Paper Pusher :: Chapter 10 of 10.
Title: Paper Pusher
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Fred
Warnings: This chapter is rated R for language and violence.
Summary: This is a new ongoing series for sockmonkeyhere's Fantasy Island request on nekid_spike. The events of this story include plot points from Angel: After the Fall. Spike is working at a medical examiner's office to earn extra cash after being brought back from Hell. Gunn arrives with a proposition that Spike can't refuse.



Paper Pusher
Chapter Ten

The ancientness of Vahla Ha'nesh was tangible, an odor common amongst many ruins, but there was something else alive in the air indiscernible to the average mortal. The spark of primeval magicks bounded off crumbling pillars and fading mosaics.

The ride through dimensions had been particularly rough in the tiny pink Volkswagon, and Spike lifted his head up from the steering wheel with a pained groan. He shot a worried glance to the passenger seat to see that the Doc appeared relatively unhurt as she had buckled her seatbelt moments before they had slipped through the portal Eligor had opened.

Off the million-mile-stare Dr. Dominick was sporting, Spike started to open the car door, taking Eligor's cross out of her tight grip and slipping it back into his pocket, "Stay here, all right?"

That seemed to snap the Doc out of her shock, "Hell, no! You're not leaving me here by myself." Reaching under the seat, she pulled out a small taser, "See? I'm ready to take back the night."

Sighing heavily, Spike nodded as he exited the bright pink Beetle, "Come on then."

Eligor was dismounting her Edward Gorey-esque carousel-horse Snerd, her cape of deep indigo flame billowing out around her. She stalked on her birdlike legs to Spike, her taloned feet raking against the stone floor, and grabbed his duster to pull him along.

"We need to hurry," Eligor snapped, "The ritual is already underway, and I have no time to deal with you and your human."

"Stealth might be an asset, you know," Spike frowned as he was jerked to and fro like a disobedient puppy between columns and halls while Salafia was having to run to keep up with them. He tried to pry Eligor's armored hand from his person, "I guess you're not worried about clanking around like a Crown Royal bag of loose change."

Like a Kraken emerging from the churning sea, they came upon an enormous statue of Illyria's true form in the center of a great hall. In the cavernous room, every sound echoed like a sonic blast. Fires blazed from gigantic sconces filled a molten substance that sputtered leaving ashen scorch marks on the floor below. Beneath the statue's mass of marble tentacles was an altar upon which the prone forms of Illyria and Dr. LaBianca were lying, almost in state, side-by-side. They did not react to the sudden intrusion, not even a flicker of movement.

Gunn emerged from behind a massive stone spire, and he looked quite annoyed, "You're not supposed to be here."

Spike finally managed to push Eligor away and moved forward, "Oh, is that so? Well, see, I just got so confused. Tends to happen when a bloke is kept out of the loop-" Stopping his angry tirade a few choice insults short, he tilted his head, scenting the air, "Angel's here?"

A strange smile broke out on Gunn's face, "Of course, he's here. The only way to terminate the contracts to free Fred's soul is if Angel rescinds them. We have to wait until just the right moment to not allow the Senior Partners a chance to work against us."

Spike noted the strange gait to each step Gunn took as he paced in front of the altar while his fingertips gently tracing the elaborate carved patterns.

As his vampiric visage emerged, Spike growled, "I smell his blood... And you're not Gunn."

"Fool you once, baby," Becker Hargreaves smirked, letting his disguise slip away to reveal the heroin-chic physique and golden curls of his true appearance. "Funny, I always imagined you being the 'dumb blonde' type."

"Got news for you, baby," Spike sprang into an attack, landing a strong punch to Becker's beautiful face, "the colour ain't natural."

Becker all-too-easily blocked the next volley of blows Spike tried to lob his way, "Well, I would hope not, honey. If your carpets matched the drapes, I'd actually feel sorry for you."

After ramming his bony knee into the vampire's midsection, the incubus locked his hands above his head and brought them down hard on Spike's shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Spike glared in Eligor's direction, but the demon god made no move to come to his aid. The Doc clutched her taser and made several tentative steps, but Spike shouted out to her to stay back.

Rolling out of the way before Becker could plant a heeled boot into his back, Spike swept his leg out, knocking the skinnier man off his feet. It was only a millisecond before Becker had righted himself, and the two were matching punches and kicks in rapid succession. An elbow to the face split Spike's upper lip open, blood pouring down his chin and coming away on Becker's fist after every connecting hit. Spike found himself staggering off-balance after the bashing his skull endured. The first wavering step Spike took to try and dodge another blow was when Becker grabbed his arm and literally flung the vampire across the room through the colonnade. Taking the brunt of the crash landing on his back, Spike gasped as terrible pain emanating from his lower spine shot throughout his body. At least if he could feel the pain, then he knew he hadn't snapped anything.

Blood dripped down his battered face, but Spike placed his hands flat on the cobbled floor and pushed himself to his feet. He braced against the wall when he couldn't maintain his balance. He waited for further fighting, but there was nothing. Looking around in the moment he had to catch his metaphorical breath, Spike saw the withered Djedefre Hargreaves sitting behind a desk, muttering to himself over a pile of books and papers. It appeared as though the Messrs. Hargreaves had transferred their entire office into Illyria's former stronghold. Achilles the Pig squealed frantically when it saw Spike and scrambled behind the desk. Unlike when they had been in their office by the docks, the unfortunate pig was chained to the desk and not free to wander as it pleased.

Djedefre Hargreaves lolled his yellow cataract-infested eyes at the vampire in his midst. He smiled cruelly, displaying what few teeth he had left. He made a motion for Spike to come closer.

"It seems like my son has given you a rather rude welcome, but you didn't exactly mind your manners," Mr. Hargreaves wheezed out a chortle. "You're interfering with a very important ceremony."

Soundlessly, Becker grabbed Spike's arms and wrenched them behind his back, holding the vampire still. Spike struggled against him, but the incubus only gave a sultry purr in return.

"Oh, Father, can I keep this one when we're finished? He won't break as easily as others did," Becker licked the shell of Spike's ear.

"Enough of your foolishness... Oversexed dunderhead... Just like your mother..." the elderly Hargreaves rasped out in gasping breaths as he combed over the papers before him.

It took the old man a long moment to notice that his other more piggy son had propped his large head on the desktop and slowly began to pull one of the long rolls of parchment away with his teeth.

"Blast it, Achilles!" Mr. Hargreaves snapped, jerking the paper away giving his son a sharp (though probably not as sharp as he would have liked) kick to the side. "I should have turned you into a slow loris for all the trouble you've caused... Sneaky, gluttonous brat..."

Achilles oinked a very sad oink and plopped himself on the floor in a distressed heap with the heavy chain around his neck as Djedefre Hargreaves began his spell in a forgotten, archaic language, gesturing over the mountainous sprawl of paper at his ready. Spike continued to squirm to get away from his captor, and it was then that he saw that chained to the far wall were Angel and Gunn. They both appeared to be unconscious. A slow trickle of blood ran from a deep stab wound to Angel's neck, and Gunn looked as though he had taken a serious beating.

The room pulsed in a faint blue light that flowed from the pages throughout the colonnade to the altar on which Illyria and Dr. LaBianca were positioned. There was also an immense pressure that bleated around Spike's body, giving him a headache far worse than anything the chip had ever caused him. It felt as though something were pushing and pulling on his very soul. Spike gritted his teeth as a new pain bloomed on his thigh. He looked down to see the right pocket of his jeans was smoldering. The denim seemed to be eaten away as if by acid; and the louder and more ferociously Mr. Hargreaves recited his enchantment, the more his leg felt as though it was on fire. Spike screamed at the intensity until a neat hole had burned in the material over his pocket and the small cross that Eligor had given to him plinked to the floor as the spell culminated, Djedefre Hargreaves ramming his decrepit fist down on his desk again and again as he shouted the incantation.

And then there was light. Bright, blinding white light for nearly a whole minute. There was no sound, not even a rush of air. Spike was surprised when the light faded, the world returned, and he was still screaming. Everything had a metallic tinny to it, every noise and smell, like it was being sent through some sort of filter. Achilles the Pig was writhing on the floor in pain, the metal chain around his neck thumping heavily on the floor as he thrashed. The eldest Hargreaves got up from his chair and practically did a jig about the room before he succumbed to a strangling cough.

Eligor finally deemed it fitting to make an appearance. She looked about the room and glared very pointedly at Spike. Her eyes flitted between yellow and red, and she roared like nothing Spike had every heard before, like a combination of a jet engine at take-off, a sea lion, and a flock of screaming howler monkeys. Her cloak of flames belched out angry black plumes of smoke engulfing her. Becker actually let go of Spike out of sheer surprise. Mr. Hargreaves turned to stare at her, obviously not sure of what to make of the creature that had entered his makeshift office.

Before Eligor could explain her fury, one of the huge decorative metal spires from the great hall came hurtling through the air, completing decimating the pillar it struck. Illyria strode through the colonnade with a countenance that made all the seething rage coming from Eligor look like a kitten batting at a yarn ball. The old man appeared to be on the verge of a massive stroke when he saw Illyria standing before him.

"You dare betray me," Illyria held herself in a very commanding posture, staring daggers at Djedefre. "I am the GodKing. You enter my domain to destroy me? No mere mortal shall ever contain my essence against my will."

Eligor scooped up her small cross from the floor, staring at it and then down at the squealing pig, "Beelzebub, you fool! You should have done as you were told!"

Illyria's head whipped around to her former demon army-mate, "And you, traitorous usurper! You thought you could take my pet and use him as your brother's vessel!"

The next few moments were a flurry of movement and violence as Illyria and Eligor attacked one another. Even with her diminished strength, Illyria was in fighting form. Spike was quick to get out of their way as the circumference of their battle dominated the space between the walls and the colonnade, and the vampire really did not fancy being pancaked by a crumbling column after one of the Old Ones smacked into it. In the commotion, Spike managed to get to Angel and Gunn. The manacles that bound them to the wall were thick and stuck fast, but Spike gave it the old college try to yank them from the wall. By a small miracle, chunks of the wall surrounded the edges of the bolt connected to Gunn's chains crumbled when Spike pulled. Gunn fell limp against the vampire, blood oozing from a ragged wound to his temple. Settling the other man on the floor, Spike turned to Angel and tried to at least detach him from the wall, but the bolt would not budge.

Angel's eyes opened a sliver as Spike jostled him about. He groaned, "Leave it."

"To hell I am," came the reply as Spike searched for something to pry the chains loose.

The brunette shook his head, his voice gurgling and strange, "Don't let them... the ritual..." He swallowed down blood that had bubbled into his throat with some difficulty, "... Ascension." And he fell back into unconsciousness.

Spike got it at last. He knew the Hargreaves' offer was too good to be true. They had no intention of helping Gunn or Fred; the creaky old man just wanted to use what was left of Illyria's essence to Ascend. Spike had been trying to find Drusilla after their breakup when the Mayor had pulled off an Ascension in Sunnydale, but later found out just how much of a party he missed what with the high school exploding. Spike had, however, seen Illyria's true form at full power, and he no desire to face off against a Hargreaves-controlled demon with all of her powers.

Too busy pondering the ramifications of an evil Hollyweird lawyer having all the rampaging powers of a brassed off hellgod, Spike barely had time to dodge the piece of debris Becker lunged at him with like a spear. The metal tip of what had likely broken off one of the spires sparked as it grated across the stone wall. Shrugging off his duster, Spike held it in front of himself as side-stepped another parry. Becker was growing more and more frustrated as Spike weaved and bobbed around each thrust of the spear. He was quickly running out of steam trying to keep up with the limber vampire, and he was getting sloppy, making it all the easier for Spike to not get turned into a demonic pincushion.

"Stand still, damn you!" Becker whined.

Spike waved his leather jacket around like a matador tauntingly, "Olé, motherfucker."

The incubus gave a running stab only for Spike to slip to the side allowing the tip of the spear to ram into the wall where it became stuck. Becker attempted to dislodge it, but the smug look on Spike's face gave him renewed vigor, and he decided to attack without a weapon. The two were nearly barrel-rolling across the floor, fighting for dominance. The pig was still squealing in the pain and leapt to his little booted cloven feet, skittering around trying to avoid being squashed.

"You know, I've been going about this the wrong way," Becker laughed as he managed to sit on top of Spike's thighs, pinning his arms to his chest, "Just look at me with weapons and getting myself all dirty. I should have remember that I don't need a weapon; I am one."

Leaning down, Becker pressed his mouth to Spike's, and a warmth spread through his body. All the pain just melted away, and Spike stopped struggling. There was a tiny voice telling him that he was going to die if he didn't keep fighting, but he couldn't find the strength to move. It wasn't that Spike gave up; it was more like his body did. Becker continued to kiss him, whispering all sorts of nasties to him, and for a moment Spike wanted to let the incubus do whatever he wanted to him, but that inclination was coupled with a disgusting, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The sick feeling grew more vivid, and Spike felt his injuries again in shocking Technicolor. It took a few blinks before Spike realized that Becker was no longer on top of him.

Djedefre had hobbled over from his desk and was holding Becker by the neck, squeezing so tight that his son's eyes were watering and bulging, "I need a container strong enough, and your brother is used up, so you'll have to do."

"Father, what are you-" Becker made a gagging sound as his father's bony, withered fingers curled tighter around his slender throat. He quickly ceased struggling, his delicate hands fell away from trying to pry Mr. Hargreaves away from his neck, and his body went slack.

Mr. Hargreaves let his son's body drop to the ground as he returned to the strewn pages and scrolls, grumbling about his arthritis. The old man was preparing to do his spell again. Spike turned on his side to attempt to push himself into a sitting position, but it was no use. His head felt too heavy to lift when he tried to shout out a warning to Illyria, but the Blue Meanie was too busy in the midst of her combat with Eligor to hear him. By the expression on Illyria's face, she seemed to actually be having fun, completely oblivious to what others were doing around her. A fierce kick sent Eligor flying into one of the smaller metal sconces, which clattered to the ground, tipping molten fluid onto the stone flooring and all over her, though it effected her no more than a splash of water.

Feeling something nudging his back, Spike turned slightly to see the pig nosing its snout against him, looking at the vampire with tear-filled too-human eyes. It just looked so pitiful that Spike managed to unhook the release on the chain around its neck, which sent the pig zooming off oinking up a storm towards Eligor who was holding Illyria over her head before slamming her to the floor. The squealing noise was enough of a distraction to get the attention of the warring god and ex-god. Illyria's ice blue eyes narrowed and locked on Mr. Hargreaves when she raised her head and saw that he was about to start his ritual over.

Picking up the fallen sconce, Illyria pitched it like an Olympic hammer-thrower. The shallow bowl whizzed through the air and connected with Djedefre Hargreaves just as he was beginning his spell anew, effectively bisecting his head just below his eyes. His corpse slumped over the desk, and the top of his head, brain still nestled inside his skull, spun around on the floor like a bloody dervish. Illyria marched over to Spike and hauled him to his feet, allowing him to steady himself against her.

"I suspect your gratitude shall be lacking," Illyria said haughtily.

"Nonsense," Spike said through gritted teeth as he clutched his bruised abdomen, "I bow down before Illyria: Master of the Deadly Frisbee."

Eligor gathered the shaking pig into her mail-covered arms as she stepped over the brain pan on the floor, "This has to be corrected."

"You want to explain to me what's going on before something else tries to kill me?" Spike frowned, finally able to keep himself from toppling over.

Eligor tossed her long lilac hair away from her face, "The Hargreaves were gong to use an Ascension ritual to gain access to Illyria's original strength and I was going to..." she paused to ponder the correct phrasing, "commandeer it for my own purposes." She then indicated the pig which was still twitching and making pained noises.

"Your brother?"

"Beelzebub... He had been separated from his original form as Illyria had, so he needed a body and the proper rites-"

Illyria interrupted Eligor's explanation, "You were going to steal my pet's shell-"

"I'm not your damned pet, you harpy," Spike replied angrily though Illyria waved him off.

"Yes, but the fool insisted he wanted the other vampire instead," Eligor turned her attention the squirming pig in her arms, "And look where it got you! Now you're stuck inside a farm animal! I should leave you this way. I warned you not to attempt to go into Angel's body. You were supposed to take the fair-haired one, so that you would not be so targetable, but no! You wanted to take control of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart!"

While Spike and Illyria freed Gunn and Angel from their chains, Eligor then explained that she had believed that the elderly Hargreaves would have gone straight for the Act of Ascension out of hubris, but instead he chose to attempt to contain Illyria's essence first, trapping it in a sentient box to make sure sure she could be rendered unable to fight back. When that had not worked, he tried to use his other son's unconscious body to do the same.

"And how exactly did you come across the fact that ChopTop was planning his double-cross?" Spike then added boastfully, "I mean, I knew he was going to pull something, but I didn't know how."

"I am Eligor," the ancient demon replied, "Finder of Lost Things. I seek what others try to hide, and luckily for me, the old man kept his darkest tomes spirited away in a clever little dimensional pocket."

Spike tilted his head, "And so you brought me back into the mix so that your brother could hijack my body."

"I could have used Charles Gunn as he haplessly fell into their trap, but you were far more convenient, after our previous dealings, as I knew you'd take the link needed to bring Beelzebub out of the White Room."

Placing Angel's arm over his shoulder, Spike glared, "Beelzebub was the Conduit?"

The pig oinked and bicycled its legs frantically.

"You should keep him as a pig," Gunn coughed as he stirred, Illyria supporting his weight.

"I would think you would take pity on him," Eligor said sadly, "He was tricked by complicated modern legalese."

Out in the great hall, Dr. Dominck, still clutching her taser, was sitting on the altar next to a disoriented Dr. LaBianca, and she leapt into action true to her physician's instincts to tend to the wounded as Gunn and Angel were settled on the floor to rest.

Eligor spoke, "As all the original demons left this world or retired to the Deeper Well, I chose to stay behind but my brother found himself relegated to another dimension. It was a boring existence where even the most creative torments he could inflect did not amuse. The Senior Partners were able to contact him after their previous Conduit was destroyed and offered him passage back to this dimension."

"Let me guess, he realized that he couldn't leave the White Room entirely, but it was too late to back out," Gunn said quietly, "Sounds like something the Senior Partners would do."

Nodding, Eligor continued and turned to Spike, "The only thing we could manage was a small piece of him, which I placed in one of my crosses, which I left for you, knowing you would recognize it, placing Beelzebub in close proximity to you when the ritual took place, but he was too stupid to heed my advice."

As Dr. Dominick was using a piece of her shirt to staunch the bleeding from his neck, Angel groaned, "And he wanted to use my body for revenge?"

"You are still the acting C.E.O. of Wolfram and Hart," Eligor smiled.

"Fat lot of good that's done for me," Angel motioned to the Doc to tend to Gunn.

"It all would have worked out very well for the old sorcerer," Illyria noted, "You would have been an asset for your power as well as your blood being necessary for the ritual of Ascension."

"The 'blood of a Champion' can be a difficult item to find," Eligor agreed.

Spike looked between the two demons, "Oi, I'm a Champion too, you know."

Eligor looked surprised, "Oh... Well, that would have simplified matters for the Hargreaves... and for me..."

"That's me," Spike smirked, "flying under the radar, making things difficult for everyone."

"Yeah, but without Angel it wouldn't have fit in with the wool they were covering my eye with," Gunn held his head in his hands as Dr. Dominick tried to access his injuries. "They told me they needed Angel to rescind the contracts, but..." He shuddered, unable to continue.

Eligor thrust Beelzebub the Pig towards Spike, "I have no interest in the plight of the human. I am going to return my brother to a suitable form."

"You're not using me," Spike snapped, pushing the pig's snout out of his face.

Illyria glanced over at Dr. LaBianca, "She was more than willing to give her body for me to use."

Beelzebub oinked with a certain tone of displeasure at this suggestion.

"You need to get to a hospital. I think you might have a concussion," the Doc said, putting her hand on Gunn's shoulder, but he made no sign of interest in moving. Salafia stood next to Spike and whispered, "I think your friend is in pretty bad shape."

"We'll get him out of here, and the leave the old 'uns to their spooky business-"

Suddenly, a hand wrenched Spike's head backwards by his hair. Becker drew his other arm around Spike's neck.

"How do you keep doing that?!" Spike choked.

Becker laughed, "It's part of the whole package that is moi. Besides, you were all so delightfully distracted by exposition. I'm really going to enjoy ripping your head off."

Spike retorted, "Added to your dad's, you'd have a matching set then?"

"Let him go!" Salafia reared her fist back and punched Becker in the side with her taser.

The golden haired incubus's body convulsed, and he released his grip on Spike's body, falling backwards literally out of shock.

"Bloody hell, that "take back the night" stuff actually works," Spike took the taser from her hand and gave Becker another jolt while he was lying prone on the ground. The vampire got a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked at Beelzebub, "If you didn't like LaBianca, what about this attractive piece of beachfront real estate?"

The pig seemed agreeable to this, and it didn't take long for Eligor to start her own ritual using some of the materials Mr. Hargreaves had gathered. Of course, she had to sop some of the blood off of them first.

"Now, I'm not letting that filthy thing Ascend so that he can rampage all about," Eligor shouted through the colonnade as Becker and Beelzebub were situated on the altar. "I'm going to simply transfer you into his body for you to use instead, and you'll adjust as Illyria has done. It will be much more preferable to sharing space with a swine for all eternity."

Shortly there after, the incantation was complete. Becker writhed and screamed on the altar, flailing his arms and legs in pain as the Old One made itself entirely at home in his body, liquifying his organs and hardening his skin. The pig sat relatively still in his Victorian clothing, but for a few small sniffs at the air.

"Looks like Achilles has his room to himself again," Spike said and then added, "I'm not keeping a pig in my apartment."

Salafia smiled softly, "I'll keep him. I'm gonna call him 'Little Corey.'"

Gunn and Angel sat on the floor in silence. There wasn't much to say. "I was trying to do the right thing" can only be spoken so many times before it loses its meaning.

Illyria crouched down beside them, "Are you all right, Charles?"

"This was all for nothing," he spoke, staring at the cobbled stone floor. "I betrayed my friends again, and Fred's still gone."

Illyria was silent for a moment and glanced upwards at the statue that encapsulated her former glory, "Are you ready to make amends?"

Gunn and Angel both looked at her.

"There is only one truth," Illyria stood, regal and graceful, "only a life can balance a life."

Eligor, understanding her meaning, rested an armored shoulder against a column, "It could be done through the proper channels."

Gunn tried to stand, but Angel stopped him, "You don't have to do anything, Gunn. The scales will never balance out, you know this. It tips one way or another but it never balances."

"Never thought I'd say this, but Angel's right, Charlie," Spike crossed his arms, "You can't mend what's been done."

"If I can bring her back, I don't care what happens to me," Gunn was resolute, "but you can't let Wolfram and Hart have control of me again. I need my contract terminated."

It was then that Achilles the Pig hopped down from his altar perch and disappeared into the colonnade only to return with a leather folio chomped between his jowls. Like a dog with a tennis ball, the pig dropped the folio at Gunn's side and sat back on its haunches as if expecting a treat or a pat on the head.

Opening the folio, Gunn sighed, "These are the termination agreements Hargreaves cooked up."

"Are they legit?" Spike asked.

"They read that way, but they were just to appease me so that I'd get Angel here," Gunn frowned as Eligor took the documents from his hands. "I'm not sure if they'd work."

"The magicks in these is very strong. I believe it would be worth letting Angel sign them."

Angel looked around, "Anyone have a pen?"

There was a mass checking of pockets before Dr. LaBianca managed to squeak out, "I do," as she held up a plastic ballpoint.

Angel made quick work of adding his John Hancock to the documents- first Gunn's, then Wesley's, Lorne's, Fred's, and then finally his own.

Eligor stood at Illyria's side, "We need to make this fast. I will transfer you into Charles Gunn's body while healing your shell so that it will be habitable for the woman it once belonged to. Her soul will not be hard for me to find." As Gunn and Illyria were comfortable on the altar, Eligor leaned down to Gunn and whispered, "I can hasten your end. You won't be in as much pain," as she indicated Becker still in the throes of death after being moved to the floor.

"I'll endure it," Gunn stated. There was something unspoken in his manner that implied that he wanted to feel what Fred had been forced to, a form of penance.

"This isn't right," Angel frowned.

"Afraid it's not your decision, mate," Spike replied, swallowing an unexpected lump in his throat, "If you start making speeches, it's going to be harder for him to be stoic about it."

The older vampire glanced down, "I'm tired of losing my people."

"The spell is going to be quite intense, so those who are not of an ancient and godly nature would do well to back far away from me," Eligor said loudly as her owl-like feet scraped a half-circle in the stone before her.

Angel and Spike dragged Becker's stilled body and Achilles the Pig towards the far side of the hall while both doctors followed close behind.

Gunn was breathing heavily on the altar, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Illyria turned her head towards him, "She won't be happy that you did this."

"I know," a small smile tugged at Gunn's lips, "but if I could go back in time, I would have swapped places with her to begin with."

"If you had that power, you would have never gone to Wolfram and Hart," Illyria corrected.

Gunn nodded, "There's a lot of things I would have done differently."

"I will try..." Illyria's eyes darted around as though she was not sure what the appropriate expression for the moment might be, "I will try to not cause you excess pain."

The ritual, as one would expect, was massive. The sheer power of it seemed to ricochet throughout the entire temple. Spike felt it pass through him though it was not as unpleasant as it had been before; it was almost calming, like the fresh stillness after a storm. In the blink of an eye, all the blue tinting from Fred's skin faded away, and the red leather hide Illyria had conjured disappeared. Gunn arched his back off the altar, and he struggled to keep himself still. He coughed, blood spattering around his mouth. Spike retrieved his duster from the floor and brought it over to cover Fred's nude body as he checked on the two of them.

"Charlie? Fred, love?"

Fred did not stir. Her breathing and pulse appeared normal, however.

Gunn managed to open his eyes, and he brought a shaky hand up to his face, "I can see again."

The scar that ran down his eye from forehead to cheek was gone as well.

"Is it stupid to ask how you're feeling?" Angel asked, voice filled with concern.

"Right now, it's like the worst heartburn I've ever had, but I know it's gonna get worse," Gunn said, looking over at Fred. "She's really back?"

"She may not wake up for a while. It will be quite a transition for her," Eligor stated, picking up Becker's body and slinging it over her shoulder. She whistled, and Snerd swooped down out of nowhere. "Come along, I'll take you back to your plane."

"We'll need to get the Doc's car," Spike said as he lifted Fred into his arms, holding her protectively.

Glancing over, he saw Dr. Dominick standing next to a rather beleaguered-looking young man in Victorian garb.

"The pig turned into a guy," she stated matter-of-factly, and she waved her glasses in the air, "And I can see without these!"

Angel, with the leather folio of paperwork under his arm, and Spike managed to get Fred and Gunn as well as themselves situated in the back of Salafia's bright pink Volkswagon while Achilles the Guy and Dr. LaBianca squished together in the front seat. Dr. Dominick turned the ignition and followed Eligor as she rode her ghastly horse through another portal, leading them into the L.A. night.

Gunn coughed up more blood, gasping, "I need to see Annie..." when they had stopped to make sure everyone was in one piece.

Spike directed the Doc to drive to the Teen Center with Eligor swooping overhead. Anne was remarkably calm to see the horde of strange characters ascending the stairs outside the facility, likely because Angel and Gunn were there. Gunn, Fred dressed in the extra clothing Salafia had in her car, and Becker-soon-to-be-Beelzebub were settled on cots inside of her office. Anne asked for no explanations, but stayed by Gunn's side, holding his hand. The others gave them some privacy.

Sitting on a ratty couch in the hall, Salafia put her hand on Spike's knee, "You look different."

Spike smiled weakly, "You've seen me covered in blood before, just never my own."

"It's not that," she replied, gently touching his eyebrow, "Your scar's gone."

Reaching up to feel where his scorpion-like scar had trisected his eyebrow and feeling no raised flesh, Spike glared at Eligor, "I actually liked that being there, you know. Got that from a Slayer."

Eligor made a pfft noise with her forked tongue, "I warned you that the spell would be intense. I had to heal that girl's entire body inside and out; there were bound to be other repercussions. I'm the Master of Decay, which means I can reverse it as well as inflict it. That's how I was able to fix your girlfriend all those years ago." She then looked pointedly at Angel, "Sorry that you were stabbed that time as well, but this time was not my fault."

"Well, I can't thank you enough," Achilles spoke in a very chipper way, grabbing Eligor's hands and shaking them, "I don't know how long I was stuck like that!"

Achilles was a tall, rather lanky young man. He was cute, if a little Ichabod Crane-esque with his large nose and his front two teeth slightly too long.

"I take it that you're not an evil lawyer like Pops was?" Spike gave the boy a once over.

"Heavens no," Achilles shook his head, his red hair flopping in his eye, "I was an old sawbones, had no interest in the family business... that's why Father made me a pig!" He turned to Salafia and took her hands in his, "Oh, Miss, you were so kind, wanting to take me home with you, even when I was a beast. That was the nicest thing anyone ever offered to do for me."

Dr. Dominick blushed, "Oh?"

Anne emerged from her office a few moments later. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes teary, but she held her head up.

"He's asleep," she said, shutting the door. "I'm going to get another first aid kit."

They waited several hours into the night; Anne, Angel, and Spike took turns sitting with Gunn and Fred. Everyone was very quiet except for Achilles who wandered about, asking about the world. They gathered that he must have been transformed into a pig before the turn of the Twentieth Century though he couldn't quite remember when.

Angel went over to Eligor and asked her, "Do you know if our contracts are really terminated?"

The Old One lifted the leather folio from the couch, "The Senior Partners have their claws far-reaching into many things. They could always find ways to invalidate whatever you tried to do. After all, the paperwork Gunn received from Wolfram and Hart were only copies, not the originals."

"I see," Angel bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating what might happen to them in the future.

"However," Eligor began, "I being a Master of Decay and the Patron Saint of Pariahs and Poisoners and also Master of Hidden Things. I can remove the original contracts from where Wolfram and Hart stores them and stash them away where they could never find them even if they searched a millennia."

"You would do that?"

"I suppose I owe it to Spike to see this finished after I tried to steal his body," she shrugged.

The door to the office opened, and Beelzebub shakily stepped out, "I am not sure I truly approve of this body, Eligor. At least as the Conduit, I could choose my own form."

Angel stared at Beelzebub walking around in Becker's form, "Last time I saw you, you were the Big Cat."

"And now I'm an effeminate man-child," Beelzebub blinked, "Such is life."

"You're not going to explode and mess with time the way Illyria did, are you?" the brunette vampire asked.

Eligor laughed, "Seeing as this Hargreaves was not quite human, I think that this body will last much longer, though I might have to do some routine maintenance on it, which will be no problem for me because I am-"

"Yeah, yeah, Master of Decay. We got that," Angel rolled his eyes.

Within Anne's office, Spike sat between the cots. Gunn seemed to go in and out of consciousness, his skin already hardening, his eyes gaining a bluish tint. Gunn reached over and took Fred's hand, squeezing it.

"You have to take care of her," Gunn said to Spike. "Make sure she knows that I'm sorry for everything, that I never meant for any of this to happen."

"She knows that already, Charlie," Spike rested his hand on top of theirs. "You gotta do me a favor, all right? You gotta make sure that Illyria stays semi-moral. Not totally moral because that would be boring, but at least amoral leaning towards goodness."

"I'll do what I can," Gunn wheezed as another coughing fit overwhelmed him.

Gunn's body seized up and shook, rattling the cot against the linoleum. Spike wanted to look away, but he kept his hand firmly on his friend's until he stopped moving. When Gunn's eyes opened again, they were completely icy blue. The azure hue bled through his skin and into his close-cropped hair. Gunn was gone.

"I was wrong," the voice sounded like Gunn's, but it was harder, more stately. He turned his gaze to Spike, "You would have made an excellent Qwa Ha Xahn."

Spike smiled sadly, "That's nice of you to say."

Illyria sat up, assessing his new form, wriggling his fingers, "With my powers already diminished, this will be a fine..." He stopped before the word shell was uttered. "I am grateful to Gunn."

"What will you do now?" Spike leaned back his chair, watching as Illyria took his first steps in the form of a human male.

"I would like to help Beelzebub. He will need to adjust, and I believe we can both learn from how Eligor has adapted."

Spike hid a small smirk, "I thought adaptation was compromise."

Illyria frowned at his tone, "Compromise is acceptable if it does not compromise who you are."

"You are a very wise ancient demon king-thing," Spike felt a certain swelling of pride in his chest as he watched Illyria walk about the office.

There were confused emotions all around. Anne cried as she watched Illyria walk away in Gunn's body, mentally not ready to comprehend what had happened, and Angel too was finding it difficult to reign in his feelings. He had, after all, lost yet another team member even as he regained one. As Fred had still not awakened, Salafia suggested that Spike take her to the ER to be checked out.

"If I take her to hospital, they're not going to understand," Spike said quietly, "but I do have a safe place that's quasi-medical I could take her to... I just need to ask for one small thing."

Salafia sighed, handing over her keys, "Take it. I'll just stay here with Piglet and LaBianca, but my car better be okay when you bring it back."

Spike kissed her cheek, "Angel will find a way to get you home and get... everyone else... where they need to go too."

The only place, possibly in the whole world, that could understand what had happened to Fred was the Mosaic Wellness Center in Primm, Nevada just outside of Vegas. Spike carried Fred out to the Doc's car and placed her as comfortably as possible in the back seat. She was practically swimming in Dr. Dominick's "Frankie Says Relax" t-shirt as Spike kept her wrapped in his duster. He drove all night, breaking all laws of traffic and physics, on a single tank of petrol in the beat-up old Volkswagon.

The doctors at Mosaic were able to set Fred up with a comfortable room where they could monitor her vital signs. Spike sank down into one of the disgusting pastel-print chairs beside her bed. Fred was safe and home, and if she would only wake up, everything would be as close to perfect as it would get for him. Losing a friend but getting one back was the kind of sad-happiness that the Universe doled out to him. It wasn't perfect, but it was all he had. Surely, the Powers That Do Fuck-All would let her wake up.

Spike leaned over the bed, brushing a curling tendril of her hair away from her forehead before planting a soft kiss there, "You have to wake up for me, pet, 'cause I'm not leaving this chair until you do. If you wait too long, I'll smell pretty awful, and then you won't want me near you, and it'll be tough luck 'cause I won't leave even if you try to make me."

He waited, but she didn't stir. The hours ticked by slowly, and Spike did not move from his chair. He didn't pace or even get up to wash the blood from his face and hands. He wanted to be there when she woke up, be the first face she saw, even if he was a mess. Spike wanted to be the first hand to hold, the first hug. If she was sad or angry or frightened or happy, he wanted to be there to help her through it.



*****



Things don't usually have fairy tale endings.

After two days in the hospital wing, Spike was forced to get up and take a shower upon penalty of being stripped naked and doused with the fire extinguisher by Dr. Thilbault and the Mosaic staff if he did not comply. After scrubbing himself free of blood and gore and dressing in a pair of clean medical scrubs (which were quite comfy once one go used to them), Spike allowed the doctors to tend to some of his injuries which were already starting to heal. The nurses brought him a mixture of animal blood and the synthetic blood-substitute Mosaic blended for its recovering vampires, along with a little fresh human blood from their donor bank.

After a week, Spike was about to crawl up the walls. He read to Fred until he had run out of things to read. He even went so far as to read the pamphlets from the nursing station in hopes of gaining some response. He turned on the television, put it on the Country Music Channel, hoping that she might react to a song that she remembered, but nothing happened besides Spike getting very depressed. Spike eventually resorted to just poking her in the arm for a little while to see if she flinched.

After a month, Dr. Thilbault asked Spike to leave, which resulted in the vampire getting a tranquilizer dart in the ass and waking up in one of the padded isolation rooms.

"William, it's not healthy for you to stay in Miss Burkle's room all day and night. You need to get some fresh air or just go hang out with the others. Play a little foosball or air hockey in the Rec Room. You'll feel much better if you do," Dr. Thilbault suggested as Spike threw himself around the room trying to get the straight-jacket restraining him off.

Betta George floated solemnly behind the doctor, communicating in his telepathic way, "You really need to calm down, Spike, or else they might tranq you again."

Spike stopped struggling, looking rather defeated, "I don't want to leave Fred here by herself. She won't know where she is, and she'll be alone."

Dr. Thilbault walked over and unlatched the straight-jacket once Spike had sufficiently calmed down, "I promise you, William, if there is any change in Miss Burkle's condition we will contact you."

The next day, Spike moved in with Betta George to Mosaic's out-patient housing. The Wellness Center had purchased a suburb of tract houses that were used by military members for their families. They had been out-of-use for years before Mosaic came in and renovated them with bright, cheery paint jobs like something out of John Waters, though the cul-de-sac from Edward Scissorhands would be more appropriate. Mosaic's focus was all about helping demons and magical practitioners learn to use their powers responsibly and then reacclimating them into society, and the actual houses helped the patients feel like a part of the Primm community, which had been very accepting of the other-worldly presence. A former Mosaic patient was even on the city council and was planning to run for mayor of the small town.

Connor and Dr. Dominick cleaned out Spike's apartment and brought him his things as well as so the Doc could pick up her car. She had been quite pissed to have been without her vehicle for over a month, but she still gave Spike a tight hug when she saw him.

After working so many jobs a week, Spike found it difficult to sit at home all day, waiting by the phone. He was so bored, in fact, that he began to attend group therapy at Mosaic as well as a few one-on-one sessions. It was just so he could stay close to Fred without getting thrown out of the hospital, or so he told himself. There was no way that he was actually getting something out of talking to Dr. Thilbault. Spike swore up and down that he was only keeping a daily journal to humor Thilbault and didn't actually take it seriously though he carried it around with him everywhere.

After two months, Dr. Dominick moved to Primm. She enjoyed the small town atmosphere much more than the hustle and bustle of L.A., and after the upset caused by Dr. LaBianca's resignation, Salafia decided it was time for a change. Primm's morgue was small, but it needed an experienced coroner, and Dr. Dominick was up to the task, especially since she could have her run of the place, being in charge for the first time in her career. She also brought her scrawny beau with her. She had finally found the love of her life, the guy who didn't mind discussing blood and guts while eating delicious pastries and who would eat a normal person out of house and home. It might have had something to do with said guy spending over a century being a literal pig. It was amazing how skinny Achilles stayed when he was constantly stuffing his mouth with freshly baked cake or whatever Salafia whipped up. Dr. Hargreaves, as he preferred, was very quickly employed at the morgue, thanks in no small part to his girlfriend running it. Even though his credentials as a surgeon were from 1893, he was rapidly becoming up to speed with modern techniques. Salafia had also made it her goal in life to see Spike employed again.

During one of their little dinner parties, Salafia turned to Spike and asked, "Have you thought about going back to school, Wills?"

"I have a Masters in Elizabethan Literature from Oxford, thank you very much. Besides, I couldn't stand school while I was there; why would I want to go back?" he replied incredulously.

"Because you could come to work with me and not be a janitor!" the Doc bounced in her seat at the proposition.

"The thought of cutting up dead bodies when I am a dead body makes me uncomfortable," Spike retorted as the basket of crescent rolls was making its way around the table.

Betta George made a "We're eating here!" expression.

Dr. Dominick rolled her eyes, "You don't have to be a coroner, Will. You could work with evidence as a lab tech or as a forensic scientist."

"You could be like that Dexter chap on the telly. I do enjoy that show," Achilles added, kissing Salafia's cheek as she heaped a huge portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Oh, that would be perfect!" Salafia grinned, "A vampire who is a blood-spatter expert!"

Spike frowned, "That sounds ridiculously cheesy."

"Don't be a grump," she replied, "I got some some brochures from the local community college. Believe it or not, they have several degree programs in forensics."

Even though Spike felt it was a pretty foolhardy endeavor, he took the brochures the Doc had collected and was surprisingly interested in some of the classes. West Las Vegas University at Primm had quite a few programs designed to be completed in the evening for the employed students and the nocturnal demon population. Somehow, with glowing letters of recommendation from Dr. Dominick as well as Dr. Palaneck and the Sisters Sribiju, Spike enrolled mid-semester at WLVUP after not being in a college classroom for one hundred and thirty years.

After three months, Fred woke up. It was slow at first. Her fingers began twitching late in the evening, and Spike rushed out of his Serology 1010 class to be by her bedside. She made a strange noise in her throat when Spike held her hand. He talked quietly to her as he had done for many months. He visited her as much as the doctors would allow, bringing her fresh flowers, making sure her hair was brushed, her lips weren't chapped, that she was being taken care of, but for all his efforts, Fred looked emaciated. She had always been on the thin side, but after three months of intravenous feeding she seemed to be wasting away.

The doctors and nurses were in and out of her room constantly, but as the night wore on, that had slowed. Spike kept his hand on her arm, gently rubbing and squeezing, trying to let her know that someone was there. Her hand jerked, and he took hold of it again, running the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. Her head tossed from side to side, and her lips parted slightly. Fred made another sound as though she was trying to talk. It took her repeating the noise a few times before Spike realized she was asking for water.

Practically jumping out of his chair, Spike went to the nursing station and brought back a styrofoam cup of water with a straw. He put the bendy straw to her lips, and Fred was able to take a sip. And then she took another.

Feeling a few tears well up, Spike smiled, whispering, "That's so good, love. You're going to be all right."

She turned her head towards his voice and opened her eyes. There were her perfect, beautiful brown eyes. Her expression was somewhat blank, perhaps a little confused.

"You're back," Spike spoke softly, trying to convince himself more than anything.

Fred mumbled something.

Spike leaned closer to hear her, "What is it, darling? Do you want me to get the doctor?"

"Get out."

Spike jerked back to look at her face. Her eyes were more focused and quite angry. With much effort, she lifted her hand and pushed weakly at his chest.

Her voice sounded crackly and rough, "Get out!"

Spike's brain couldn't process what she was saying. Large teardrops rolled down Fred's cheeks, and her chin was quivering. She turned her head away from him. Backing out of the room, Spike went to the nurses milling about and told them that Fred had fully woken up. For a long time, he sat on the cold tiled floor outside of her room, hoping that Fred might ask for him, but she didn't. He could hear her calmly talking to the nurses about getting some of the tubes and wires attached to her removed. Dr. Thilbault walked by after being paged, inquiring why Spike didn't want to sit with Miss Burkle now that she awake, but the vampire didn't answer.

Before the sun came up, Spike wandered back home though he couldn't sleep. He thought about what Fred knew or remembered, and what a fool he had been to think that she would wake up and everything would a happily-ever-after. She and Wesley had just begun their relationship before she died, and all of what Spike thought they had shared was actually between himself and Illyria. While Fred was alive, she and Spike had only just become close friends. Now, he didn't even have that.

Some of the doctors called him throughout the following day, updating him on Fred's rapid progress. When Spike asked if he could speak to her, Fred refused to take the phone, and he heard her say that she didn't need the doctors calling anyone on her behalf anymore. After placing the receiver back in its cradle, Spike unplugged the phone. It was an empty gesture since no one would be calling.

After four months, Spike was considering moving back to L.A. He had dropped out of group therapy, though he still had a few private sessions with Dr. Thilbault at home. Thilbault had noted that Spike was beginning to "close off" from people around him, and the vampire had quite a few strong four-letter-words for the good doctor who, being a patient man, took it all in stride.

Getting home late after class, Spike tossed his messenger bag on the couch and quickly followed it. He sat there and stared at one of his latest tests which he had done abysmally on. Trying to start with a class in the middle of a semester had been a bad idea. Though at first he had been quick to catch on to some of the scientific concepts, most of it was lost on the vampire. After all, when he had originally been at university, scientists weren't even sure how babies developed in-utero, and some thought that diseases like TB were caused by miasmas. Even though his professor told him that he could retake the test and do some extra credit to make up for some of his other less-than-stellar grades, Spike didn't see much point to it. He wondered if he could get his job back delivery newspapers. At least doing that didn't make him feel like an idiot.

The doorbell buzzed, and Spike figured it was Salafia, who always seemed to know when he had a bad class and would turn up to do the "You'll do better next time! We just need to have more study sessions!" cheerleading routine. He wasn't in the mood for it, but he got up and opened the door.

"Hi," Fred said softly, standing on the little porch.

"Hi," came the dumbfounded reply.

Fred looked a lot healthier than she had a month prior. She'd gained a little weight back though she still seemed tired and drawn.

She pointed to his trousers, "You're wearing khakis."

"Yeah, I was over at the university," Spike laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Do you want to come in?"

Fred nodded and stepped over the threshold. He offered her a drink, but she declined.

Looking over at his test covered in little red x's left on the coffee table, Fred asked, "You're enrolled?"

"You could say that," Spike felt a little embarrassed, picking up the paper and throwing it in the bin, "That one's not going on the fridge."

They both sat on the secondhand couch, a full cushion between them.

"So," Spike decided to break the ice, "what have you been up to?"

"Helping out at the clinic, at the lab," Fred answered, "Mosaic has a really fascinating analysis of how vampires process the blood they drink and what exactly they need from it to survive."

More silence followed.

Fred worried her lip a bit before saying, "I'm sorry." When Spike didn't respond, she continued, "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's okay," he wouldn't look at her, too afraid of what might come spilling out of his mouth if he did.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Fred sighed, "I've lost so much time. I've lost most of my friends." Her fists were tightly balled on her knees as she spoke, "And I got so pissed at you. I remember everything... from Illyria. I saw what you thought of me, and I wanted to punch you."

Spike did say something at that, "What I thought of you? Why would that make you so angry?"

"I saw what you wanted when that floating fish gave your and Wesley's memories and thoughts of me to Illyria when you were in hell," Fred glared at him. "A mousy little housewife with a stupid apron? I'm a scientist, damn it." She then gestured towards the waste paper bin, "And I'm not the one who thinks that the intervening sequences within a gene are amino acids! Those are introns!"

"That test was really hard!" Spike snapped. "And I never thought of you as anything less than what you are. I know you're an intelligent, capable person... We were just supposed to be together. It was a fantasy, just something to keep me sane while I was being held captive. It wasn't supposed to hurt your feelings. Surely you saw all the other things I felt, how much I missed you."

Fred's expression softened as she tentatively patted his hand, "I did, but it took me a while to process everything and stop being pissed."

"Sounds like it's still bothering you."

"It's a work in progress," she smiled, "though it does help to hear you say the things in your head out loud."

Glancing over, Spike asked sincerely, "So what do we do now?"

"Well, I think I'm going back to Texas," Fred replied, "I need to see my family, and I want my parents to know everything that's happened."

Looking a tad crestfallen all Spike could manage was "Oh."

Fred gave him a little shoulder punch, "I want you to come with me, if you want to."

"You want me to meet the folks?" Spike perked up a little. "Is your father going to produce a shotgun of some sort?"

"More like that's what my mom might do," Fred replied. "Maybe once you're done with this semester, we can go on a long road trip."

Spike laughed, "I think the semester is pretty much done for me. I failed with flying colours."

"Don't put yourself down," Fred reached over and pulled his test out of the bin, "Maybe I could help?"

"I'd like that," Spike smiled, letting Fred try to explain some of the answers that he had gotten incorrect.

Spike still didn't understand half of what she was talking about as she tried to instruct him on the differences between protein bases and various cellular mechanisms, but it was nice to have her close, to watch her smile, to hear her laugh. He didn't need a fairy tale ending, and something told him that Fred didn't either. They were getting a fresh start, and the fairy tales could go get stuffed.