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

And this installation is dedicated to the fan club - Hi Dawnmeister! :)

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A loud banging sound startled Spike awake a few hours later. Sneaking a peek from his hiding place, he saw Anya had arrived, as had a shipment of something. She was whacking away at a crate with a crowbar with much gusto but little success. *This would be a good time to have a little one-on-one with the girl,* he thought, moving forward, then scurrying back again when he saw Giles running over.

“Ah, yes, Anya, perhaps you should let me handle this one.” Anya flashed him a look that would surely have killed him where he stood if she still wielded that kind of power, then dropped the crowbar on the crate in a gesture of acquiescence.

“Fine. It’s probably full of more chicken feet anyway. You should let me do the ordering, especially if you keep staying out all night with Xander.”

“Anya, I did not stay out all night with-”

“And you returned him damaged! You let Buffy damage him, Giles.” Anya looked more worried than angry now, Spike noted. “It’s bad enough he might be eaten by vampires or ripped apart by monsters, but now I have to worry he might be killed by his own friends!”

“Anya, did Xander say he was badly hurt?” At Giles’ expression of concern, Anya sighed heavily.

“No, he said he was fine,” she conceded reluctantly. “He said a few hours sleep and some aspirin and he would be unbroken enough to have sex.” Spike smirked when he saw the look of long-suffering on Giles’ face at this revelation. Deciding that it was best to ignore this latest information overload from his assistant, he set about prying the lid off the crate. From the pouting expression on Anya’s face, she was not quite ready to let it go. “That’s not the point. I don’t want Xander to have to recover, I want him unbroken all the time! You’re in charge of Buffy, tell her to stop hurting him, especially in the good places.” Moving away a bit, she grumbled more softly, mostly to herself, “I don’t see why you can’t be the one in the suit, it is your job after all. But no, Giles is too old and fragile, let’s put Anya’s boyfriend in danger instead.” With a final thrust born as much from desperation as determination, Giles lifted the lid from the crate and began pulling items from inside.

“Anya, some of the things in the crate should not go on the floor, can you take them to the loft for me, please? Thank you ever so much.” Lifting three small winged female idols from the crate, he placed them in Anya’s arms. Anya took a look at them and gave Giles a questioning look.

“You do realize that someone could summon Etruscan hell-demonesses with these. We don’t have enough problems with our own Hellgoddess right now? You want more?”

“Precisely why I ordered them, actually. I hope to study them in order to possibly find new ways to defeat...please, just put them upstairs, Anya. I know what I’m doing.” Anya’s face said she believed the opposite, but she dutifully headed to the loft. Giles called after her. “And mind you, be careful with them. The banishment ritual for Tuchulcha alone would take at least a fortnight.” Anya stomped up the stairs, muttering to herself.

“As if there’s something you can tell me about Tuchulcha. Like you even know Tuchulcha. I know Tuchulcha, I’ve hung out with Tuchulcha, I‘ve invoked her in vengeance and, and, and I helped polish her beak once. We were practically friends, so don’t tell me-” Anya was cut off by a sudden hand over her mouth, startling her so much she nearly did drop the idols. A very familiar voice whispered in her ear.

“Hush now, pet. Let’s be very quiet-oof!” Anya’s elbow in his ribs prompted Spike to let go of her, and she whirled around to face him.

“Spike! What are you doing up here?” Spike held his hands up in surrender, eyeing the idols nervously.

“Mind putting those someplace safe first? Summoning an Etruscan hell-bitch isn’t exactly what I had in mind for today.” Keeping both eyes suspiciously on Spike all the while, Anya placed the idols gently on a low shelf. A sudden realization hit her, and she immediately marched over to him and smacked him hard on the shoulder.

“Hey! What was that-”

“It’s all your fault! You were the one who had to go and try to kill Buffy. You made her so mad she injured Xander instead of you. He could have wound up sterile!” Spike was about to protest the trying-to-kill-Buffy part, but instead chuckled softly at the sterile-Xander part. Seeing she was about to attack again, he hastily removed the crystal from his pocket and held it in front of her face. “What are you-”

“You Will Forget.” Checking to make certain that she was in the trance, Spike tried to work more quickly this time. He was mindful of Giles moving about downstairs, putting away items and preparing the shop to open. It was only a matter of time before he began to wonder what was taking Anya so long, though at the moment he was probably counting his blessings. Spike removed the second talisman and held it for a brief second, wondering if the sensation would ever grow less enthralling. Placing it upon the girl’s forehead, he carefully moved into the embrace, finding holding Anya much more pleasurable than holding the Watcher had been. He briefly buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent curiously. She smelled of wine and pomegranates and Ivory soap, a commingling of ancient myth and modern conveniences. As he began the entreaty, he once again heard Lydia’s voice blending with his own:

“I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true.”

As Lydia’s voice in his head grew silent once more, Spike thought, *This is too strange. What did that witch of a Watcher do to me?* Then he closed his eyes and thought about Anya. *You were a beautiful, terrifying demon, and as a mortal you’re a real spitfire. I’d miss you.* The fragrance of sage and rosemary again let him know of his success, and he released her, throwing the Cloak of Darkness about his shoulders and retreating to a dark corner. Unless someone was specifically looking for him, he knew the Cloak would prevent him from being seen. Down below he heard the door to the shop open and Willow call out to Giles. *Good, that should keep him occupied until she comes out of it. And maybe I’ll get a chance to put the whammy on Teen Witch, too.* Though he continued to watch Anya, he strained to hear the conversation below.

“Ah, Willow, good. I’ve just received a shipment of Cunningham herbal guides, do you mind helping me set up the display?”

“Of course not, Giles, but where’s the paid help? Off cuddling the money?” Giles laughed shortly, a bit nervous.

“Anya’s definitely around. I’m afraid that she’s rather cross with me at the moment, on account of what happened to Xander.”

“Cross? Anya? That’s hard to- oh my goddess, Xander?” Willow’s voice had lost its sarcastic edge and now was on the perimeter of panic. “Something happened to Xander? Is he all right? No one called me, why didn’t you call me, Giles?”

“No, no, Willow, Xander’s fine. He was helping Buffy train last night, and well, what with the Spike situation...you do know about that?” Willow must have nodded, because he continued. “Well, I guess it wasn’t the best plan to have Xander take the place of the training dummy last night.”

“Oh, I see...wait, Xander wore the puffy suit last night and Buffy didn’t call me?” Spike’s attention was diverted by Anya’s sudden movement. She swayed for a moment, looking around her in confusion.

“What am I doing up here?” she wondered aloud. Spike stiffened as she looked directly at him for a moment. He briefly feared that perhaps his Cloak of Darkness had a flaw, as had been known to happen on occasion, but she turned her back to him and strode towards the front of the loft, looking down at Giles and Willow. Spike leaned back in relief. *That’s two Scoobies down, only five more to go. And they bloody well owe me good!*

“Giles?” Anya called tentatively down, still feeling strange and disoriented.

“Yes, Anya, are you quite finished up there?” Anya was about to tell Giles she had no idea why she was even in the loft, when she registered that Willow was helping Giles and the familiar sense of anxiety about her place took hold. *I can’t let Giles know I don’t remember, he might lose confidence in me.* Instead she smiled brightly and nodded.

“Yes, all done! Did you need anything while I’m here?” Giles shook his head bemusedly, amazed as always at her mercurial moods.

“Come on down and help us here, it’s nearly time to open.” Spike watched her climb down, pleased with his success but already working on a new quandary: finding a way to entice Willow to come to the loft. *Too bad Lydia didn’t give me any summoning spells, * he mused ruefully. *But maybe there’s something up here I can use.* Picking up a nearby tome, he began leafing through it with fresh determination.

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Meanwhile, back in London, Lydia Stokes-Martin wearily turned the key in the lock of her flat, and entered without even bothering to switch on the lights. She didn’t even know it was possible to feel this exhausted. Yet as she kicked off her shoes, she also felt more alive than ever before, almost giddy with triumph. She had already been to the seat of the Watcher’s Council and returned the Santiago Codex, It appeared that the illusion she had created to keep its absence from being noticed had neither been detected nor tampered with. All in all, things had gone better than she would have thought possible, and she now held out a small glimmer of hope that things might actually turn out. She moved throughout the darkened residence, throwing her coat on her sofa without needing to see it. Yawning, she had almost made it to her bedroom when sudden awareness quickened her heartbeat and halted her movement.

She was not alone. Someone, or something, was in her flat with her.