The new dawn will be the end of the old. The champion will rise, throwing off the shroud of night. The light of peace shall shine through him. –Prophecies Of The Unhesines
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“What did you see, Dawnie?”

“I don’t know, Buffy,” Dawn squeaked, “I don’t know!” she looked again at Spike’s face, and was startled at how flat and unchanged it was, as if he were carved in stone, “I only saw it for a second. But, it was there. I know it was,” a sob caught in her throat, “Maybe he can do it again. Spike,” Dawn begged, leaning in closely in the dim room; the blinds and shades were drawn to make Spike as comfortable as he could be, “please try. Please?” she grasped his empty hand in hers once again, “I’m here, Spike,” she whispered, “We both are, Buffy and I, and we’re not going anywhere. Squeeze my hand again. Tell me you’re still in there, and that you can hear me. Please?”

I’m here, Little Bit. I’m listening. It’s a whisper. Can’t hear you too well, but I am trying. I’m here. I’m treading water… fighting just to stay…keep my head. I’m here, just out of reach. I can reach you, if I try. But, every time I try, it just gets stronger. It pushes me…makes me…so tired. Feels…no more. Can’t. Want to, so much. I love…Oh God…No. I won’t…I can’t!

Dawn waited patently, but when nothing happened to show her that Spike understood her, Dawn began to think that maybe she had imagined it. Maybe she just wanted him so much that she was seeing things and making things up in her head.

Buffy could hear Dawn crying softly, “Please?” her hand brushed his cheek, “Spike please, don’t leave me?”

Dawn, please…don’t…no! Don’t! I won’t let you! You want me? Find me! I’ll go so deep…so much I want…so much…so…tired…

“Dawn, he wouldn’t leave you,” Buffy whispered, “He loves you too much. He’s just tired,” she smiled a weak smile, “You look tired too,” she put a hand on Dawn’s shoulder, and felt the tears fighting to escape, “Why don’t you try to rest. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

Dawn shook her head, “Uh uh. I’m not leaving.”

“Didn’t think you would. I had to try though. Can you get the bandages and the iodine? Willow will know where to find the first aid kit. ”

Dawn felt herself start to shake, from both fear and exhaustion, and she let out a shuddering breath, suddenly unsure of her footing, or even if her legs would hold her, “Okay,” she said, unwilling to take her eyes from Spike, even to acknowledge her request, “I’ll go get the stuff,” she said as she reluctantly let go of Spike’s hand and turned for the door.

But, his empty palm did not have to wait to be filled again as Buffy quickly stood in the gap her sister left. She sat down lightly in the Parsons Chair and waited for the soft click of the latch.

Once she was sure Dawn was out of sight Buffy was able to see what had been done to him. The sight of his swollen face brought tears to her eyes and she squeezed his hand in a gesture of empathy, hoping he would respond. When he did not, she looked at his still, expressionless eyes and said wearily, “You know, I understand. Giles said Travers had planned to do horrible things to you. If he did even half of what he’d planned to…” she winced as she slowly removed the gauze from his wrist, exposing the skin underneath. She gasped at the sight of it, “Oh God, Spike! I don’t know how…I wouldn’t blame you if you stayed hidden for good,” she ghosted her fingers over the skin the manacles had chaffed.

It took everything in her not to sob uncontrollably, “I’ll take care of that,” the skin was waxen, and the abrasions wore through the first two layers of skin. Buffy knew that if he were human, the skin would be bleeding and as red as raw meat.

What must you have gone through? Were you scared? Did you think I wouldn’t find you?

She needed to connect with him, let him know he wasn’t alone. Almost without thought, she gently put his palm to her lips and placed a soft kiss there.

She looked up into his passive, glazed eyes and felt her heart break. She didn’t know how long it would take, but she would find him. That was a promise. It didn’t matter what she had to do, or what Travers had done to him. She was going to find him, and bring him back.

I’ll always find you, Spike. Please, know that.
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With Quentin Travers dead access to the Council’s archives was relatively simple to get. And, as the new head of the Council, no one would question his presence there.

The only trouble was that the Council’s archives were in London, and he was not. With Spike in such a precarious state, he did not feel that it was safe to leave for any length of time. Certainly not the time that he would need to do proper research. So, for the time being, Rupert Giles had to make due with the scant information that Lydia Chalmers had been able to pilfer.

As he poured through Travers’s files and personal papers, a picture began to emerge. A picture of pure evil, an evil more undiluted than any on the Hellmouth.

The picture he saw was of a man obsessed with purifying the Slayer line to the point that all human vestiges are weeded out, and only the killer remains. Travers’s perfect Slayer would have no moral compass to guide her. There would be no sense of right and wrong. For this Slayer, there would only be the kill.

There would be no room, in this Slayer’s world for the possibilities that come with all beings, be it demon or not- the possibility for change and redemption.

The prophecies of this religious sect, the Unhesines, foretold of a great time of upheaval and change. A time of great peace; a time when the Council and its methods, indeed, perhaps even the Slayer herself may be unnecessary.

And, the linchpin of the prophecy seems to be a demon that, of its own volition, seeks to restore the soul that once was lost to it.

Along with this, extremely unsettling notion, there were of course, the origin myths of the Slayer herself. Some of which Giles knew, others he did not.

Quentin’s research had unearthed a class of demon older than recorded time, even older than Glory had been, and the Hellgod’s existence pre-dated the written word. This demon came before the spoken word.

This demon, according to the writings of the Unhesines, was utilized in the creation of the very first Slayer. And, it seemed to be Quentin’s intention, to use the prophecy that seemed to be inevitable to wipe out the peace that might be had, and in so doing, create an uncorrupted, at least in Travers’s way of thinking, Slayer, and make her the perfect soldier in the fight against the evil that was in the world.

Oh dear Lord, tell me he didn’t actually do it.

Giles was grateful for the small interruption of a knock on his office door. He rubbed his eyes relieved to be rid of the pressure that his spectacles caused the bridge of his nose, even for a short time, “Come,” he whispered.

Buffy stepped quietly into the room, “Giles,” she sighed, “I’ve done what I can,” she shook her head, her eyes downcast, “His fangs are…The outside…it’s the worst I’ve ever seen Giles, and I’ve seen so much. Dawn thinks there may be something…else with Spike. Something trying to kill him. I don’t want to believe it but…Giles, I don’t know how he…” her voice trailed off, “I’m only in my twenties, Giles. And, I’ve seen too much,” she looked up at her Watcher with wide, begging eyes, “He hasn’t moved, or spoken in three days, Giles,” Buffy’s mouth became a grim line, “He’s what, one hundred and thirty now? Spike’s seen more destruction than I ever will, and he’s always been a…a force, Giles. Always. Nothing slows him down, yet, he’s still as stone. How much has to happen before it’s too much? Before you just…stop? How much before he goes completely insane?”

Giles closed his eyes and sighed, “Dawn may be correct.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in shock, “What?”

Giles’s voice quavered as he explained, “In Quentin’s writings, I found reference to a…disembodied spirit, older than the spoken word. Certain shamans used it as a means to control aspects of one’s personality. It is called an Ukesolrill. It is an emotional leech, if you will. The spirit can be summoned and attached to a beings essence. Make no mistake, Buffy, this spirit is pure evil. Once it is attached to a host being, the Ukesolrill begins to live off of the host’s emotions, feeding off of them until it is strong enough to control the host. The more emotions the host feels, the stronger the Ukesolrill becomes, weakening the host in the process. For a creature such as Spike…I imagine it is very painful.”

“Are you saying that this leech thing is in Spike?”

“I’m afraid so, Buffy.”

Buffy set her chin in determination, “Then we get it out,” she stated it like it was a foregone conclusion. And it was, for her, “How do we get it out Giles?”

Giles shook his head, dreading his next words, “Buffy, once the Ukesolrill is introduced, a symbiotic relationship is formed between it an the host. In time… one cannot exist without the other. If we remove it we may kill Spike.”

“Oh God!” Buffy gasped.
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