hour or so filling up a good three pages in one of the legal pads he went through like he'd once gone through chocolate, referring occasionally to the books beside him, but more often just scribbling down the details from memory. Eventually, he signed the bottom and closed the books. Then he moved over to his desk and pushed a button on the phone.

'That's it,' he announced, Spike assumed for his benefit. 'Someone'll be up in a sec. Then we can get talking.' Xander ducked into the bathroom for an aspirin, before heading over to the door, papers in hand. He handed them over to the boy waiting outside. 'Thanks, Dan, see you in a bit.'

The kid nodded his head and gave him a grin. 'No problem, Mr. Harris.'

Xander grimaced. 'Xander, please Dan, I'm begging you.'

Dan grinned again. 'Told you, I'm thinking about it.' He waved and took off down the corridor. Xander just shook his head ruefully and closed the door.

Spike stood up and moved over to the fireplace as Xander shifted into his plane, becoming solid again. Xander joined him on the two-seater couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

'Mr. Harris?' he asked as Xander got comfortable, smirking slightly.

Xander rolled his eyes and looked over at Spike. 'Dan's fifteen, came in with his sister Jesse, one of the slayers?' Spike nodded. Jesse was a lot of fun, although she tended to get into more trouble than some of the other slayers. 'Well, he seems to think I'm too old to be called Xander. Said it'd be like calling his teachers at school by their first names. 'Course, he only does it 'cause he knows it annoys the hell out of me.'

Xander fell silent, and they sat for a moment, neither entirely sure where to start. Eventually Xander sighed and moved around so he could look at Spike directly. 'I guess I should start with the most obvious questions.' He hesitated, chuckling nervously. 'This is weird... Well, I guess, what happened? What are you exactly? A ghost? I think I'm convinced at this point you're not just a memory. But... why are you here? For that matter, how long have you been here? Not that I'm complaining, it's good to see you again. But, you're dead, you told me that yourself. Just... well, what happened?'

Yeah, that fell into the category of painful and difficult. He had expected this, had been trying to prepare what he could say in his head. At some point, without even thinking about it, he had decided to tell Xander the truth. No one had ever told him not to. No one had ever mentioned what he should do in this sort of situation. But still, now it came down to it, he didn't know what to say. He was nervous, which was making him irritated. And what the hell did he have to be nervous about? It's not like he was obligated to explain himself. He'd been perfectly happy before all this started. He glanced over at Xander, who was looking at him expectantly. Which was just making him more nervous. Fine, he wanted an explanation.

'Let's see, shall we,' he said harshly. 'I died, again, went to heaven, decided I didn't like it, so they sent me back. End of story.'

Xander smiled slightly, although his gaze remained steely. 'That's the irritable Spike I remember. And here I thought you were a changed man.'

Seeing how composed Xander was being was pissing him off. 'Yeah, well, maybe I'm not, maybe I'm just as evil as ever. What the hell would you know? I'm sure as hell no more human than I used to be. So why don't you just pretend none of this ever happened and go back to hating me?'

Xander was looking at him seriously, sympathetically. Shit. He didn't need this. He wasn't looking for pity. 'I haven't hated you in a long time, Spike. We may never have been the best of friends, but I could see that you had the potential to be a good person.'

A good person?! 'Except I was never a 'person', was I, seer? I was an unholy demon with a soul. And now? I'm even more dead than I was before.'

He jumped out of his seat and started pacing around the room. Xander wasn't saying anything. That was fine. Why should he care? Man thought he could just waltz in and screw with his head, pretend like he cared, touch him... make him remember things he would be better off forgetting. And now he thought-

Spike was brought up short when Xander stepped in front of him, a hard look on his face. 'You may be dead, Spike, but it seems to me you're more human than you have been in a long time.' He paused for a moment, stepping back slightly. 'This thing, how I am, it's permanent. So unless you plan to avoid me for the rest of my life, which wouldn't accomplish anything, I suggest we sit down and discuss this like rational adults.' He took a calming breath and tried again. 'Look, I'm sorry if this is messing with your comfortable routine, Spike, but getting mad isn't going to just make it, or me, go away. If the past ten years have taught me anything, it's that the Powers generally have a good reason - well, a reason anyway - for the things they do. Most of the time we don't get to understand it, we just get to accept it.'

Spike felt some the anger wash out of him. Xander was right. He could hardly avoid the man for the rest of his existence, however long that was going to be. He couldn't guard anyone if he wasn't even around. Besides, nothing Xander did could hurt him now, so what was the harm? He took a fortifying breath, gathered his thoughts and began his story.

'I guess it all started when my soul was returned. I'm the only vampire ever to have died with a soul, you know? I'd been doing all right, but that day, under the hellmouth, I felt it, and I felt everything I had ever done as a demon, and for a moment I just wanted to die. My soul was screaming and all I wanted was for it to stop. When I saw my chance to save Buffy and all the rest of them, I knew that I had to take it. Didn't matter that it'd kill me, that it'd be agonizing, I just knew... I had to do it.' He stopped, the memories of that day flooding back. For weeks, he had willed his soul into submission, for the sake of the slayer and for the fight against the First. He had tired to accommodate it, justify his actions as a vampire and finally settled on ignoring it. That day, however, facing that horde of vampires, it had all come screaming back. Maybe he would have done it anyway, but it had made the decision, the sacrifice, that much easier. And it had been agonizing, for just a moment, before he felt his body crumble to dust. That had been one of the most disturbing things he had ever experienced. But then the pain hadn't stopped, and he had realized that his soul was still screaming. That was when he had truly understood what he had given up. A chance to find peace, to come to terms with his past and the people he loved.

He shook his head, not looking at Xander, and resumed his story. 'Yeah. So, the demon was dead, and there was I, to good for hell, not ready for heaven. When Buffy died, after she came back, she told me about heaven, and I think I was there. It was like I could... remember it, somehow. It was...' How could he describe it?

'Peace,' Xander said quietly. Spike looked over at him sharply.

'How...?'

Xander smiled sadly at him. 'I died two weeks ago Spike. Granted it was only for a few minutes. But... it was also forever. I don't know where I was, but it was peace. I could have stayed, I just wasn't ready for it.'
 

'Got something in common, then, don't we? Unfortunately, unlike you, I didn't have a nice healthy body to come back to. But I couldn't stay there, either. So your bleedin' Powers That Be decided to make me a deal. I got to come back, keep fighting demons, as long as I fought for them and protected you lot. Sounded like a bloody good deal at the time. Someone neglected to mention the non-corporeal bit. Don't even get to beat anything up, most of the time.' Spike sounded so despondent, Xander couldn't help smiling a bit. It would seem this vampire had, indeed, changed less than he had thought.

'Being a vampire for a hundred years spoiled you for the peaceful life, huh?' Xander smirked at him.

Spike winced a bit at that. 'Death. But yeah, that about sums it up.'

Xander cursed himself for his flippancy. He hadn't meant it like that. Still, these were the answers he had wanted. He decided to plough ahead. Spike didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. 'Why? I thought you'd pretty much come to terms with all that being an evil vampire stuff.'

Spike looked at him darkly. Well, ok, that may have been a little insensitive, but it was also the truth. 'Not so much, no.'
 

In truth, Spike had only been starting to deal with the things that the demon had done with his body before he died. Yes, he had understood that he had acted only according to his nature, but every time he closed his eyes he had seen the faces of the people whose lives he had cut short. Given time, he might have been able to make peace with himself, but he had given up that peace for a greater cause, even if it hadn't felt like it at the time.

Xander just looked at him for a moment with eyes that saw more than they should, then nodded and moved on. 'Ok. So you protect us for the Powers. Makes a guy feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Who us? All the slayers, or just us from Sunnydale?'

'Yeah, any of you - you're all touched by The Powers - Buffy, Dawn, Red, Angel and his lot, any of the slayers...you. Long as no one's on the brink of death it's mostly up to me.'

Which explained why he was around Buffy and Dawn so often. 'And how, exactly, is that supposed to work. Aren't you supposed to be incorporeal? You said you hadn't touched anyone in fifteen years. So, if you can't touch the monsters, how are you supposed to fight them, let alone kill them?'

'Killing them is easy. Explaining it isn't. You'll just have to trust me that it works. Besides, there are some things that exist only in this reality, or in this one as well as yours, kind of like you do. Them, I can fight. So I guess I have had some contact, 'though it's not quite the same.' Spike smirked a little at that. As much as he enjoyed being able to actually fight the creatures he was killing, as opposed to just making them dead or unconscious, it didn't really feel like contact, and it didn't happen all that often anyway.

'So, what, you protect us 'till we die? What then? How long are you going to have to stay here?'

Spike looked a little uncomfortable at the question. 'How should I know?'

Xander frowned for a moment and his eyes went a little vacant. For a moment Spike thought he was about to have another vision, but then he pinned Spike with a glare. 'You're not just here to protect us, Spike. Why did they send you back?'

Shit. Spike sighed. He was going to have to explain himself. 'It's like this, see. I was given a second chance to find peace. And happiness. Apparently I had never managed that in the hundred and fifty odd years I'd been around.' He winced. God, this was sappy. The part of him that had been a vampire for over a century cringed at the poncy-ness of it all. 'I was apparently judged 'worthy'. 'Selfless act' and all that rubbish. So, they make me a higher being, give me another chance. Still, fact remains that I hadn't been ready to die, and I sure as hell got a better deal than some. I guess. Least this way I get to make sure nothing happens to any of you. So, yeah, I get to stay here for as long as I want, or at least until I find myself some peace and happiness.'

'And how's that working out for you?' Xander asked with a perfectly straight face. Spike couldn't tell if he was taking the piss or not. The old Xander would have been, but now...? Still, it was not the sort of thing he particularly wanted to discuss with either of them. Why would the kid care anyway? Xander had barely tolerated him, let alone liked him, before he became a big pile of dust.

'No problem. Ecstatic, I am,' he replied harshly. He was surprised at the sad look that appeared momentarily, before it was replaced by a smirk he remembered on a much younger Xander.

'Well, you've got me now, so things are bound to get better.' Xander joked lightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Spike shot him a glare. 'Oh, ha, bloody, ha, mate.'
 

Xander wasn't sure why he cared he cared about what Spike was going through. He supposed it had started when Buffy had told him about what had happened down in the hellmouth. He had grieved for Anya, was proud of her for how bravely she had fought, for the sacrifice she had made, but ultimately he had understood why she had made it. Spike, on the other hand...

He had given Spike a lot of thought in the months after the destruction of Sunnydale, when they had stayed in L.A. with Angel, before moving on to Cleveland. He had assumed at first that Spike's sacrifice had simply been for Buffy. But as he talked to the others, Dawn in particular, he had been forced to rethink some of his memories of the vampire, what they told him about Spike. It was true, what he had told Spike earlier, that even before he died he had begun to see Spike's potential to be a good person. After his death, he had been forced to admit to himself that very little of that had to do with the fact that he had regained his soul. Even before then, the way he had always protected Dawn and Joyce, especially what he had done for them during the whole Glory incident. Then he had been invaluable to them after Buffy's death. And although his affair with Buffy and later with Anya was something he had never been able to understand, he had come to realize that Spike was not the only one at fault. His soul may have tamed his demon somewhat, but by that time Spike had changed anyway.

So, even though Spike was no longer around to appreciate it, and probably wouldn't have even if he had been, Xander had made what peace he could with the blond vampire and had started to think of him as a friend, even if it was only in his own head. He didn't really think about the fact that this Spike didn't know that, that he would expect the old Xander, the one who had never appreciated him.

So, yeah, he cared. It hurt that Spike would assume he didn't, if he was going to be honest. He didn't know how Spike was supposed to find peace and happiness, but he did plan to help. If nothing else, he could help him make peace with the rest of the Scoobies.

Spike, however, was still looking irritated. 'So, peace and happiness, huh? Well, that's easy. Just find yourself a nice non-corporeal girl and get laid. Works for Deadboy.'

Spike rolled his eyes, although Xander was sure he was trying to conceal a smirk. 'I don't think that's going to do it, Harris.'

'Riiiight, you said there weren't any people, didn't you? Well, you could always proposition the next demon that shows up solid. You know, 'Oh, sure, I am going to kill you, but could we just get it on first?' How could they resist?' He grinned when Spike finally gave up on the scowl and snorted.

'You haven't changed a bit, have you, mate?'

'What, except for totally and utterly? Nah, no point. I wouldn't have me any other way. Although, neither will anyone else.' He paused for a moment and smiled. 'Seriously, though, Spike, I'll do whatever I can to help.'

Spike just looked at him for a moment and Xander could see the confusion in his eyes. 'Thanks, mate,' he said finally.

Xander stuck out his hand. He couldn't help a small smile at the momentary contentment on Spike's face as he took it with his own. It was so different to anything he had ever seen on it when he was a vampire.

He was struck again with how hard the last fifteen years must have been for the man, that a simple handshake could mean so much to him. It was hardly likely to amount to peace and happiness, but his touch obviously meant something to Spike. He couldn't find it in his heart to deny him, no matter how uncomfortable it might make him personally. Besides, he had always been very tactile with his friends and Spike now counted as one of them.

He grimaced a little as he felt the tug once again and automatically tightened his grip when he felt Spike start to draw his hand away. He quickly looked over to the man sitting beside him and smiled. 'Duty calls...' he said as his eyes filmed over.

*****

Part 1d. In which we have angst all round, and our boys discover they have a disturbing amount in common.

Spike watched curiously as Xander's eyes went blank. It was kind of strange, actually. They weren't just normal one minute and white the next; rather, the white swirled over his irises like a cloud, slowly obscuring them. He hadn't been there when the Powers gave Xander back the eye he had lost, although he had heard Buffy, Dawn and Willow talk about it afterwards. The previous seer, the one who had passed his abilities on to Xander, had been with them for a couple of years before he was seriously injured. Xander had volunteered to take his place, and in return, Yesrah had promised the Powers would replace his eye. Now, his left eye was a brilliant blue. It was a startling contrast to his other deep brown eye and probably partly why, as Buffy had said, half the new slayers fell for him.

Spike gazed out the open window as he waited patiently for Xander's vision to end. It wasn't even starting to get light yet. It had only been two and a half hours since he had knocked Xander down in the front foyer, since his entire existence had been turned on its head. It felt like longer, somehow. Or at least like it should have been longer. Surely these things should happen in slow motion or something, give a person time to take it all in. On the other hand, that was one good thing at least about having a conversation with the seer. He periodically gave you time to gather your thoughts. And Spike hadn't had many conversations recently, so he appreciated the silence.

He was back to looking at Xander when his eyes started to de-cloud. He winced a bit in sympathy when he saw the headache hit, then Xander swung his head around and grinned at him.

'Is this going to become a habit, do you think?' Spike frowned slightly. What was he talking about? The hand still holding his flexed a little and he started. 'Is this some previously undiscovered hand-fetish?' He hadn't even realized he hadn't let go. God, Xander was right, he starting to act like he had when he was alive. Holding hands and thinking about the man's eyes? How much more of a wanker could he turn into?
 

Xander smirked a little when his hand was dropped like a particularly hot coal. Not that he had really minded the contact. It was just such an un-Spike-like thing to do. Although after fifteen years and minus one demon he had to wonder just how much of what he remembered could apply to the being in front of him. Spike scowled at him and said, 'Hey, you're the one who didn't let me go, not the other way 'round, Harris.'

Xander just nodded his head agreeably, his eyes laughing. 'Suuure, Casper, whatever gets you through the day.' Spike looked like he wanted to hit something, probably him. Xander laughed again, then sobered up as he remembered he had to get to work. He really wanted to keep talking to Spike, but knew that the man probably had someone he was supposed to be protecting. And he, personally, was in amazingly little danger just sitting here in his room. He still had questions, but now that Spike wasn't avoiding him, he supposed he could ask them some other time. He ignored the vague niggle of disappointment and stood up.

'It's times like this I wish I could have a normal conversation with someone,' he said wistfully. He smiled over at Spike, feeling a little awkward. 'Got a possession to research, I'm afraid, Spike. You don't have to stick around this time. I realize you must have things to do.' Spike, however, interrupted him.

'S'ok, mate. Don't usually have much to do 'round this time anyway, after the patrols come home. I can stick around. I mean, if you don't mind. Something tells me you're not done with me yet, anyway.'

Xander shook his head a little, once again amazed by the change in Spike. He couldn't remember a time when the vampire had actually volunteered to spend time with him. He had come to respect the Spike he had known, but he was actually starting to like this one. He snorted to himself. He would be asking if they could be friends, next. Spike was probably just starved for company, and god knew he often wished he had someone to talk to during the night. Still, he felt a little bad about making him wait around with nothing to do...

He was struck by a sudden inspiration. This was Spike after all. He probably knew almost as much about demons and the like as Xander did himself. 'Well, if you're going to stick around,' he said, 'maybe you can give me a hand with this demon possession thing. Identifying it anyway.'

Spike rolled his eyes, but Xander didn't miss the surprise and pleasure that flashed though them. 'Three hours, and already I'm being roped into research. Got to be some sort of record,' he grumbled.

Xander took that as a yes and jumped right into the vision. 'Ok, well, like I said, demon possession. I couldn't tell what sort of demon it was.' Xander's eyes defocused slightly as he concentrated on the picture in his head, letting the outside world fade away. His voice was entirely devoid of emotion as he began to describe the vision. 'The innocent being possessed is a young man, Greg Talbot, late twenty's, white, upper middle class, brown hair, although I suppose that isn't really relevant. I see him at home. His wife and child are being murdered by the demon. Pretty young woman, girl looks to be about five. It uses a kitchen knife to torture them, focuses on causing pain, but not quite enough to kill them, then lets them bleed out as it sets the house on fire, using the gas stove. I can tell you exactly how it tortures the victims, if you think it's relevant.' He looked over towards Spike, who just shook his head and indicated that he should continue. Xander noticed distantly that Spike's face was entirely blank. 'Right, the demon itself has physically altered the host only slightly. He's still recognizable, but there are lesions on his face, deep cuts that aren't bleeding, but are kind of gaping open. There is one on his forehead, over his right eye, one under his left eye, one on the right side of his chin, and another on his neck under his left ear. His brow is pebbly, in a 'v' shape, coming to a point over his eyes. He has the eyes of the demon. Deep green, with a slit pupil.' Xander cocked his head slightly, as though he were examining something. 'His hands have the same sort of injuries as his face. I can't see the rest. He's very strong... not sure what else.'

He glanced back to Spike, who was looking very grim, and just a little disgusted. 'How was it acting?' he asked. 'I mean, did it seem like random violence, or was it calculated.'

Xander nodded his head thoughtfully and ran the images through his mind again. 'I'd have to say it seems quite calculated, although it obviously takes pleasure in the pain it's causing.'

'What do you get from the man it's possessed? Anything?' Spike knew from previous experience that Xander would occasionally receive the emotions of the innocents in his visions.

'Yeah, actually. The demon is very powerful, and obviously in complete control, but I get a definite sense of awareness from the host.' Spike watched as Xander allowed his emotions to leak though for a second. The seer's face filled with pain as he stood silently, feeling the emotions of the man trapped inside his own body. 'The poor man,' he whispered. Then, with a silent prayer, he directed his attention back to the facts, his face becoming impassive once again. 'Thoughts?' he demanded.
 

Spike had to admit he was severely shaken. He had never seen Xander like this before. The man almost never actually spoke of a vision. Even when he was around the girls, he would just get out his paper and pen and write down what he had seen, and Spike had never read one of those reports. If he did say anything, it was just general stuff; where the problem was, what sort of demon was involved, the number or nature of the innocents. It wasn't that he had assumed that was all that he saw, but to hear it described in such clinical detail...

He answered Xander quietly. 'It sounds like an Ethros demon. I've only come across a few in my time. They are very powerful, very large in their natural form. They thrive on violence, but are also intelligent, and can manipulate the people around them by skimming the surface of their minds. They leave behind a phosphorescent green goo.'

Xander nodded. 'Yeah, actually, I noticed something like that around the outside of the house.'

'That'll be the one then. You'll have to check your books, but I think they can be removed from the host with an exorcism.'

Suddenly, Xander was looking at him directly. 'You ok, Spike? You look a little...' He waved his hands around a bit.

Spike shook himself mentally and gave Xander a forced smile. 'Sure, mate. Try your Havelock's Companion first. Got a good bit on possession demons. You better get going, don't have all night, do you?'

Xander continued to look concerned, but nodded his agreement. 'All right. I'll see you in a bit, then.' With that he phased back.

The minute he was gone, Spike drew in a shuddering breath and got up out of the chair. Without a backward glance he walked straight through the wall and out into the corridor. There he sat down and leaned against the wall, attempting to gather his thoughts. He didn't know quite what was bothering him so much, but he couldn't get Xander's expression as he'd asked if he wanted him to describe the torture of the woman and child out of his head. Intellectually, he'd known that the visions Xander received had to be horrible. Dawn often commented on the detail and accuracy of his reports, and he'd been there on more than one occasion to see them prevented. And it wasn't so much the description, although that had certainly been bad, it was the way Xander had given it with almost no show of emotion. He had been The Seer, in the same way Buffy, when she had to, could become The Slayer. He was tempted to think that Xander didn't care about the people in his visions, but knew that couldn't be true. The time the man spent making sure the slayers had all the information they could need, the way he demanded to know over breakfast if the missions had been a success or not. But most of all the flicker of pain he had seen on Xander's face convinced him that the stoic mask was just that.

It was that, more than anything, which brought home to him just how much this man had had to endure over the past ten years. And that was where he ground to a halt. If it was true that Xander felt everything the innocents in his visions did, that he was bombarded hourly by the fear and desperation of these people, how could he face each day so calmly? How had he been able to simply suppress all that emotion and describe that vision to him, like he was commenting on the weather? How did he get past he people in his head? And if he asked, would Xander tell him?

Spike's breath hitched a little and he lowered his head into his hands, as he realized that this was what he really wanted to know. The memories of his own past still tormented him. They were always there, in the back of his mind, waiting for him to let his guard down so they could all come rushing back. He had never had time to deal with those memories while he was still a vampire. The First had always been looking over their shoulders, and Buffy had needed him strong, not held back by a guilty soul. Back then it had been easier, with the vampire there to balance the soul, to explain the sensations. And when it had all become too much, the demon had been there to take control, to keep fighting, even if it could no longer be the bloodthirsty monster of history. But the vampire had died, and the only way Spike had found to cope was to push the crippling memories to the back of his mind and try to forget they were there. And in a way that had worked, he had been able to complete his work for the powers, to see Buffy every day, knowing what he had done to her, without falling apart. But he had never dealt with them, never managed to make peace with the shades of his past. Unlike Xander, he couldn't get past the pictures in his head.

He wasn't aware of the time passing as he just sat there, gathering his thoughts and pulling himself back together. The sound of voices barely registered before he felt a warm hand come to rest on his knee.
 

Xander looked down in shock at the still form on the floor. He quickly sent Dan away with his report and crouched before him. Spike had his head buried in his hands, his elbows rested on bent knees. He couldn't see his face, but everything about the man seemed to scream pain. He looked tired. Exhausted, more like, Xander thought. His back was hunched, his head hanging, as though there was some great weight pressing down on him. Xander frowned. Had he said something to do this to him? Was it the vision? Xander had simply assumed that Spike would be able to handle the violence that he had described. He had seen things just as bad in his own time, been the cause of some of them, and helped prevent no few others.

Xander reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on one cold knee. 'Spike. Hey, what's wrong?' he asked gently. The eyes that looked up at him were calm, composed, but Xander could see the world of pain and guilt they were trying to hide. Hell, he'd seen the same expression on his own face often enough over the last ten years.

'How do you do it, Xander? How do you make them go away?' Spike spoke quietly, but his eyes were desperate.

Xander closed his eyes at the whispered plea and he felt understanding sweep through him. Everything he remembered about that last year with Spike, what he had said about his last moments, the pain in his soul, his second chance to find peace. All this had started with him describing that vision. He had been too distracted to notice at the time, but he had been peripherally aware of the way Spike had tensed up with his offer to describe the torture, his reaction to Xander's admission that he felt the pain of the innocents as his own. Spike had never dealt with his vampire's actions, memories that were obviously tormenting him still. As he opened his eyes, he let his emotional shields drop away, let everything he felt when he was forced to witness what the world was capable of fill his face.

'They never go away, Spike. You know that,' he murmured eventually. Spike didn't answer, and Xander slid to the floor beside him, leaning up against the wall so their shoulders touched. He latched onto the hand Spike had snatched away from him earlier and squeezed it gently. 'Every vision I've ever had is in here somewhere. I can recall any one of them, given a little time. I dream about them sometimes, and they're worse than nightmares, because I'm there, really there. I can smell, touch, taste and hear everything. The worst ones are when I experience what the demon is feeling, but then I guess you would know all about that.'

Spike squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and winced, but otherwise ignored that opening. 'But you're always so... How does it not tear you apart? Is it because you know you saved them?'

Xander stared fixedly at the hand he held in his own, unconsciously stroking his thumb slightly over the soft skin. 'You obviously weren't around for those first couple of weeks.' He tried to say it lightly, but he couldn't disguise the pain. 'They were... almost more than I could take. I've never told anyone, although Buffy and Willow probably guessed, but I seriously considered getting rid of them, or myself if that was the only way. I didn't eat, could barely sleep. I told them that it was just the headaches - that they were worse than I expected them to be. I tried to explain how the suffering that I saw made me feel, but they never really got it. I mean, we'd all witnessed suffering, right? But there was just so much, and it wasn't even as though it was happening to strangers. I know them, all of them. I see their lives, feel what they feel, fear what they fear... Every time I had a vision, I saw someone I might have known, might have been friends with, who deserved so much more than death at the hands of some monster... Every night for nearly two years I cried myself to sleep. But I couldn't let it tear me apart. It wasn't so much that I did save them, it was the thought of all the ones that might still be saved that kept me going. If I just gave up, it'd be partly my fault if they died.' He paused for a moment, lost in his recollections, unaware that Spike had turned to face him. 'Did you know that Dawn sends me all the reports she gets of the successful missions? I read them, try to change the pictures in my head, and yeah, it does help a little, to know that they've been saved. It's the ones that aren't successful that haunt me the most. I used to torture myself over each and every one of them. I knew it had to be my fault, if I'd just included more information, got the report out earlier, done something, anything, different... Those are the ones that I still see when I close my eyes, the ones I dream about, where it's me that's the demon... It took me the longest time to realize that it isn't my fault when a mission fails. But they're part of the reason, why I don't fall apart any more. I owe them more than that.'

Spike finally spoke up. 'I hardly ever hear it anymore, but deep down, my soul is still screaming,' he said quietly. 'You can't blame yourself for what you see, but the things that I've done...' He trailed off.

'We're not so different, Spike. You're responsible for the suffering that you remember as much as I am for the people in my visions who don't get saved.'

'I try to tell myself that, mate, really. But... I can remember everything the demon felt when I did those things. The joy, the bloodlust...'

Xander looked at him strangely for a moment. 'You can remember it's emotions, but the demon's dead, Spike. What do you feel about what it did?'

Spike didn't answer, but a line of confusion appeared between his eyes. Xander knew Spike would need time to think about that, beyond just the obvious answer, so he got to his feet, pulling Spike up by the hand he was still holding. 'As much as I love sitting on the floor in the corridor, I, well... don't, so let's get back inside. It's nearly dawn, and I like to watch the sunrise from the balcony. You can brood out there for a while.' The reference to brooding seemed to put some life into the dead man, as Xander had assumed it would.

'Hey, I don't brood, mate. And even if I did, I think I've got every right to,' he said as he followed Xander into the bedroom, and out the sliding doors to the small balcony.

As he got settled, pen and paper at the ready beside him, Xander decided to bring up something that had been bothering him. 'Listen,' he said uncertainly, 'I'm sorry if I freaked you out a bit back there. I didn't mean to sound so uncaring. I don't want you to think that I don't care. I never used to be able to describe the visions at all, let alone like that. I had a secretary for the first couple of days, but most of the time I just couldn't get all the details out. When I started writing down what I saw myself it was easier, not having to hear it out loud. Eventually, I got to the point where I could just disconnect my emotions from what was on the page. After a few years, I could do the same thing with the visions themselves and I could examine them clinically, get the most out of them that I could. It was hard, still is, but it's better this way. I've never actually done it out loud. I didn't realize how it might sound. So... yeah, sorry. I won't ask you to help again, if you don't want.'

Spike seemed to give it some serious thought, but when he answered, Xander thought he sounded sincere. 'I reckon I'm more jealous than anything. The way you spoke about that vision, I just wasn't expecting it. It brought back lots of memories. Made me wish I could deal with my own demons that easily, to be honest. I don't mind lending a hand now and then. Least now I know what to expect, right?' He gave Xander a genuine smile. ''Sides, I could get used to having someone to talk to now and then. Don't want to go 'round alienating the only person in the world who can actually see me.'

Xander grinned back at him. 'You're all just using me, aren't you?'

They sat on the balcony, watching the sun rise, chatting aimlessly for the next couple of hours, interrupted periodically by three more visions. Xander asked Spike for help on the third vision, trying to edit out some of the more gruesome details before Spike lost his patience and told him to stop treating him like a bloody child, he knew what to expect now, and he knew what it meant. And besides, how was he meant to identify anything from 'it's very big and powerful'. Xander had looked at him doubtfully, but had complied, and Spike certainly hadn't seemed to have any problems with it this time around.

In between, Xander discovered that Spike, as a higher being, could go anywhere he wanted with a simple thought, and often spent his time jumping between Marion, Cleveland and L.A. They spent some time talking about their mutual tolerance of Angel, although neither man could confess to actually liking the ensouled vampire. Xander asked after Cordy, and Theo and Georgia, the other two slayers there at the moment, before realizing that Spike could jump around to check on all the slayers all over the world, which he immediately asked him to do.

Eventually, at around seven-thirty, Xander was forced to bring up the issue of Buffy and Dawn. He had been trying to decide what he should say to them for the past half-hour. Would it be easier for them if they continued to think that Spike was dead and gone? They still wouldn't be able to see him, so for all intents and purposes he would be. Still, Xander knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this from his girls for long. To be honest he didn't really want to. Spike was a part of their family, and they deserved to know that he was there, that he had always been there, even if he wasn't exactly alive, or visible.

He glanced over at Spike. He seemed so real. It was weird to think that he was the only person who could see the man. He sighed to himself. Maybe he should have given this whole, 'find out if I'm really seeing Spike' thing a little more thought. Really, he hadn't expected to find anything. How could he have seen this coming? He didn't know what he would do if Spike didn't want Buffy and Dawn to know about him. He sighed again and Spike flicked him an amused glance.

'What the bloody hell is with all the heartfelts, Harris? You got something on your mind?'

Xander grimaced an apology. 'It's Buffy and Dawn. I don't know what you want me to do, but I should tell you that if you want me to try and keep you a secret it isn't going to work. I'm crap when it comes to lying to them, and if Buffy thinks something is really wrong, you know she'll get it out of me, and if she can't she'll just call Willow and have her come here and read my mind. I don't want to lie to them Spike. They both loved you so much, Dawn especially; you were a part of our family, and they deserve to know what happened. I won't say anything today if you don't want me too, but I will have to tell them eventually. I know that it's going to be awkward, but still... you should think about it.'
 

Spike grimaced a little. He had in fact been thinking about the very same thing himself, although he'd been kind of hoping the other man would overlook this particular problem. A part of him was overjoyed at the thought that he could speak to Buffy and Dawn again after all these years, even if it was indirectly. A bigger part of him was so panicked at the thought of actually interacting with the world again that it could barely think. Harris was one thing, but his history with the boy was a bloody turn among the tulips compared to the slayer and her sister. And he'd changed since his death. He could no longer say that he was in love with Buffy. In all truth, it was his vampire that had loved her with such passion. The return of his soul had not changed the feelings of the vampire, but neither had it entirely shared them. When the demon died he had been left with the memories of its obsession, and in a way did still love Buffy, but more than that he wanted to protect her, wanted her to be happy. He didn't really even resent her relationship with Angel. Like Xander, he could see the look in her eyes when she talked about him, and it didn't make him jealous. The soppy romance of it all made him want to stick his finger down his throat sometimes, but he was happy for them.

And Dawn. She'd fallen apart after the destruction of Sunnydale. He knew that a lot of that was because of him. That had been right after he'd been sent back by the Powers That Be, and he had spent hours just trying to make Dawn understand that he was there with her, cursing fate, the Powers and anything else he could think of when he couldn't find a way to let her know, to comfort her. That was when he'd truly started wondering what he had agreed to. It had taken her a long time to accept what had happened, and Spike knew that he had Xander to thank for finally bringing her out of it, in large part. Buffy had tried to help her, but she had had so much of her own pain to deal with. Even though he had obviously been cut up over Anya's death, Xander had managed to be there for Dawn, to let her cry on his shoulder, talk to him and even let her lash out when she needed to.

They had moved on with their lives, and so had he, in a manner of speaking. Still, Xander was right, he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. He certainly wasn't going to hide away in a corner and hope it all went away. He might have when he was human, but being a vampire had given him some balls, if nothing else. Probably best to get all these conversations over at once, anyway.

He looked over at Xander, who was managing to look determined and hesitant at the same time. He snorted a little. 'Tell them whatever you want, Harris. S'all gonna come out in the end anyway. I s'pose I can handle one more heartfelt conversation today. You're just lucky I'm not a vampire anymore - wouldn't have had the patience.' He tried to sound put-upon, but he suspected Xander could hear the nervousness in his voice.

Still, he didn't say anything, and the look of relief on his face almost entirely obscured the hint of amusement in his eyes. 'Good, I really am so bad at lying to them.'
 

Xander glanced at his watch. It was about time to be heading downstairs anyway, so he got up and stretched, smiling at the sun on his face. That was one thing he hated about having to work at night. He usually slept half the day away. He used to love sitting outside in the sun, probably a reaction to living on a hellmouth with vampires, but these days he only got to see sunrise and sunset. He glanced over at Spike, who was looking at him strangely and jerked his head towards the door. 'Come on, like you said, no point delaying the inevitable.'

******

Next