Spike was used to his plans going to hell in a hand basket, but this really had to take the cake.

Elaine, wearing her watcher-skin suit, had already cast her spell. The steel in Buffy’s spine was starting to return. But the slayer was still a little too pale, a little too shaky to really be counted on to pull a miracle out of her hip pocket. Meret was spitting mad, but the vampire thought they might need a little more than sheer rage to penetrate the necromancer’s defenses.

Spike wracked his brain, trying to remember what Willow and Tara had said to do if Elaine had already drunk her elixir and set the spell in motion. Somethin’ ‘bout keepin’ the watcher alive? Well, there his body was, host personality contemptuous, yet complacent, on the other side of the room.

And very much alive.

So that was a point in their favor.

The vampire glanced at the nearest table where the first of the birds had righted itself, jerkily flapping its wings, its feathers crackling from disuse and from the embalming liquids that had kept it preserved. The undead Starlings were smelly and off-putting, but not really life threatening to a slayer and one who was already dead. He hoped.

Another point to Team Scooby.

Willow had also said that the spell required a huge amount of power and was extremely unstable. Spike only hoped that meant Elaine couldn’t pull out the big guns until everything had come to completion. The fact that the necromancer was only watching them, eyes bored but still vigilant, seemed to support that theory.

Point the third. So far, so good.

The animated bird to Spike’s right managed to get its feet under itself and launched, not at the vampire or the slayer, but unerringly towards the necromancer. It screamed, sounding far too human for comfort, and dived towards the watcher’s face, leaving a long, bloody scratch across one cheek. Meret took flight in shocked rage, diving towards the banking Starling.

Buffy’s shout of surprise was coupled by Spike’s own sardonic Or not.

Elaine started to laugh, high and hysterical. The awful sound didn’t waver even as another bird took flight and cut another scratch down the watcher’s neck.

Spike dove forward, intending to tackle the necromancer. Hell, he would have done almost anything to make the crackling laughter end, but he was also consumed with fear for the watcher. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t possible to die from a thousand paper cuts. Well placed slices were another matter though, and humans could be so fragile. Spike had empirical data to support that, Angelus had been creative when he got bored.

Right before the vampire hit the cackling doppelganger his trajectory took an abrupt turn. Elaine flicked a finger at him, and off he flew, his body slamming into the far wall, next to one of the tables. His grunt of surprise and pain was muffled by the fact that he couldn’t seem to move his mouth.

“Idiot,” Elaine said with Giles’ voice. “You’re dead. I can make you dance like a marionette.” Spike felt his arms start to drift up over his head. “In point of fact…” Another bird cut across the necromancer’s face and her concentration broke for a second, long enough for Spike to fall out of her grasp and hit the floor.

The vampire jerked his head up, golden eyes blazing with anger. Spike saw Buffy edging around the other side of the cauldron and decided that he could definitely afford to keep Elaine’s attention centered fully on himself if it bought the slayer enough time to get into position.

He rose, sneer firmly set over bared fangs. “That so?”

Before Elaine could react, he reached out and grabbed a Starling who hadn’t managed to take wing yet. He felt himself being slung back into the wall, but not before he had torn the head of the undead bird.

“Marcus!” The necromancer’s sharp cry was filled with anger and shocked grief.

The vampire felt a twinge, remembering abruptly that they were, in fact, killing Elaine’s family. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Something about the sharp shard of rock jabbing into the back of his head as he was pressed into the earth and the sight of blood running down the watcher’s face just made him unreasonably uncharitable.

Meret finally caught up with the smaller, more maneuverable Starling and followed the vampire’s lead. While she didn’t have hands, her tiny fangs and implacable coils proved to be more than enough to rend the dingy brown bird into its component parts. Elaine shrieked again and made some kind of hand gesture at the coatl, probably a spell, but Meret remained unconcerned. Spike silently blessed Willow and Tara once again for the little serpent’s magical immunity.

Elaine lashed out once more, grinding the battered vampire further against the room’s earthen wall, and stepped forward as if to attack the serpent by hand. Buffy, faced with Giles’ back, moved even closer, fists clenched around her sticks, ready to strike.

Spike tried to make his mouth form the word “Bitch,” but all that came out was a gurgling growl. Whatever, it got the point across, and Elaine’s wild eyes were once again riveted on the vampire instead of the slayer, who was quietly closing in behind her back.

That oversight ended abruptly when one of Buffy’s escrima sticks slammed into the watcher’s temple. Spike was ready this time, and dropped lightly to his feet when the necromancer’s control over him wavered.

Elaine, on the other hand, dropped like a stone.

“Crap, crap, crap!” The slayer dropped to her knees next to Giles’ crumpled form. She dropped her weapons and reached towards the man’s neck, feeling in the completely wrong spot for a pulse.

The vampire listened for, and immediately found, the watcher’s steady heartbeat. “Stop faffin,’ he’s fine.”

Buffy looked up at him. “But…” she started to argue.

Spike just tapped his right ear and smirked at her. “Watcher’s got a hard head. Think he’s proved that enough in the past.”

The slayer snickered at that, but then looked ashamed again. “He’s gonna have a knot… again.”

The vampire started to comment that a knot was far preferable to death when another Starling dropped off of the nearest table and started pecking at Giles’ neck. Buffy snarled, grabbed the offending bird and threw it against the far wall. It hit with a sickening splat and fell to the floor, motionless again.

“Looks like killin’ the feather brigade would be a good place to start.” Spike said, ducking under Meret as she dove low, chasing yet another Starling to the floor.

Buffy grabbed up one of her sticks, and swung it bat-like at another bird, but hitting the flitting animals was more difficult than it sounded. Meret was having more luck than the vampire or the slayer, but all told, there were still five birds circling the room and diving at the watcher’s prone form when the necromancer regained consciousness with a wailing scream.

Spike, who had almost managed to corner one of the undead pests, suddenly felt something rip inside of his chest. The pain tore through him like fire and he curled up on himself, coughing up blood.

Meret turned from her latest kill, hissing and enraged.

She dove towards Elaine, but the necromancer had learned from her previous mistake. One of the bundled bags shivered and tore open, erupting fragments of broken ribs and slivers of long bones. The coatl was pelted with the shards, some leaving long scratches down her body and wings. She fluttered back, crashing into one of the tables, injured, but more angry than anything else. The little serpent beat her damaged wings, shuddering into flight again, but also showering the white cloth of the bundled skeleton next to her with blood as red as her scales.

Spike, struggled to his feet just in time to see Buffy take a swing at the necromancer with one of her sticks. Elaine held up a hand and the slayer’s attack seemed to bounce off of an invisible wall.

Managing to ignore the pain and the blood that still dripped from the edge of his mouth, Spike vaulted over the table, but just when he looked up to press an attack, he came face to face with the watcher’s callused hand, fingers surrounded with tongues of flame.

The vampire had just enough time for the words Oh shit! to form in his mind when the slayer slammed into him. He fell to the side, twisting so that he saw the flames that had been meant for him engulf Buffy instead.

The ring on her right hand flared with brilliant red light, and the fire seemed to run off her like water, but all that really registered in Spike’s mind was the slayer’s startled yelp. In his rage, the vampire had a moment of clarity.

He knew what he needed to do.

Reacting on the edge of thought and reason, the vampire rolled forward and grabbed the watcher’s leg, wanting nothing more than to grab Elaine by the soul and shred her very being. When the light overtook him this time, he was unsurprised.

*****

The White, as he had come to think of it, was murkier this time, pristine color streaked with faint grays and reds, but still silent, still scentless. Spike looked around, still pissed as hell, but also uncertain as to what would happen next. The whole soul channeling thing was basically uncharted territory for the angry vampire.

A hazy figure started to form in his peripheral vision. Quick as thought, he was in front of it, fist raised to strike. His hand halted at the last second when his blazing golden eyes recognized the pale, weathered face in front of him.

“Watcher?” he asked, his voice a harsh growl. He kept his distance, eyeing the man warily.

Giles blinked in confusion. “Spike? How are you…Where are…” Spike’s face split into a wry grin. And it definitely was Giles; Spike could tell from his stuttering, stuffy demeanor and his immediate game of Twenty Questions. Giles looked irritated for a moment, but then let his head drop wearily. “Right. I’ll be asking you all of that again once we are out of this predicament.”

“Whatever you say, Rupes.” Spike looked around, but he and Giles were apparently alone. Elaine was nowhere to be found. Satisfied, the vampire turned his attention back to the watcher. He blinked in surprise when he noticed faint glowing threads wrapped around the other man’s entire body.

“What’s the deal with those?” Spike gestured with his right hand, careful to keep from touching Giles. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he laid hands on the soul of a living man in the White, and wasn’t interested in experimenting on someone he counted as an ally and, dare he say, friend.

Giles looked down, and tried to pluck at one of the threads. They stretched, allowing for some movement, but not much. He finally dropped his arms again and scowled. “I haven’t the slightest. I have not exactly been…” he paused for a moment in thought, “In this form; I suppose is the best way to put it. I’ve mostly been watching while someone else wore my body around like a cheap suit.”

Spike grimaced in disgusted sympathy, but the gears in his brain were starting to churn furiously. “Hold out your arm again.”

The watcher scowled a little at the vampire’s commanding tone, but complied.

Spike looked, tilted his head to the side, and quirked a still-ridged brow at the fine web. “Gonna try somethin’. Just don’t touch me.”

Giles narrowed his eyes calculatingly, but nodded his understanding.

“Well, here goes nothin’,” and with that the vampire grabbed a hold of the fine threads. To his surprise, they melted like water.

Giles grunted at that development, a sound that could have meant anything from shock to gratitude.

“How did you,” he stopped at the expression on Spike’s face. “Right, yes. Later. My sincere apologies.”

The retort on the vampire’s lips died abruptly when a pair of rotting, putrid hands materialized out of the White and sent him reeling with a shove that was far more than physical. Giles’ shouted warning faded quickly, as if disappearing into the distance. Spike hurtled through the air, if it could be called air.

The White faded, turning from white to grey and into black.

Another set of hands caught him.

Spike grabbed one, ready to attack, but for all their gnarled appearance, these hands were strong as iron bands. The vampire looked up at the face of this new threat and choked back a bark of laughter.

Mictlantechutli’s lidless green eyes gazed back at him. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, son of mine, but that was deeply stupid.”