With the curtains drawn and the lights out, no one but Spike could see more than an inch in front of them. Dawn whined softly, grabbing onto his hand. Can’t we please have a break from the creepy soon? I don’t want to be frightened any more.
 
“This is all your fault, Xander,” Anya said furiously. “It thinks it has something to prove now!” Anya hid her face in his shoulder. The dark’s not so frightening if I choose not to see.
 
The house shuddered with something that felt like a sonic boom, then it started pulsing with a heavy baseline so deep it was below even vampire hearing. But they could all feel it, their insides resonating with each pulse.
 
Anya and Xander were clinging to each other for dear life. Willow and Tara were in a similar position. They all reeked of fear. Buffy sat perfectly still, alone, at the opposite end of the sofa, her hands on her lap. She was completely calm, no trace of fear. Battle-ready, Spike thought.
 
“The walls are bleeding,” Spike said softly. “Smells like … human.” He could feel bloodlust beginning to rise, but years of living with the chip and fighting alongside the Slayer made it easy to suppress. The blood faded from the walls along with the last of his bloodlust. Not a totally stupid idea, you wanker. But it won’t work on me.
 
“Anyone we know?” asked Buffy blandly.
 
What the fuck?
 
Spike just stared at her for a second. “No.”
 
Are you still with me, Love? “Buffy?” he asked tentatively.
 
Before she could answer, a green light suffused the room.
 
It was coming from Dawn.
 
Spike felt a change in her pulse where her wrist lay against his. It stuttered, stopped, then re-started – but arrhythmically, like it was being consciously controlled. Everywhere his skin touched hers felt suddenly dirty, tainted. Pure evil stank from her pores.
 
Destroy-the-world-just-to-watch-it-burn evil. Dawn wasn’t in control of her body anymore.
 
She stuttered to a stand, as if drunk. “This vessel is small and undeveloped,” a raspy voice sang out. It wasn’t Dawn’s voice, and it was slightly out of sync with the movements of her lips, like a bad overdub in an old kung fu film.
 
Glowing green eyes stared at Buffy, lips twisted into a grin. “Is she your child?” the voice asked gleefully. Dawn’s head lolled to one side as the thing inside studied Buffy’s reaction, “Will you hurt her to protect yourself?” The grin shifted into a smirk. “Listen to her noises of pain!”
 
Dawn’s terrified eyes showed through the glow, just long enough for her to let out a whimpered “Buffy?” in her own voice, before the green took over again.
 
Buffy knew she should be feeling fear right now, but she wasn’t. Not even for Dawn’s safety. This felt like parlour tricks, trying to get inside their heads. It wasn’t actively hurting anyone. She was the one it wanted dead. And she really couldn’t bring herself to care very much about that. Her body might be fighting to survive, but her mind was still yearning to go back.
 
Dawn’s body jerked forward, towards Buffy. “Oh, the power in this one! Not sure how to tap into it … yet. Once you’re dead, I think I shall make my home in her permanently. Such delicious skin.” Dawn’s tongue flicked out and circled around her lips. Then the innocence of her features melted into jaded dissipation as she licked slowly and languorously along the vein of her right arm.
 
Xander didn’t think he’d ever be able to scrub that image out of his soul. Anya was still hiding her face, and he was grateful. No one should ever see a child with that look on her face.
 
The air was getting heavier, harder to breathe, as the stench of evil continued to pour out of Dawn’s body and the steady strumming base pounded deep into their bones. As the humans in the room breathed in each other’s fear, it multiplied, blossoming in their hearts and minds until their limbs became heavy and weak and despair took hold.
A giggle broke out of Dawn’s lips. Still not Dawn’s voice, but … somehow ... the laughter sounded more like her than the voice did.
 
Spike was thrumming with contained violence. He understood scare tactics too well to be affected by the nonsense going on around them. His mind was racing, trying desperately to think of a plan. But he couldn’t hurt Dawn’s body, and he had no magic to attack the thing inside her. All he could do was wait. Jus’ ‘til midnight, he kept telling himself. Then it’s over.
 
The glowing green eyes stared at Buffy hungrily. “I wonder what your blood tastes like. I bet it’s sweet, like a ripe, juicy peach.” Dawn’s arms drew around her belly, rubbing at it like it ached. “I’m soooo hungry,” the voice whined. Then her hands dropped lower, rubbing between her legs, hips jutting forward in time with her hand. “Mmmmm peaches.”
 
Tara thought she was going to throw up. But her body felt so weighed down, so hopeless, she wasn’t sure if she even had the energy to bend over. She tried to force her heavy limbs into more contact with her girlfriend. Willow was powerful. Willow wasn’t afraid of magic. If I can just keep hoping, maybe Willow will feel it, and she can be strong for the both of us.
 
Willow was losing herself to the darkness. She’d been struggling to pay attention to her surroundings ever since she heard the pulsing, throbbing beat. It called to something inside of her, something she knew she really shouldn’t let out, but it felt so good. Like Christmas morning and rich gooey chocolate and the best orgasm she’d ever had all rolled up into one big ball of ecstasy. Her fear and her guilt, concern for her friends – even love for her girlfriend – they all just floated off somewhere far, far away, and she couldn’t even remember what they felt like anymore. She was locked inside her secret place, where there was nothing but pleasure so intense it was almost pain and the whispering promise of untold power that could all be just for her if she would only give in.
 
She hadn’t given in yet, but she was close.
 
“Enough warm-up,” Buffy said, genuinely starting to be bored. “Do you want to kill me or what?”
 
Dawn’s face split into a wide grin, and she ran at Buffy, screeching, hands curved into claws.
 
Buffy caught her wrists.
 
And held her off.
 
Very, very easily.
 
It was almost … funny.
 
“So, um, Mr Evil Guy? I think you’re gonna need to add a dose of super-strength to your ‘vessels’ if you ever want to make good on those threats,” Buffy said, a crooked smile flickering across her lips.
 
Dawn’s body was hissing and spitting now, fighting as hard as it could to break free. But a non-athletic fifteen-year-old was no match for Slayer-strength, and Buffy barely had to try to restrain her sister’s body.
 
Spike moved to stand with them, and he and Buffy shared a small smile of relief over Dawn’s head.
 
“That was anti-climactic,” he said. “All that foreplay, and the main event didn’t even last five seconds. Bet the Slayer here can keep goin’ all night, too.” He winked at Buffy.
 
Dawn stopped struggling, the glowing green eyes fixing themselves on Spike. “Don’t mock, vampire. There are other vessels.” Then the lights in her eyes went out, and Dawn slumped into Buffy’s arms. Buffy turned and gently laid her out on the sofa.
 
“How long does the sleepy last?” she asked.
 
“Not long,” Xander said.
 
The air became a little less heavy. But without the green light, the room was completely dark again.
 
“I feel better,” Anya said, face still pressed into Xander and eyes shut tightly. “Is it dead?”
 
The green glow came back.
 
“Um… guys?” Xander said. “I think it’s found a stronger vessel.”
 
Spike’s eyes were now glowing green.
 
“B-b-but his chip!” Tara stammered. “H-he can’t hurt us, right?”
 
“He could still get a lot of damage in before it stopped him,” Xander said. “Especially if that thing inside him isn’t feeling the pain….”
 
“No!” cried the voice from Spike’s body, deeper now it had a different set of vocal chords. Spike shut his eyes, plunging the room back into darkness. His whole body was shaking like he was attached to a live wire.
 
The chittering noises they’d heard at the tower last night came back, louder and scarier.
 
Buffy put her hand out to touch him, and felt things moving under his skin. She tried to grab at them, but even she couldn’t win demonic whack-a-mole without being able to see.
 
Not one of them could see a thing.
 
Spike’s shaking became more violent, and he fell back onto the coffee table, breaking it with a resounding crack, sending drinks and food to the floor. He was thrashing around wildly now, scrabbling for traction, trying to regain control.
 
His chip was firing nonstop at the evil trying to take up residence in his head, and he’d never been in so much pain. But if he knew anything, it was how to fight demons. Especially the ones in his own head.
 
They heard one booted foot slam into the wall, breaking through the plaster. Then one of the chairs went airborne. Buffy felt the air moving, and was able to swat it away before it could hit anyone, but she sent it straight through the window, showering Willow, Tara and Dawn with broken glass.
 
“Yield!” Spike’s invader growled out of Spike’s throat.
 
The thrashing was starting to get weaker, quieter. The pain was taking its toll.
 
Dawn struggled back to consciousness. Trying to rub her face, she cut herself on the glass. The tang of her blood in the air was like a jolt of adrenaline for Spike. He found energy reserves he didn’t know he had.
 
“Get. Out. Of. My. Fuckin’. Head!” his true voice finally screamed out. His whole body was arched into a bow, every muscle and tendon straining with effort and pain.
 
Then he went completely limp.
 
The air lightened even more, and hope began to bloom in the human hearts. He’d won.
 
“Spike?” Dawn whimpered, sitting up.
 
“Careful, Dawn,” Buffy said. “You’re covered in glass.”
 
“Now is it dead?” Anya asked.
 
The lights flickered back on.
 
“I’m guessing it’s tired. Or maybe hurt,” Buffy said. Shouldn’t Spike be making an innuendo now? I think he used to do that a lot. Maybe he’s broken. She looked over at him. His nose and ears were leaking blood, and he looked unconscious – which meant he looked dead. But not dusty. Maybe he’ll make innuendos later.
 
“It’s only 10:30,” Tara said. “It’s not gonna be dead until midnight.”
 
Spike groaned. “Oh god, my head.” For a moment the pain made him think he was back in the Initiative labs. Then he recognised the shard of broken table he felt sticking out of his shoulder, and remembered where he was. Not even back 24 hours an’ I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve nearly dusted. He smiled to himself. An’ I thought life with Dru was living on the soddin’ edge.
 
Willow blinked owlishly in the light. She felt hung-over and tingly all over, and everything looked a little blurry around the edges.
 
“Everyone okay?” Xander asked. “I mean, no life threatening injuries or anything?” He wanted into crawl into bed and stay there for a week.
 
Or, better, crawl into Anya and stay there for a week.
 
“I’ve got glass shards in my skin!” Dawn whined. “Ow! Who thought it was a good idea to break the window on top of me?”
 
“It was either that or braining you with a chair,” Buffy said. “I’ll make sure to remember your preference for next time.”
 
Dawn gingerly got off the sofa and started trying to brush herself off.
 
“Can we go home now?” Anya asked. “I’m all covered in fear and evil and powerlessness and I really don’t want to be in this room anymore. Also, I really want some oh-thank-gods-we-survived sex before I go to sleep tonight, and if it’s already 10:30, that doesn’t leave much time because I have to get up at 6.”
 
Xander looked at Anya with true love shining out of his eyes. She glowed back at him.
 
Everyone else looked anywhere but at Xander and Anya.
 
“Sure!” Buffy said. “Why don’t you go do that, then.”
 
Xander and Anya managed not to run out the door. Just.
 
“Spike?” Dawn called out again. “Are you okay?”
 
“Yeah.” He moaned, trying to sit up and failing. He was dizzy and shaky and his bones felt like limp noodles. It really didn’t help that he couldn’t see for all the bright white spots. “Bugger!”
 
“I’m going to open more windows. The air in here is … not healthy,” Tara said. Her nausea was fading, but she kept her movements very slow and careful.
 
Willow was staring at her hands, trying to remember where she had been during the blackout. Something important had happened. But she couldn’t remember exactly what it was. There was a choice, or something like a choice, but … it was like trying to hold on to dream logic after the alarm went off. Nothing made sense.
 
“Hey,” Buffy nudged Spike’s hip with her toe. “You need help getting up?”
 
He nodded, which just made the white spots multiply. Buffy took his hands in hers and pulled. He nearly threw up from the motion. Then the white spots filled his vision entirely.
 
“I’d put you on the sofa,” Buffy said, “Only it’s kinda covered in glass right now.”
 
“I’m up,” Spike said. “Up is good.”
 
His knees buckled.
 
To stop him from falling, Buffy threw her arms around his chest and he threw his around her shoulders. They swayed, drunkenly, for a moment.
 
“There now,” he murmured. “Always better when we’re dancin’,” and passed out.
 
“Help!” Buffy said, suddenly top-heavy with Spike.
 
Dawn ran over and ducked under one of his shoulders. “I’ve got this side,” she said. The two girls struggled until they had his balance distributed – Buffy still taking most of the weight.
 
Then Spike woke up.
 
“’M okay!” he said, straightening and settling his weight over his own feet. He ruffled Dawn’s hair, only slightly leaning on her as he did it. “Brain’s a bit fried. Be fine in a tic with a spot of blood.”
 
He staggered into the relatively-unscathed dining room and collapsed into one of the chairs. The world was still spinning and holy fuck! his head hurt.
 
Buffy followed Dawn into the kitchen, and watched her empty a bag of blood from the fridge into an oversized mug - they make mugs that big? - and put it into the microwave.
 
He really lives here, just like he said he did. Huh.
 
When the microwave pinged, Dawn put a handful of Weetabix into the mug, and then a dash of some spice Buffy didn’t recognise. Then she ran back into the living room, and practically forced it down Spike’s throat.
 
“Are you fine now?” Dawn asked anxiously. Please be alright. I really, really, really can’t handle it if you’re not.
 
Spike could feel the blood infusion starting to knit things back together in his head. The pain wasn’t going away, but at least he could see now. Mostly. Almost. “How many times do I have to say it, Niblet? ‘M always gonna be fine ‘less I’m dusty.”
 
“I know,” she whined. “I just….”
 
“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, and kissing the top of her head. “’S alright. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Never gonna leave you.”
 
Dawn closed her eyes and let him comfort her.
 
Buffy suddenly felt she was intruding. And … something else….
 
Isn’t Spike … mine?
 
Shaking off any thoughts of owning a vampire – that was the way of very, very bad thoughts – Buffy wandered over to the sofa, where Willow was still sitting in a daze.
 
Buffy only just remembered the glass in time to stop herself from sitting down next to her.
 
“Hey, Will,” Buffy said. “How ya doin’?”
 
“Oh, you know,” Willow said, nodding sagely. “It’s all good.”
 
“Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting in broken glass, Will,” Buffy suggested.
 
“Oh! Yeah!” Willow said, standing up. She was shaky, but she managed it. “Where’s Tara?”
 
“I think she’s opening all the windows and doors to get the stink of evil out,” Buffy said.
 
“Good call,” Willow replied.
 
They stared at each other for a while.
 
Then Willow’s eyes glowed green.
 
Shit.
 
“This vessel has powers beyond my wildest dreams!” cried the voice.
 
And then Tara was there, holding the wrong end of one of Buffy’s axes. She cracked it over Willow’s head, rendering her – and the traveller – unconscious.
 
“Nobody messes with my girl,” she said.
 
“Nice axing,” Buffy said.
 
“My first,” Tara replied, smiling widely and proudly.
 
Exhausted all, the girls started making their way upstairs.
 
Tara struggled carrying Willow up by herself. Spike, Buffy - even Dawn - had offered to help her, but she wanted to take care of Willow herself.
 
Usually Willow was the strong one in their relationship. Tara felt proud that she could be the strong one this time.
 
Plus, since she had hurt Willow’s body, she wanted to be the one taking care of it.
 
Spike followed Tara upstairs, extra security in case she ever struggled. He was quietly surprised that she never needed his help.
 
He said goodnight to Dawn in her room – like he did every night – but instead of going straight back down to his room in the basement, he found himself loitering in the hallway outside Buffy’s room.
 
She needed me last night. Will she even want me tonight?
 
Buffy came out of the bathroom and saw Spike waiting outside her bedroom door.
 
Her heart quickened as she came nearer to him.
 
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, finally.
 
She looked up at him with wide eyes.
 
She doesn’t know what she wants, either.
 
“I’m not….” Ready?
 
“I’m not gonna push you, pet. I can just sit in the chair and watch over you if that’s what you want.”
 
The tension flowed out of her. “Yes. Thank you,” she said.
 
He followed her into her room, shutting the door behind them. She crawled under the covers, watching him as he drew the chair alongside the bed. She inched closer to the edge, close enough to touch, but not making any attempt to do so.
 
She smiled up at him, and closed her eyes. Within seconds, her heart and her breath told him she was asleep.
 
Such trust.
 
But still only 11:00. Doubt very much that bastard is done for the night.