"I have no desire to watch you die again. I found it most unpleasant."
Wesley looked into the mirror warily, meeting Illyria's eyes in it and setting the razor blade aside. "I was only preparing to shave, Illyria."
"I only lie to you at your request. I did not request this lie."
"Yes, that's right." Wesley's mouth set into a grim line. "You lie most effectively. I remember quite well."
Illyria cocked her head, walking into the hotel bathroom to stand at his side. "It was indeed effective. I was not certain it would be."
"Your Fred impression was very convincing. Thank you." Wesley sighed. "Illyria, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."
"I do not wish to leave you alone."
Wesley's fingertips tapped the blade that lay flat on the counter. "Very well, let us try logic. Illyria, Spike is right. I'm an unknown threat. I very much doubt that Wolfram & Hart has brought me back for a noble purpose. I could be possessed... some sort of weapon, perhaps implanted with a trigger similar to the one the First Evil placed in Spike. We're at war. We cannot have liabilities."
"Your logic is flawed. You are in the same position as Spike; you react differently because your cookie dough is dead while his is alive."
"C-cookie dough?"
"It is a metaphor. I see it is not a universal one. I will make note of it. I wish to examine your knife wound."
"I'm afraid that's impossible. I no longer have it."
Illyria smiled. "This pleases me."
"Does it? It shouldn't."
"It does. I felt great grief when you died. I caused much violence. It did not make the emotions stop for very long." Illyria looked around the small bathroom. "I was unaware if it would work."
"Well, sublimating one emotion into another is one way of dealing with grief, although yes, it is generally temporary..."
"You do not understand. I feel surprise at this. I am aware that your training has given you knowledge of the sacred objects involved in true resurrections. Is this information incorrect?"
"No, it's not," Wesley said, a little shaken. "Depends on which spell is to be used, of course, but ah... Urns of Osiris are primarily used, but even better, assuming of course you can even find one, is a Tear of..."
Wesley broke off abruptly, and Illyria tilted her head.
"I believe you understand now, Wesley."
"The Tear of Illyria." Wesley whispered. "I can't believe I... never made the connection... I always... I assumed it was an ancient city, it never occurred to..."
"I have lost many of my former powers," Illyria said, picking up a tiny complimentary bottle of lotion and examining it curiously. "I was unaware if that was one of them."
"So you... made one of these crystals?"
"It did not have time to evaporate and crystallize."
Wesley blinked. "The Tears of Illyria are... actual tears?"
"Is that not what the name indicates?"
"So when you were..." Wesley winced, "... being Fred, she cried for me?"
"Fred cried for you, yes. Those were human tears. Mine were not."
Wesley met Illyria's eyes in the mirror. "You... you... cried for me?"
"I felt grief. It is rare and unfamiliar. It is also unpleasant. I wish to avoid it. You will shave without self-injury now that you know the facts of your resurrection?"
"Y-yes."
"Good. Do not use all the hot water. This form is dirty, and I wish to cleanse it."
"C-certainly."
"Also, be sure to return the toilet seat to the lowered position."
Wesley choked on a laugh. "Put the seat down. Right. I can handle that."
---------------------------
Xander rolled over painfully, letting out a little groan. It was dark... freakishly, blackout kind of dark... and he was laying on the ground, on something thin and lumpy that felt like... clothes.
Which would explain the nakedness. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness...
Eyes. Eyes, plural. Xander raised his fingers, tracing the roundness behind his eyelid.
Yep. This definitely merited the Snoopy Dance.
He reached beneath him to pull out his clothes.
"Ooof," a sleepy little voice murmured.
"Hey, Will," Xander grinned. "Check it out... ol' two-eyes is back!"
"Xander," Willow said in horror.
"No, it's funny, don't you get it? It's a Frank Sinatra joke..."
"Xander... do you have any clothes on?"
"I, uh... no."
"Do you... do you remember anything?"
"I remember we were gonna work that spell. Which, I guess we did, 'cause I've got an eye and all..."
Willow shifted around in the darkness. "Oh, God."
"What?"
"Xander... I'm... I'm pretty sure we had sex."
"How do..." Xander broke off. "I guess you'd be able to tell. Uhm. I don't suppose we used..."
"Y'know, I'm really doubting we shook off the magical lust to go buy condoms."
"Are you... on the Pill or anything?"
"Xander, I'm a lesbian. Birth control? Not a priority!" Willow gasped. "Oh my God, Kennedy."
"She's going to cut Little Xander off, isn't she?"
"I think you'd be lucky if Little Xander's all you lose," Willow groaned. "Oh my God, how am I going to explain this?"
"Well... we were under a spell. Couldn't be helped. Nothing we could do, right?"
"I don't think she's going to go for that, Xander."
"Well, it's true... ergo it should be easy to go for..."
"I know! It's just... we tell each other everything, and I kinda told her about... y'know, the situation, with you and me and Oz and Cordelia..."
"Oh, Will."
"Yeah. And she's kind of insecure about that kind of thing, anyway. She's always saying I'm bi, and I'm always telling her I'm not, but..."
"Well, not to outnumber you, Will, but given what we just did..."
"No, Xander. I mean, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I'm completely unattracted to you right now. I mean, I find you about as sexually exciting as... as... toothpaste."
"You want to explain to me what the right way to take that is?"
"You know what I mean! I like the girlies! Yay with the boobies! It's not until you and I do this new spell-thing..."
"Well, I guess we're both in agreement that we should never do that again..."
"I don't know, Xander..."
"Look, Will. Not that I'm not in favor of sex with hot redheads as a general rule, but I prefer to remember it afterwards."
"We have to talk to Giles."
"I kind of doubt he wants to hear about our little sexcapades, Will..."
"Xander, I think this is the one time that's not true."
---------------------------
"Buffy," Angel whispered, his arms tight around her, the heat of his body warming her through. "Buffy... hon... it was just a nightmare. Wake up."
Buffy's eyes fluttered open, her hands grabbing Angel's forearms.
"Easy... easy..." Angel gasped in pain. "Hey-hey, Slayer, pull back..."
"Sorry," Buffy let go, giving him a sheepish smile. "Not used to having to go easy on you."
Angel chuckled. "Yeah, there's a lot of stuff that's going to take getting used to. Like, for example... it took me the last thirty minutes to figure out that I've really gotta pee. I wonder if I remember how."
"I think it's pretty easy. Ready, aim, fire. Y'know. You, uh... didn't do that before? I mean... you drank, and stuff... where'd it go?"
"C'mon, Buffy, you slept with two of us..." Angel winced. "Three of us... you never noticed?"
Buffy blushed. "Um. Yeah. About that. Um..."
"Look, I know you slept with Spike. And The Immortal. Can't say either one of them really filled my heart with joy, but..."
"Look, the Immortal was just... a stupid thing I did. I mean, I was totally using him..."
"Oh, unlike the loving, caring, blissful union of you and Spike... next up on Lifetime."
"Well, yeah. I was... I was using him, too. More of a... Pay-Per-View thing."
"Better a million years of Spike with me tied up and forced to watch than the Immortal, Buffy..."
"Whoa-whoa," Buffy said, raising her hands. "Totally wasn't expecting that ranking. You hate The Immortal that much, or have you suddenly joined the Spike Fan Club?"
"You're gonna laugh," Angel smirked, "But... a little bit of both. Mostly the former, but... there is a little bit of the latter."
"Oh my God -- first Willow and now you? What's next, Xander in an 'I Grok Spike' t-shirt? Have we gone into Bizarro World?"
"Look, Spike's a major pain in the ass," Angel said. "I'm not saying I don't want to punch him. Frequently. Violently. So his nose bleeds, and his face gets all swollen, and, uh, yeah. But... I've gotta hand it to you, Buffy, he's changed a lot. Beneath the thick layer of total jerk that won't budge, of course. I see the William in him all the time. I just wish he'd knock it off with that stupid fake accent... that's annoyed me for over a century."
"I think I speak for everyone when I say, 'Wha-huh'?"
Angel grinned. "To which part?"
"To all the parts! You not totally hating Spike, you somehow thinking I changed him, and then there's the whole fake accent thing... is he not really British?"
"No, he's really British, it's just... when Spike first started out, he was like..." Angel chuckled. "Oh, I can't believe I'm just now realizing this, I could have harassed him to the point he'd have staked himself. Gunn's right, we need to find him, this is too delicious."
"Hello, planning to share...?"
"He was like... the love-child of Giles and Willow."
"Ew. So don't want to think about how you make one of those!"
"Yeah, me neither. But William was very... insecure. Easy prey, and I don't just mean the vamping. He fixated on Drusilla, even more than the normal sire thing, and that gave him an Achilles' Heel a mile wide. He was fun to play with. Angelus had a field day."
"How... how do you mean?"
"Well, y'know. The whole sire thing. Darla felt it for the Master, I felt it for Darla, Dru felt it for me. As much as Spike loved her, there was always that part of her he could never touch, that part that belonged to me and always would. So he tried to impress her, tried to get access to that part of her... by being me, acting like me. And at the time, well... I wasn't the world's greatest role model. Unless you're evil. If there were Evil Wheaties? I would totally have been on the box."
"Are we... are we talking about Drusilla or me, now?"
"I'd hoped you'd notice the parallel. I was also hoping you'd laugh at my Wheaties joke, but I guess that's okay." Angel paused, considering. "Sort of weird, really. He tried to be Angelus to get Dru, and went over to the Dark. He tried to be me to get you -- I still can't believe he got a soul, he's such a copycat -- and went over to the Light."
"So it's all about you, in other words."
"Well... yeah." Angel grinned. "Boy, would that piss Spike off. Why didn't I think of any of this stuff when he was annoying the crap out of me? I gotta write all this down. Do you have a pen?"
"Look, I didn't lead Spike over to the Light any more than Dru led him over to the Dark, okay? I mean... he's a demon, hello?"
"Yeah, he is. Like me, and Lorne, and Anya..."
Buffy sighed heavily. "Look, don't make me give you my unsorted laundry speech."
"My turn. 'Wha-huh'?"
"Oh..." Buffy kicked out at a rock. "I got a version of this from Willow yesterday. Or today." She looked around the cavern in irritation. "How the hell am I supposed to know what time it is underground?"
"I don't know either," Angel smiled. "That's so cool."
"Huh?"
"My little sense of when then sun's coming up or going down? Totally gone."
"Does this mean you're quitting your creepy little sniffing habit?"
Angel flopped down on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. "Givin' it up for good."
Buffy laid down next to him, propping her head on her hand. "So... his accent's fake?"
"Well, I dunno, he's been doing it for a century, I guess it's real now. Although I have noticed it kinda comes and goes." Angel shrugged. "He used to be way more upper-crust, y'know? The street kid accent was just another attempt to be tough. Like the fingernail polish, and that stupid leather trenchcoat -- have I mentioned how much I hate that thing? -- and the gallons and gallons of Clorox he's poured on his head over the years."
"He bleaches his hair with Clorox?" Buffy said in horror.
Angel grinned a grin of pure, unadulterated joy. "Now, that would be punk. But no. He's way too vain. He has it done in a salon. Spike has a color consultant. Spike has a stylist. Spike has a..."
"Yeah, yeah, and you wear lifts..."
Angel's face paled, and Buffy burst out laughing.
"Oh wow, I didn't realize it was actually true!"
Angel glowered at her, and Buffy touched his arm. "I'm glad you and Spike aren't at each other's throats all the time anymore."
"Did I say that? I don't think I said that. He's like... my annoying kid brother. Actually, I guess he's my annoying kid grandson, but the brother thing works a little better."
"Well, I can definitely empathize then."
Angel considered something. "Hey, Buffy... did I ever actually meet your little sister? I mean, I 'remember' her, but did I ever really meet her?"
"I don't know," Buffy sighed. "I don't really know precisely when the mojo happened. I know it was back when I was dating..."
"Captain Cardboard?" Angel finished.
"Okay, maybe not liking you and Spike with the truce so much..."
"Spike talks about Dawn all the time," Angel mused. "I guess they have something in common, with the whole younger-sibling-living-in-the-shadow thing. I mean, you're Wheaties Box material yourself. Not to mention the whole supernatural-being-living-in-a-human-body thing."
"I don't really think about Dawn like that. Besides, she's not The Key anymore."
Angel arched an eyebrow. "She's not?"
"Well... if she is... she doesn't open anything."
"You sure?"
Buffy cradled her knees. "I hope."
---------------------------
"What's all this for, then?"
Dawn smiled at Spike, plucking a bag of sage out of her basket and giving it a little shake. "I figured things might be after us. I just want to be armed."
Spike cast a wary eye around the magic shop. "Been learnin' from Red? Can't say as I fancy that."
"Not Willow. Giles taught me some stuff. Basic protection spells, locator spells. Y'know. Picked some stuff up on my own. I'm pretty smart."
"I know that, Bit. Just gives me the crawlies to see you messin' with the mojo. Didn't exactly turn out well for Teen Witch, did it?"
"Well, I'm not doing the kind of stuff Willow was doing. She was into the black stuff. I'm not." Dawn turned in a whirl of hair, pulling down another book.
"Right," Spike drawled. "Because you've never been drawn to the forbidden..."
"Please. Give me some credit."
"Oh, I'm givin' you credit, Bit. That's why I'm watchin' you like a hawk."
"Y'know, if this place really gives you the 'crawlies', you could have gone to Wal-Mart with Illyria and Wesley."
"And leave you alone in here? Fat bloody chance. The day you agree to let someone else pick out your clothes is the day I don't take my eyes off you for one second."
"We're on the run from a demon horde, Spike. I don't care if my clothes are cute."
"Well, now," Spike grinned. "There's your proof that you're not made from Buffy."
"Whatever. I'm gonna go pay for this stuff, but I need some nightshade, and it's on the top shelf. Could you get it down for me? It's over there."
"Nightshade," Spike glowered.
"I'm not gonna drink it, hello, it's an ingredient." Dawn batted her eyelashes. "Spike, c'mon."
"Fine, fine." Spike trudged off across the store, muttering as he went. "Supposed to protect the bint... got me fetchin' poisons for her..."
"Hi," Dawn said, setting her selections on the counter. "All this stuff, plus a bottle of nightshade my friend's getting right now, and I'd like that pretty paperweight, too."
The shopkeeper chuckled condescendingly. "Dear girl, that's not a paperweight, that's an Orb of Thes--"
Dawn cut him off firmly, staring into his eyes. "I'd like the pretty paperweight, please. And if you could wrap it up -- completely -- I'd appreciate it."
"Certainly."
Spike came up behind her. "Got your poison, pet. Now, when your sister stakes me, you'll send me a postcard in hell, right?"
"Sure thing," Dawn grinned, taking the bottle from him and setting it on the counter. "But don't worry."
Dawn watched as the shopkeeper wrapped the orb in a sheet of newsprint.
"She's not going to have any reason to stake you."
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