When did the lines get so blurry? In Africa maybe? Before then? It was always so easy - black and white, bad and good, demon and human. But, somehow, the walls and lines that had seemed so strong and true had bent and bowed, slipped and crumbled. And when it was all done, when the smoke cleared, it wasn't too much of a surprise for Xander to find that sometimes humans with souls allegedly intact were not always on the shiny, happy, halo-wearing aide of the equation, and the demons and other non-primate descendants weren't always wearing the pointy tails and wielding pitchforks.

It was Dana who'd done it - rather, Spike's interaction with her. When Spike took her hand in the gentlest of grips and pressed her fingers against his arm to show her that he had healed, Xander opened his one eye and saw twice as much as he ever had, and he saw good. And for the first time, he wondered just exactly why he'd always looked at himself and looked at Spike and thought "better" the other way around.