Disclaimer: 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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"Angelus. Are you certain?” Spike merely stood up, walking away. Lydia could see his anguish clearly in the line of his back. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes, lit one and took a long drag before turning to face her.

“You don’t know what it’s like, the two of them. All angst and guilt and blood and passion.” He spit out the last word with bitter relish. “Trust me, the prophecy is definitely talking about my dear old grandsire.” For the umpteenth time since she set foot in Sunnydale that day, Lydia Stokes-Martin found herself in a position for which her Watcher’s training had not prepared her. Vampires were to be staked, not helped with relationship issues. She opened her mouth to tell him that they needed to focus on the task at hand.

“And what is it like for you? The...feelings...you have for her.” That wasn’t what she meant to say. She couldn’t believe the words had actually come from her mouth, but watched in fascination as his expression softened.

“It’s painful, exquisite torment. It’s against the laws of God and man, I know, but when I see her, if I needed to breathe, I couldn’t, you know? I love her with all that I am.” He took another drag off of his cigarette, then stomped it out, a gesture of finality. “But so does the poof, and since you came to me, I’m assuming you have good reason to believe that I‘m not the ‘Friend’ in the prophecy.”

“Yes, we do. The contra-prophecy refers to the ‘Slayer’s Dark Knight.’ From the description, and my...observances...I believed it could be you. Now I am certain that it is.” Spike raised an eyebrow in an expression of detached interest, but Lydia could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes. She lowered her eyes to the manuscript and began flipping pages, searching for a new passage.

“Dark Knight, eh? I like that. Makes me sound all romantic. Sounds like something Dru might have called...” Spike trailed off, his recent encounter with Drusilla and Buffy haunting his thoughts. He came back to the present with a start when Lydia began reading.

“Slayer’s torment need not be
Her Dark Knight can set her free
His love rejected when expressed
Unknown to her he meets this test
Seven Friends their enemy face
He saves their lives with his embrace”

Lydia stopped reading and looked at Spike. His expression was puzzled, then as comprehension set in it changed to one of remarkable disgust.

“What? No!” He began pacing back in forth as if to somehow elude her words. “That’s...horrible! Unless...it doesn’t mean...” He stopped short and looked at her hopefully, but the small shake of her head set him pacing again. “Embrace them. Hug the Scoobies! Now that’s just wrong...and Angel! That’s never going to happen, never, never, never-”

“It’s a bit complicated, but yes, the ritual does require that you hold them. Individually, not as a group-” Spike stomped over to her and got in her face, his eyes wild.

“What part of NEVER do you not understand?!” Lydia’s expression mixed sympathy, resolve and barely contained amusement. *I really liked it better when she was afraid of me.* He walked away to resume his pacing, slightly calmer. “Besides, it’s not like they would let me, they’d stake me a hundred times before they’d let me get that close.”

“Ah, well, there is a solution to that.” Lydia reached into her overnight bag again and removed a long chain necklace that had a large crystal pendant. The crystal was teardrop-shaped and had a purplish cast.

“Jewelry, pet? You shouldn’t have,” he teased, eyeing the crystal speculatively. *Good think Harmony left, she’d be squealin’ and prattlin’ on right now. This kind of thing is right up her dippy alley.* Lydia held the crystal before him triumphantly.

“This is a Stone of Mnemosyne. It’s a memory crystal. By holding it in front of someone’s face and saying...well, I’d better not say it now, had I?” Laughing lightly, she placed the hand with the crystal behind her back before continuing. “You make sure they’re looking at it, and say, ‘You Will Forget.’ It causes them to go into a trance for five minutes, during which time you can complete the ritual. Afterwards, when they come out of the trance, they will have forgotten the five minutes before the ritual as well. For them it will be like waking from a daydream.”

“And the ritual, the one that I am not going to do? What is it, sing bloody Kumbayah and give them a hug?”

“It’s very simple, actually.” Lydia decided to ignore his sarcasm, and instead reached into her bag and pulled out an ornately carved wooden box. It was narrow and not very deep, and a bit less than a foot long. She snapped it open, showing him seven discs. The discs were approximately an inch in diameter and so thin they were nearly translucent. They were a yellowish green color and seemed to pulse with some kind of energy. Spike touched one tentatively as she spoke and found it warmed his entire hand. “These are the Talismans of the Amagandar. The Amagandar are protective spirits. Once you have used the Stone of Mnemosyne, you place one of these on the forehead of the Friend. Then you embrace them, and make a petition to the Amagandar, the words of which I will teach you. If the disc disappears, and you smell the scent of sage and rosemary, the ritual worked and the curse has been lifted from that person.”

“Sounds lovely. I’m sure it’s the best ritual to never be performed by me.” His flat refusal caused Lydia’s temper to suddenly flare.

“Need I remind you what is at stake here? It is not simply whether or not these people will die! Although they will die, I assure you. Perfectly normal and possibly horrible deaths, all within minutes of each other. But as awful as that is, it is the Slayer I am most concerned with. Her future is at risk as well.”

“So let me see if I have this all straight. I do nothing, all of the dreaded Scoobies, including my poof of a sire, die possibly nasty deaths in a manner that in no way can be traced to me, causing the Slayer who I have an unholy and unnatural love for to suffer agonizing grief and probably die, thus releasing me from the hell of loving her. Or, I can risk my unlife and limb on a quest to save them, hug them like I care, and go about doing this in utter anonymity, with neither them nor the Slayer ever knowing one thing about it. Does that sum everything up nice and tidy?”

Looking at him, Lydia knew that he was going to turn her down. *I do still have one card to play, I was just hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Heaven forgive me for this.*

“You really think her death will release you?” Lydia slowly moved closer to him, never taking her eyes from his face. Underneath the tough posture, she could see the deep hurt and vulnerability that was his broken heart.

“I think it would be a good start.” Lydia stood before him now, her eyes shining with sadness. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t let that happen.” Spike suddenly gasped and doubled over, his mind flooding with images --

“Oh God, it hurts! Oh God, Buffy! Oh, make it stop...you! What did you do? What have you done to me?”

“It’s an empathy spell. The images are from your own mind, they’re not what would necessarily happen. But while you’re having them, you feel what they feel, and they cannot be stopped unless you agree to fulfill the contra-prophecy.”

“You...horrible little...fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” At his words, the flashes of images and the pain accompanying them ceased, and he sank to his knees in relief. To his surprise, Lydia kneeled before him and gathered him in a hug. After a moment, he allowed himself to relax in her arms, surprised at her strength.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry to have done that to you, but there isn’t much time, and I’ve come such a long way...there’s no one else who can do this. You’re the only one. And while they won’t know it was you, they’ll be alive, won’t they? And I’ll know. If you want, I’ll record it in my journal so that future generations of Watchers will know as well.” He felt warm wetness on his bare shoulder, and realized it was her tears. Then suddenly she released her hold on him, and he was surprised how reluctant he was to move out of her arms. It had been a long time since he had been held by a woman who wasn’t insane or vacuous.

“Won’t that be a problem, since you’re not supposed to be here?” Lydia shrugged, keeping her expression neutral.

“No one will read my journal until after I’m dead or if I become an active Watcher for a Slayer, which is highly unlikely now...I will write about this in my journal, Spike. You let me worry about what will happen after that.” Spike regarded her for a long moment.

“I need you to know...before, when you did that spell on me...”

“Yes, I am s-s-sor-” He cut her off with his fingers on her lips, making a sshh-ing sound.

“I was going to agree. Before the spell. I know I was makin’ noise like I wasn’t, and honestly, I considered saying no, but I was going to say yes. Not just for the Slayer. Little sis I like all right, don’t want baddies gettin’ to her. And the witches have been all right to me most of the time. Not saying as I care for any of them, at all mind you, not a bit, but they do help take care of Buffy. She needs them around.” Tears spilled from Lydia’s eyes once more, and he wiped them away with this hand.

“I w-wish I had known. It’s such a horrid spell. But time is so short-”

“You keep sayin’ that, luv. Just how near are we to this prophecy being fulfilled, anyway?”

“Three days.”