When In Rome: Gilligan's Isle
by Helga Von Nutwimple
"Your heart... it's... beating."

Angel froze, his brain stretching to encompass her words, his gaze flying downward to Buffy's hand on his chest. "You're... mistaken."

"It's faint... really faint," Buffy whispered, her eyes holding his, the truth in them, taking his own hand and pressing it where hers had been. "But... feel."

If he'd been human, he'd have said he was dying... the heartbeat was faint, irregular, barely registering against the warmth of his palm...

Warmth of his palm??

Gunn appeared at his side, soft wonder in his voice. "Angel, the Shanshu Prophecy..."

"I... I signed it away," Angel muttered, still staring blankly, his palm pressed to his own chest. "I signed it away... this can't be happening..."

Gunn stepped back. "You did what?"

"Had to," Angel coughed. Something in his chest hurt like hell. "Signed a paper..."

"You signed off on a prophecy?" Xander blurted. "Damn, I wish we'd been able to do that. Here you go, Dawn, here's a pen, now Buffy doesn't have to die and we can all order pizza..."

Suddenly, Xander experienced something very new and different...

People staring at him as if he'd said something brilliant.

"He's right," Willow said. "What kind of prophecy can you just... sign off on?"

"I wasn't signing it off so much," Angel gasped, "I thought I was signing it over..."

"You signed the prophecy over to Spike," Gunn said in disgust. "After all we went through, how badly you wanted it..."

"Maybe that was what he had to do," Willow said quietly. "Give it up to get it..."

Buffy's eyes flicked from one face to another, each sentence deepening her confusion.

"It's stronger... the heartbeat... and this..." Angel gave a little goofy half-smile, sitting down heavily on the padded bench, "This is starting to hurt like a son of a bitch."

Xander peered at him. "So what, you're like... dying in reverse?"

"Maybe," Angel gasped as another stabbing pain bent him over.

"Try to vamp out," Willow suggested, flinching a little when they all whipped around to stare at her. "What? Like an experiment."

Gunn nodded. "Not a bad idea."

Angel closed his eyes, concentration taking over his face...

"Oh, that's no good," Willow said. "You just look constipated... oooh! Caught a flash of forehead..."

"Don't think I'm pissed off enough," Angel laughed weakly.

"Told you we shouldn't have left Spike behind," Gunn laughed, not catching the shocked look from Buffy.

"Need to get pissed, huh?" a smile slid across Xander's face. "Keep your eyes closed..."

Xander leaned over Buffy to get closer to Angel, his lip curling upwards. "What's wrong, Peaches, ya great beefy ponce? Turnin' human, eh? Good thing I got that bloody chip out, then -- bein' undead won't be any fun if I can't kick yer ass properly..."

Angel's eyes flickered yellow, his forehead ridging slightly. "Didn't know you did impressions, Xander."

"Lots of things you don't know about me, Dead Boy." Xander caught Angel's glare and laughed. "C'mon, I had to. I'm not going to be able to call you that in, what, an hour or so?"

"Is that as vamp as you can go?" Willow asked.

"Looks like."

"Wow," Willow said softly. "You're really -- wow."

"How's the heartbeat?" Gunn asked.

"Stronger."

"How's the pain?"

"Worse." Angel groaned. "I didn't think it would be like this... I thought there'd be, like, some blinding flash of light, and then, bam, y'know, I'd be a..."

"You'd be a real boy?" Gunn finished.

Angel glared. "Xander's impression was better."

Gunn looked confused, and Angel sighed. "Spike. That's what he always said about the prophecy. Us turning into 'real boys', y'know, like Pinocchio..."

Another coughing spasm doubled Angel over, and he clutched at the seat.

"What is this Moo Shu prophecy, anyway?" Xander asked.

"Shanshu," Gunn corrected. "It's about a vampire with a soul that gets turned human again for services rendered to mankind."

"And you signed that over to Spike?" Xander said in disgust.

"Guys," Willow said suddenly, "It didn't specify which vampire with a soul?"

"No," Angel gasped, "That's why I could sign it over..."

"Did it specify just one?"

"I don't..." Angel looked at Gunn, who shrugged. "I don't think it was very specific about that..."

Willow paled. "So... Spike could be out there turning human as we speak? With, like, no one to help him, and the demons coming back?"

"Well, he's got Illyria..."

"Is that Goth Stormtrooper Slut's name?" Buffy snapped.

"Yeah, Illyria'll be a big help," Angel laughed weakly. "Regular Florence Nightingale. Be about as nice to him as she was to Fred, I bet..."

"Who's Fred? Who's Illyria?"

"Long story." Angel reached in his coat pocket, pulling out his cellphone. "I'm gonna try Spike again."

------------

"Hang on a sec, Blue, pocket's gone all happy." Spike dug into his jeans, pulling out the cellphone and examining the readout.

Angel. Called to gloat, no doubt. Perfect.

Spike flipped the phone open. "Puppy, you know I enjoy it too much when you make my pocket do that... reminds me of that night in Venice..."

"Look, there's something I wanted to..."

"Ah," Spike kicked a trash can across the alley, and Illyria raised her eyebrows. "The happiest boy in the world, eh? Got what you always wanted? Accept my heartfelt congratulations."

A pause. "So you... but you know? How did you..."

"Smelled it on ya, mate. Thrilled for ya, I am. Wish you a long and happy life, fa-la-la, et cetera."

"I guess you would be... able to smell it, I mean..."

"Bloody right, still a vampire, ain't I? Know that smell anywhere."

"Spike, for what it's worth... I'm sorry. I know you won't believe this, but... I... I wish it could have happened for both of us."

Spike leaned against a wall, taking a deep, unnecessary breath, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Now, Peaches. That's just kinky. You know how bad we are at sharing..."

"Is that why you didn't come back?"

"I've not gone off to have a bloody sulk, if that's what you're gloating about. Blue and I have a bit of unfinished business."

"Look, Spike, we're all headed for a safe place. Why don't you and Illyria come meet us there..."

"Thanks, mate, but I've never been one for the big sodding group hug..."

"Spike, Buffy's here, she wants to talk to you... I'm going to pass the phone over..."

Spike smashed the "end" button, rearing back and hurling the cellphone against the wall, the satisfaction of watching it explode to pieces a nanosecond's balm for pain.

"Why did you do that?" Illyria asked softly.

Spike closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "I can't..."

"You have grief."

"Eh..." Spike pushed himself off the wall, shrugging his coat into place. "Lost another girl to the poof. Story of my sodding unlife, that. Poof always had this one, though. Kiddin' myself otherwise. I was just her big, vampy blow-up doll, and now she's got the real thing."

"This female is the cookie dough?"

"I'm happy for her. Well, most of me is. The bits that don't want to punch things."

Spike kicked the broken plastic shards with the toe of his boot.

"That's the ass-kicker, innit? Hurt less when I bloody exploded in the Hellmouth, and I'm happy for the bint. Love's a funny thing..."

Spike's eyes widened at something over Illyria's shoulder. "... Innit that right, Wesley?"

Illyria whirled.

"That's very accurate, Spike." Wesley said quietly. "Very accurate."

"So what are you now, then?" Spike called. "Last we heard, walkin' around wasn't a current ability of yours, so give us a clue; hard to kill you again, otherwise."

"I... don't know what I am. I thought I was me, but I remember..." Wesley looked at Illyria in utter misery. "I remember dying."

Wesley sighed, his head drooping. "I... I thought I'd be with Fred."

"No evil mastermind bellowin' 'it's alive'?" Spike lit a cigarette. "That does make it puzzlin'; usually they like to stick around and have a nice cackle."

"Not unless it was her..." Wesley looked around the bend of the alley. "You can come out, I know them, it's okay..."

Soft footsteps.

"Not to contradict you, mate, but I wouldn't say anyone here qualified for 'okay'... you've got a vamp, a god-thing, and whatever the bloody hell you..."

"Spike?"

The cigarette tumbled from Spike's lips. "Bit?"

She pounced on him in a whirl of silky brown hair and Love's Baby Soft, arms and legs wrapping around him. "Spike, I thought you were dead, I missed you so much, I missed you so much..."

Spike circled her with his arms, breathing her in deeply. "Bit, I missed you too."

She pulled back, grabbing his collar in both hands, staring at him. "If you ever leave me again, I'll fucking stake you. Slowly."

"Nibblet! Language!"

But Spike was laughing, raising his hand to brush her hair away from her face. "Lookit you, Bit... you're huge and girly."

Dawn raised an eyebrow naughtily. "And legal."

"Aw, gerroff," Spike groaned, unwrapping her legs from around his waist and setting her back down on the concrete. "If your sister heard you, they'd be sweepin' me up."

But he couldn't stop grinning. "Well, aren't we a right group. Body hijackers anonymous. The mystic key, the big blue god, the ensouled vamp, and whatever the fuck Wesley is... here on Gilligan's Isle."

"Spike, you watch way too much TV."

------------

"I got a dial tone," Buffy said softly, passing the cellphone back to Angel. "I think he hung up."

"Probably lost signal," Angel groaned, clutching his side. "Well, at least we know he's not Shanshuing in the middle of a demon horde."

"He's all right?"

"He sounded fine. He's still a vampire... said he was with Illyria..."

"Do you want me to do a locator spell?" Willow offered. "Be good to know where he is, we'd know if he got into trouble..."

"Willow, you have to be drained..."

"I'm not, actually. I've never felt more all charged-up." Willow bit her lip. "Especially if, uh, Xander wouldn't mind..."

"I'll be your battery, honey," Kennedy laid her hand on Willow's shoulder. "I'm not swinging a sword at the moment."

"Well, I mean... I mean, sure, sweetie, but you just fought a battle, y'know? And, uh... I don't want to drain you if something, um, jumps us..."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause I'm useless," Xander said irritably. "Look, I may be cyclops-boy, but that doesn't mean I'm not good for anything but draining..."

"Do you feel drained?" Willow said gently, looking into his eyes.

"No, I... I don't feel drained at all, I..."

Why was Willow looking at him like that?

Willow brushed a piece of her hair back, giving him a funny little smile. "So it's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess, I guess it's..." Xander's words trailed off into a gutteral moan as Willow grabbed his hand, that rush flooding through him, his back arching...

"Mega-gross, Xander, you're humping me!" Buffy squealed, whipping around to face him. "And your... your hair is turning red..."

Buffy whipped around to face Willow, whose head was thrown back, soft gasps coming from her throat. If Buffy didn't know better, she'd think she was...

Well, she did know better, and she still thought she was.

"What the hell is happening to them?" Gunn gasped.

Kennedy's face grew darker by the second, staring at Willow and Xander's linked hands like she really wished she were still carrying her sword.

------------

In the alleyway, Spike clutched his head and dropped to his knees, screaming.

------------

"Too much," Willow gasped. "Too much, overkill, too much, can't control it, too much..."

"What do we do?"

Willow moaned, struggling up in her seat, reaching for her and Xander's entwined hands. "My soul is wrapped in harsh repose..."

"What kind of spell is she doing?" Gunn demanded.

"Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes..."

"That's not a spell," Angel's chuckle turned into a racking cough. "That's William the Bloody awful poetry..."

"But soft... behold! A sunlight beam..."

"What's she doing?" Gunn watched as Willow clawed at her own hand.

"I think she's trying to separate them," Kennedy said. "Let me."

Kennedy grabbed for Willow and Xander's hands, attempting to pull them apart.

"Yeah, before she gets to the bulging bit, please," Angel laughed.

Kennedy finally snapped the hand-lock, flinging their hands away with such force that Xander's fist slammed into Buffy's cheekbone.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Buffy," Xander put his hand on her shoulder. "Crappy day, huh? Punched by me, stabbed by a demon..."

"Yeah, which still hur..." Buffy stopped, putting her hand to her side. "Which hurts not at all."

She pulled up her shirt, running her fingers over the blood-crusted, but smooth skin. "Willow, did you heal me?"

Willow shook her head, disoriented. "No I didn't, pet. Meant to later, but..."

"Did you just call me 'pet'?"

Willow blinked. "No."

"Yes, you did."

Xander looked uncomfortable. "Buffy, I... I think I might have healed you."

"Oh, what, with your magic back-humping action of regeneration? Never sitting next to you on the bus again."

"No, I... I was thinking about how hurt you were..."

"This is too weird. Xander, you can't do magic."

"I know I can't, but..."

"Look," Gunn interrupted. "Did you locate Spike? Did the spell work?"

"It worked too well, I think," Willow sighed, rubbing her temples. "I have the headache from hell. But yeah, I know where he is. Or at least... I know what it looks like. And he's okay. Actually, he's happy."

"You can tell he's happy from a locator spell?"

"Dawn's here, Buffy. She's in the alleyway with him and Illyria and Wesley."

Buffy opened her mouth, but Gunn cut her off. "Well, there you have it, Willow. The spell didn't work. He can't be with Wesley... Wesley's dead."

Willow sighed. "Well, if he was... he's not anymore. Spike just talked to him."

"What do you mean, Dawn's here?" Buffy demanded.

"I don't know how, Buffy, but she is. She just pretty much tackled Spike and gave him a hug... it's what he's happy about. It's the only thing he's happy about. God, he's so sad..."

"All right, that's it," Buffy demanded. "I don't know what's going on, but stop the bus, let me off. I'm going to get them."

"Well, isn't this usually the part where you kick me in the head and run out, virtue fluttering?" Willow said.

Buffy froze. "What did you just say?"

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