*****

== present ==

Spike looked in the sparkling green eyes of the witch as she considered his story and his request. He remembered how innocent and young she had been at one time. Her hair had been like living flame and her eyes were dazzling emeralds that had gazed out at a world with a sense of wonderment and awe. He spared a brief moment to wonder what she would have been like if events had gone differently, if Angelus had been destroyed instead of the destroyer.

What would the world be like if this one young girl *had* found the lost spell that would have returned his Sire's soul instead of the spell she *did* find? Granted, he wasn't upset that she had managed to stop him from opening up Hell, he *did* enjoy the world, thanks much, but still... Would Willow have managed to hold onto her innocence and her love of life if she hadn't been the only survivor from her group of friends? Would things have gone better if the Slayer and the cheerleader had not been killed and Xander hadn't been captured by Dru and Angelus only to be held as a mortal pet for over a year?

He didn't know, but this wasn't the time to muse on this. A new group of demon fighters had moved into Sunnyhell, and these blokes weren't working with the new Slayer. These guys were commando's and they guarded a secret government laboratory that conducted experiments on demons.

Spike and Dru had been captured by the Initiative together. They had finally had to stake the insane vampiress. She had seen another one of her visions and when she went into the prophecy-raving trace state the stupid bloody scientists refused to let Spike try to help her nor would they listen to his instructions on her care. She hadn't survived their tender mercies.

His Sire had managed to evade the commando's, but Spike didn't have any idea where he was. That was what he needed help with. Well, one of the things. He needed to find his Sire and he needed to find a way to remove the implanted chip from his skull. And right now, he didn't know where else to turn. After the whole debacle two years ago, Drusilla and Willow had begun a tentative truce when the immortal prophetess saved the red-haired girl's life from a few fledglings out for a feed. According to Dru, the 'magical tree' would grow to be a shady shelter for the lost and the damned. That sounded about what *he* needed right now. Shady shelter.

Finally, Willow interrupted his increasingly morbid musings. Taking a deep breath and obviously gathering her power around her until she almost shimmered with magic, Willow stepped back from the open doorway.

"Come in Spike."

== flashback ==

Xander Harris trembled in fear as he huddled in the corner. His fear was an icy iron ball in the pit of his stomach, consuming him from the inside out. It had already overtaken and wiped clean his vengeful anger and his sarcastically barbed wit. The swirling maelstrom of his thoughts were chaotic and without form under the onslaught of such intense and sustained emotion. Only a few undeniable and inescapable facts stood out, slicing into his mind like frost coated razors.

Amy's spell hadn't worked right. *Cordelia* didn't love him... *Drusilla* did.

He had been Drusilla's personal *pet* for three months and *no one* had come to save him... and pretty soon, there wouldn't be anyone *left* who could save him.

Shuddering with a chill that was born in his soul as opposed to on his naked flesh, Xander shifted his body slightly, being careful not to rattle the chain that ran from the manacle on his left leg to the iron ring imbedded in the stone floor. Risking a glance up to check on his Mistress and her Sire, Xander saw that they were both too involved in their bloody violent sex games to pay attention to him. That was... good.

Taking a slow breath in, he didn't even notice that the air hitched and caught in his throat on his thick choking emotions. Bracing himself for being yelled at (at the least) or mind numbing pain (at the worst), Xander leaned forward and stretched out with one bruised and bitten arm until he could curl his (mostly whole) fingers through Cordelia's soft dark hair.

The silky feel of those long thick locks broke Xander's heart into a thousand shards and he felt a wave of goosebumps raise up all over his scared and lash-marked skin. Then, he twisted the brown hair around his fist and pulled the object of his obsession to him.

Futilely trying to stifle a gasping sob, Xander cradled the beautiful face he had worshipped with his entire being since he had first discovered the female half of the population. A gentle finger ran down the soft skin of her cheek as he stared deeply into her dead dull eyes. He had craved her and wanted her... but *not* like this. Never like this...

"Oh look Daddy! It's soooo sweat and precious. My lovely little kitty-pet is playing with his lovely new toy."

Xander's head jerked up and unthinking fear swept over his mind as he found himself staring into the full gameface's of Angelus and Drusilla from where they peered down at him from the immense bed. Tremors racked his thin frame and he flinched back into the corner as far as he could. Angelus saw this and smirked at him.

"See my beloved. I *told* you that would be a good present to get Harris here. He's *always* wanted that little slut and now he can have her... and it's all because of you... my wonderfully naughty girl."

Drusilla preened at the praise from her Sire and turned a fang filled smile of happiness at the mortal chained up in the corner of her bedroom. Xander felt those glowing eyes rake over his exposed flesh and settle onto the *gift* she had presented to him in a gold-foil wrapped box earlier in the evening. Clutching Cordelia's decapitated head closer to his chest, Xander hissed at the vampires and scooted back further into his corner.

"*Mine* You *gave* her to me. *Mine*!"

The two vampires on the soft blood stained bed blinked in mild surprise at his vocal audacity and then burst out into deep rumbling laughter of mirth and amusement. Xander's skin crawled and shivered at the sound, even as his cock began to harden at the attention and focus being directed upon him by the only two creatures he had been allowed contact with since his imprisonment began so very long ago.

== present ==

Spike scowled from where he stood leaning up against the side of his DeSoto. Glaring at the tall brick wall and the black wrought-iron gates, the bleached blonde vampire wondered if this would really work. Not that he didn't trust the witch's spell. Willow had cast two spells the night he visited her. One to find Angelus and one to tell her what could be done about the blasted chip in his head. Spike didn't like either answer.

To the first question, Willow couldn't give a complete answer since strong and powerful magics were set specifically to hide his Sire. She could only tell that he was still alive... as if were, and that he was surrounded by a strong aura of mage-shielding. Beyond that was anyone's guess.

To the second question, Willow had seen the face of her oldest childhood friend. It was at that point that she had broken down, her emotions finally getting the best of her. Even as she tossed his undead ass out into the street on a wave of powerful shimmering blue energy, he understood and didn't mind.

Xander Harris had been her closest friend, somewhere between a brother and a soulmate. And his own beloved Sister and Sire had driven the boy stark raving mad. Spike had very little to no contact with the boy at that particular time. For most of it, he'd been out of his Sire's good graces and out of Dru's bed as well. He'd been wheelchair bound and righteously pissed off at the world. While Spike spent most of his time sulking with the fledges, Dru and Angelus had tortured the boy mercilessly. They'd killed off all of his friends with the exception of Willow and all of his family as well. Then, in a fit of Miss Edith induced madness, Dru had cooked up a magic potion and mixed it with her own blood. Forcing the boy to drink it, she'd then cursed him with psychic powers.

Now years later, after his amazing escape during a move across the country, Xander was imprisoned here at Los Angeles State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Spike wasn't too sure what the boy had done to wind up here, but after being kept on a chain as Dru's personal pet mortal for over a year he figured that he probably had a flashback and tried to stake someone or something like that.

Sighing, Spike shoved his thoughts aside and pushed himself away from his car. Walking along the parameter of the wall, he considered his options. Normally, he'd just barge in the front gate and kill and maim his way to the boy, but he couldn't do that. The bloody chip would fry his brains into a puddle of smoking mush if he even attempted it.

So, that meant he had to resort to his old way of doing things. Pre-Angelus thought patterns slowly emerged from the hidden depths of his memory. He needed to case the joint and find out where everything, including Dru's kitty-pet was. He had to get in, get the boy, and then get out again. Preferably all without running into any of the guards or medical staff. Then, once they were back out, they had to get away from here and to someplace where the boy could do whatever it was that Willow saw him do in her spell.

Finally completing his circuit around the grounds and a plan beginning to form in his mind, Spike climbed back into the DeSoto and drove off into the night. He needed to feed, get somewhere to rest for the day and then try out his plan.

*****
Part 2

== flashback ===

Xander gulped down a deep choking breath of air, violent tremors raking his tortured muscles as he strained against his bonds for one never-ending moment before he collapsed, handing limply from his wrists. The muscles and ligaments in his arms and shoulders stretched and groaned against his weight and his head lolled back on his tired neck. Greasy sweat glistened on his skin and rolled in rivulets down his back to sting and burn as it mixed with the streams of blood oozing from the lash marks that criss-crossed his whip flayed skin.

The flames burning up the wicks of the candles scattered about within his line of sight flickered and danced from the stirring of the air currents and then he felt a blessedly cool breeze caress his screaming and agonized flesh. A low deep voice rumbled throughout the room speaking words that Xander's ravaged mind couldn't quite comprehend, but he *did* recognize his Mistress's squeal of happiness.

Angelus.

Her beloved daddy...

Xander didn't know if he should sing praises and thanks to the Saints of Heaven for the Master Vampire coming in to distract her, thus inadvertently giving him a respite from the searing pain born from the kiss of the whip. He now had a chance to catch his breath and to gather up his inner reserves of strength. He had time to swallow the pain down instead of letting it consume him and turn him inside out until all he knew was pleasure, unholy rapture of *finally* breaking and *becoming* his pain.

Maybe instead, he should curse and damn the Demons of Hell for the Master Vampire's ill-timed visit that distracted his beloved Drusilla and giving him this unasked for respite from the beating. A chance to catch his breath and gather his strength would prolong his decent into the swirl of sensation that was destined to overtake him, pulling him down into it and making him a part of it. He could feel his adrenaline rush slow down and curl into his toes and he doubted that he could *dive* into the darkness at this point. No, he'd have to be dragged back to the sublime level of surrender... kicking and screaming the entire way.

Xander was pulled from his swirling contemplation of the meaning of pain and the depths of suffering that it took to unbend one's mind from it's anchor as a cool wet tongue traced a thin trail along the edge of his spine. Sparks of agonized white flared behind his eyes as that wet muscle touched each individual welt even as he shivered from the soothing pleasure of the very *coolness* and *gentleness* showered upon him.

Finally, that torturously slow lick reached the top of his spine and then that lushly evil mouth nuzzled at his neck. Xander tilted his head to the side as far as it could go, exposing his neck and the rich blood pounding right below the surface of his skin. A low hiss of pleasure caressed his ear only seconds before razor sharp fangs pierced his flesh, digging into him, burrowing into his very soul. Pain spiced liberally with pleasure sang through his veins as those cool dead lips sucked down on the freshly made wounds on his throat. He could *feel* the pull on his lifeforce as his blood fled his body only to slip down the maw of his Mistress's Sire.

"Aaaahhh..."

The rough sound of his own voice echoed around his head and even he could not say if it was a demand for the demon to stop drinking from him... or a plea for him to take ever more. Angelus swallowed down another sticky red mouthful and Xander's hard throbbing cock cast the deciding vote by jerking and twitching at the sensation.

Delighted and completely insane giggles wrested his attention from his draining life and back out into the room where his body hung by chains from an iron hook imbedded in the ceiling at the exact center of the candlelit room. The sound, like so much broken glass upon his raw and bleeding nerves, forced his dark eyes to open and gaze upon She Who Rules his Universe.

Drusilla.

The vampiress stood before him wearing nothing more than bright red splashes of his own blood upon her pale silken skin. Dark lush hair swirled around her face and shoulders, enhancing the deep shadows that lived in her eyes and mind. She held a bright edged knife in one small delicate hand and it's keen blade glowed from the reflection of the flickering candle flames.

Xander shivered, each tiny wave of movement sparking little pinpoints of agony across the surface of his ravaged skin. And only one thought swirled through his damaged mind.

Beautiful.

She was so beautiful, from the down fine hair on her arms to the glowing whiteness of her skin to the demon bright yellow of her eyes to the glistening death of her fangs. His cock jumped at the enchanting sight of her standing before him.

"I think he like's it when you bite and nip upon him Daddy. He's so tender and juicy, my little kitty-pet is, and he's *so* lovely in his endless suffering. His mind twists and bends and he quivers and flinches even as his dark dark eyes beg for more more more... Let us ride his body and his soul. Let us twist him and turn him until the stars cry his name in the terrible heat of the day."

Xander flinched and moaned in horrible loss when Angelus slid his fangs from the bruised flesh of his neck. His whole body stretched towards the demon, silently begging for more even when his lips knew no words to explain the *hunger* that grew deep in the back of his skull. That hunger which fed upon his own living terror and his own horrifying and irrefutable darkness. In response to his pain born whimper and the burning *need* clear to any who merely looked for it, Angelus ran a gentle and teasing fingertip down his shoulder in a swirling circular pattern.

"Mmmm... my naughty little girl. You are thinking dirty thoughts again, but that is why I cherish you so very much. Yes, let's... kill him with kindness, as if were. We can make him feel so good, can't we?"

Drusilla threw back her head and laughed a deep rich laugh of joy and happiness as she danced around in a small circle. The flickering candlelight threw ever changing patterns of light and shadow along the curves and hollows of her body as if the bright flames were her secret lover, caressing her and teasing her to heights of pleasure.

Xander felt himself grow jealous of the light that touched her. It should be *him*. He wanted to wrap himself like living liquid worship across her body only to seep into her very essence, to become a part of her and to never leave her. He... *wanted* and the rough deep whisper of his voice reached not *her* ears, but the ears of her maker.

"To be her tears... The agonized pleasure of being born in *her* eye... to live out my life upon the silken white of *her* cheek... only to die, in hope and desire upon *her* soft full lips... Yes... if only *I* could be her tears..."

Then the gentle fingers that had been caressing his back and teasing sparks of hot pain from his multitude of welts dragged up the skin of his neck to grasp a painfully tight hold upon his hair. Angelus yanked his head back, but Xander's eyes never left the dancing form of his Mistress.

"Don't worry little mortal... You *are* her tears... and you *will* die upon her lips. I like you enough to grant you that one request... In fact, I think I'll be there to watch... You'd make me a lovely GandeChilde. After all, you already crave the pain and the bloody kisses more than most minions and you're a *human*. Just imagine the depths of depravity you could reach with a demon rolling under that tender skin of your's?"

Xander's soul flinched away in horror and gibbering fear even as his throbbing pain riddled body pressed tightly against the Master Vampire, a silent entreaty. A dark soft chuckle tickled his neck and he felt the two newest puncture marks on his skin throb and ache with emptiness. Then, in a lightening fast move, Angelus shifted and buried his thick marble erection between the bloodied globes of his ass and thrust deeply inside his suddenly stuffed full bowels.

A harsh thready scream was torn from his raw and bloody vocal cords.

== present ==

Spike stood outside the wrought iron gates of the Los Angeles State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and shifted nervously. Glancing around and trying to find the nerve to start this ball rolling, he tossed his cigarette onto the ground and snubbed it out with the toe of his scuffed Doc Martin. He wasn't sure *how* this would turn out, but he was getting desperate.

He could barely stomach the pig's and cow's blood that he was forced to buy or steal from the butcher's shop and he *longed* to be able to hunt and fuck and kill the warm-blooded and hapless humans that wandered around the city. The thrill of stalking hunting and chasing, the pleasure of biting tearing and killing as he drank down the rich sweet liquid iron pumped directly from a quivering terror-filled heart had been *ripped* from him. Hell, he'd even been slammed into a migraine headache strong enough to thrust him into agonized wakefulness after he'd dreamt of stalking and slaughtering some luscious little girl.

Enough was enough.

He was a hunter and a killer. Not because of some twisted bit of insanity inside his head, but because he was a *demon*. It was what he had been born and bred to do. Killing wasn't a kink for him in the sense of a mortal serial killer, it was how he *survived*. Granted, he enjoyed the killing, but this whole situation was a threat to his very existence.

And the witch had promised him that Xander Harris could fix him.

Taking a deep unneeded breath to try and pull his scattered thoughts together, Spike sauntered over to the side of the gate where a black metal box hung from the brick wall. He pressed down on a small white button and turned his head slightly to catch the sight of an electronic security camera, it's little red light blinking at the top. Shortly, a small staticy voice hissed from the small speaker under the button.

"Yes?"

Spike raised up his scared eyebrow, but didn't argue with the seeming ridiculousness of the whole setup. He figured that the extreme security measures were due to the mortal's who ran this place being afraid of the one's they imprisoned here and not the thought that someone would break into the place.

"Right. Uh... I'm here to visit a patient. I'm a... friend. Knew him real good a few years back, but then I... went abroad. Came back to look him up and they told me he was... living here."

There was a moment of silence and Spike wondered if the loons that they kept under lock and key at this joint were not allowed to have visitors. Or if perhaps they were allowed, but they just didn't have too many on the outside as wanted to visit. The blonde vampire was jolted out of his speculation suddenly when the static filled electronic voice spoke once again.

"Okay. I'll buzz you through the gate. Follow the main drive around the the side entrance. Go inside through the white painted doors and walk up to the main reception desk. The duty nurse will be able to help you."

Spike nodded absently and turned back to his car. Climbing into the DeSoto, he started the engine and watched as the big wrought iron gates slid open on greased tracks. He didn't have to worry about not being able to get onto the grounds or into the hospital. The security guard had issued him a invitation. Putting his car in gear, Spike eased it past the gate and onto the main drive.

The hospital grounds were surprisingly well manicured and cared for. Lush grass and neatly trimmed bushes and beds of colorful flowers abounded. There were park benches scattered about and even a few umbrella tables with chairs. Spike wasn't sure if this is where the staff visited for their lunch break or if the less violent and more easily controlled patients were allowed to roam in the sunshine. If the latter was the case, he wondered if Dru's kitty-pet would be counted among the privileged few. Probably not... the mortal had been too found of playing hide and seek with Dru. And any mortal trained to run and hide by a vampire who wanted to practice her hunting skills would be able to get away from a group of overly muscled orderlies.

The winding drive was fairly short and Spike soon found himself in the main parking area. It was a quick matter of finding an empty spot close to the doors and in moments, Spike was out of his vehicle and crossing the shadow strewn lot. Making his way to the twin white doors he'd been told he'd find, the bleached blonde vampire opened the door and stepped inside. He had to blink a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to the bright florescent lighting in the atrium after the soothing darkness of the early evening.

Looking around, he found the main front desk and the plump dark haired woman with the thick glasses sitting behind it. She was typing information into a computer from a pile of paper lying next to her. As soon as his attention focused on her, his preternatural senses began to sift and gather information about her. She wore a light flowery perfume that barely disguised the minty-medicinal smell of some sort of ointment or another. Her heartbeat was steady and sure, pumping blood through strong healthy veins, however her breathing was labored and strained as if she was suffering from a mild case of asthma. She radiated an aura of living warmth and Spike imagined that he could almost taste her thick living blood splash upon his hungry tongue.

A small sizzle of pain flashed across his skull and he hissed. Snarling internally at the thrice damned chip lodged in his brain that made even *thoughts* of lovely violence a painful thing, Spike took slow measured steps towards her. He tried to twist his features into a soft and comforting smile as the woman glanced up from her work at him. He knew that he came across as intimidating and dangerous, even when he *wasn't* planning to drain the life out of some tasty mortal. He was a predator... and prey could instinctively sense this. The woman stiffened up slightly, but then made a conscious effort to relax before addressing him.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Spike smiled his most charming and innocent smile. He knew it would miss it's mark slightly, but if he oozed sexual promise, she might just overlook the killer gleam in his eyes. Games of distraction and illusion where something he'd learned at his Sire's knee and Angelus was a pastmaster at wrapping mortals around his little finger. Spike smirked inside his head as the slight scent of arousal and heat drifted across his nose.

"Yeah luv, I'm hoping you just might. See, I'm hear to visit a long lost friend of mine. We was mates as... young children. I had to go abroad to live with me Aunt and Uncle when me Mum fell ill. Lost track of each other, we did. Stopped back to the States for a quick visit and when I looked the bloke up, found out he was a guest here... Was hoping to pay m' respects before I headed back across the pond."

Spike had deliberately thickened his accent while he spoke and he allowed one of his fingers to trace invisible patterns along the surface of her desk as he shamelessly flirted with the mortal. He'd had over a century of practice at toying with his food and he knew which buttons to push to get the reaction that he wanted. The musky scent of arousal grew thicker and he could feel the warmth of blood rush to the surface of her cheeks. He flashed her a slight smile and graced her with a long look into his bright blue eyes. Her heart rate speed up slightly and he found himself hungering for a taste of her blood... so close and yet. Damn chip! So far away...

"Who is your friend, Mr?..."

Spike listened to her voice trail off in question and he let his smile melt into a slightly sheepish grin. Charming to the last.

"Oi, my manners. Sorry luv. I'm William, William Bradford. And I'm here to visit Alexander Harris."

Her eyes dimmed with confusion for a quick moment as she tried to place the name. Spike could *see* when the recognition hit her. Her frame stiffened up slightly and her eyes grew just a touch colder and her face twitched with sadness before sliding smoothly into a professional mask. Spike's internal curiosity turned up a notch at that. He wondered what Dru's kitty-pet had done to earn such a reaction.

"Well, Mr. Bradford, your friend is quite... ill. I don't think he'll be anything like you remember him."

Spike tried not to laugh out loud at *that* statement. If she only *knew* what his memories of the mortal consisted off, she'd run away from him screaming in abject horror. He didn't have a chance to comment one way or the other however, before she began to speak again.

"In any case, we generally don't allow visitors during the evening, only the day. However, with you only being in town for a short visit and the fact that Mr. Harris has never had *any* other visitor... perhaps the doctor would make an exception to the rules."

Spike smiled encouragingly at her as she turned and picked up her phone. He watched as she dialed an internal number from memory and allowed his thoughts to roam.

So, Xander never got any visitors. Not too surprising as the only person still left alive that would even remember him or care was Willow. And the witch had her own scars to tend to. She probably found the very idea of visiting him to be far to painful. Xander had escaped his pain by delving into madness and Willow had escaped her's by losing herself in her magic. The witch literally lived on top of the Hellmouth. She had stopped Angelus from ripping it open, but when the Mayor reached his ascension, he had done something to it and it became a conduit for power and strength, if not an open gateway for solid flesh. Then, with the need to monitor and control it, he had built a large house upon it. And Willow lived there, guarding it for him and preventing it from tearing open any further. No... she was far to busy to come all this way just to stare into the broken eyes of her oldest friend and wonder if he even recognized her.

"Mr. Bradford?"

Spike was jerked out of his thoughts and he spun around to find the duty nurse gazing at him with a clipboard full of papers in her hand. With a shudder, he forced his killing instincts back and offered up a lazy smile to her instead of her own death.

"Yes ducks? What is it?"

Flashing him a triumphantly conspiratorial smile, she stretched out her arm and dropped the clipboard into his open hand.

"The doctor has agreed to allow you to go up and visit your friend Mr. Harris. They are readying him now. I just need you to fill out these visitor forms for our records. The doctor will be up shortly to take you to him."

Spike smiled at her.

"Thanks luv. I knew you could do it. My... father always said that secretaries ruled the world. They know which strings to pull and which ones to cut."

He offered her up a sexy wink and she beamed at the praise even as she blushed at his flirting. Taking the forms and a pen, Spike walked over to sit down on one of the vinyl covered chairs that lined the wall. Glancing quickly through the small stack of forms, he paused slightly.

The first one was something like what he expected. It was your basic form that required you to give up all sorts of legal information about yourself. Name, birth date, address and such. That wasn't a problem, Spike *did* have a false identity after all. In fact, he had three.

No, it was the form *under* that one that had given him a slight internal giggle. It was a legal document that would release the hospital from responsibility if Xander somehow managed to kill him or cause him grievous bodily injury. Spike wondered what they would say if he admitted that he was already dead and then he wondered if it was *just* Xander and other violent types who required this form... or if *all* the patient's visitors had to fill it out. And if it *was* just the really nasty case's, what had *Xander* done to get on that honored list?

== flashback ==

Xander sat huddled up in the corner of the ugly green couch, his arms clasped tightly around his pajama clad knees as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. He had been here for two whole weeks and he was confused and bored and unsure of what to make of anything. His dark Mistress would *surely* come for him soon. He *had* to get away from these people and this sterile and endless *now* that held him here.

No one beat him, kicked him, cut him or even whipped him. No one bit into his flesh and drank his soul or made him feel exquisite pain and torturous pleasure in equal amounts until they mixed and melded inside of him as his whole body literally *quivered* from the overwhelming sensations.

Instead the coddled and pampered and cleaned him as they shuffled him from sunlit room to sunlit room. Soft soothing voices whispered at him that it was 'okay' and everything would 'be fine' and that they would 'help'. But it *wasn't* fine and okay and he didn't *want* help. He wanted to go *home*. Home to his Mistress and her Sire and her Brother and the endless pain and yearning.

He didn't understand this world nor did he relate to these people. These warm living people that breathed and pulsed and throbbed with *life* and hope and dreams. He turned his mind inward and away from their eyes and their voices. He listened to the whispering sing-song hiss that his Mistress had taught him to hear. She could hear the stars speak to her of things to come, but *he* could hear the very stones of the earth and it told him *how* to do things.

Even now it's dark slithering voice coiled around his mind and tingled up his spine and it asked him to *remember*.

[ Angel wouldn't *do* that! But he's not Angel anymore, he's *Angelus* and he is going to break open the mouth of *Hell*! And you need a stake so you can turn his minions into *dust* and save the girl with the shinny blonde hair that he *loves*! The Slayer and the Watcher and the Witch are *calling* you to do battle and you *need* to feel the *violence* and the *pain* calls out to you and it sings in your veins. ]

Xander shivered and rocked faster as his liquid dark eyes swept the room. A small black and white television caged high up on the wall near the ceiling bubbled with mindless cheer as it spouted the miracle of dish detergent. Old mismatched furniture was scattered about the room as mental patients shuffled about aimlessly or sat in odd groupings to play checkers and cards. Three large men in crisp white uniforms stood guard at the doors and at the water fountain.

[ Hurry hurry hurry to the fight. Save the world and keep the Hellmouth *closed* and pick up your weapon and *shove* the wooden point *deep* into the unbeating heart as a shower of unholy dust coats your body in sparkling shimmers. And blood pounding through muscle and vein as *pain* and *violence* and *hurt* rule your heart and mind. *Kill*. Kill the minions and *save* the blonde Slayer and the Watcher and they will not *die* and *this* time you will win and it will be different and you will *not* be lost to the pain and the dark. ]

Xander rocked in his small corner and no one cared and no one watched as he looked about the room. Warm living bodies shuffled past and he blinked. He could *feel* the hot living aura of their souls slide away to be replaced by the coldly burning *hunger* of the demon. Tan skin gave way to white marble and *he* was the human and at the same time he was the *hunter* and he *knew* what he had to do to save his friends from the fate they had already suffered. He wanted it to be different *this* time around.

[ Hurry hurry hurry before it's too late. You need a weapon, a *stake* to drive into their unbeating hearts and the minions will fly into stardust before you. *Will* a weapon into existence and _THIS_ is how you create it. A stake *your* stake, go now and fight and kill and kill and kill... ]

Knowledge of *how* to just reach out his arm and twist his fingers *just so* and then a bending popping sensation flares white hot pain just behind his eyes and the small wooden table next to his ugly green couch *explodes* into fragments and splinters. And in his hand he holds a perfectly formed wooden stake that he conjured with the force of his mind and the strength of his will and for a brief half-second he thanks his dark Mistress for cursing him with the Gift and then he strikes.

Leaping up from his crouch, sudden wash of adrenaline pounding into his brain, Xander twists and kicks out with one leg to send a light blue robed minion sailing into a patch of burning sunlight. And without stopping his fluid grace, he *slams* the wooden stake into the chest of the next minion. Bright red hot blood floods over his hand and splashes into his face, but all he sees is *dust* exploding around him.

Yanking back the stake, he turns on the balls of his feet and punches out with his empty fist and he feels the delightful stinging contact of flesh upon flesh and *screams* fill his ears and he begins to laugh in joy at the lovely sound.

The older and more dangerous minions, the ones dressed in white rush towards him with death in their yellow eyes. Grinning widely at the intense *fun* he's having, Xander leaps over the back of the couch away from them and *thrusts* his stake into another minion. Hot wet red dust splashes over him and drips onto the floor and the coppery scent of life *slams* into his nose and this *hot* taste fills his mouth and his teeth *ache* and he *wants* and *yearns* for his Mistress to come and take him away from here and to drink him and hurt him and bathe him in her scent.

And then strong hands grab him tightly from behind and pin his arms to his sides as his stake is *yanked* free of his fist. Mindless panic wells up inside him and he struggles against the tight bands of flesh that have captured him and he tries to explain. To *make* them understand.

"NOOOO! I *have* to kill them and stop Her Sire from opening up Hell and killing Buffy and Giles and you *have* to let me *go*! They're *evil*! Can't you see that? Can't you see?"

There is a sharp small pin-prick against his arm and he feels chemically induced lassitude swamp his body immediately and he struggles against it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he becomes aware that he *wasn't* dusting vampires, that he is in a mental hospital's day-room and that he has just beaten up a few fellow patients and violently murdered a few more. But that thought seems unreal to him somehow and so he continues to struggle and try to escape even as the world turns fuzzy and a deep soft blackness rises up from the drugs to consume him.

With a shudder, he falls limp in his captor's arms and he knows no more.

*****