Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: Watching season 5 of Angel I kind of got the impression that there would be no help coming for Angel's crew. They'd pretty much exhausted all of their allies in their attempt to infiltrate and destroy Wolfram and Hart and it would not surprise me of the Watchers and Slayers simply left them out as a sacrifice.

Chapter 2: It Works Both Ways

May 19th, 2004; Los Angeles, California; Alley behind the Hyperion Hotel, formerly the headquarters of Angel Investigations:

"Well personally... I kinda wanna slay the dragon. Lets get to work."
Angel stepped forward from the survivors of his crew, swinging his broadsword in a two-handed grip to meet the oncoming battle-axe of a gray-skinned demon. The broadsword's blade flashed in the pouring rain, deflecting the swing of the demon while Angel riposted, piercing the demon's heart.
"Gunn, the protection spells on the Hyperion are still up, fall back."
Gunn nodded weakly, swinging his own battle-axe at a charging demon. The axe struck the demon's neck, half-removing the armored creature's head as blue-green blood spurted from the wound. Gunn staggered back, seeing that Illyria was wasting no time as she pummeled any demons within a ten yard radius of her, their bodies flying back into other demons by the sheer force of her blows. Spike was doing the worse off of the three non-humans, not having the advantage of being a god or having Wolfram and Hart's power flowing through his veins like Illyria or Angel but the white-haired vampire was doing well, twisting the neck of the first demon to attack him while sending a powerful kick to the armored chest of the second. Spike managed to get his hands on one of the demon's battle-axes and was hacking away by the time Gunn staggered through the back door of the Hyperion. The street-raised human coughed violently, grimacing in pain as his stomach wound burned before his eyes cleared and set on the lobby of the Hyperion, his eyes widening as he grinned in appreciation at what he saw.

"Damn, Fang!"

Spike flinched as a loud report of gunfire reached his enhanced ears. Angel and Illyria reacted as well, though Angel recovered first from the distraction by beheading a demon charging him. Glancing over his shoulder as he side-stepped an attacker and cleanly took off its head, Spike rose a brow, smirking as he saw Charles Gunn taking aim with a Heckler and Koch G-36K assault rifle. The weapon was as soaked as its carrier but sprayed out 5.56x45mm rounds at a rate of 750 rounds per minute. A C-Mag drum magazine containing 100 of the standard NATO rounds was secured to the weapon, a bandolier of several more hanging around the only surviving human of the crew's neck as he emptied the weapon into the charging demon horde.

"Got yourself a big gun, Gunn?"
Spike smirked, barely acknowledging Gunn's weak laugh as he turned and drove the blunt end of his battle-axe into the face of a demon as he ducked under its swing. The Demon fell back, falling victim to three of Gunn's bullets and Spike nodded back to Gunn before moving for the gap between Angel and Illyria. The alley was clogged full of armored demons, all but a few human-sized and just as vulnerable to bullets as blades and Angel's crew fought the demon army to a standstill for five minutes before Gunn's weapon ran dry and he staggered back to the door of the hotel. Illyria spared the human a concerned, or about as concerned as her expressions were, look before ripping the arm off a demon foolish enough to try to attack her. Demon bodies were piled several yards high before the two souled Vampires and Old One and Gunn's return added even more to the pile as he took aim with a second identical assault rifle, the first steaming at his feet where he had discarded it. Demons charged over the bodies of their fallen comrades in waves of ten, their ranks packed shoulder-to-shoulder as Gunn swept the assault rifle over their charging outlines. The rain continued to pour, the pile of demon bodies obscuring the view of the army while the dragon circled overhead, screeching as it spewed fire and feebly attempted to wedge itself between the brick buildings lining the alley. The fire wouldn't reach the ground and while bricks and debris rained down from the dragon's attempts, Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn remained untouched by its assaults.

"I seem to remember a big bloke or two in the back, Angelus."Angel growled at Spike's use of his soulless persona, running a demon that had gotten past Gunn's shooting through as the human's shooting stopped while Illyria paused in the battle to stare back at Gunn. Spike cursed when Illyria moved towards Gunn, moving to catch a group of four armored demons that charged after her. Without looking, Illyria sidestepped a thrust from one of the demon's pikes, snapping off the end of the spear and driving it back into the demon while the other three moved to fall on Spike. The souled vampire twisted the neck of one, caught a sword in his stomach from a second as he punched it in the face and the third moved to take off his head. Illyria turned, throwing the head of the pike still in her hands into the demon's face while Spike grabbed the hand holding the sword impaling him and squeezed until he heard bones snapping. With a roar the white-haired vampire lashed out with an open palm into the demon's face, snapping back its head and breaking its spine under the sheer force of the blow.

"Gunn!"
Angel caught sight of Gunn collapsing, turning to move to help his friend he stopped when he saw Illyria moving and spun, parrying a demon's thrust and slashing his sword across its throat. The charging demons seemed to thin out as four moved over the bodies to join the five that remained attacking and Angel charged one, using him momentum to dodge its swing as he impaled it on his sword. The sword met the resistance of armor before it gave way but the demon's collapse jarred the weapon and the blade snapped in two. Not stopping, Angel spun, Hamilton's blood empowering his attack as he used the broken blade of the sword to shatter the skull of a second demon. Spike, having lost his weapon when he moved to help Illyria planted a solid punch into a demon's face, staggering as his wounds caught up with him. The English vampire's hands were raw from fighting but he continued on, finishing off three of the demons attacking him while the four that moved over the pile of bodies were suddenly met by a blue blur as it tore into them, ripping apart their limbs and throwing the pieces about to join the rest of the legion of demon bodies. Illyria gave an enraged battlecry, charging over the pile of demon corpses while Angel and Spike glanced at one another and then back to Charles Gunn's lifeless body.

"Bloody Hell, Charlie."
Spike sighed, his face twisting into a pained frown while Angel stared blankly at his dead friend, his eyes glowing yellow as he trembled with rage. Roaring as he vamped out, Angel charged after Illyria to meet the oncoming demons while Spike moved to Gunn's corpse, closing the man's eyes and nodding down to him respectfully before he collected the assault rifle and ammo and moved to join Angel and Illyria. Fist and Fangs was more his style but he wanted to take as many of the bastards with him as he could. Clearing the weapon, Spike climbed over the pile of demon corpses littering the alleyway and frowned as he saw Illyria straddling a collapsed behemoth of a demon, pummeling its face while Angel was moving away from a second identical demon's corpse, scaling a fire escape on the side of the alley as he looked up, glaring at the still circling dragon. While several smaller demons tried to climb up after him. Raising the assault rifle, Spike sprayed the demons with fire until they stopped moving before he turned to see
"Where the Bloody Hell did they all go?"
Spike shouted, seeing that only a few demon bodies littered the alley in front of him. Moving forward, Spike slung the assault rifle over his shoulder, collecting a fallen demon's spear as he moved towards Illyria, frowning at the blue goddess.

"Oi, Blue."
Illyria ignored Spike, continuing to pummel the unconscious demon as the giant demon's green blood covered her small fists, its skull caving in under the sheer force of her unrelenting blows. Deciding he wanted to bag a dragon if the battle was all but done, Spike followed Angel up the fire escape, getting to the roof as Angel dodged the dragon as it descended upon him, spewing fire. Spike cursed, throwing the spear and watching as it was harmlessly deflected off the dragon scales before he remembered Charlie's weapon and shouldered the assault rifle, aiming for the dragon's exposed eyes and gaping maw.

"Oi, Poofter, where the Bloody Hell did they all go?"
Angel said nothing, using the distraction of Spike's annoying voice and shooting to get onto the dragon's back as it snarled at Spike. The dragon thrashed, trying to flap its wings to fly away before the Champion of the Powers that Be grabbed one of the armored scales on the dragon's back, using his enhanced strength to rip it upward as he thrust a black-bladed demon sword into the dragon's heart. The dragon screeched, belching fire skyward as Angel was thrown off its back and to the caved-in rooftop. Watching the dragon collapse, lifeless, Angel grinned manically towards Spike, the casualties of their war momentarily forgotten as he spoke in his native Irish accent.

"Willie me boy, I do believe I slayed meself a dragon."
Spike scowled, giving Angel a two-fingered salute and then gesturing to the fallen dragon.

"Oi! That counts as mine too you poof, I distracted it long enough for you to go prancing onto its back and kill it."
Angel moved to Spike's side, ignoring Spike's rude hand gesture and laughing as he slapped the younger souled vampire on the back, looking down into the alleyway filled with hundreds of dead demons and then to the clear streets of Los Angeles.

"I still hate ye, Willie."
Spike sniffed, wiping his face as he glanced down over the edge of the building still seeing Blue pummeling the colossal demon.

"Bloody Poofter."
Spike muttered, leaping over the ledge to join Illyria. Angel cast a glance skyward, allowing the rain to cleanse the blood and gore from his body before following his Grandchilde. The remaining demons were scattered, having run away in fear and were hunted down easily enough. Gathering the bodies of Wesley and Gunn in the lobby of the Hyperion, the three demons sat in silence, staring at their fallen comrades bodies. Paying their respects the three surviving members of Angel's crew split up when it became apparent that Wolfram and Hart had only unleashed a small force of several hundred demons upon them. Going underground, Angel tried to get out of the country to divert attention away from his son while Spike and Illyria remained in Los Angeles for several weeks, finding out that the Fell Brethren's army had made up the bulk of the demons attacking them. With more than forty-thousand demons at its command, the Fell Brethren launched a retaliation for their fallen leader Archduke Sebassis in the Los Angeles area, bringing in the Slayers and the Initiative. The entire demon war was labeled a terrorist incident by the Department of Homeland Security and Angel's crew was blamed for having ties to terrorist organizations.

Quite simply, when all the pieces of the apocalypse came into play and the Slayers and Watchers were caught with their pants down, all fingers pointed the blame to Angel and his crew. With the destruction of the Circle of the Black Thorn, the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart were cut off from their voice in this dimension and their stranglehold was weakened. Angel's actions and the sacrifices of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Cordelia Chase, Winifred Burkle, Allen Doyle and Charles Gunn had cut off the Senior Partners from earth and destroyed Wolfram and Hart's apocalypse before it began. For their sacrifices the heroes were labeled as villains and were hunted to the ends of the earth by what should have been their closest allies. At least until the Powers That Be stepped in, concerned about the Balance.

Uganda, Africa; Three months later:

Spike crossed his arms, glaring cooly at the shadows of the cave before him. With a shudder, the vampire leaned over, picking up a rock lying in the sand and dirt before absently tossing it into the darkness before him. Spike felt his fingers tingle with the remnant power of Illyria's blood, his blue eyes shifting to amber as he slid into gameface. The blue goddess had pulled some strange mojo on him in that ship that he still didn't understand. All he got from the former God-King was a half-smirk when he asked her any questions. Brushing aside the annoyance of the strange heightened senses and some bloody awful buzzing noise that never seemed to go away, Spike felt the presence of the demon shaman that had given him his soul. The half-breed smirked at the barely visible outline of the demon as he approached with a swagger in his step, his expression bored as he glanced around the dull cavern walls. Absently, Spike wondered if Illyria would go all claustrophobic like she had after she discovered they were confined to the bowels of the ship. Still, they had no choice and the vampire frowned mentally at the memory of Illyria actually frightened of something. It was bloody making him claustrophobic. Shrugging off his concern and sympathetic understanding, having been buried in a casket himself once, Spike recalled Illyria's solution to the problem was to pummel him senseless. Strangely it hadn't felt like a mac truck hitting him that time, more like a Fyarl. Bloody blue cow was probably going easy on him.

"Ello, mate. Remember me?"
Having been slumbering peacefully in his lair, the demon jerked awake, feeling the presence of another demon. The demon's glowing eyes opened, narrowing into a glare as it sneered at Spike. A low rumble, sounding similar to a growl though it shook the cavern walls echoed around the two demons and Spike's smirk widened.

"Got a bit of a favor to ask you, mate. Figure you owed me for welching on our deal."The Demon's eyes vanished from sight for an instant as it blinked before reappearing. The demon's growl tapered to a sigh, the shadows of the room showing its arms being thrown out in frustration.

"What the Hell do you think I am a genie? You got one wish, one, vampire. Nobody respects custom anymore do they? Its all I want this now, now, now. One Slayer not thousands, one vampire with a soul not two. I suppose you want me to get someone else a soul now? Maybe your insane Sire?"
Spike's smirk turned to a frown, his brow furrowing until it almost resembled Angel's oversized caveman forehead. Wiping at his forehead and scowling, Spike flicked a half-finished cigarette towards the demon, watching in amusement as it bounced off the demon shaman and hit the floor. He'd never thought of giving Drusilla back her soul, would have been cruel and driven her completely barmy. As if she wasn't enough of a nutter. Wondering if a vampire could dust from being insane, Spike tilted his head to the side as he stared down the demon, his discarded cigarette glowing orange at the demon's feet. The demon growled, its hands opening and closing in annoyance as it began to step towards Spike, stopping short when it saw a shadow approaching from behind the vampire. Sensing a connection between the two, the shaman frowned as he took a step back, patterns of muted blue flowing from the newcomer's aura and into Spike's white aura. When the demon moved to stand beside Spike, the shaman's eyes widened as he saw Illyria's deceptively fragile-looking form glaring at him. It took only a moment to realize he was getting a two for one deal and the demon collected himself, pulling his shoulders straight as he glowered disapprovingly down at the two demons intruding on his slumber.

"Old One."
The Demon's rumbling voice held a slight tremor, betraying its fear and Spike rolled his eyes, expecting Illyria to launch into some long-winded introduction of herself; he wasn't disappointed. The blue goddess sneered, baring her teeth as her lip curled and she regarded the shaman haughtily. Its powers were far weaker than the wizard that had slain her Wesley, though it held a large amount of borrowed power; she found herself unimpressed. The blue goddess narrowed her eyes as she studied the demon. The demon was old, older than most in the world she was forced to reside in. Perhaps it had heard of her if it knew of the Old Ones.

"I am Illyria, Shaper of Things, God-King of the Primordium. I was god to a god. Lived seven lives in seven dimensions. Ruled for eons. Your minuscule power is but an afterthought to my glory. You will address me with the honor my name commands or I will have your spine as a trophy. Yours entrails I will..."
Spike tuned out Illyria's ranting, twitching as he brushed a hand over his ear. The buzzing noise got louder once they got off the ship and the drive through the African jungle had been mind-numbing. He thought for a moment he was going to go deaf and his constant questioning of Illyria as to what was making all the noise merely got him a bruise for daring to speak in such an insolent tone after she had gifted him with such an honor as blah-blah, he usually lost interest by that point in her speeches. The blue cow seemed to go on and on like a bloody blue energizer bunny and Spike snickered at the mental image before he noticed a burly, well-built man with flaming fists charging Illyria. That was familiar.

"Oi, Lurky."
Growling, the shaman turned his glare to Spike.

"What, vampire?"
Spike rose a scarred brow, feeling a bit intimidated by the way the cave seemed to rumble with the demon's words but hiding it as he turned his attention back to Illyria passing the first of the shaman's tests with ease. Rolling his eyes, Spike fought down his disgust at how much stronger than him Illyria was and turned his attention back to the towering demon shaman.

"This isn't going to be long, got your mojo ready to give Freddie some peace? Least you can do for not giving me what I asked for..."
The shaman's glare turned to a slightly surprised look. Did the vampire not know that his request would take time, that the balance of the universe would have to be shifted for William the Bloody, who loved so completely to returned to what he had been, to forget the love that had been forced upon him by a spell from monks seeking to hide their Key and preserve the Balance for the Powers between dimensions. He was a bit disappointed the vampire hadn't seen through the game the Powers had made of him. Few understood that the Powers That Be fought not for Good or Evil, but for a balance between the two and that their assistance would often times work both ways. The scales had been tipped too far in favor of the light since the vampire's ensoulment and a price had to be paid. As Spike had said many times, the problem with magic, anything mystical was that there were always consequences. Especially when it interfered with the natural balance of the universe.

"The soul of the Old One's Shell is being held by the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart... it is as good as destroyed. Surely you were told as much?"
Spike felt a chill run down his spine and his undead skin tingled as his blue eyes blinked up at the shaman. Shocked and disturbed, Spike shuddered at the thought of what had befallen Fred at the hands of Wolfram and Hart and turned his attention to Illyria, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He felt something wet slide down his cheek but ignored it as he spared the demon beside him a pained look as he growled.

"How the bugger do you know?"
The shaman rose a brow, the gesture unseen as it turned from its main entertainment and looked down to the vampire's pale features. He could see the anguish within the vampire and he rage, rage so potent he wondered if the vampire had forgotten his request in the wake of the soul.

"You said earlier I did not live up to our agreement, vampire but I have not yet finished with you. You said you wanted to be made the way you were... so she could get what she deserved. Have you any idea the power needed to restore a soul, to pull it from its rest and to remove your love of the Slayer?"
Spike's anger at what had befallen Fred and his fear for her grew as he felt himself trembling.

"The Powers That Be would not grant your request for a soul without restoring their balance. In order for the darkness to lose one of its Champions, the light had to lose one as well... Your love of the Slayer was so ingrained upon you that it had to be removed... over time... or it would risk too much for the Balance's sake."

Spike's eyes flashed gold as he lunged at the demon, slamming into a solid rock wall that made up the demon's armored hide. Vaguely he could hear Illyria speaking but the buzzing in his ears, the voices of his victims and the rage as he saw red drowned out the pain that he felt when he struck the demon's tough armored skin again and again. The shaman was thrown to the ground, grunting as Spike's hands grew bloodied from his enraged blows. With a roar the vampire grasped his hands on the demon's neck, using all of his strength to strangle the creature.

"Tara... You bloody killed Glinda you bastard!"
Illyria stared at her pet in confusion. She could feel strange creatures crawling beneath her skin, scarabs the shell- Fred's memories called them. They amused her slightly but she could sense her pet's rage, sense his grief and guilt more acutely than he'd ever grieved. It only grew when the shaman threw him off and stared with narrowed eyes at the vampire.

"She was killed by human means, vampire. A natural death. The Powers need their Balance and as such... The Old One was released, to counter the spell used to activate the Slayers as the First was released from its bounds from the Slayer's resurrection. The soul you were given was your own but in order for it to be... called from its rest in heaven another of such purity had to be destroyed."

Spike leapt from the darkness of the cave, his duster swirling behind him as he lunged for the demon shaman once more, only to be smacked aside. Illyria observed the display with a sneer, wondering how the Powers That Be dared to presume she would do their bidding. She had no need for their precious balance, she was above it. Her purpose was her own.

"Oh God, Fred!"

The guilt and grief from her pet rose to unbearable levels and Illyria twitched as she forced herself to ignore the stench of his grief, fighting off the invaders from her body. A threat to her pet was a threat to her and she would not allow it, did not want to see his grief, it was the only reason she fought for the Shell- for Fred's soul. Stomping towards where the Spike had fallen to his knees and began weeping, Illyria raised a fist, planting a solid punch into the recovering shaman's kneecap. The demon howled in agony, collapsing to the floor and losing all of his composure.

"You dare to harm my pet, muck. Your head will adorn a pike, your fingers I will grind to dust your arms-"
Illyria turned and snapped the neck of a grayish-green-skinned demon, using its corpse to absorb the blade of another before she slammed her hand cleanly through the second demon's chest. More demons charged her and the goddess put her plans to torture and kill the shaman on hold as she dealt with his minions. Spike trembled as the implications of what he had done struck him and he wept for Fred and cursed the Slayers and Red and the Powers That Be. Lurky didn't seem to concerned with the vampire as he cradled his injury, sending a pained glare towards Illyria.

"Do you want your friend's soul to have rest, to be restored to where it truly belongs? Do you want to restore the Balance?"
The demon's voice was pained but he knew he had a higher purpose. The Slayers around the world were killing the demons in throves and the Balance was all but shot. With Angel's destruction of the Circle of the Black Thorn it was all but assured the final apocalypse would fall and that would be bad for everyone, including himself. The demon shaman saw the vampire rise shakily, a look of death on his twisted vampire visage and he grunted as the wound the Old One gave him prevented his ability to stand. Spike walked with deadly purpose towards the demon, his hands clenched into bloody fists.

"I. Want. Her. To. Be. At. Peace."
Spike stated slowly, his voice flat and spoken in the cultured voice he'd held as a human. Lurky sighed with a sad frown, the gesture unseen in the darkness of his cave though it was evident when he spoke.

"Very well."
Spike launched himself at the demon, stopping in his tracked as a light flared in his eyes, his voice crying out in pain as the shaman laid his hand on the charging vampire's chest. With a grunt, the shaman's form morphed into a human-like form. The man wore a leather jacket, a black fedora and a casual suit that looked fit for a 1920's mobster. Had Spike been coherent he would have sneered at the outfit Whistler wore. With a groan, Whistler shook off the glamor and spotted Illyria staring at him with a tilted his, the bodies of the demon lackeys lying around her.
"You have harmed my pet, demon."
Swallowing back his nervousness, Whistler held up his hands in a placating gesture as he tried to smile reassuringly. His leg injury had worn off with the glamor but he was still very much in danger of being dismembered.

"The things I do for the Balance..."
Whistler lamented to himself as he stared cautiously at the blue goddess. Illyria was supposed to have exploded, removing the threat she posed to the balance while taking out Angel and his team. When she'd had her power stripped away the scales tipped in favor of the darkness and then with Angel had his grand plan to take out the Circle of the Black Thorn the Balance was turned precariously on its head and it looked almost as if the light would win. Then of course natural and magical laws would go into chaos and the universe, or at least that particular dimension would come to an abrupt end. No flashing lights, no army of darkness descending on the outnumbered heroes, the universe would end in a whimper, not a bang. Balance was what allowed the natural world and the mystical to coexist and there was no telling what the consequences would be otherwise.

"Look, I'm just a messenger... I was given a job by the Powers, I did it. Winifred Burkle's soul is at peace, resting in the great beyond and let me tell you that girl deserves it. You know the Senior Partners had her back in her cave in Pylea all this time? Poor kid... But my job is done, no need to be... unpleasant."
Illyria's gaze rested on Spike as the vampire slowly sat up, a confused and slightly angry expression on his face. Illyria matched the vampire's angry countenance.

"What have you done to my pet?"
Illyria asked with a snarl, concerned when she could sense that his guilt and grief, while still there had diminished significantly. Enough that she could tolerate his presence comfortably without smelling the stench of his grief and sorrow. Two blue eyes, soulless focused on her own and Illyria tilted her head to the side, studying her pet as Spike stood, moving with his vampire speed to grasp Whistler into a stranglehold.

"Start talking, mate. They don't call me Spike for nothing."
The vampire pulled out a wooden stake, tossing it to Illyria and he tightened his choke-hold on the messenger of the Powers That Be before easing to allow speech. Whistler coughed, unable to double over because of the vampire's hold.

"Alright, alright. I'll talk. It started when you were chipped and the monks who were protecting the Key-"
Spike tightened his hold in warning, his glare unseen though Whistler could feel it piercing him in the cave's darkness. Knowing he didn't have to stick around, Whistler tried to get Spike to ease off his grip. Slowly, the vampire complied and the demon met Illyria's eyes, unnerved.

"Those monks messed up the balance when they put those false memories in your heads. They made you fall in love with the Slayer so you would protect the Key. Because Glorificus-"
Illyria began ranting about how pathetic the Triumvate and Glorificus were and how they quaked in terror of her very name. Spike and Whistler did not listen as the messenger continued to Spike.

"Because Glory was killed by a human with no special powers, no magic involved in the dead the Balance was missing a dark champion. The Slayer's death fixed that pretty quickly by throwing in one of the light's champions though Rosenberg messed it up big time by bringing her back. It gave the First Evil a conduit into this world once again, just like Angel's return from the Hell dimension had. You see there's loopholes in the fabric of the universe that can be exploited by either side to tip the balance between the light and the dark. The First used it to try to open the Hellmouth. It kept going back and forth but-"
Spike finally cut off Whistler, impatience and anger in his tone. Even though he couldn't be killed, Whistler felt a tremor of fear at the vampire's clipped demand.

"Get to the bloody point!"

Whistler sucked in a calming breath before finishing his explanation. With how the Powers were bouncing around the vampire he knew Spike at least deserved an explanation.

"Seems you asking for your soul messed things up big time as well. The Powers decided it was time to give the dark a champion again and well... you're it. Everything else just sorta fell into place..."

Spike's eyes glowed as he vamped and he moved to break Whistler's neck. The messenger was gone in a flash of light before he could manage and Spike glared at the spot where his hands were still before lowering them and fishing out a cigarette from his duster. Taking a long drag, Spike casually regarded Illyria, raising a brow at the Old One's tilted head. A bond, having been buried for several years whispered to him, singing the mad song of his Sire and Spike closed his eyes, taking a long, calming breath before shaking off his gameface and giving a half-hearted shrug to Illyria. The pain and voices in his head were gone, or at least much quieter and the vampire breathed out a breath of smoke, tossing his cigarette aside as he strode towards Illyria.

"I'm nobody's pawn, Blue. Lets go find us a bit of company then. Got some words to say to a few do-gooders."
Illyria turned to follow her pet, moving quickly so she was standing at his side as they walked from the cave. His emotions were still strong, especially for a half-breed but she could tell something had happened when the demon had touched him. Reaching into the blood-bond she had formed with her pet, Illyria frowned thoughtfully as she read her pet's aura, the stench of humanity was still strong upon him through the vengeance and rage he projected made him seem sharper, more dangerous. The God-King smiled as she found her pet's change intriguing, exciting. He was unpredictable and while she regretted not being able to pummel the shaman that had folded his features into that of a human-like creature, she found herself anticipating her pet's next move with what Fred's memories called giddiness.

"Alone, all alone, but I still have you Miss Edith. My Spike was so beautiful, burning, glowing, effulgent. Poor, poor William, burned to ashes like grandmummy. He tasted of ashes you know, my naughty little Spike. Burned for the Slayer and burned for his love while burning baby fishes clouded his brain, swirling about and confusing our wicked, deadly boy. I was cross with him, Miss Edith, very cross when he hurt mummy but my Spike... my William... Nasty monks and nasty Slayer killed my poor boy. And the nasty Angel-Beast, locking Daddy away. Burning Mummy and Grandmummy. Don't cry Miss Edith, our grandson... our little brother is safe, nasty lawyers cannot see him, Slayers and soldiers and their wires gears cannot see him..."

In the bowels of the headquarters of the Council of Watchers on the outskirts of London, England a Master Vampire sing-songed to herself, her pale features emaciated and her arms and legs chained as she sat within her cell. The Initiative and the Council had seen the importance of the insane vampress' visions and a camera sat on the other side of the bars making up the vampire's prison, recording everything she spoke to be translated later by a group of Watchers and initiative Agents. Drusilla paused in her rambling, tears falling from her gray eyes in her madness when she thought of her broken family, Darla dust at her own hand and her Daddy locked away behind the Angel-beast. Her thoughts remained always on Spike, their Sire-Childe bond broken when she had left him in Sunnydale after he had chosen the Slayer over her. Chains clinked in the cell as she wiped her eyes, sniffing as she hugged her porcelain doll to her chest, lying on the white bed in her cell and blinking away her tears. Her Spike had been taken away by old stuffy monks and her heart ached as she thought of her poor childe, her love. A cry of pain came from the vampire's throat as her eyes glazed and the stars spoke to her. Shuddering at the onslaught of her vision, Drusilla tried partially to make sense of what the stars showed her, wondering if the stuffy watchers were torturing her with images of her poor Spike. A lethal, cold smile crossed the vampire's face as she listened to the pixies in her head whispering of Balance and Champions and Souls.

"There's my deadly boy..."
Drusilla whispered, shivering as the pain of the vision ebbed and she clung to Miss Edith desperately. The Watchers holding her had taken everything else, all of her dolls but they had taken pity on her and given her Miss Edith and she listened to the whispers of the stars, smiling for the first time since her Spike had been burned in the Hellmouth. Her black knight was back and he would rescue her from the nasty Slayers and soldiers, he would come for his Princess and they would be a family again, she would have her love again. The stars told her so and they never lied.