Joss & Co. own all these characters. I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes, because I am very, very evil :)

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Spike stared at Lydia speechless for a moment, then burst into laughter. She watched him silently, putting the Santiago Codex down and biting her bottom lip in vexation. *I may have lost him now. I must convince him that Buffy Summers is doomed unless I have his help.* Finally his laughter calmed enough that he was able to speak again.

"You want me to save the Scooby Gang? You must be daft." Lydia impulsively reached for his hand. Their gazes locked yet again, her growing desperation meeting his cool amusement.

"Please, just let me explain the prophecy and the counter-prophecy, and tell you what you would need to do. Then decide if you will help or not. That is all I ask." After a long moment, he gave a curt nod, and she released both his hand and the breath she had not realized she was holding. She again lift the manuscript, turning slightly away. She was only vaguely aware of his movements as she rapidly skimmed and flipped pages.

"Let me read you the part of the prophecy--oh, I really should have bookmarked the passage back in London--well, there wasn't enough time--anyway, there are still a few things that I am not yet--oh, wait, there, yes, here it is--oh my!" Lydia looked up and gasped as she saw that Spike had removed his t-shirt and was now barechested, toweling himself off with a black towel and looking at her expectantly. *I hadn't even realized he was wet, though of course, with the weather.* She could feel the heat of the blush creeping across her face, and buried her head back in the text in her now unsteady hands. "Y-y-yes, well, as I was saying, here is the passage that details the prophecy. It refers to the Slayer, and to seven `Followers' of the Slayer. At least, that was how we had originally translated it, but I believe that `Friends' is a better rendering." As Lydia watched surreptitiously over the book, Spike nonchalantly tossed the towel on the back of the chair and sat, stretching his legs.

"Makes her sound like Snow White and the bleedin' dwarves," he snorted. "So go on, pet, tell me a story. It is all cryptic and rhyming and such? Most prophecies are, give me a bloody headache."

"Yes, well, some of it is a bit obscure. And I'm afraid Aldric, who did the main translation, does have something of a fixation with rhyming. No matter. I have a sense of the identity of most of the `Friends', but it would be helpful if you concurred. You do know Buffy and the others, much better than I do." Spike made a gesture that indicated she should hurry.

"Fine, luv. Get on with it." Lydia looked at the passage, cleared her throat once, and began to read:

"A Slayer who from death restored
Though cheated Fate did cut her cord
Fate demands she pay the cost
Seven souls for one Death lost
Seven Friends will pay the price
Seven Friends, Fate's sacrifice
One not a father, but her his daughter
One who as a demon slaughtered
One witch of fire, one of earth
One a sister, not of birth
One a jester, her soul's brother
One who loves her like no other
Seven Friends do her surround
All at once they are struck down
Slayer cannot fight this death
Naturally they lose their breath
Sorrow then her only friend
Slayer surely meets her end"

Lydia stopped and looked at Spike. His eyes were closed, and for a second she thought he might have gone to sleep. Annoyance flared, then vanished as he broke the silence with an unneeded exhalation of breath.

"Well then, `One not a father, but her his daughter' - that would be the Watcher, Rupert."

"Yes, that is what I thought as well. `One who as a demon slaughtered?'"

"That must be Junior's girl, Anya. Works at the shop, used to be Anyanka, patron of scorned women. Piece of work."

"The vengeance demon. I remember. Now `One witch of fire, one of earth'-"

"-would be the lover-wiccas," Spike finished matter-of-factly. Lydia looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, then grew flustered yet again.

"Q-quite. Willow and T-Tara. Yes, that is what I thought. I`ve not been able to figure the next, `One a sister, not of birth.'"

"Oh, that's the Nibblet." Off her blank look, he added. "Dawn. Slayer's sister."

"But that doesn't make sense, she is her birth-sister, is she not?" Spike opened his mouth to correct her, then changed his mind and shrugged instead.

"You asked for my opinion, I told you it means Dawn. The next is obviously the whelp. Boy thinks he's funny." *`Her soul's brother.' Bit much, isn't it. Bleedin' prophecies give everyone delusions of grandeur.*

"Alexander. I concur. But the last one is so vaguely written, even for a prophecy, I have to say it has me quite flummoxed. `One who loves her like no other.' I thought perhaps it was the man she had been seeing, but I understand he left." Spike was struggling with his emotions. *It's me! No one else could love her the way I do! It has to be...but it's not. I know who it is, but it can't be. It can't be him, not him!* He slumped forward, muttering into his hands.

"It's the poof."

"Pardon me? What was that?" Lydia moved closer, as he looked up at her. She was shocked by the abject misery she saw on his face.

"It's Angel."

 

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