Part One

Xander swiped a limp hand across his forehead, exhausted beyond rational thought. His whole body was slick with sweat, droplets slid down the side of his nose, driving him mad. Itching furiously, he left red welts across his cheek as unkept nails scratched his skin  The boxers clinging to his hips were soaked in perspiration, wet sheets wound tightly around his legs...imprisoning him in a cold damp bed.

Every night since he'd left the hospital was a continuous loop designed to propel him over the edge. He wasn't dealing. Oh, he knew it. There was no denial here, he was definitely not his usual satirical self. Life had tossed him a permanent wedgie and he was still trying to recover from being blindsided. Of course it was a hell of a time to be depressed when the original maker of all things evil was in town...one show only, box seats 'n' all. Still he couldn't help but feel the pathetic-ness of his situation.

Oh yes, not only did he have no skills (except carpentry ones) to bring to the party, but now he had blindness to add to the tricks up his sleeve. Perhaps when the big showdown arrives he can bumble around like a giant skittle and knock a few equally blind 'bringers' down...if he's lucky that is. What an act that would be... "Roll up! Roll up!! Care for a little light relief before the main event? Guaranteed to wet your pants, oh come on... it'll be a hoot".

Suddenly Xander just screamed, thrashing on top of the covers wildly...the sheet finally releasing him from its sticky grasp. His thick dark curls, matted and plastered to his face. He sat up with a jerk, hands clawing at the fine tendrils smeared to his skin. The only sound, his harsh breathing as he whimpered in desperation, wanting it off, all of it off him... right now.

Xander could feel the small clump of tangled hair between his fingers and knew he'd lost it...again. He was losing himself and part of him was terrified while the other half was ceasing to 'give a damn'. He patted his face, reassured it was off, all those fine needles of hair searing across nerve endings...making him crazy.

The pad of a finger accidentally dipped into that hollow shell, an ugly emptiness of scarred flesh, his own personal vortex to hell. Yeah...that was dramatic, but so what. Xander didn't live here anymore. His finger touched the edge tentatively, sudden intake of breath as his hand darted back as if he'd been burnt. The touch crawled across the back of his hand, disgusting and alien.

He groped frantically at the edge of the sodden bed, rolling onto his side, fingers finding the corner of his bedside table before switching on the lamp residing there. Instant illumination seemed to chase away the ghosts. His eyes were suddenly drawn to his lap and he was rather surprised to find he had an erection. 'Where the hell had that come from?' Cold dread flooded through Xander's veins as his feet landed on the floor, carrying him quickly to the bathroom.

The brightness of the bulb momentarily dazzled him. He stumbled over his own feet, leaning forward he connected painfully with the edge of the porcelain sink, gripping it fiercely. Xander took a minute to calm his breathing, fingers flexing over that cruel hard surface as he glared at his reflection in the overhead mirror. He looked haggard and pale...so deathly pale.

'What was happening to him?'. He wasn't sleeping and that was obvious considering his haunted appearance, but his appetite was ...well it was frightening. Maybe he was substituting his depression by eating...to fill those empty spaces. Oprah would surely agree.

Only his appetite had developed into something that food could not completely satisfy. Not long ago it was the nubile bodies of young 'potentials' that frolicked through his dreams in a haze of pillow fights and jiggling breasts. More recently those innocent fantasies had morphed into much darker territory. Once he swore he could catch a whiff of that sweet girly perfume, wafting through his horny delusions to the soundtrack of feminine laughter. Now the only sound that punctuated his nightmare world were the terrified screams mixed with the ever intensifying scent of freshly spilt blood. It was that in which he'd awoken from and that in which his erection had been kindled. 

Xander turned from his likeness in sheer horror. He wanted to destroy that image, wipe it from existence, watch as those splinters of glass rained down on his tile floor. Then perhaps he would have the guts to pick up one of those fragments and slash his wrists with it.

If only it was that simple. 

He peeled the damp boxers down his legs, opening the shower door Xander twisted the faucet till the force of the spray drowned out his own erratic heartbeat. Stepping under the water he bowed his head, shuddering at the glacial temperature, but forcing his spine to straighten. He tipped his head back and let the water cascade over his face and down his back. Fingers reached over his stomach to curl around his erection of their own accord. Freezing water numbed every part of his skin that it touched ...but one. It was as if all the blood in his body had trickled south to his cock and then began to slowly boil. He couldn't not caress that angry length begging to be stroked.

Xander squeezed his eye shut and tilted his head back further. Water pounded down on his face, bubbling over his lips as he hissed at the first rough contact. Arching his back into that touch, he needed it to be fast, he wanted this over with so he could just forget... but his hands would not play along with his silent plea.

Instead those fingers whispered over his hard flesh in the slowest of teases. A gentle continuous motion that blew his mind, but gave him no relief. Up to the base of his cock, gliding over silky hot skin, fingers tangling in pubic hair. A sharp pull on those course dark hairs, giving him enough friction to buck his hips into his own hand, but not enough to let him come.

Those thick curls too soon abandoned, a hand clenched desperately around that engorged length, nails grazing sharply over the back of his balls before sliding down firmly to the head. Xander gasped, pressing his face into the glassed wall for support. He could see straight through to the mirror hanging above the sink, he wanted to look away, but found he couldn't drag his eye from the wanton display reflected back at him. Xander crushed his forehead against the glass, panting into that closed space, condensation soon made it impossible to see himself clearly. Thank god for small mercies.

Ragged nails encircled the tip of his cock, biting into the tender skin there. The moment the scent of blood hit the air he howled. Bucking wildly into his own hand, spraying the wall with his semen. Xander finally sagged against the back wall, his butt sliding down over tiles till he sat on the floor...knees drawn up to his chest. He shuddered, gloriously sated if only for a few short minutes.

Eventually reality crashed in on him and he whimpered at the loss it brought. How could an act that had felt so damn good, be founded on something so evil. Crawling out of the stall he carefully avoided glancing into the mirror. Grabbing a towel from the rack he proceeded to rub viciously at his hair, before wrapping it around his waist and leaving the bathroom. 

As he wandered back towards the bedroom, the stale scent of perspiration hit him hard. Xander reeled back, frozen in the doorway. It took him several minutes before he could move into the room, and then only with a sense of finding something to wear and then getting the hell out of his apartment. The smell was unbearable, bringing back far too many unwanted memories.

He shrugged into a pair of worn jeans, the ones he practically lived in. He needed those things that were most familiar to him, even if it was just simple pair of pants that had seen the pointy end of a needle far too many times, that even a set of two-hundred thread count sheets became outrageously jealous. They were comfortable, even if his ass was plainly on show through some very discreet slashes across his backside.

Zipping up, he bent down to retrieve the t-shirt he had grabbed from his bottom draw. The material dangled from his fingers as he held it up to the early morning light. He'd been in such a hurry he hadn't given more than a cursory glance to what he had chosen, only now was he seeing that this was not his...it was one of Spike's. Xander stared at the shirt before shrugging and pulling it over his head. He was kinda surprised that it fit, although it was little snug for his personal taste. 'Why not, he could pull the look off. Shaggy locks that hung about his face in dark messy curls, unshaven with black leather eye patch. Ripped jeans and a tight black T'...his old leather boots completed the ensemble. Xander almost laughed at the absurdity of the get up...they would laugh in his face at the new sexy Xander in their midst.

He might just regain his title as the 'prince of goofy one liners' from the likes of Andrew, with this little costume. Xander grabbed his keys off the coffee table, snatched his suede jacket off the hook, before leaving his apartment for the Summer's residence.

Part Two

Xander paused on the landing of the second floor, squeezing a hand down into his pocket for the familiar touch of cool metal on his fingertips. He should really have the cross around his neck, but for some reason the feel of it against his skin made him itch like crazy. Even this soft brush, sent the hairs at the back of his neck to stand up on end. He could leave it at home, but habit I guess, had stopped him from removing it. Also it might have been the slight charge he got from caressing it...the truth is that rush got him more than a little hard.

He was lonely for company and it's not like he was short of offers...they just did nothing for him. There had been the recent tussle with his ex in the basement and that had filled a need. At the time, but that need was evolving. Bone tired and believing he was on the threshold of a meltdown...yet his libido seemed to be ignoring that memo completely.

Xander pushed the main doors open with his foot, hands deep in his jacket pockets, right hand firmly wrapped around a nice pointy stake. The sun was out, no vamps were insane enough to attack in the day, still he was cautious. The entire town had been going slightly bonkers of late...you couldn't be too carefree. He'd always been a magnet for any demon in his vicinity and he'd never been able to control when he might get attacked...except now that was beginning to change.

In the past week since being discharged from hospital, whenever he ventured out into the wilds of Sunnydale, his awareness of any looming danger tingled across all remaining senses... before it even happened. It was the weirdest thing and he had no idea how he knew, he just did. How else could he explain that twice in a matter of days, something large, hairy and nasty would come gunning for them...and he'd sensed them approaching before either Faith or Buffy. In the end he had decided not to say anything to either of them or to anyone. Xander preferred to think of it as a lucky break in the light of one his senses being permanently signed off. Any other imaginings he promptly squelched, immersing himself in the assisting, of the training of potential slayers. Oh yeah he was pretty useless in fact.

He'd walked approximately two blocks and he was yet to see a single anything. It was like a fabled ghost town, he wouldn't have been surprised at that moment to see a tumble weed roll on by...his face actually twitched into a soft grin at the image. Reminded him of a Christmas re-run of the Partridge Family on cable. Shirley, Keith, Laurie and Danny, bus broken down and stuck in this town...

How long ago had that been? It must of...

Xander shook his head to clear those cluttered thoughts. Once focused, he continued on to the house. At least if the residents were finally waking up to the evil that surrounded them and were leaving Sunnydale, that meant when the end came there would be less casualties, less death. Well, except for their own of course. Ignoring that little tidbit he continued across the street, avoiding the garbage bags strewn at the end of every driveway.

Demons or maybe just a neglected family pet had shredded each bag in a desperate search for food. California sun had been ruthless, so the smell had jumped from plain offensive four days ago, to indescribably putrid in a very short period. There was little chance of it being cleaned up as waste disposal employees had been some of the first to leave Sunnydale. At least today was fairly cool, a partially cloudy sky with no wind whatsoever to disturb the emptiness.

Another block and a half later and Xander was standing outside the Summer's house. As he walked up to the front door he zipped up his jacket. He had second thoughts about advertising the fact that he was wearing the vampires clothing. Who knows what type of awkward conversations would be coerced out of him. A quick intake of breath and he reached for the door handle.

The door hadn't been open more than a couple of inches before the relative peace of outside was shattered by the giggling, arguing and general incessant chatter of a house full of young women. Just like his reaction to the stale sweat that permeated his bedroom, he wavered on the threshold, not able to take that step inside. Feminine laughter seemed to echo around him eerily. Xander's right hand let go of the door, both clamping over each ear, trying to block out the horrible sound. He squeezed his eye shut and then the dreams started to play back in his head. Pictures upon pictures, moving faster across his consciousness, a montage that began to break it's confines. Flickering more rapidly, as what was once still images, came unnervingly alive. Closer to him, reaching out to him, a gut wrenching scream, maybe even his own and then red, just red...

Xander's eye flew open, an arm flung out against the door frame for support. He breathed deep, gradually coming back to the present. To what was real, pushing away what was not.

He started to squeeze a hand down into his jeans, a sudden need for connection, no matter how inappropriate the timing was. Out of the corner of his eye something moved across the street. Xander felt the presence, 'spidey' senses prickled at the back of his neck. He spun to face the intruder, but whatever it was vanished. Although he hadn't caught sight of it directly he knew it had four legs, covered in course hair. Must have been one of those starving family dogs, left behind to fend for itself on the streets.

Xander still felt uneasy, scanning the road for any signs of the creatures return, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He shrieked, just about jumping out of his skin.

He knew immediately who it was. Xander felt that smirk before he even turned to face him.

"Harris" and there were many layers to that one word, all amplified by that one knowing look.

Xander fought the compulsion to look away and instead stared evenly into the vampires eyes.

"William" he answered.

Spike couldn't help but flinch at being called by his given name, his human name. He knew Xander meant it as an insult, he just wasn't offended by it, not in the way Xander had meant it to be. That name was personal to him, the one connection with a time when he was worthy, when he could be thought of as essentially good. The return of his soul meant he had the capacity to be deserving of that name again. Just not yet.

Xander hadn't been given that right, it still felt alien to have the name 'William' fall from those lips. Buffy had also called him William, that too had felt wrong and they had at least been intimate. No one had the right to call him by that name, because not one single person had taken the time to know him, to listen. Only his mother had leave and she was long dead.

Spike had never felt quite comfortable in Xander's company. The boy saw too much and always kept his findings well hidden. The same argument that forbade anyone to call him by name, was the very same reason why Xander would always be 'Harris' to him, or 'boy' if he was feeling particularly annoyed with the human.

While he'd been distracted with whole name thing, Xander had slipped inside, carefully maneuvering himself into the lounge and managing to make himself virtually invisible by standing against the far wall. It was true, not one solitary person in that room noticed him there. It's not like there wasn't enough silly bints gathered around doing their nails and other such shit ...someone should have bloody well said something to the boy by now.

He was actually timing them, nearly twelve minutes of waiting and nothing. Spike snorted, disgusted at the lot of them. That's when he noticed him. Andrew, dish towel slung over his shoulder, slotted in between Anya who was talking to him and one of those ruddy potentials who was talking to someone else. It didn't take Spike long to realize that Andrew had stopped listening to the ex-demon awhile ago. Oh he nodded in the right places alright, but Spike would have bet four plump kittens on Andrew failing miserably if there had suddenly been a pop quiz on the subject. Liked the sound of her own voice, that one...had to respect her though. Thousand years hating men and at least she was trying. Still... would have liked to see her with Red. That Kennedy bitch was just all wrong for her. It was something for him to aim at, a goal so to speak.

He watched as Andrew gave Xander another furtive glance. Spike was surprised he hadn't noticed sooner, he was usually a lot quicker on the uptake then that. Perhaps the soul interfered with his homing skills. He was definitely going to have to watch out for those two in future.

Andrew strained his neck to the side so that he could see around 'what's-her-name's' humongous head. Most of these girls were so vacant, this one was the worst. He always forgot her name, didn't matter anyhow, knowing them all by name. Andrew predicted that he would be one of the first to die on that destined day. Horribly probably, he had been rather naughty not so long ago, he deserved to be punished. They had all shook in fear at his awesome power, or at least quivered a tiny bit.

Buffy swept down the stairs, potentials scattered in her wake. All eyes were on the diminutive women. She was like pure Amazon beauty. Strong, sure of herself...handy with a weapon. So much like Xena except she was kinda flat in that department and she was blond, but besides that she was an uncanny likeness. Andrew pouted as his attention was diverted back to Xander. As much as he liked the vampire, what was Spike doing watching him? Xander seemed tired, clearly not sleeping, but he still looked good in that rugged, unkept way. He obviously didn't want to be here, who did? Okay, well he did. Safer here with two slayers and a souled vampire for protection, then out there where he could be seduced once more to the dark side. Spike was moving toward Xander, he needed to get that vampire away from him. Andrew turned towards Anya, she was still prattling on about about her past.

"Where's Xander do you suppose?"

That got Anya's attention. Frowning she glanced around the room, her eyes fell on Spike who was sliding over towards her ex. What did he think he was doing? Not starting another pointless argument? Swear she needed to bind those two, throw them in room together and watch them battle it out. Well they couldn't very well do that with there limbs tied, but the thought was pretty sexy, although Xander would be at a disadvantage being only human and pretty much blind. Anya promptly jumped up from the couch and marched over to the other side of the room. Intercepting Spike and pulling Xander by the hand back over to the couch. Seating him beside her and effectively shoving the potential that had been balancing on the arm, out of her way. She smiled at Xander, patting his thigh and continued on where her conversation had left off.

Andrew smiled to himself, he knew Anya would have no qualms about interfering, he was just happy to have the man beside him. Spike captured Andrews attention from across the room, they stared long and hard at the other. Spike rose an eyebrow and smirked. Andrew's grin disappeared as he glanced at his lap, a blush suffused his cheeks. He'd been found out.

As Buffy began another one of her rousing speeches on the enemy and how they were the worlds last hope. Anya leant in toward Xander, noting the distant expression on his face. He was so rigid beside her, as if her touch were tainted. His reaction pissed her off no end.

" You know only yesterday you were very well pleased to have my legs wrapped around your sweaty body. Now you act as if I've got cooties or something equally nasty." giving him a searing look. In the past she would have had him eviscerated before he had a chance to respond.

Anya watched carefully as Xander shifted to face her. She lurched backwards on the couch, the malicious expression on his face seeped into her bones and converting them to water. He stared as if looking through her and with such a cruel smile curving those succulent lips. Blinking, her eyes scanned for a friendly face...coming to rest on Spike. He read the panic etched there and bolted across the room to her side.

Spike arrived just in time to hear Xander growl in the back of his throat at Anya, before tilting his head to fix Spike with the same hideous grin. Andrew followed Spike's startled expression back to the man himself. He gasped, leaping to his feet. Finally drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in the room.

Buffy squeezed herself in between the three, hands on her hips " What's going on here? "

Part Three

Caleb watched as his boys worked on freeing the scythe from its prison of stone. They had tried every conceivable tool imaginable to wrench it from the unyielding rock. It refused even the most persistent of reasoning. He knew it wouldn't take long till the slayer came to the vineyard and took it from him. Well, at least tried too. Silly girl, so wrapped up in her own self righteousness that she did not see the filth that clung to her and those around her...she was not worthy to claim such an instrument.

"How interesting, simply wonderful that you should inadvertently give us another ally, Caleb "

He turned at that voice, mesmerized. Not by the owner, for he still could not reason why such an all powerful being could taunt him so. Why have the face of such a wretched girl, when there must a thousand others who deserved...that greatest of honours. It pained him to see the glory of such a divine creature, pollute its very image with that of one who should be cleansed in the fiery depths of hell, till nothing of that tainted flesh existed. Did the very essence of sin itself, have to choose the vessel of such a dirty little child, a women with no value whatsoever.

"Yes I do. Kinda like seeing your face when I first approach, you're never really certain if its me, or if its her " The First smiled up at him. Caleb noticed that hint of wickedness about those lips, it disturbed him. She flicked a wisp of golden hair over her shoulder and waited for his reply. See if he'd deny it or not.

"Now see I don't know what you would be speaking of. Always knew it to be you. Even if you insist on showing yourself in this..." waving his arms about, as if that explained to who he was speaking of. The slayer patiently stood before him, a girlish smirk upon her lips. He ignores the blatant feminine trick and instead chooses to remain tight lipped...which of course was pretty useless as 'she' could read his mind.

She grinned to 'herself', amused that he would even bother to lie, but then he was human after all and it was in their genetic make up...what did she expect.

Caleb suddenly frowned, whirling back to face his master and finding 'her' to be standing there lightly tapping her foot, the same expression on her face.

"Did you say something about an ally?"

'The First' sighed, rolling her eyes "Oh, I'm so glad the minions are awake" she drawled sarcastically. 

Andrew took a step away from Xander as those inhuman eyes swept over him, even the proximity of the slayer did nothing to allay his fears. They were so cold and promised a most excruciating death. Andrew held his breath, one hand had somehow clawed itself into Spike's duster... he felt numb as he awaited the first strike.

"Hello, anyone listening to me at all?" Buffy interjected, she was taken aback by the spooked expression on Spike's face. Her alarm increased as her eyes darted from one to the next, all huddled around Xander on the couch. Buffy's brow knitted as she finally settled her attention on her long time friend.

"Xan, is everything alright here?" she asked in a small voice, a big part of her did not want an answer.

Xander shook the curls hanging over his eyes as he looked up at her " Yup, all's well here, " he grinned cheekily.

Buffy hesitated before smiling down at him. "Okay then, so why are you all looking like you saw a ghost?" Aiming the question at Xander who was casually sprawled against the couch, an arm draped over his ex's shoulders. The terrified expression on Anya's face set Buffy on edge. Something sinister had happened and no one was talking.

Anya quickly slid out from under Xander's arm and moved to stand behind Buffy.