"Take a look to the sky
Just before you die
It is the last time he will
Blackened roar massive roar
Fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul
With a ruthless cry
Stranger now, are his eyes,
To this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone
Except the will to be
Now they see what will be,
Blinded eyes to see

For whom the bell tolls..." (Metallica "Ride The Lightning" 1984)


“Let’s go to work,” Angel had said, and that’s what they had done. Their meager group of four warriors, one already wounded and dying, stood and fought. Evil was pouring down on them from a vicious swirling portal in the sky, crackling with energy that would arc out, causing dark purple and black lighting to strike the ground at their feet.

Before long, Gunn was down and not getting up, and Angel had finally gotten his dragon. Despite the many hours they had been fighting, Spike knew that they would not win-that the messages for help Angel had left for Buffy and the others had been ignored. Reinforcements were not coming; they didn’t seem to care enough to come.

Arms tired and soul weary, Spike hesitated for just one second, but it was enough. This time he wasn’t fast or strong enough and his weapon wasn’t sharp enough. Spike simply wanted a little of the peace that had been denied him the first two times he had died. As his world went black an irrelevant thought swam through Spike’s mind.

“Third time’s the charm…Bloody hell I’ve died more times than Buffy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Three days later)

Staring at Angel, the Sunnydale survivors looked on in shock, horrified as Angel told them of his attempt at bringing Wolfram and Hart to its knees. He spoke of the fight like it had been his greatest achievement, how he had nearly single handedly stopped the flow of evil that the Senior Partners had unleashed. He barely mentioned any of his old crew, only stating that he had seen Gunn die during the fight and that Illyria had closed the portal with her life. He failed to explain why the God-King had sacrificed her life, never once saying that with tears flowing down pale blue cheeks she had cried out for Wesley as she had died. To Angel none of it was important because when the portal had closed Angel was given his reward.

He excitedly told the group how the Powers had bestowed their precious gift of humanity upon him-now that he had proven that he was the true Champion-conveniently forgetting the part the others had played in stopping Wolfram and Hart. Finished with his heroic tale, silence greeted Angel’s narrative as he waited for the praise that was sure to come his way.

“What about Spike?” Dawn asked, blue eyes impossibly wide as she looked over the man she detested with everything she was.

“I didn’t see him, but he’s probably dead,” Angel said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “He’s not important anyway.”

“So you don’t know if he’s still undead or not?” Xander asked slowly, pointedly making sure that Angel knew exactly what he was asking.

“No, but there is no way he could have survived,” Angel answered, sounding slightly irritated that they kept asking him about Spike. And why was Buffy not jumping into his arms? Seeing the shocked look on Buffy’s face Angel consoled himself with the knowledge that his turning human was a lot to take in, but once she had, Buffy would be by his side the way they were destined to be.

“We have to find him,” Dawn said, her voice strong and determined. A light had entered her eyes that reminded Angel a little of Spike and a part of him mourned that fact that Spike had had such an influence on her young life. Buffy should have known better than to let him get so close to her sister.

“Of course, Dawn,” Willow replied. “I just need something of his to perform the search.”

“Okay,” Dawn said as she hurriedly got to her feet. “I have one of his shirts in my drawer. He gave it to me after…” Unable to finish, Dawn ran from the room, tears already streaming down her face.

“Xander, gather up the slayers and tell them what‘s happening,” Giles ordered as he moved to help Willow gather the necessary supplies. “Even if Willow’s spell works we still need to survey the battle grounds, that way we won’t miss anything.”

“On it G-man,” Xander said, with a parting wave of his hand, he headed out the doors of the conference room. He had slayers to find and possibly a future friend to save.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked, confusion and no small amount of frustration showing clearly on his face. They should be congratulating him not rushing off to try and find the bleached impostor. Angel was the champion, not Spike. “Why are you guys going through all of this trouble? It’s just Spike! I say we let him rot in whatever hell he has landed in.”

“Angel,” Giles said, his voice frigid. Staring the newly restored man straight in the eyes, Giles spoke quietly and with deadly intent, “Do not presume to speak for us on matters you could not possibly understand.”

Leaving the stunned ex-vampire standing in the rapidly empting conference room, Angel let his mournful brown eyes land on the quiet face of his true love. Buffy’s eyes were dull, as if an important part of her had simply gone out.

“Buffy,” Angel said, his voice pleading. “We can be together now.”

Looking her at her former love, Buffy was barely able to keep all of her pain and regret from filling her voice. Now was not the time. They would find Spike and then she would be able to make Spike believe her. She would spend the rest of her life making sure he never doubted her again.

“No, Angel,” Buffy said with a slight shake of her head. “We’ll never be together, not now, not ever.” Standing, she turned and exited the room, a small bit of hope refusing to die within her. Maybe, just maybe they would be able to find Spike alive, and if not was it selfish of her to wish that he were trapped in a hell dimension so that she could have Willow resurrect him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alley lay in total darkness, seemingly devoid of any life. No one seemed to notice the bodies of the fallen warriors-both good and bad-that lay scattered throughout the tiny space. Slowly, a slivery glow lit up the sky above the massacre, causing a soft wind to pick up and blow dust and debris around the alley’s cluttered floor.

The gentle sound of beating wings drifted through the night, as a massive winged figure landed on the ground. A long serpentine neck stretched out bringing its head down to nudge at a crumpled blonde figure lying on the ground at the end of the alley. Two more nudges confirmed that the blonde was not waking on his own and so the large beast gently rose into the air, catching the body up in its massive claws and cradling him as a mother would her child. Flying upwards, the beast disappeared through the silvery portal-leaving no trace of it having ever been there. All that remained were the tattered remains of the man’s coat. It was this coat that the hooded figure found. Picking it up from the ground, a look of distaste showing on its bone white face, it turned to the large suited man and handed him the ruined garment.

“Hess’s gonessss, ssssirrrr,” the figure hissed.

“Find him,” the man growled. “The Senior Partners will not have this one getting away.”

“Yyyeeesssss, sssiiiirrr.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no pain; only a gentle warmth that flowed through his body causing him to sigh in relief and pleasure. Even the pain from his guilt was gone, leaving him feeling lighter and surprisingly more like himself.

Opening his eyes, Spike was shocked to see that he was lying on a pile of soft torn cloth. It looked to have been made into a large nest of some kind. It was certainly too large for one person and for a brief moment, as Spike took in the enormous cave walls surrounding him, he was a bit scared. Whatever used this mass of fabric as a bed had to be something Spike wanted no part of.

Rising up on unsteady legs, the material beneath his bare feet making it difficult to stand, Spike started to climb his way out of the large nest. When the massive dragon’s head suddenly appeared around the slight bend in the cave before him, Spike fell back onto his rear, a high pitched shriek emanating from his throat.

Scrambling to his feet, Spike watched with growing panic as the large beast glided towards him, surprisingly agile and silent for such a large creature. It was definitely not like any dragon Spike had ever seen; the whole two times he had actually seen one that is. This one was bigger than the other two and actually quite beautiful. Blood red scales covered its massive bulk and its leathery wings went from dark red to glittering black as the torches lining the cave walls caused the dim light to dance across the dragon’s scale-covered body. A beautiful red stone shone brightly from between large dark eyes that assessed Spike with a cunning intelligence that had been absent in the two dragons Spike had seen previously. If Spike didn’t know any better he would have sworn that the dragon was laughing at him but, he had no way of being sure.

“Oh I am laughing at you,” a smooth voice said, echoing through the depths of Spike’s mind and causing him to fall to his rear once again. Looking up at the dragon, Spike was shocked to find amusement shining back at him from its gentle dark gaze. Tilting its head to the side the dragon seemed to be studying him with a curious intensity, as if it could not quite believe what its own eyes were showing it.

“I would have thought you bigger,” the dragon ventured, in its smooth, slightly-hollow sounding voice.

“Get the bloody hell out of my head!” Spike growled as he shook his head in order to dispel the dragon from his mind.

“I am sorry for the discomfort this is causing you Father,” the dragon replied with a slight apologetic bow to its great form. “But you do not speak the language of my kind and this is the only way I have of communicating with you.”

“Wait a bloody minute here!” Spike said as he finally managed to stand on wobbly feet. Pointing an accusing finger at the large beast, Spike leveled the dragon with his best ‘Big Bad’ glare. It did not seem to be working but it was all that Spike had left at the moment.

“Look, Draco,” Spike growled as he shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the dragon’s intruding voice. “I may not know who you are or where the hell I am, but I do know one thing at this moment and it’s this; I am no one’s bloody ‘father’!”

Head tilting to the side once more, the dragon lowered its head and took a gentle sniff of the fuming vampire standing before it. This slight sniff caused Spike to lurch forward as the pull of the air into the dragon’s lungs dragged him along. Stumbling, Spike somehow managed not to end up flat on his face-he did land painfully on his knees instead, causing a string of colorful curses to flow from his mouth.

“You do not know?” the dragon replied, shaking its head in wonderment. “How peculiar.”

“Damn it, Draco!” Spike growled, rubbing his head. It was starting to ache. Seemed even Spike’s head could get too crowded.

“I’m sorry, Father. The discomfort of speaking this way will pass with time, but one thing does confuse me. Why do you keep referring to me as a ‘Draco’?”

“You’re a dragon,” Spike stated firmly. “Dragons are called Draco. At least the one in that bloody stupid movie Dru made me go see was.”

“Movie? How interesting. Your thoughts are very amusing, Father,” the dragon replied, a slight chuckle flowing through its words.

“Why in the bloody hell do you keep calling me ‘father’?” Spike grumbled losing what little patience he had left.

“I apologize once more, Father. Thoughts of your strange world fascinate me,” the dragon explained while it somehow seemed to ‘shrug’ its shoulders. “I forget that you do not know.”

“Don’t know what, you over sized lizard?” Spike snarled.

“That you are the Father of the Key, of course,” the dragon’s gentle voice responded.

“Bloody hell!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on the plane headed towards Los Angeles, Buffy kept a firm grasp on her sleeping sister. Once the spell had been preformed-neither confirming nor denying Spike’s death-the weary group had climbed aboard the Council’s jet and had headed out to personally check over the site of the battle. Looking at her sister’s troubled face, Buffy once again cursed fate and the Powers that Be. Had she not been handling a very delicate case, she would have flown to Los Angeles the moment she had found out that Spike was back. It had been impossible though, and now it seemed that Spike had gone from this world once again not believing in her love for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight,” Spike said from where he was now sitting among many soft pillows and blankets, food and a large pitcher of blood having been placed before him by Draco. “You lot guarded the Key…”

“Our gods created the Key for us to use during the Great War.”

“Right then, Draco.” Spike nodded. “You and yours guarded the Key after using it to momentarily trap this ‘Dark One’ in a dimensional prison specially made for him until the time came that the Key‘s Father would arrive and help the Key destroy this ‘Big Bad’ and his loyal followers. Then this beast from another world steals it and you dragons waited all this time, knowing exactly where it was I might add, for it to simply return to you all on its own?”

“It was foretold that our Key would return from your world,” Draco clarified. “Our Gods confirmed this many years ago, but the Key did not return and still we waited with no word on the fate of our Key. After many years had passed and still our Key had not returned, we began to search the dimensions for any sign of its existence. Then the Dark One began to build his army once more with the help of his servant Ktulu and its followers. Ktulu wishes to use the Key to release its Master so that the Dark One can seek vengeance on our world. But he would not simply stop at ours alone. While trapped in his temporary prison it has been said that he has learned of a strong foe that spans several dimensions. They are simply known as the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. Some say that the Dark One wishes to join them in order to bring our worlds back to the evil they once started out as. For years we have fought to keep Ktulu’s uprisings from being anything more than a mere nuisance, but when the Seers began telling that the Father of the Key had finally arrived and of the power the Father and his Daughter-Key shall wield together, steps were taken to locate either of you, thinking that if we could find one of you then we could use the one to locate the other. We would have simply hidden you both but the Gods are adamant that only you and your Daughter-Key can stop these dark beings once and for all.”

“Still don’t know why you need me, though,” Spike said with a shake of his head. “Should have brought the Slayer in, mate. Those monks made Dawn from her blood, after all. If anyone could help Dawn defeat your Dark One it’s her big sis.”

“Who is this Dawn?…..Oh, our Key’s human name. Forgive me,” Draco said as he digested Spike’s words. “But why would we need the Key’s human protector? In this word we dragons-along with other-allies protect our Key at all times.”

“Did you not hear me?” Spike grumbled. “They made the Key human using the Slayer’s blood, giving her a little sister.”

“So?”

“The Slayer closed Glory’s portal using her blood instead of Dawn’s, so it seems to me that you would want the one chosen by the Powers and a bunch of nosey monks to protect the Key.”

“We do not require the human Champion of your world Father,” Draco scolded gently. “Her place is in the world she is destined to protect.”

Sighing Spike placed his weary head in his hands. It was all a bit much to take in. For years he had been nothing more than second best and at worst a convenient replacement until the real champions arrived. During that horrible summer when Buffy was dead, Spike had thought that he was actually doing something good, something that would make those around him take notice. Buffy had not been around for Spike to try and impress but he had stayed anyway, taking care of Dawn and helping the Slayer’s friends keep Sunnydale and the world safe. Then the Scoobies had brought Buffy back and Spike had learned the hard way that nothing he did mattered; that he would never be good enough.

Despite learning his lesson the previous year-that last awful year in Sunnydale-Spike had begun to hope once more that what he did actually mattered to Buffy, that she was finally seeing him. He had won his soul back for her, after all, negating her ‘evil, soulless thing’ mantra. When he’d seen her kissing Angel the night she’d killed Caleb, Spike had again known the truth. He was being used as nothing more than a replacement for his Grand-Sire, the true Champion, once again. That had been the main reason Spike had stayed in L.A. He figured that someone needed to keep the Great Poof safe for whenever Buffy came to claim her one true love, and all Spike had ever wanted was for her to be happy.

But now, here in this strange world with dragons and God knows what other magical beings, it was Spike they needed, Spike they wanted. Draco had even told him that their Gods had foretold of the day when he and Dawn would possibly defeat their world’s ‘Big Bad’. Here he was a champion, and the thought left Spike stunned and feeling more than a little unworthy. Spike was no champion. He had seen champions in battle and in life, he was just one demon who was trying to make things right. He didn’t deserve the title of Champion.

“What do you need me to do?” Spike asked, despite his feelings of unworthiness. This world needed to be protected and Spike would do so, until the time came for him to step aside for the real champions once more.

Hiding a sigh of his own, Draco watched the Father with saddened eyes. He could feel the emotions pouring out from the vampire’s tired form. The Father truly did not feel worthy of the status bestowed upon him by the Gods so many years before. It also made Draco’s heart a little lighter. The Father had reacted to the news of his prophesied deeds with humility and grace, accepting his burdens because he wished to help make their world-which was not yet his own-safe. It was these characteristics that were the true marks of a Champion in Draco’s mind, unlike those who boasted and bragged of their deeds, holding themselves high above those they claimed to protect.

Placing a surprisingly gentle clawed foot on Spike’s shoulder Draco gave what comfort and assurance he could.

“In due time, Father,” Draco said his hollow-sounding voice soothing Spike’s exhausted mind. “For now you shall rest. Let ‘Draco’ take watch over you, as you once watched over your Daughter-Key.”

There was nothing left, no demon bodies, no dried cracked remains of the blood that had been spilled, no toppled remains of friends lost, and most importantly, whether good or bad, there were no piles of dust telling that a vampire had been killed in the alley. It simply could have been swept away; either by nature or man, but Buffy held firmly to the small bit of hope Willow’s new spell brought her. While it had told them he was no longer in their world, it did not however, say he was dead. They had no idea where Spike had been taken, but seeing the same determined looks in her friend’s and sister’s eyes, Buffy knew they would stop at nothing to bring their vampire home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel furiously paced the small confines of his hotel room. He had not wanted to come back to Los Angeles, but with Buffy determined to find his undeserving grand childe he had no choice, but to follow. Wisely Angel hadn’t tried to deter her from her current course of action, but had decided to wait patiently for the time when they found out Spike was truly gone. Once Buffy found this out, Angel was positive she would then turn her loving gaze towards him, all thoughts of gratitude and obligation towards Spike forgotten. Angel just had to be patient.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand next to his bed, Angel picked up his key card, and quickly left his room. He had a meeting to get to, and he did not want to be away from Buffy for long. After all, he was sure the meeting would be short and then he and Buffy could get down to the very important business of reuniting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soothing sound of wet stone gliding over metal was a welcome comfort to the haggard and weary ex-soldier. Einarr had spent most of his life in the service of the late King Edderon, but his purpose had been stripped from him for daring to actually care what happened to his men. Now cleaning and caring for his treasured sword was one of the few comforts Einarr had left.

Sitting on the porch of his humble cottage, Einarr took his time in caring for his sword, letting his mind wonder over projects that needed tending and crops needing to be harvested. The few cattle he kept would need to be milked before long. The sunlight was starting to dim in the late afternoon sky, and his horses needed their stalls cleaned and new hay to be layered on the ground.

Life overall, was peaceful for Einarr, save for the occasional wolf or coyote that tried to sneak onto his land. Einarr hardly missed his soldier’s life now that it was over, though he did not kept himself ignorant of the comings and goings of Ærworuld’s Free Kingdom's Alliance. Sitting at his usual table in his favorite tavern, located in the small but busy trading village Bri’Eine, usually afforded him with enough soldier and trade’s men gossip to last for months.

It was the recent rumblings of trouble brewing in the Southern realms, well beyond the Alliance borders, that had Einarr spending longer than usual with his menial task. He knew who ruled those lands; he had fought to keep that monster’s army from invading the peaceful towns dotting the landscape in the area. Those treacherous lands belonged to Ktulu, loyal servant of the Dark One, and few if any were brave enough to venture across those boarders.

Sighing, Einarr placed his sword back into its scabbard and rose. He quietly went into his bedroom, and returned the weapon to it’s proper resting place on the sword pegs running along the side of his simple wooden bed frame; it left the weapon within easy reach in case something crept onto his property while he slept.

Picking up his work gloves, Einarr went back outside and came to a sudden stop. Sitting before his modest home was Caius, Great Dragon and unofficial leader of the dragon clans. He was one of the few beings Einarr knew that could just appear where no one had been moments before.

As a rule dragons could not teleport, but instead, some could fly in the area between time and space, making it appear as if they had arrived out of thin air. It was apart of their inherent magic that allowed the dragons the ability to do this, and not for the first time Einarr curse this talent.

"General,” Caius greeted, his solemn voice echoing inside the old soldier’s head.“The Father has been found and brought to our world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Giles,” Buffy said, pausing to let her gaze drift over the group that had converged in Giles' room. There was enough room for Buffy, Dawn, her friends and watcher, and a few of the new slayers. It was the perfect place in which to hold their meeting.

Buffy still marveled at the courage the new slayers were displaying. Most of the new slayers gathered had survived Sunnydale, but a few were ones who had heard of the epic battle through second hand accounts.

That had been a big surprise to the former Scoobies. When Xander had gathered all of the slayers currently located at the Council headquarters in London, and told them of recent events, none of the Scoobies could ever have guessed at would occurre next. Word had spread quickly and widely throughout the slayers both near and far, and they had more than enough ready to do whatever it took to find their Champion. Most had never met Spike, but from tales told by the Sunnydale slayers, they all felt, like Buffy had and still did, that Spike was theirs and no one messed with their Champion.

“Where do we stand so far?”

“Well, as you all know,” Giles started glancing over the assembled group. “Willow’s spell confirmed for us that Spike is still alive, but we simply have no idea as to where he was taken.”

“Do we know if Wolfram and Hart took him?” Dawn asked, clutching her sister’s hand tightly in her own. Her voice was strained due to her worry over Spike, and part of her feared the answer she was about to receive.

“They haven’t got a clue little D,” Faith said from her place against the far wall. “We ran into a group of their goons before heading back here. They didn’t hear us coming so we got some eavesdropping done before we took ‘em out.”

“So they’re looking for him,” Willow said, a thoughtful frown marring her features. “I wonder why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Angel spoke up from his spot, which was as close to Buffy as he could get. “They’re only trying to find him in order to try and lure me out. It’s me they really want.”

“Right,” Dawn snorted, disgust obvious in her tone. “Like they don’t know where you are now.”

“I’m the one who took down their agents in this realm,” Angel corrected haughtily as he looked down at Dawn, obviously thinking she did not know what she was talking about.

“Then why bother looking for Spike when all they have to do is go directly after you?” Xander pointed out. “It’s not like you’re an actual threat to them anymore, what with being human and all.”

“Please!” Giles ordered, interrupting everyone before another fight could break out. “We must investigate all avenues before reaching any conclusions.”

“Watcher man is right,” Faith said glancing briefly at her former mentor in irritation. When had the strong supportive man she had known been replaced by this whiney self-serving jerk?

“Its just Spike!” Angel cried, getting tired of their continued insistence they find and possibly rescue the missing vampire.

“Lay off Peaches,” one of the new slayers ordered. It really pissed Angel off when the new girls kept insisted on calling him by Spike’s old nicknames. He suspected he had Dawn and Xander to blame for that small irritation.

“Spike’s our Champion, not you,” Vi stated, her green eyes cold as she looked over the man she considered an interloper to Spike’s rightful place in their lives.

“Girls!” Faith said, raising her voice over the din caused by Angel’s outburst. “We’ve got a Champion to find.”

Opening the doors, Faith and the new girls made their way from Giles’ room. Looking over her should at her sister slayer Faith offered a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry B, We’ll find Blondie, and then you’ll be able to kick his ass for worrying everyone so much.”

Watching as Faith closed the door behind her Buffy sighed and wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling her close.

“I hope so.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was dreaming. For some strange reason he knew this without a doubt, but he could not escape the nightmare images playing throughout his mind. He could see a lone figure, clearly seven feet or taller, and almost just as broad, standing on a hilltop before a vast army numbering into the tens of thousands. Slowly it raised its clawed hands, talons dripping with dark red blood still warm from recent killings, high in the dark stormy sky.

Lightning flashed behind it outlining its inky black wings, which looked much like those of dragons’, and gave Spike a clear view of its three writhing heads. The heads reminded Spike of the stories he’d heard about hydras, but this figure had a humanoid body covered almost entirely in sickly green scales. The dirt-crusted armor covering its body only enhanced its imposing stature. Spike could see the handle and pointed tip of a long heavy broad sword hanging at an angle along the thing's back. This was one weapon Spike knew could level a vast number of enemies, without its wielder having to pause during an attack.

It spoke with a silky hiss. Harsh winds generated by the coming storm carried its words to the very back of its assembled army. The crowd cheered, and again lightning flashed throughout the night sky.

Behind the massive army, at the foot of the hill, lay what used to be a quiet farming village. Now it burned brightly against the night sky. The bodies of its citizens were scattered in the rain-drenched mud, the scent of their blood still lingering in the air. Guttural cries filled the air, when as one, the horrid mass raised their weapons into the air and shouted “Ktulu” over and over again.

Gasping for breath he did not need, Spike‘s eyes shot open, a cold sweat covering his brow and soaking his back. Hearing the distant boom of thunder, dulled due to the thick cavern walls of Draco’s home, Spike knew with certainty what he had dreamed of had already happened. Everyone in the town was dead, and Spike had seen the monsters responsible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running a weary hand over his scared face, Einarr pushed dirty blonde hair from his eyes. He would have to cut his hair soon. It had gotten too long since he had no reason to keep it at a more manageable length. As it was, the long tresses were escaping the simple tie he used to hold it back.

Einarr liked to avoid this chore since he could see more gray strands creeping in, quickly replacing the blonde, despite the fact he was barely fifty. It was a testament to his life serving in his King’s army, and the many battles he had led in order to protect the citizens of late King Edderon’s monarchy and those who lived under the Alliance.

Looking upon his old friend, Einarr sighed and placed his work gloves on the railing surrounding his porch.

“So it has begun?” Einarr asked. Seeing Caius' nod confirming his words, Einarr’s mind began to whirl with the implications of his statement. For years they had prayed for the return of the Key and them arrival of the Father in order to permanently banish the Dark One and his servant Ktulu. They had been unable to so during the Great War, and the prison the Dark One was force to reside in was only a temporary fix the Free Kingdom's Alliance had spent almost a millennia trying to solve.

As time passed, and new rulers came to replace those who had fought in the Great War, the threat was summarily dismissed as someone else’s problem. They had underestimated Ktulu and his followers, but with recent stirrings along the Southern boarders, the Alliance had increased their efforts to a near frantic level of mass panic. Ktulu and his followers simply continued ravaged the boarder towns at their leisure, slowly spreading their evil through out the various Kingdoms that made up the Alliance and the realm of Ærworuld.

Now, Caius stood before him with news that the Father had arrived in Ærworuld. Hope stirred within Einarr causing his bowed shoulders to straighten and his gray eyes to sharpen. Looking Caius in the eyes, Einarr spoke clearly and with renewed conviction.

“Gather only our trusted allies. Let no one else know of the Father’s arrival. Ktulu will be determined to destroy him, while the greed of some Kings will drive them to try and use the Father for their own means. Give me two nights to get the cottage and animals settled, and I’ll meet you on the old highway between Bri’Eine and Cavert.”

With no other words spoken the two allies went to take up their separate task. Their world’s survival depended upon them, and this stranger who was prophesied to help save them. Einarr only hoped the Father could survive under the burden of his ready-made legend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gaiana could feel the vibrations of her world singing through her veins. Her connection to nature, and the well being of Ærworuld, helped keep her apprised of any imbalance in the energies surrounding her world. Right now she could feel a darkness seeping through the barriers between worlds, and she knew the Dark One’s powers grew stronger. The strange flaring of light in the eastern mountain region, which housed many of the great dragon clans, brought hope to her tired heart. She had been guarding the entrance to the Gods' temple for so long, she could hardly remember a time before she had taken up her duty.

Now, she could enter and retrieve the treasure lying within. The one it was destined for had finally arrived, and it was up to Gaiana to bring it to the Father. He was the only one who could use what was hidden in the temple’s depths, and the time had finally come to bring the Father his birthright.

Hearing a shuffling sound Gaiana opened dark eyes, scanning the area surrounding her. Her gaze soon landed on a tall lithe figure of a leviathan, one of Ktulu’s minions. It’s leathery wings spread out behind it while gray scaly claws extended in preparation for a fight.

Eyes glowing, Gaiana stood and picked up the decorative staff lying on the ground beside her. Summoning the powers gifted to her by the Gods, Gaiana stood firm before the hideous creature.

“Try to enter and die filthy beast,” Gaiana growled low in her throat, her left hand extended, palm facing the creature. A wide toothy grin split its leathery reptilian- shaped face as it hissed its pleasure. It could taste her power in the air around them, and a hunger grew within the malformed being. The leviathan would devourer the Gods' Blessed One, and lay claim the treasure it’s master so desperately needed.

Dawn sat next to the window in the small living room of their hotel suit. The sun was slowly rising over the Los Angeles skyline, and Buffy and the others had yet to return from their second search of the city.

Dawn had been forced to stay behind, and man the phones in case anyone from the Council headquarters called. In reality Dawn knew they were just using that as an excuse to keep her at the hotel and safe.

The only other person still at the hotel was Angel, and he had stayed behind because of his wounded pride. He simply could not accept that everyone, Buffy especially, could be worried about Spike.

In Dawn’s opinion, the sooner Angel got over his enormous ego the better it would be for them all.

Sighing, Dawn dragged her thoughts away from the Broody One, and back to the task at hand, worrying about Spike. It was like a physical pain in her stomach and no amount of positive thinking would allow the vicious knot to shrink.

Chewing on her lip Dawn tried valiantly to hold her tears at bay. Ever since Sunnydale had collapsed into a giant sink hole, taking Spike with it, Dawn had been plagued by nightmares pertaining to how strained their relationship had been that last year.

Dawn had been furious when she had learned what Spike had tried to do to her sister. She had gleefully spent the rest of the year holding onto her righteous anger, making him suffer for not only violating Buffy, but for also breaking his promise to never leave them.

Then Spike had died, and Dawn had tried telling herself that she was glad. She had gone on for months acting as if what Spike had done was no big deal, and that his dieing to save the world simply saved her the trouble of killing him herself.

It was not until she had walked in on her sister, crying her heart out over the bleach blonde vampire, that Dawn had finally heard the whole story.

“I used him Dawnie…I knew he loved me and I used him to make myself feel all the while telling him he was beneath me.”

Dawn could still hear her sister’s anguished words in her mind. She clearly remembered once Buffy had finished telling Dawn her tale; she had angrily slapped her sister.

It took Dawn almost three weeks to forgive Buffy for not telling her about her and Spike’s mutually abusive relationship.

That forgiveness only came when Dawn had finally admitted her anger at Buffy was simply misdirected. Dawn was angry with herself for not letting Spike know she had forgiven him and that she loved him before he had died.

Dawn had been ready to let Spike know this too, once Buffy accomplished her mission in taking out the Immortal.

Dawn had planed everything down to the last detail. She knew what she would do once she saw him again and what they would talk about. She had set aside several days in order to spend every moment of those days getting reacquainted with her surrogate big brother.

They would watch TV, making fun of the Italian soap operas. Spike would then take her on a tour of the city and finally they would find a nice restaurant and bring home loads of food.

Then Buffy, her and Spike would sit down and have dinner together, as the family they should have always been.

Now it was just a painful fantasy of what should have been. Instead of pleasant evenings spent with her two favorite people she was now in Los Angeles hoping for any miracle that would allow them to find Spike, alive and whole, and left with agonizing dreams detailing her confessing to Spike she loved him only to have him reply, “No you don’t. You never did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hamilton’s expensive black loafers barely made a sound as he made his way into the white room of Wolfram and Hart. Angel and his group may have destroyed some of the Senior Partner’s earthy agents, but that did not mean Angel had managed to get them all killed.

Dropping to one knee, Hamilton bowed his head before the tiny girl that sat primly in her chair before him. She looked like any other child, but there was a chilling emptiness in her gaze that made even the most jaded person weary. She was merely a manifestation, a mouthpiece, for the Senior Partners since they could not yet fully manifest in this realm.

“You have lost the Father of the Key,” the little girls voice rang clearly throughout the bright expanse of the white room. It sent chills down Hamilton’s spine and it took all of his self-control not to show how uneasy these meetings made him feel.

“I offer my most humble of apologies,” Hamilton began as he kept his gaze lowered. “The vampire vanished before we could gather the proper agents to scour the area. Angel made sure to destroy most of our magical artifacts. That strategic move slowed us down some and prevented a timely retrieval.”

“Mere excuses. I want results,” the girl rebuked. Hamilton could feel the Senior Partner’s anger rising and thought quickly as to how he could appease them.

“I do have some good news though,” Hamilton rushed on to say hoping to arouse the Senior Partner’s interest.

“Go on.”

“The Key is back in Los Angeles as is the traitor Angel,” Hamilton began as he lifted his eyes in order to speak to the Senior Partner‘s representative properly. “If we get the Key we might be able to find the Father. Also it seems that Angel has lost favor with the Slayer, Buffy Summers. We could retrieve him as well and have our revenge. He is human now.”

The smirk that graced the little girls face was truly evil and made Hamilton want to turn his gaze away.

“Then at least part of our plan has succeeded. Retrieve the Key and bring Angel to us. And Hamilton, do try not to disappoint us again. You won‘t like the results.”

With those parting orders the girl vanished leaving Hamilton to wonder just what the Senior Partners were keeping from their emissary, and how he could possibly manipulate the situation to his advantage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Spike had gotten himself under the semblance of control, he climbed out of his bed, and pulled on the new soft leather boots Draco had left for him. Giving the area around his bed a cursory glance, once more cursing the fact his duster was no more, Spike tried to navigate his way through the winding corridors leading to the main chamber Draco used as his home.

The whole situation made Spike nervous. He remembered well the few times after Buffy had been brought back when the two of them would simply sit and talk. One night she had told Spike about her slayer dreams. Buffy had described the other worldly feeling prevalent in the dreams, how she knew they were dreams even as she witnessed whatever the Powers were trying to show her.

Spike had understood only a fraction of her complaints at the time, those mainly being about how the symbolism and cryptic vague warnings of danger never made sense until well after the crisis had begun.

Now though, Spike would have given almost anything to have Buffy by his side. His dream had frightened him, and he raged inside at how there was nothing he could do to help the unfortunate farmers Ktulu slaughtered half a continent away while he slumbered. Spike finally understood why Buffy had claimed the dreams were unfair, and often times cruel. He couldn’t save the people who had died, but Spike still felt responsible for their deaths.

Shoving his errant thoughts aside, Spike plunged onward through the craved out corridors of the cavern. He had a dragon to find, and it was well past time, in Spike’s opinion, for this Ktulu and his master to be put down for good.

Rounding the corner, Spike found Draco lying amidst his large nest, seemingly asleep. Spike didn’t know much about dragons, and what little he did know, Spike wasn’t sure if any of it was true or not, but he did figure even the large beast had to tire out eventually. It had been nearly three days since Spike had woken up to the strange world he now found himself in, and in that time Spike had rarely seen Draco except when he was either bring Spike his meals, or clean clothes for him to change into. Thinking back Spike wasn’t sure when he had seen the old dragon sleep.

Sighing, Spike turned and started to quietly leave Draco’s bedchamber. If this was in fact the first time in however long since the dragon had last gotten any rest, then Spike was not about to disturb him over some nightmare-vision there was nothing anyone could do to prevent.

“Where do you go Father?” came Draco’s rumbling voice inside his head. Spike was so surprised he nearly fell over and ended up glaring at the now awake dragon.

“You get a kick out of startling me don’t you?” Spike sighed, eyeing the dragon with a resigned look.

“I do not mean to frighten you,” Draco replied, though Spike could easily see the spark of amusement in his black eyes.

“Very funny, mate,” Spike groused, shaking his head as his own chuckle rose up from his throat.

“Is there something bothering you Father?” Draco asked, his head tilting to one side. He then lowered it, bringing his head in closer to Spike.

Spike could feel the gentle breeze caused by the dragon’s slight intake of air. Looking closely Spike could just make out the tiny flicker of the dragon’s tongue from inside his slightly parted mouth. It was Draco’s unobtrusive way of scenting Spike’s emotions instead of just taking a tour of his head. He appreciated the gesture, especially since Draco had finally learned how much air to draw in without knocking Spike flat onto his face.

“It’s nothing,” Spike mumbled as he turned to leave once more. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It is not nothing,” Draco scolded gently. The soft nudging of the dragon’s tail got Spike to turn around once more. Upon seeing the pained look in Spike’s expressive blue eyes that same tail urged Spike forward so he could rest on Draco’s now outstretched leg. After observing the Father for a few days, Draco wasn’t so sure he what he thought about the humans that had made the Father begin to doubt himself so. These insecurities were something the dragon planed on alleviating very soon.

“It’s just a dream really,” Spike sighed. “Not a bloody thing can be done about it so why bother? Got more important things to worry about than what’s already passed.”

“It is often in the visions of our past that we find the answers we so desperately need,” Draco prodded gently, urging Spike to reveal what he had seen.

“Not my past I was seeing, mate,” Spike mumbled softly though Draco heard him anyway.

“You are seeing Ktulu’s past crimes then?”

“I guess,” Spike shrugged. “Bloody useless though, to see what he’s already done.”

“Not so Father,” Draco replied. “Tell me what you dreamed. Together we might be able to see what Ktulu has planned next.”

Feeling his burden lighten considerably, all thoughts of Buffy fled as Spike launched into the details of his dream. Draco listened with rapt attention, only interrupting to clarify a point, or to get Spike to try and remember more details. It made Spike feel like he wasn’t alone, and for the first time since arriving in his strange new world, Spike felt as if he belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blood flowed from the gash crossing the entire expanse of Gaiana’s stomach. The leviathan was dead, the treasure and temple safe, but more of Ktulu’s followers were sure to come and Gaiana did not have the strength to fight them off. She could feel her life force slowly ebbing and her power weakening. She could hear her Goddess beckoning her forth as her soothing presence descended over Gaiana’s torn and broken body.

Pulling into herself, Gaiana tapped into the last reserves of her strength and power and reached out across the world to the one person she knew could help.

As her power surged forth from her weakening body, Gaiana gave a sigh of relief. Her message had been sent. Now she could rest.

Eyes closing, Gaiana slipped into the endless night that awaited her. The world around her stilled as her chest slowly rose, fell, and then stopped. Finally all was silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing off her prayer, Liana straightened her bowed posture and picked up her broadsword. Taking deep breaths, Liana began a slow exercise, extending her arms, sword out front. She continued the motion by making a slow sweep to the left and then the right side of her body. Turning her arms, she brought the sword in a controlled downward swing letting the sharp tip rest mere inches from the ground.

Moments later the sword was slicing upwards through the air in a graceful arch while Liana turned her body to face in the same direction, feet spread for balance. Her breathing was controlled, her eyes focused on an imaginary foe. Liana could barely hear the sounds of the world around her but she could see and feel every nuisance of the clearing she was standing in. She intuitively knew which direction the air was flowing; she could see where every animal, plant, and bug resided. Liana could even taste the different scents in the air.

Sliding her feet closer together so she was standing upright once more, Liana held her sword upright before her body, tip pointing to the sky.

When the familiar feeling of a warm presence slid over her, Liana continued to regulate her breathing. The Priestess only ever reached out to her in this manner if completely necessary. This way of communication was a draining experience and usually left the recipient more than a little dazed.

“They have come to the temple! The treasure must be retrieved for the Father has finally arrived.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There was another raid, my King,” Frederic reported to the solemn figure standing before the wall holding a detailed map of the Alliance’s kingdoms and provinces.

“I know,” came the weary reply. King Aneirin kept his back to his adviser, not willing to let the other man see how very tired he was.

“King Aneirin, my Lord,” Frederic continued as he slowly came to stand beside the resigned form of the man he had watched grow from a boy to a man.

So like his father, Frederic thought with a sigh as he placed a weathered hand on the young man’s heavily burdened shoulders.

“I have sent word to the other Kingdoms. I advised that a Council be convened, just like the one your ancestor called for when the Dark One was at the height of his power.”

“Good,” King Aneirin stated. Seeming to come to a decision, King Aneirin straightened his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height. Looking his trusted adviser in his kind blue eyes, Aneirin gave the order he knew would cause as much a stir as the recent raids on the boarder towns had. “Find me the fastest messenger the royal court has. I wish to request the return of General Einarr.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubbing the towel vigorously over her damp hair, Buffy sighed as her thoughts once again strayed to all of the problems that seemed to be piling up on her slender shoulders. Her bath had relaxed tired and soar muscles, but unfortunately, could not relax her over taxed mind. They had only been in Los Angeles for one day, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. All they knew was Spike had seemingly vanished off the face of the planet. The only comfort Buffy and the others had was they knew for a fact he was not A, dead or B, trapped in some Wolfram and Hart hell dimension.

Unfortunately, on one of the searches conducted by Faith and a few of the other slayers, they had come across a serpent like demon. It was not one of Wolfram and Hart’s minions but it seemed to be cooperating with them on a different search. When Faith had applied a little bit of pressure the slimy demon had boasted. It had said it’s master, something named Ktulu or Kutlie or something, Buffy didn’t really know nor did she care, was looking to reunite the Father with his Daughter-Key before killing itself.

Now Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Giles were sequestered away with piles of books looking for any reference to solving the mystery of why the cowardly little beast had referred to someone as the Father, and why the things master wanted Dawn, or so they assumed what with the Daughter-Key reference. It was just one more problem on top of a mountain of problems and Buffy found herself wishing Spike were by her side. He might not have had any answers, but he would have been able to keep her going. Laying her head against the soft cushion of the couch she was sitting on, Buffy let a small smile spread out over her exhausted face. She could almost hear his comforting voice filling her mind as she quickly drifted off to sleep.

“Chin up, Slayer. We’ll find the bloody wankers and then you can have a right good time tearing them to pieces.”

For two days Einarr worked hard to close up his home. He sold off his livestock and horses to a family farm a few miles away. When questions were asked, he simply told them he had received word of a family emergency, and didn’t know when he would return. It wasn’t fair to keep the animals when there might not be anyone around to feed and care for them.

Einarr also gathered as much of his crops as he could, and set about drying and curing those he could. He also hunted. Then he emptied and dismantled the traps he had set around his land. What game Einarr had caught was soon skinned, the meat smoked, the fur cleaned and packed away. He could always use the pelts for trade or patches at a later date, and the bone marrow was made into a thick paste. Einarr placed the paste into thick glass jars, heated it in boiling water and sealed the lids with a hard wax. This would keep for a while, or for however long the seal remained intact.

Once it was time to leave, Einarr packed his provisions and clothing in a large rucksack, and placed the bundle, along with his bedding, onto the back of the one horse he had kept, Aldwyn. The large black and brown horse had been a gift from the late King Edderon, and Einarr cherished the finicky but loyal beast.

Water canisters filled, Einarr took one last look at the cottage that had been his home for the past ten years. He would miss this place, he knew, and the Gods willing, once this whole terrible mess had been solved and the war finally over, maybe then Einarr would be able to return.

Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, Einarr focused on the task at hand. Judging by the position of the sun in the clear sky, Einarr knew it was nearly noon. Putting his heels to his horses’ flank, the two rode away from the safety and security of their home and off into what could possibly be the last battle either of them would ever face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clouds of dirt flew up into the still air, creating a dense fog surrounding the area. The steady beat of large wings filled the silence as a large shadow covered the ground right before the massive figure of a sleek steel gray dragon alighted on the ground. Lowering his mighty head, the armor-covered dragon carefully searched the area before the gleaming white temple.

Thal had spotted the bloodied body of the temple’s guardian lying on the ground at the base of the stone steps. Her blood soaked the earth beneath her, creating a dark rust colored patch of mud. Dark eyes scanned the exterior of the temple, but could see not any clues suggesting the temple’s inner sanctum had been breached.

Heaving a sigh, Thal quietly made his way over to the guardian. Gently he hoisted her limp body onto his back, and settled her into the valley between where his neck met his back and wings. Confident in the knowledge his precious burden rested securely, Thal beat his wings once, then twice before lifting off of the ground. Turning his head towards the rotting body of the leviathan, Thal pulled in a generous amount of air. He then let forth a blast of heat, turning the body to ash, and searing the ground under it. The bloody patch the guardian had rested on was turned into charred black earth. Now Ktulu could not raise his dead minion, or use the Priestess’ blood in any of his dark magic.

Turning towards the east, Thal quickly flew towards home. Caius would need to hear of this latest development.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling the presence of someone standing behind him King Aneirin turned, hand resting lightly on his sword, to level an inquisitive but highly irritated look at the Alliance’s Oracle. The small boorish old man had unnerved Aneirin for as long as he could remember. The way his voice cracked sent chills down Aneirin’s spine, and his cloudy sightless eyes seemed to always know where everything and everyone in a room was located. There were some days when the young King swore the tiny old man could actually see, even though everyone professed other wise.

But more than his appearance, it was what the man claimed to have ‘seen’ that really bothered Aneirin. The old man had known of his father’s death before Aneirin had, and for years after had prophesied the Dark One’s return. Despite the words of other Kings and advisers, Aneirin nurtured a very healthy distrust of the haggard seer.

“My Lord,” the Oracle greeted, a gruesome smile showing off his brown and yellow stained teeth. Holding in a grimace as the man bowed, letting his greasy white hair trail along the stone floor, Aneirin ruthlessly hid his desire to run from the room. He wanted nothing more than to order the servants to come and scrub it clean of the Oracle’s presence. Instead he stood his ground, knowing full well the devious old seer knew of his discomfort, and relished in it.

“What is it you wish to speak to me about?” King Aneirin said, a hint of steel sliding along his words. It made the request harsher than it would have been, had he been speaking to anyone but the Oracle.

“The Dark One’s minion grows stronger, perhaps too strong as the Father grows accustomed to his new world,” the Oracle’s aged voice rasped out dry and brittle.

It reminded Aneirin of the old mummies located in the King’s burial chambers. That place had scared him as a child when his father had brought him there in order to view the resting place of his ancestors. The very thought of his body withering away, on display for all time, had caused Aneirin to have nightmares for years after. At the moment, the young man would have gladly walked into the underground chamber alone, and with no torch for light, just to be away from the walking mummy standing before him.

“I know this already Oracle,” King Aneirin snapped. Seeing the toothy grin widen, Aneirin knew he had been played once again. Stifling his rage, the King sent a glare towards the Oracle who acted oblivious to the chilling thoughts racing through Aneirin’s mind.

“The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart grow intrigued by the schemes of the ‘Father’ and his allies. They are rumored to say beware of the Father’s loyalties, that his allegiance does not yet lie with this world but are still with his,” came the frail reply. Turning the Oracle glided from the room, leaving Aneirin seething. Leave it to the evasive old bugger to lay a hint of doubt into his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bringing Aldwyn to a stop, Einarr scowled at the royal messenger standing resolutely before him, a rolled up parchment bearing the royal seal of the majestic Griffin held out in his hand for Einarr to take. He would have been surprised that King Aneirin had been able to find him, even though he had told only Caius where he was going, but Einarr well remembered the greasy old Oracle the Alliance put some much of its faith into.

“Sir,” the messenger started, his voice taking on a high-pitched squeak that betrayed his nerves. “General Einarr, sir. The King requests your presence.”

“Does he now?” Einarr growled, an eyebrow lifting in distain.

“Of course sir,” the messenger stammered. “It’s all here in this letter.”

Thrusting the scroll into Einarr’s hands, the messenger turned, mounted his own horse, and quickly left the disgruntled former General waiting alone on the rarely used back road. Einarr was two days, a day if he rode Aldwyn hard enough, from his meeting place with Caius. Now he had the royal court to deal with. Einarr was tempted to toss the scroll into a near by creek, but with a weary sigh, he broke the seal instead and began to read.

Einarr was surprised to find it had been written in King Aneirin’s own hand. Usually Frederic, the King’s adviser, wrote the summons. Rolling the scroll up, Einarr placed the parchment inside one of his saddlebags. Once his meeting with Caius was finished, it looked like Einarr would be returning to the royal palace. He wondered what had made King Aneirin so desperate as to summon a disgraced General such as himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy.”

Sighing Buffy turned slightly irritated eyes onto her former love. Ever since he had turned up in London, with the expectation she would simply fall into his arms now that he was human, was starting to drive her mad.

Buffy was tired, sore, and suffering from sever lack of sleep, as was everyone else currently involved in Spike’s search and rescue mission, all but Angel it seemed.

“What?” Buffy said as she rubbed her tired eyes vigorously with her left hand. She could feel a headache coming on, and she had yet to eat anything that day. Now it looked like she was going to have to deal with the We-belong-together speech again. Buffy couldn’t remember how many time’s that she had had this conversation with Angel, but it had gotten old, even before the first time she had heard it.

“Buffy,” Angel sighed, his tone taking on a slight patronizing cadence. “Why are you allowing Spike to do this to you? He’s probably dead, and in some hell dimension, which is where he belongs. You shouldn’t worry yourself over something so trivial, it’s only what he deserves after all.”

“And what about you Angel?” Buffy asked, her voice calm and steady despite the fire lurking just below the surface. “What do you deserve? As a vampire you were ten times worse than he was.”

“How can you say that?” Angel asked, truly confused. “It was Angelus who committed all of those crimes and besides, the Powers forgave me and made me human so we could finally be together.”

“Angel, think for a minute please,” Buffy said, pleading with Angel to just listen for a moment. “If Angelus committed those crimes, then why would you need to be forgiven?”

“Buffy what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that maybe Angelus isn’t as separate from you as you’d like everyone to think.”

“It’s Spike isn’t it?” Angel growled his dark eyes flashing in anger. “He’s the one who’s made you believe these lies.”

“Angel would you listen to yourself for a minute!” Buffy yelled forgetting her anger. Luckily they were standing in Giles’ hotel room. Unluckily they had an audience.

“No! Buffy that little bastard poisoned you against me!” Angel hollered back. “Buffy, Spike’s a demon. He’s evil, trust me I know him better than anyone.”

“Angel…”

“No you need to listen to me,” Angel interrupted. “Spike will always be a killer, and nothing will ever change that. Buffy, Spike’s beneath you.”

Silence greeted his words, and thinking she might finally be hearing him, Angel looked up and straight into devastated greens eyes. Tears streamed down Buffy’s cheeks as her face flushed a bright red.

Noticing their on lookers, Buffy furiously scrubbed the tears from her face. Giving Angel one last disgusted look, she turned on her heal and stalked out of the room slamming the door behind her. The force caused small bits of plaster to crack and sprinkle tiny white pebbles onto the carpet.

Looking around the room Angel couldn’t comprehend why everyone just didn’t understand. Spike wasn’t worth this kind of effort even if he had a soul.

“So that’s it huh?” Faith asked softly as she slowly came to stand before the former vampire. “Spike is a killer, will always be a killer, soul or no soul, and he doesn’t deserve our forgiveness or consideration.”

“Yes!” Angel cried out, relieved it looked like someone finally understood what he had been trying to tell everyone since day one. The very solid, very strong punch to his jaw sent Angel stumbling back a few steps to land painfully on his ass.

“Guess that means you wasted your time on me then huh Babe?” Faith asked, tears standing in her tortured brown eyes. Turning away from the one man she thought would always understand her, Faith quickly followed Buffy’s example and left the room.

“Angel,” Giles said as the former vampire made his way to his feet. “I think you should leave.”

For once Angel didn’t say anything and quietly left to head off to his room.

Buffy didn’t know how long she had been walking. Her mind seemed to be on a continuous loop, Angel’s words mixing with hers. She could clearly see Spike’s devastated face from the night behind the Bronze. Only this time it was a combination of her voice, and Angel’s declaring Spike ‘beneath her’.

It was no wonder he had shown up later with a shotgun, Buffy thought with a watery chuckle. If someone had said that to her, she would have taken them apart, but Spike upon seeing her tears had sat down and tried to comfort her.

“I’m so stupid,” Buffy mumbled as she sat down at one of the poolside tables with a heavy sigh.

“Join the club,” came the resigned reply to Buffy’s declaration. Looking up, Buffy’s eyes landed on Faith’s slumped form.

Seeing the defeated figure of her sister slayer, Buffy realized she had never seen Faith look so small. It was wrong somehow to see her sitting so alone on one of the lounge chairs alongside the hotel’s swimming pool.

In all of the years Buffy had known Faith she had never appeared unsure or even defeated. Somehow in Buffy’s mind Faith was this larger than life figure. Even when they were fighting each other on different sides of the battle, Faith was still strong, proud, and filled with an attitude that screamed defiance.

So to see her looking so frail made Buffy’s blood boil. She didn’t understand it. Even now, when they were on the same side, she and Faith were simply comrades, two fighters fighting the good fight and nothing more.

As quick as it appeared, it was soon gone but Buffy finally understood. A vision of Spike, dejected, his life in ruins around him as she cruelly told him that his feelings were real, for him, flashed through Buffy’s mind.

Faith was like Spike to Buffy. Both kept taking the beatings life handed to them, falsely believing they deserved it, and kept coming back for more. Neither of them ever gave up on the people they cared about, even if those people didn’t deserve them.

“I’m such a bitch,” Buffy groaned as she placed her head in her hands, shame filling her.

“What?” Faith asked incredulously. How the hell had Buffy managed to turn the situation to herself yet again?

“So not what I meant,” came Buffy’s muffled answer. She knew what Faith was thinking. Spike had gotten the same tone in his voice when she did something that completely baffled him.

“Then what did you mean?” Faith asked. “Not that I disagree with your assessment, just wondering is all.”

“Faith,” Buffy said, as she looked the other girl in the eyes. “Drop the ‘Big Bad’ attitude. I saw through Spike’s, and I can see through yours. Granted I usually chose to ignore that bit of insight. Didn’t fit into my nice comfy world of denial.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry,” Buffy offered, as she gave a soft chuckle at how her thoughts wondered. “I’m rambling. I know. It’s just I’ve had an epiphany. Now all I need is the parade with the seventy-six trombones.”

“I think you’ve finally cracked B,” Faith said, eyeing the other slayer with a look of suspicious confusion.

“See it’s like this,” Buffy started as she turned in her seat to face Faith. “You and Spike are the nights to mine and Angel’s days. Days turn to nights, and nights turn to days. You can’t have days turn to days, it’s unnatural just as nights can’t turn to nights. Nothing would be right, and everything would go all wacky.”

“B!” Faith yelled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry!” Buffy blurted out, causing Faith to stiffen. Seeing the defensive look settle over the other girl, Buffy’s face crumbled. “I never apologized to you did I? You tried so hard to make up for what happened that year, and I never once asked you to forgive me. I condemned you, and never let it go. I just expected you to take it, like Spike. I never apologized to him either.”

“Buffy...I...” Faith said, her voice trailing off as her insecurities made her stop talking.

“We were so self righteous,” Buffy said as her tears began flowing in earnest. “Xander, Giles, Willow, and I acted like we were better than you and Spike. Did you know Spike went and got his soul for me? He fought for it, and earned it all so he could be a better man. You, you turned yourself in. Prison couldn’t hold a slayer, but you stayed.”

“I deserved it,” Faith whispered.

“And you deserve forgiveness, just like Spike.” Standing Buffy quickly made her way over to her sister slayer, and knelt before her, grabbing a hold of Faith’s hands. Staring intently into her shocked brown eyes, Buffy continued with her speech.

“Don’t ever let anyone, even Angel, make you think you’re not good enough, because you are,” Buffy said. “You’re a better slayer than me, and Spike is a better champion than Angel.”

“No, B...”

“Yes!” Buffy insisted. “Angel and I both walked around like we were better than everyone because the Power’s chose us, and I willingly forgot the Powers chose you as well. Spike, well, he chose to be a champion. Neither you, nor Spike, ever walked around convinced you were superior. Oh you both may have acted like it, but you never really believed it. Now, you both fight because it’s the right thing, not because you have some grand destiny, or because you think only you know what is best for everyone. You two are humble, despite the large egos, and that is something both Angel and I need to learn.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on the open mouth of his cavern, Draco looked out over the mountain range that served as the dragon clans’ homes, and also operated as a boarder with King Aneirin’s territory.

The wind blew a gentle breeze along the treetops, and the night sky was clear letting the stars and their constellations shine brightly. The pale light of the moon lit the valley up before the large dragon, casting everything in a soft silvery glow. From the scent on the air, Draco could tell winter’s snow would soon be blanketing the lands around his home. Animals everywhere were getting ready for winter’s long sleep, and it was up to the dragons to make sure none were disturbed.

Normally these tasked pleased Draco, giving him a sense of peace in the cold bitter times ahead, but with war looming on the horizon the Dragon Lord could not rest his troubled mind. The news, and unexpected surprise brought to him by Thal, prevented Draco from getting the rest he needed.

Feeling a gentle warmth emanating from a small area on his side, Draco turned to see the Father, or Spike as he insisted on being called, standing by his side wrapped in warm fur blankets, his hand placed just below the joint of Draco’s wing. His expression was kind, and filled with understanding.

This was not what Draco had expected. The Dragon Lord had known all about the prophecy concerning the Father and the Key for many years, and had built up an image in his mind of how this man would be. But Spike went against every hero type Draco had ever encountered. He did not revel in his status, nor did he lament his position in life. Spike did not think of himself as better than others because of the task fate had challenged him with, he simply accepted them as his duty, even though he had yet to fully believe he was the champion being spoken of.

Draco knew Spike still thought another champion would come along, and take over the position as if he himself were easy to replace.

Still, Spike carried on, and despite his own worries and sleepless nights, the dream-visions concerning Ktulu and his raids were causing Spike to lose sleep, he was still worried about those who were sworn to fight at his side, and those he had promised to protect.

Spike treated all of the dragons as equals, and Draco as a friend, and for the first time in millennia, Draco found himself returning the sentiment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing a strange voice coming from the road ahead caused Einarr to slow Aldwyn down from his lazy jog. As if sensing his master’s hesitancy, Aldwyn made sure to step softly on the road to minimize the sounds his hooves made.

Coming around the corner, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other holding the reins in a white knuckled grip, Einarr nearly fell out of his saddle.

Before him sat Caius, and with him was a strange man of slight build with alarmingly bright blonde hair. He wore black clothing that was unfamiliar to the General, but his feet had been clad in the flexible leather boots favored by many soldiers. Over all it created an odd picture.

Looking closer Einarr could see the stranger’s blue eyes danced with excitement as he held a seemingly one-sided conversation with the dragon.

“Bloody hell that was brilliant! Next time do a barrel roll. No a noise dive, or better yet do a loop-the-loop!”

“We have company.” Einarr heard in his head as the stranger stopped his excited rambling to turn swiftly in his direction.

He fell into a lose battle stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet. To the passing observer, the stranger’s body language would seem almost lazy, but Einarr could tell by the way his eyes quickly glanced over him, and the area surrounding them this man was anything but lazy.

“General Einarr,” Caius greeted, bowing his massive head in the direction of his old ally. “I would like you to meet Spike. He is the Father of The Key.”

“Father?” Einarr stammered, gray eyes looking the strange man over once more. “I am sorry, but you are not quite what I expected.”

“It’s Spike, mate,” Spike said as he held his hand out to the warrior before him. “And I make a point of never being what people expect.” The rest of his words were finished with a cheeky grin as Einarr accepted the offered hand.

He was surprised at the firmness of Spike’s grip, and he could feel the calluses covering his palm. Small and oddly dressed, this man was a fighter and Einarr could respect that.

“Then Spike it is,” Einarr replied. “As long as you simply call me Einarr. Despite what the Dragon says, it has not been General in a long time.”

“Retired or piss someone off?” Spike asked. The question caught both Einarr and Caius by surprise, and pulled a sharp bark of laughter from the old soldier.

“I believe I ‘pissed someone off’,” Einarr confirmed, a smile gracing his scarred and weathered face.

“Really? Well then, mate, your just going to have to tell me exactly how you did it, and who it was you pissed off,” Spike said with a decisive nod of his head.

“And why would I do that?”

“That way I know who to piss off when I finally meet them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the friendly greeting, Spike kept a close eye on Einarr as the three rested along the side of the rarely used road. He also enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

Spike had been pleasantly surprised to find out the sun of this world did not pose a fatal threat to him, and unlike what Angel had told him of Pylea, Spike’s human and demon sides seemed to be in perfect balance.

This world offered him friends and acceptance, and with each passing day Spike began to hope this world could become a home for him.

Still, Spike wanted to keep his guard up. While Draco had quickly become someone Spike gladly considered a friend, the General was still an unknown in Spike’s mind.

Though having Draco speak so highly of the man before they had met had helped ease some of Spike’s anxiety, enough it seemed he was able to doze a bit while the two conversed around him.

“Father!”

“What?” Spike answered, turning his attention back to his companions.

“You were drifting Father,” Draco said. “Does something trouble you?”

“Huh?” Spike asked. Giving his head a shake, Spike let out a rueful chuckle. “Nah, mate. Just got distracted is all. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt the sun on my skin.”

“Why is that?” Einarr asked curious about the world in which the Father had originally come from.

“In his world General, the Father’s kind are not permitted the joy of walking in the sun.”

“Something to do with being undead and damned,” Spike explained with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Never quite understood it myself.”

“And how is it you would be considered damned?” Einarr asked as his expression took on a look of confusion.

“I’m a demon, a vampire to be exact,” Spike answered, his head hanging in shame. He did not want to see the looks of disgust that would undoubtedly pass over the other’s features.

While Draco might be a bit more accepting than most, Spike was positive once he found out about his past crimes he would surely turn on him.

If anything, being amongst the Slayer and his Grand-Sire in Sunnydale and Los Angeles had taught Spike, it was to know him was to be disgusted by him. Oh sure they would happily use him in a fight, but in everyday life no one wanted anything to do with Spike. Why would this world be any different?

“So?”

Shocked, Spike looked up, and into the curious eyes of Einarr. Searching for a long moment, Spike could hardly believe this man truly did not seem to understand what Spike knew to be true, Spike was a demon and therefore unworthy.

“I’ve killed people. Innocent people, for fun, pleasure, or just because I could,” Spike answered. “I looked at people as food since that is all they bloody were to me. Gave no consideration to their feelings, or that of their loved ones. I just slaughtered them.”

“And do you feel that way now?” Einarr asked, a strange expression creeping into his eyes, one Spike did not understand.

“No, but that doesn’t excuse what I did,” Spike stated firmly, his voice filled with conviction.

“No it doesn’t,” Draco agreed, and both he and Einarr watched as Spike lowered his eyes, shame dulling their vibrancy.

“I too have killed,” Einarr stated drawing Spike’s attention from his shame. Spike could see the strange look more clearly now, and wondered what memories had caused it.

“But you were protecting people,” Spike argued, not seeing the connection Einarr was making.

“True, but still, a life is a life. It does not matter who, or what that life is. Be they evil or not, when you kill you’re still taking a life, and those lives do not deserve to be discounted simply because they are not looked upon as worthy. Every life is worthy.”

“Even this Ktulu‘s?” Spike asked, eyebrow rising in question. The answer he got was not the one he expected.

“Yes,” Einarr answered looking Spike straight in the eyes. His answer had come without any hesitation on his part, and Spike was left speechless and deeply confused.

“But he’s a monster,” Spike whispered not knowing how to react to Einarr’s beliefs. The unspoken ‘like me,’ did not go unnoticed by either Draco or Einarr.

“That he is Father,” Draco answered. “But that does not mean his life is worth less than ours. It is not up to us to judge who is worthy. That is a task for the Gods only. The world view of man and beast is remarkably limited, despite the life spans of some, when compared to the Gods.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Spike mumbled looking down at his clasped hands. Curiously Spike noticed his hands were shaking and found it peculiar.

So lost in thought, Spike failed to notice the tears felling silently down his cheeks, nor did he notice when Draco wrapped his tail around him, and pulled Spike so he ended up resting against his massive side.

Extending one great wing, Draco used it as a make shift blanket as he laid it over Spike’s shivering form.

Locking eyes with Einarr, both dragon and man kept silent as Spike’s view of himself and the world crumbled around him. Such moments deserved privacy, and they would try their best to give him that privacy while they sat on a clear and sunny expanse of old highway.

When Faith and Buffy made their way back into Giles’ room they found out a few of the younger slayers were off on patrol, and that Angel was nowhere in sight. For this small favor the two elder slayers breathed a sigh of relief. If either of them saw the former vampire again, he might not suffer from just a bruised jaw.

Walking over, Buffy took an empty seat across from Willow. It afforded her a view of the entire room, and placed her well away from all of the books. Not that it helped any. As soon as she had settled herself, Dawn quickly marched over, dropped a book into Buffy’s lap, and then returned to her place against the couch.

Picking up one of the thinner books, Faith chuckled at Buffy’s sulky expression. Settling at one end of the couch next to Willow, Faith sent a smirk her sister slayer’s way.

“It’s only a book B,” Faith grinned. “Surely you’ve seen one before.”

“Ha, ha, Faith,” Buffy grumbled. “I just don’t want to see one.”

“Buffy…” Giles sighed as he removed his glasses so that he could rub his tired eyes.

“I know, I know,” Buffy mumbled. “Research good, books good, can I go kill something now?”

Seeing the hopeful look on her sister’s face caused Dawn to laugh. Picking up a stray piece of paper, Dawn wadded it up, and tossed it at Buffy. It hit her directly between the eyes, causing Buffy’s eyes to widen in mock outrage. Picking up the make shift weapon, Buffy lobbed it back at her sister, hitting her on the head, causing a few giggles to erupt from the formerly somber group.

“Girls, please,” Giles scolded, though his smile gave away his true feelings.

“Right, right,” Buffy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Time to research.”

Opening the book in her lap, Buffy slowly began to leaf through the yellowed pages, scanning the text for any useful information. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was the soft scraping of pen on paper, and the gentle rasp of pages being turned.

Soon, the soft ruffling of the page she was reading attracted Buffy’s attention. Placing her hand on the book, she held the page down, preventing the subtle breeze from causing her to lose her place. As the breeze grew stronger, Buffy’s annoyance became greater. Looking up Buffy voiced her irritation towards Xander, who happened to be sitting next to the window.

“Xan, close the window would ya?” Buffy groused.

“Umm…Buffy,” Xander started. “I didn’t open the window.”

“Then who did?” Buffy asked. Seeing the confused gazes of her sister and friends, Buffy looked around the room. Her slayer senses were starting to tingle, and from the looks of things she wasn’t the only one who noticed something wasn’t right.

Faith, and some of the other slayers who had stayed behind, spread around the room, covering all entry and exit points. Willow stood as well, her eyes turning white as she began a magical scan of the room. For a minute nothing happened, and then Dawn began to scream.

Buffy rushed forward, grabbing her sister by her arms. Her panic grew as Dawn became less and less responsive. Dawn was hot, feverish. Sweat beaded along Dawn’s skin, making holding her upright difficult. It was taking all of Buffy’s strength to keep her sister from falling to the floor. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and her jaw clenched, cutting off anymore pain filled screams. Spasms racked her slender frame, and a low moan crawled it’s way her throat.

Suddenly, like the picture on a TV during violent weather, Dawn’s body flickered, disappearing briefly. A short moment later, it happened again, only this time Dawn did not reappear.

For a minute no body moved. Everyone was focused on the area where Dawn had been standing. All that could be heard was ragged breaths being pulled in and out of over worked lungs. Buffy stood the closest to the singed circle, staring with wide disbelieving eyes. Her sister was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liana gently patted Gaelwine on his back before he flew off a short distance, hiding his presence. The battle dragon had borne her to the brilliant white temple, getting her there much faster than any horse ever could. Scanning the area with sharp black eyes, Liana could see where her priestess had fallen, and where the remains of Ktulu’s minion lay in a charred heap nearby. Cautiously, Liana walked over to the two large scorch marks decorating the peaceful lawn before the temple.

Drawing closer, Liana slowly bent forward, and ran her fingers along the outer edge of one of the marks. The ground was burnt, and Liana could detect a hint of what smelt like scorched meat.

Standing, Liana brushed her fingers off against her pant leg. What had happened at the temple was of no concern to her. Liana could not change it, nor would she waste her time wishing she could.

Marching towards the temple, Liana drew her broadsword, and gently pushed the white door open. If the message her Priestess had sent was to be believed, then it was up to Liana to deliver the treasure hidden inside to the Father before Ktulu, or anyone else, came to claim to what was not theirs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Willow! Do a spell, any spell. I want to know who took Dawn, where she is, how I can get to her, and how I can kill what took her,” Buffy ordered as she suddenly snapped out of the momentary stupor that had settled over her the moment her sister had disappeared.

“On it,” Willow said as she began to wave her hand over the scorched ring in the carpet. Her eyes flashed between white and black for a few minutes before finally settling on a deep gray color. Soon, her hair matched her eyes as Willow used every bit of magic she knew to try and locate Dawn, and the being responsible for taking her from them.

It was an eerie sight when Willow’s hand dipped down into the center of the ring, disappearing into the carpet. For a few very long seconds, no one breathed, then Willow quickly jerked her hand back, her eyes and hair returning to their normal hues. Looking her distressed friend in the eyes, Willow offered what small bit of hope she could.

“I found Spike,” Willow whispered.

“And how does this help us Wills? We’re trying to find Dawn,” Buffy snapped. Spike could take care of himself, Buffy knew this the way she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. How this was related to her sister, Buffy had no idea.

“That’s just it Buffy!” Willow said, hope shining in her eyes. “It’s the same world Dawn’s now in.”

“Can you get us there?” Faith asked as she came to stand before the excited witch.

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Using the residue left by their spell I should be able to open a portal to their location.”

“Good,” Faith said. Looking at the others in the room she continued, “Vi, go find the other girls. I want volunteers only. Xan, go get Angel. He’s going to need to know where we’re going, and why we’re leaving. I’ll go to Buffy’s and my rooms and get our stuff. Everyone else get your own. I’m positive we’ll be leaving soon.”

Turning, she quickly made her way to the door, and was halfway out, when the sound of her name being called stopped her. Glancing over her shoulder, Faith found herself looking Buffy straight in the eyes.

“Thank you.”

With a slight nod of her head, Faith quickly left the room, and the others as they hurriedly carried out her orders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hot, too hot for comfort. He couldn’t get away. It felt like his whole body was on fire, and somewhere in the distance he could hear screaming. Spike couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it was a woman he was hearing. Her crying turned into pain filled moans, and were nearly as unbearable as the heat. Spike’s whole body hurt. Muscles seemed to spasm, and his bones felt like they were grinding together.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of white light, and then silence descended. The heat, along with the ache, slowly receded. With a startled jerk, Spike’s eyes snapped open, and he quickly sat up from where he had been resting against Draco.

Einarr and Draco looked at Spike, concern clear in their eyes as Spike fought to keep his rising panic down. It didn’t help, because an instant later Spike knew without a doubt whose scream he had heard.

“Dawn!”

“Father, what is wrong?” Draco asked as Spike’s terror continued to rise. When Spike gave no response besides his first frantic shout upon waking, Einarr made a swift decision. He quickly reached out and slapped Spike. The resulting action pulled Spike from the horrors of his mind, and brought him back to his present situation.

“What is it?” Einarr demanded, his voice like steel.

“Dawn,” Spike whispered as his fear for his Niblet entered his voice. “Somehow she’s here, and she’s terrified.”

Standing, Spike dusted off his pant legs and turned determined blue eyes onto his companions.

“You’re going to help me find her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

King Aneirin tried his best to look interested, but all he heard was the same bull that had been lobbied around for the last few years. With the increase in the number of raids, and the brutality in which they were being carried out, the young king did not have time for political games of one up-man-ship.

“We have problems of our own. There are raids along our shoreline. The Barbarian ships come nearly every day! Our recourses are stretched thin as it is. Let the Desert province lend a hand,” King Harlish bellowed from his seat as he eyed King Kahil, the ruler of the desert province, with venom.

“My kingdom has no interest in your wars,” King Kahil stated with a dismissive wave of his dark hand.

“If we do not band together then Ktulu will soon become everyone’s problem!” King Leof, ruler of the Great Plains, growled as he slammed his large hand down on the arm of his chair, silencing many of the voices, for the moment.

The stout old man had a grizzled look about him with his wiry white hair and beard. He had been one of late King Edderon’s allies, and was one of the few men in attendance Aneirin trusted. “Do any of you honestly think he will simply stop once King Aneirin’s province has fallen? His armies numbers are simply too great for one Kingdom to handle.”

“So?” King Harlish roared back. “The barbarians are…”

“I get it,” Aneirin growled, his green eyes shining brighter than any jewel in existence. Seeing the color change in his king’s eyes, Frederic stepped behind his chair, hoping no one noticed. A part of him wanted to see Aneirin tear the simpering morons to pieces, while a larger part hoped the fallout from this would not be too widely felt.

“I understand innocent people dieing, and their towns being obliterated, is simply not important enough to put aside our petty grievances…”

“Now listen here…” King Harlish interrupted with a growl. He was quickly silenced with a withering glare.

“If you had sent word the Barbarians had become such a problem, I would have gladly sent help. But instead of asking, you kept silent. Now I am the one asking for help against a far greater enemy than the barbarians, and you hide behind a petty skirmish,” King Aneirin said, his voice going calm and steady with a forced casualness which was far scarier than any shouting ever could be. “I maybe the youngest one here, but I seemed to remember being taught being apart of this Alliance meant no one was truly alone, and help would come if, and when, it was needed. I would have thought most of you would remember this better than I.”

Silences greeted his words. No one was willing to contradict him, nor were they willing to stand up and offer the help he was seeking. They were all firm in their convictions, believing the problem would not spread to their lands, though none had the courage to meet his eyes.

“I will stand with you,” King Leof stated firmly, casting a disgusted glance at the others assembled for the Council.

“Thank you,” King Aneirin said with a heartfelt sigh. Some of the anger left his eyes, leaving a tired, and desperate man standing before the other rulers.

“I have a solution,” the Oracle announced during the silence created by the monumental moment. It was not often one king openly berated the rulers of another province.

“And what is that Oracle?” King Leof asked.

“How about I show you?” the old Oracle said, a sneer spreading out over his face. Waving his hands, the Oracle chanted in a language no one present understood. He turned in quick erratic circles, his long greasy white hair, and ragged clothes flying out wildly around him. A gust of wind swept through the room, ruffling hair, clothes, and scattering sheafs of paper.

Then, as suddenly as he had begun, he stopped, and slammed the tip of his staff on to the floor. The action caused a loud bang to echo throughout the room. A bright flash of light momentarily blinded everyone, and when they could all see again, a frightened young girl lay in the center of the room.

“I present to you, The Key!” the Oracle declared with a flamboyant wave of his arms.

Once again the others began speak, some with a mad light shining in their eyes as they looked upon the one being they all believed to hold stores of untold of power.

“How is this possible?”

“Where did you find it?”

“The power it must hold…”

Horrified, King Aneirin quickly made his way to the center of the room, stopping only when he was within arms reach of the frightened girl.

Kneeling, Aneirin placed a gentle hand on her slim shoulder, gaining her attention.

“Are you all right my Lady?” King Aneirin asked, a soft gentle tone to his voice.

Not getting any reaction except for the same frightened gaze, Aneirin glanced behind him, seeking out the one ally he knew of.

Thankfully, he found the same horrified expression he wore plain to see on King Leof‘s face as well.

“That is enough!” King Leof growled as he too came to stand beside the young King. “Can you not see she is just a child?”

Hurriedly, Frederic came forward as well, Aneirin’s warm winter cloak clasped tightly in his weary hands. With a sympathetic smile on his face, the old royal adviser held the cloak out to the shaking girl.

“Take it. You must be in shock, my dear.”

Wide eyes snapped left to rest on Frederic’s kind face as she reached out, and quickly grasp the cloak from his out stretched hand. She hastily pulled the thick forest green wrap around her.

“You can’t honestly expect us to let you have complete control of this weapon,” King Harlish said, his anger at being denied access to the power of the Key growing.

“Hey!” the girl cried out, clutching the cloak around her tightly as she climb unsteadily to her feet. “I’m right here, and I would appreciate it if you all would stop talking about me like I’m some thing. I have a name too you know, it‘s Dawn.”

“The power in it alone can not be held by one man,” King Kahil said, his eyes never leaving Dawn as she stood bravely in the center of the room. “Truly you do not wish to try, and wield it yourself?”

“I believe Lady Dawn said she is not a thing,” King Aneirin said as he stood to face the assembled crowd with a glare, reminding all while he may be young, he was still his father’s son.

“And I believe the young mountain King is right,” a voice from behind the assembled group said as the double doors flew open. Turning all witnessed the entrance of a tall well-built man.

He was dressed in fur clothing, and carried an axe strapped across his broad back. Metal braces covered his wrist, and a matching helmet rested atop his head.

He was huge, bigger than Aneirin had pictured, and just as formidable. His white blonde hair, and ice blue eyes did little to take away from the imposing air surrounding him. Oddly enough, his accent was soft, almost musical despite the harsh guttural tones dominating the Barbarian’s language.

“Stop him!” King Harlish shouted motioning for the soldiers gathered in the room to take action.

“Halt!” King Aneirin yelled, causing the soldiers to freeze their motions. “Why are you here King Gunnarr…”

“Gunnarr will do,” the Barbarian ruler interrupted quietly, but firmly. “My people do not hold to such formalities.”

“Of course,” King Aneirin said with a slight bow of his head.

“I believe King Aneirin was about to ask why you have arrived to a gathering you have not been invited too?” King Harlish growled, angry he was not allowed to try, and strike his enemy down.

“The Oracle sent me word of this meeting," Gunnarr replied. "Also I come because of this.”

Motioning for one of his men, Gunnarr took the brown sack he carried, and up ended it, pouring its contents onto the polished floor of the conference room. The leviathan’s head made a sickly plop as it hit the ground. It left a trail of black blood leading away from the Barbarian King as it rolled to a stop.

“Eeeewwww! That is sooo gross!” Dawn screeched, momentarily forgetting her fright in the face of such a disgusting display.

“Right you are little Daughter-Key,” Gunnarr smiled at Dawn, finding her reaction amusing. Expression turning serious, he addressed the only two Kings he held any respect for. “The Dark One’s evil has spread. My people only steal from this one, because the Dark One’s servant, Ktulu, has cut us off from gathering supplies any other way. We sent word asking for aid, but we were denied. ”

Seeing the disgruntled expression cross King Harlish’s face, Aneirin had a feeling what the Barbarian ruler spoke of was true.

“I will not let some Barbarians take the Key from us!” King Harlish cried out ignoring the accusations spoken by Gunnarr. “It belongs to us, and it is only for us to use!”

“You are wrong Merchant King,” Gunnarr said, his soft voice taking on a hard edge that held a promise of violence. “The Dragons are the guardians of the Daughter-Key, until the time when the Father finally arrives.”

“The wind whispers the Father has all ready arrived, and wishes to collect his treasure,” the Oracle grinned as he purposely invaded Dawn’s personal space. Cringing she shrank back from the smelly old man putting her up against King Aneirin‘s back. Noticing whom she was leaning on, Dawn let out a high pitch squeak, and jumped back.

“I’m sorry! It’s just he’s really wigging me out, and he smells bad…not that I make a habit of draping myself all over strange guys, even if they are cute...I didn’t mean to say that! Not that I think your ugly…I just…okay, shutting up now,” Dawn babbled as she turned a bright red, and buried her face inside the folds of the cloak she wore. “Why can’t the ground open up, and swallow you when you really want it too?”

Hearing only a soft chuckle great the end of her rambling words, Dawn slowly brought her eyes up to meet the amused gazes of Gunnarr, King Leof, and King Aneirin.

“Wigging?” King Leof asked confusion at her rapid-fire words, and amusement, fighting for dominance on his features.

“It means he’s creeping me out,” Dawn answered softly, and with a belated “Your Highness,” added to the end of her sentence.

“Just between you and I,” Aneirin said in a blatant mockery of a private conversation. “I think he’s creepy too.”

“King Aneirin…” Frederic sighed; knowing everyone present had heard the exchange. “Despite your opinion, he is still the Oracle, and therefore he must be respected.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact he’s creepy,” King Aneirin said with a slight smirk sent Dawn’s way.

Before anyone else could reply to Aneirin’s blatant disregard for the Oracle’s status in their realm, a loud thunderous laugh rolled through the room.

Turning, all saw the Barbarian ruler nearly doubled over, breathing hard as he laughed at the display being played out before him. Quickly getting himself under control, Gunnarr drew in a few deep breaths before speaking to the assembled crowed.

“I must apologize,” Gunnarr said through the chuckles he was trying to control. “We have waited millennia for the Daughter-Key to return home, and I must say it is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Home?” Dawn asked, a confused look settling over her face. “But this place isn’t my home.”

“Of course it is!” King Kahil said as he came to join those standing in the center of the room. “You are the Key.”

“No, I’m not!” Dawn blurted out eyeing the Desert King with apprehension. “I’m Dawn! And my sister is so going to kick your ass for bringing me here!”

“Why are we even having this conversation?” King Harlish demanded. Reaching out he quickly wrapped one hand around Dawn’s forearm with enough force to bruise. “I am taking this thing with me, and my men will figure out the best way to use it against our enemies.”

Before King Harlish could follow through with his plan, the Oracle stumbled into the man as he clutched his head, moaning as if in the grips of a vision. The sudden movement caused him to lose his grip on Dawn’s arm, giving her the chance to move closer to King Aneirin’s form, and well out of King Harlish‘s reach.

“No, no!” the Oracle whimpered. “Outsiders are coming! They are not a part of the Gods’ plans. Only the Father and the Key can stay.”

Taking advantage of the distraction created by the Oracle, King Aneirin quickly wrapped an arm around Dawn’s shoulders, and swiftly began to lead her from the room. Given her choices, Dawn would much rather go with the cute king, who seemed to treat her like a person, rather than the two who looked at her like she was nothing but a thing to use.

“This is my Kingdom,” Aneirin stated firmly as he waited for Frederic to open the great hall’s doors. King Leof and Gunnarr kept close watch on the other occupants in the room from their position behind him. “Lady Dawn will be staying in my home, and will be treated as my personal guest. That will not change even if the Father arrives. And believe me, I’ll know if the one before me is in fact the true Father of the Key.”

For several minutes Angel ignored the pounding on his door. He had been sitting in the same position for hours just thinking. He wasn’t sorry about his feelings towards Spike, he had never liked Spike and wasn’t about to start now, but the pained look in Faith’s eyes gave Angel pause. He didn’t understand how she could ever identify with the monster Spike was. He was evil, this Angel knew for a fact. It had been his soulless half that had taught Spike everything he knew about being a vampire. Faith was a slayer, a chosen warrior for the Powers and therefore inherently good. Angel just wished she could see, because he was positive once she did, Faith would get over the silly notion she had anything in common with Spike.

As the pounding at his door grew more insistent, Angel exhaled a weary sigh and slowly climbed to his feet. Reaching the door he made sure to give no warning before pulling the door open and glaring at the harried figure of one Xander Harris.

“What?” Angel growled, clearly not in the mood for whatever it was Xander needed to tell him.

“Shove the attitude Evil-No-Longer-Dead,” Xander snapped. “Buffy wanted me to tell you, out of courtesy only, that Dawn’s been taken…”

“Dawn!” Angel yelled as he roughly shoved Xander out of his way and closed the door to his room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was trying to! But someone thought that brooding was more important than answering his door,” Xander grumbled. “And what part of ‘this is only a courtesy’ did you not get?”

“Pfft!” Angel snorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Dawn needs help so it’s obvious that Buffy will want me there.”

“It’s your funeral,” Xander muttered as he rolled his eyes at Angel’s rapidly disappearing form. Grumbling under his breath, Xander quickly picked up his pace as he followed the overconfident man back to Giles’ room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No.”

“But Buffy,” Angel whined. “You’ll need me.”

“No Angel,” Buffy said as she turned to look him in the eyes. “I won’t. Wills are you ready?”

“Yep,” Willow replied. She was standing near the scorch mark left on the carpet from Dawn’s departure. From there she was going to use the residual energy to open a portal, enabling them to go into the same world apparently both Spike and Dawn now resided in.

“Buffy,” Faith called as soon as she came through the doors. “I’ve got everything packed and ready.”

“Good.”

Looking over the crowded room, Buffy took a deep breath and launched in on her preplanned speech.

“Alright everyone, listen up. This is a search and rescue mission that involves going to another dimension. All we know is somebody on that world took Dawn and because of this we think they may have Spike as well. We do not know what type of world this place is nor do we know who the good guys or the bad guys are. This place could be filled with fluffy little kitties for all we know, though I seriously doubt it. Now Faith, Xander, Willow, and I are definitely going. For the slayers who are staying, Kennedy is flying in as we speak with another group of slayers to help out anyone who stays behind with Giles. We only have nine of these nifty crystal necklaces, and since four are taken, that means only three places remain since the last two are for Spike and Dawn. And to explain these in more detail I’ll let Willow take over.”

“Okay see these necklaces?” Willow asked as she held hers up. “Giles, the Coven, and I managed to tie their energy to this world, sort of like a homing beacon. To activate the spell all you have to do it hold it in your hand, concentrate, and say “home”. Hopefully these will work and bring you back here. But you need to know there is a chance they won’t work and we could all wind up stuck in a foreign dimension.”

“Are we clear?” Buffy asked as her eyes scanned the occupants of the room.

“Buffy, I’m going,” Angel stated once there was a lull in the conversation.

“No B,” Faith interrupted. “Let him come. It’s his fault this whole mess got started in the first place.”

“No it’s not! I did not force anybody to fight alongside me against Wolfram and Hart,” Angel cried out in denial.

“Maybe you didn’t but from what I’ve gathered you didn’t really give them much of a choice either,” Faith snapped back, not willing to let Angel pass off blame for what was happening.

“They knew exactly what they were walking into,” Angel objected, his anger rising. “They could have walked away at anytime.”

“Really?” Faith sneered. “And leave their ‘friend’ to battle the armies of Wolfram and Hart all on his own? Not likely. I know for a fact none of them would have done that!”

“They chose to fight!” Angel yelled once more as he stood nose to nose with Faith.

“You led them into a slaughter!” Faith screamed back. “And now Wesley’s dead because of you! They’re all dead because of you!”

“Don’t you think I know that!” Angel shouted in response. Lowering his voice Angel continued in a harsh whisper. “I have to live with the fact that if I hadn’t taken Wolfram and Hart’s deal they might all still be alive. But what other choice did I have? Connor…he was going to kill himself and Cordelia was gone…I had no choice! The least I could do was take out the Senior Partners when I had the chance.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” Faith asked, her own voice having lowered. “You know we would have helped.”

“I was told we were no longer trusted,” Angel responded his words containing a bitter edge.

“We didn’t trust Wolfram and Hart,” Buffy said as she turned to face her former boyfriend. “That had nothing to do with you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Xander muttered loudly. Seeing the glares being sent his way, Xander held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Hey! I never liked the guy and never will. That’s why I leave the big apocalyptic decisions to you guys.”

“Look, when Andrew was in L.A...” Angel began only to be interrupted by loud choking noises coming from Xander.

“You took Andrew’s word at face value? Please!” Buffy said as she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Andrew exaggerates everything and you know that. If you had wanted the real scoop you should have just called.”

“I did,” Angel snarled. “Giles refused to help.”

“Um…Angel,” Willow said softly, gaining the former vampire’s attention. “We did help.”

“Giles said you were busy on the astral realm and couldn’t be interrupted.”

“I was,” Willow confirmed. “See the Coven’s Seers felt it when Illyria was released and with their help I was trying to find a way to save Fred’s soul and we did. We managed to pull her soul out before it could be completely burned up.”

“Fred’s in heaven Angel,” Buffy finished, her voice soft and filled with memories of peace.

“Then why didn‘t…” Angel stammered. Eyes shooting to Buffy he pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “You knew Spike and I were in Rome! You could have said something then but you were too busy partying with the Immortal. Then after the battle you still didn’t say anything.”

“I was busy trying to figure out how to kill him,” Buffy countered. “Turns out he’s was not as immortal as he thought.”

“There was also the shock of hearing about the battle itself, not to mention the ‘everyone is dead but me even if I have no proof’ speech,” Xander interjected on his friend’s behalf.

“You still should have called,” Willow said, her voice carrying a soft reprimand.

“But he didn’t,” Faith replied her voice cracking slightly. “And now they’re all gone.”

Taking the necklace from Buffy, Faith turned back to look Angel in the eyes.

“Now you get a chance to try and make things right,” Faith said as she placed the necklace in his large hand. “Starting by helping us save Spike and Dawn.”

“Okay,” Angel agreed sounding more subdued than any of them had ever heard.

“Now that that’s settled who’s next?” Buffy asked as she pointedly changed the subject. “Only two more left.”

Not surprisingly it was Vi and Rona who stepped forward to take the last two necklaces.

“Spike saved our asses in Sunnydale. Now it’s our chance to save his,” Rona said with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“I guess that’s everyone,” Buffy said and with a final look around the room she quickly picked up one of the large packs they were taking with them, signaling for the others to do the same.

Soon everyone was in their place and with a slight nod in Willow’s direction the spell to take them from their home and into a foreign and possibly hostile world began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow was falling in big white flakes, sticking to everything it touched. The ground had become extremely slippery and the path nearly impossible to follow. The howling wind did not help as it created snowdrifts that were already knee-deep and getting higher. According to Einarr such was life in the mountains and only to be expected.

“Missing your horse already my friend?” Einarr chuckled as he heard Spike’s loud swearing coming from behind him. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Einarr’s laughter grew louder as he witnessed Spike’s frantic movements. He was trying to brush away a glob of snow that had landed on his head; and having very little success in his endeavor.

“Bloody hell, no!” Spike yelled while wiping more snow from his face. “Damn thing liked to bite me. You sure I can‘t bribe your friend back at the stables? Maybe he could have it turned into paste?”

“I‘m sorry Spike but that‘s not possible,” Einarr answered as he shook his head in amusement. “You’ll undoubtedly need the horse again at some point in our journey.”

“You’re not sorry, you just like seeming me get bit. Besides, I don‘t need that bloody horse, I‘ve got Draco,” Spike grumbled as more snow was blown down the back of his cloak. Despite the thick fur-lined wrap given to him for this journey, Spike was still cold and miserable. He would much rather be making the long trip on his friend’s back than walking the entire way to King Aneirin’s castle. At least being a vampire made it so he didn’t have to bundle up in as many furs as Einarr did.

“Hey? Why can’t he just fly us to this bloke’s castle huh? It’d be a hell of a lot easier than walking through this white crap.”

“Draco, as you seem intent on calling him, had pressing business to attend to,” Einarr said and then with a sigh continued, “Besides, King Aneirin and those who rule the other Kingdoms are not all that fond of the dragons.”

“Why not?” Spike asked, truly puzzled.

“It was their word the Kingdoms and their people placed their hope in. The Dragons swore one day the Key would return and the Father would arrive, but after many years of waiting and nothing happening there were many who began to doubt the dragons. After Ktulu and his armies invaded the southern Kingdom of Borhiegn thirty years ago, this doubt turned into anger. Those monsters control the area to this day.”

“So these bastards are blaming the dragons because Dawn and I didn’t show up when they wanted us to?” Spike asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

“In essence, yes.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike cried. “They’re pissed because Buffy didn’t sacrifice her sister!”

“What do you mean?” Einarr asked, stopping his unhurried pace as he favored Spike with a genuinely confused expression.

“Few years ago in my old world there was this hell God. Nasty bitch by the name of Glory…”

“Would this be the same hell beast you told Draco about?”

“Yeah mate, that would be her,” Spike answered. “Anyway, in order for her to get to her own world Glory needed to bleed the Bit to open a portal. Unfortunately that would have caused all dimensions to merge together and we both know what kind of hell that would have created.”

“I can see how that would have been a terrible thing to happen,” Einarr agreed with a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Well the night this was to go down one of Glory’s minions managed to bleed Dawn. I failed, and instead of tossing her sister off that bloody tower, Buffy jumped instead. Since Dawn was made from Buffy they shared the same blood and the Slayer was able to close the portal.”

“And how did you fail?”

“I didn’t stop Dawn from getting cut,” Spike replied as old wounds were reopened. “If I had, then maybe Buffy wouldn’t have had to jump. And if she hadn’t died that night her friends wouldn’t have pulled her from heaven, and she never would have been so bloody miserable.”

“And yet without your actions that day, our world would still be waiting for both you and Dawn to arrive. Because if she had died then…” Einarr trailed off, hoping to make his friend see all had not been lost on the night he spoke of.

“This bugger Ktulu would just keep slaughtering everyone because Dawn wouldn‘t be alive to help me get rid of him,” Spike finished, a thoughtful frown flickering across his face. “Huh, never quite though of it that way.”

"Often when we perceive a failure on our parts, we tend to be blind to the victories along the way," Einarr concluded before he continued his slow trek forward.

They managed to walk quite a distance in a comfortable silence while Einarr deftly navigated the snowy terrain and Spike mulled over his friend’s words. But as the sun began to set and the snow started coming down harder Spike was unable to suppress his worries.

“So how the bloody hell do we know if we‘re going in the right direction?” Spike spoke up as he tried to peer through the now blinding snow. He hoped they weren't lost since all of this snow made any landscapes they passed look identical to him.

“If this crystal goes out we know we‘ve gotten turned onto the wrong path,” Einarr said as he held up the softly glowing stone Draco had given them.

“Thank God for dragon-made GPS,” Spike exclaimed earning a curious look from his travel companion. “The dragons aren’t the only people who can make tracking devices. We’ve got a few interesting ones back on my old world.”

“Of course,” Einarr said with a slight smile, causing Spike to grumble some more. “Is it my fault I find tales of your world so fascinating?”

“Nah, mate,” Spike replied with a shrug. “Not as long as you’re willing to share a few of your own stories is all. Need to know all I can of Airworld if I’m going to be living here from now on. Starting with how the bloody hell do I pronounce Airworld! Feel like the Slayer when she tries to say some new demon’s name. Did I ever tell you that girl has a talent for slaughtering the English language?”

“So ‘English’ would be what your world calls the common language of Ærworuld?” Einarr laughed as he deliberately used the proper name of his world in order to tease his friend.

“Ha bloody ha!” Spike grumbled trying to convince the other man of his bad mood, however the grin on his face quickly gave him away. “You just want me to make a fool of myself in front of all the royalty. That way you can have a good laugh at my expense. I’m on to you mate!”

“Damn!” Einarr swore in a mocking tone. “You have discovered my nefarious plan! Now I’ll have to think of something else.”

Hearing Spike’s snickering from behind him caused Einarr to lose his fragile hold on his stern expression. Laughing at their equally juvenile behavior, he quietly turned his attention back to the trail before them while he began to tutor Spike in how to properly say the name of his new world.

This was both a relief and a heartbreaking process for the old soldier. Einarr’s world needed Spike, he was the Father of the Key after all, but that also meant Spike had to leave his own world behind. Silently, Einarr vowed he would help in anyway possible to make the transition a relatively painless one for his new friend.

“Was the case inside?”

“Yes Gaelwine. I’ve got it right now,” Liana silently replied as she quickly closed and locked the temple’s massive wooden door.

“Good,” Gaelwine answered. “We must hurry. Gaius is waiting for us.”

“I know.”

Feet meeting grass, Liana sped forward as the urgency of her mission weighed heavily upon her. She was almost to the glen where Gaelwine waited when a light flashed brightly before her eyes. When her vision cleared she found her sword gripped firmly in her hands, and the case resting on the ground behind her. Directly in front of her a group of strangers were lying on the ground.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They landed on the hard cool ground with an unceremonious plop. The slayers were the first to gain their footing as weapons found hands, and they placed themselves before the physically weaker members of their group, shielding them from the apparent threats before them. The woman standing in front of them was tall, dark-haired, and holding a long two-handed broadsword in her hands. She also seemed to be the least of their problems. The low rumbling growl coming from the large gray dragon blocking the path behind them filled everyone with fear. A fight with one woman holding a sword was better odds than taking on the woman combined with the angry dragon.

“Holy Cow! It’s a dragon!” Xander exclaimed, nerves as usual, causing him to run off at the mouth. “Buffy! Look it’s Puff the Magic Dragon!”

“Not now Xan,” Buffy muttered, her grip on the slayer scythe tightening.

“Um…Hi,” Willow said with a slight nervous laugh flowing along her words. “This whole thing was supposed to bring us directly to Dawn, but obviously you’re not her so now we’re lost, but if you could tell us where we are, and possibly not try to kill us that would be really nice.”

The woman’s eyes only narrowed further at Willow’s words. Giving the group no reply, she took a purposeful step back towards the sanctuary she was standing in front of.

“Maybe it did work Wills,” Buffy said as she slowly took a step forward. “For all we know Warrior Princess here could tell us exactly where my sister is.”

“If you turn, and leave now then neither I, nor the dragon will kill you,” the woman intoned in a soft deadly voice.

“And I want to know where my sister is,” Buffy growled back as her own eyes narrowed in anger.

“Um Buffster…” Xander said from behind Buffy, his own hands clutching at his pack as nerves got the better of him. “Maybe you should simply ask Xena if she’s seen Dawn instead of just tossing accusations at someone who might not be an enemy.”

“For all I know you are spies for Ktulu, so I’ll repeat myself just this once. Leave this place, and we will not kill you.”

“Oh!” Willow cried, her eyes going wide at hearing the name of the creature they knew to be searching for Dawn. “He’s the one who sent that smelly lizardy demon to look for Dawn! Buffy, maybe she knows where Ktulu is. For all we know he was the one who took her.”

“It would be foolish to continue your pursuit of that monster.”

“That monster stole my sister, and I want to know where he is!” Buffy yelled.

“Then maybe we should find out exactly where we are, right B?” Faith asked as she placed a soothing hand on Buffy’s shoulder.

“She’s right,” turning to face the swordswoman standing before them Angel spoke in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. “Please, we are simply looking for her sister, and any help would be welcome.”

Eyeing the group suspiciously Liana spoke carefully, measuring their reactions to her words.

“You are in Ærworuld á on écnisse at the Goddess’ Haven in King Leof’s province. This area is under the protection of the Kingdom’s Alliance.”

“We’re in Anessie and King Leaf’s whatsit?” Buffy asked clearly confused.

“Sorry for wigging out on you but, we’re not from around here,” Willow replied sheepishly, and with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“We come in peace,” Xander said as he affected what he hoped was a goofy, but harmless grin, ‘Vulcan peace sign‘ held high. “Take us to your leader, please.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting against a nearby tree, broadsword resting across her folded legs, Liana watched the strange group. Their clothing itself wasn’t the only thing that stood out. Their speech patterns were odd, filled with words Liana had never heard before. She was still trying to figure out what "wigging" meant.

Also they seemed to alternately show respect and distain for one another. They appeared to loathe the one called Angel the most, though Liana did not know why. Despite his overbearing attitude, Angel seemed to be the only one preaching caution in their new environment. Buffy, whom Liana had immediately pegged as a warrior, appeared to be their leader. Liana didn’t believe this was a wise choice. Buffy came across as undisciplined and arrogant, and Liana knew those qualities could easily get a person killed.

While she knew they were not followers of the Dark One and Ktulu, she still couldn’t trust the reason they gave for traveling to Ærworuld.

“Tell me about these demons sent after your sister,” Liana asked.

“What do you want to know?”

Hearing the exasperated sigh lacing the blonde warrior’s words, Liana raised an eyebrow, and made her annoyance with the newcomers obvious.

“What would a being such as Ktulu want with a little girl?”

“We don’t know,” Willow replied. “We were in the middle of a war with these really bad beings when these lizardy demons showed up in our world.”

“And you left your world unprotected?” Liana commented as her gaze swept over the group. This caused the group to stiffen visibly, and a scowl to settle across Buffy’s face.

“No,” Xander answered after sharing a quick glance with his friends. “Um…there were others helping us.”

“They are hiding something,” Gaelwine whispered in her mind from where he lay curled up on the path leading from the temple. He was pretending to sleep. Gaelwine hoped the strangers would speak freely, believing him to be nothing more than a simple animal.

“I see,” Liana nodded, replying to both the spoken and unspoken words.

“Look,” Angel interrupted. The whole conversation was irritating him, and he was tired of following Buffy’s lead. “I get that you don’t trust us. Fact is we don’t trust you either. So, this whole gathering information thing you‘re doing? It’s getting old, fast.”

“Then it seems we are at a stalemate,” Liana replied as she stood up. Walking over to Gaelwine, she gently placed her hand on his brow. “And I insist you stay here until Caius has been able to have a word with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When another dragon arrived, jaws once again hit the ground. Bigger than the gray dragon, it was cover with gleaming red scales on its body and darker wings. A bright red jewel was encrusted between its eyes. This dragon was intelligent, and openly assessing them. Turning its head towards Liana, it stared at her for a few minutes before looking over to the gray dragon. It was then the Scoobies realized a conversation was taking place; one they were not privy too.

“Hey!” Xander grumbled under his breath. “No fair! Why do they get to do the cool secret conversation and not us?”

“Because it is our world you are trespassing in,” a smooth voice said, echoing inside their heads.

Startled, everyone looked to find the new dragon staring at them, head tilted to the side.

“So, you’re this Caius we’ve been waiting for,” Buffy said, false bravado filling her words.

“I am,” Caius answered, seeming to bow before the group.

“Look, Puff,” Buffy started only to stop when what looked like amusement flickered across Caius’ face.

“Does everyone from your world always gift each other with nicknames?”

“You already know who we are, don’t you?” Angel asked as he came to stand beside Buffy. “How is that?”

“I have learned much from the Father.”

“The who?” Buffy asked, deliberately playing dumb.

For five long seconds she only got a disgusted look in answer.

“Do not underestimate my kind Slayer. We may not be human, but we are far from stupid.”

“Since you seem to know about slayers, then I suggest you start talking,” Faith said as she joined the conversation. She stood off to Buffy’s side, arms crossed over her chest.

“Slayers?’ Liana asked. “What in all of Ærworuld is a slayer?”

“A slayer is the human guardian of the Father’s former world,” Caius answered.

“Then what are these slayers doing here?”

“Interfering in a fight where they are not needed, most likely.”

This time the voice was a low rumbling growl. It carried an edge of hostility, and was coupled with the gray dragon thumping its tail in irritation.

“Interfering?” Buffy shrieked. “My sister was forcefully dragged to your world! I came to get her back!”

“You have no place here interloper!” the gray roared, as his eyes flashed and smoke unfurled from his nose and mouth.

“Hey! Ho! Buffster!” Xander said. “Please try not to anger the big scary dragon.”

Moving surprisingly fast for such a massive creature, Caius let loose a thunderous roar, jaws clamping briefly on the gray dragon’s neck. He gave the other dragon a sharp shake, and then let go, all the while issuing softer growls, tail flickering behind him.

The gray one seemed to shrink in on itself, though it kept growling, eyes locked on Caius.

“Guardians of the Father‘s old world,” Caius said as he turned his attention their way once more. “I shall deliver you to the Gods’ main temple in Siry. There you can rest, and in a few days time I will bring you to where the Girl-Key is staying.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Siry turned out to be a beautiful community surrounding a gorgeous white stone temple. It reminded the Scoobies of the grand cathedrals in Europe. The sun gleamed off its surface, giving it an ethereal glow. Well-tended gardens spread around the surrounding lands. There were a few simple houses scattered about, and people dressed in robes, all differing in color, went about their daily work. They acted as if seeing strangers from a different dimension was an everyday occurrence.

For Buffy, it all meant nothing. She was still fuming over Caius’ refusal to bring her straight to her sister. Not even being told Dawn was safe, or getting to ride on a dragon's back, enabled her to appreciate the town‘s beauty. Buffy also wanted to go back and show the gray dragon and the slayer wanna-be what a real slayer was capable of.

Interfering, my ass! There’s a war going on here. Of course they’re going to need a slayer, Buffy thought.

She had fought in numerous apocalypses, two of which involved a hell god and the First Evil. She had won those battles, and knew if anyone was going to find a way to kill Ktulu or his Master it would be her. These people would need her, and the other slayers soon. Slayers were destined to fight evil, and this world was being plagued by it.

Bolstered by her thoughts, Buffy straightened her shoulders, and marched through the temple doors. She brought with her an aura of entitlement, surveying her surroundings with judgmental eyes. Buffy would show Caius, this world needed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Man, is it getting hairy out there,” Kennedy said as she barged into Giles’ hotel room and dropped the box she was carrying on top of the coffee table.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘hairy’?” Giles asked as he bent to scoop up the pile of books Kennedy had knocked off. “The Senior Partners only recently opened the portal to allow their army into our world. Surely there are still a few stray demons left over from the battle.”

“No, this is different,” Kennedy said. “Remember those lizard-y demons the others found just before they left? Well, we keep coming across more and more of them. It’s like they’re checking the place out or something.”

“Oh dear,” Giles said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have they said anything to indicate why they’re here?”

“Nope. But we did find a few of them sniffing around the ruins of the Wolfram and Hart building,” Kennedy offered with a shrug of her shoulders. “Don’t know if it means anything.”

“Knowing our luck it probably does,” Giles sighed. “Kennedy…”

Kennedy interrupted quickly, “keep up patrols around the building, kill any stray demons, and report back any weird behavior shown by said demons. I already gave the orders Watcher man. There’s a group of girls out there right now with Shannon, and in two hours another group of girls will go out while Shannon’s group comes back for food and rest. I know what I’m doing. I had a good teacher.”

“Yes, well…Of course you did,” Giles stammered as he tried to think of something to say.

She made sure to meet his eyes, “just remind me to tell Spike that when Buffy brings him back okay?”

Silence greeted her words. Giving Giles a quick nod, Kennedy jumped up from the couched and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna go take a shower and get some rest. I’ll see you before I head back out.”

Shaking his head, Giles went back to leafing through his books. They were infinitely safer than actually dealing with people; books stayed the same while people had the tendency to change without anyone realizing it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting at King Aneirin’s table on his right side, Dawn fervently wished for the ground to open up and swallow her. The banquet hall was one long room with tables running along the length of the room leaving the center clear. The table she sat at rested on a slightly elevated dais, and followed the width of the room. It afforded the table’s occupants a view of the entire room and the double doors taking up most of the front wall.

People were packed into the room, all eating, talking, laughing, or simply watching others. Minstrels played softly in a corner on Dawn’s left side. She tried to focus on the beautiful music they played, but she couldn’t help feeling all the eyes her trained on her.

Dawn had only been in Ærworuld for about two weeks. News had traveled through the Alliance’s many kingdoms like wildfire. It seemed every able body was trying to visit the castle to catch a glimpse of the Girl-Key. It made her feel like a freak, and the openly jealous stares from some of the noble women didn’t help. She’d already heard stories about the Key Powers she used to entrance the king. They failed to grasp that if Dawn had had any powers she would have used them to go home.

“Are you alright my dear?” Fredric asked from his place beside her. Looking into his concerned blue eyes, Dawn felt her bottom lip start to tremble. Taking a deep breath to steady her emotions, Dawn forced a small smile onto her face and hoped the older man didn’t push the issue any further. She didn’t know if she would be able to stop her tears once they started.

“I’m fine,” Dawn, said wincing at the waver evident in her voice.

“If you wish to leave just say so,” Aneirin whispered as he leaned his head in her direction. “It’s understandable if you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything.”

“I know,” Dawn replied as she tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “Thanks. It‘s just…all starting to sink in you know?”

“Of course,” Aneirin answered before turning back to his previous conversation.

Sighing, Dawn finally put her fork down and rested her head in her right hand, eyes scanning over the crowd of people in the room. Her left hand was idly playing with the edge of the tablecloth when she felt a warm hand cover hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Blinking rapidly to force the tears from her eyes, Dawn turned and gave Aneirin a grateful smile. The rest of dinner passed more easily than the first half had. It helped that King Aneirin never let go of her hand.

Cautiously navigating one of the longer tunnels of his home, Draco quietly made his way to the side cavern where Ivor was standing guard.

“Caius, the poison has finally been cleared from her body, and she is resting peacefully,” the black battle dragon reported.

“This is good,” Draco replied. “Once she is well enough I will bring her to the Father myself.”

“Of course,” Ivor replied with a slight bow of his head. Turning, he quickly left the caves in order to continue with his hunt. Rumors had reached the dragons that Ktulu was planning a raid on the small coastal city of Ceryus and the thought of roasting a few of Ktulu’s minions brought an eager smile to the weathered old dragon’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on a rocky hill overlooking the partially walled city of Ceryus, Ivor kept a close eye on the countryside surrounding the area. After speaking with Alvora, a Sea dragon, the old battle dragon knew some of Ktulu’s minions were in the vicinity.

“Greetings old friend.”

“Greetings Hallvaror,” Ivor replied as the green and gold Wyvern settled on the rocky surface next to him. “How did your patrol of the region go?”

“Unfortunately not as well as we had hoped,” Hallvaror huffed in frustration. “We only managed to find the remains of their campsites and nothing more.”

“So the vermin managed to slither away and hide then?” Ivor growled, his long barbed tail thumping angrily on the ground.

“Yes, though Alvora and her kin are watching for any unknown ships trying to approach Ceryus’ harbor,” Hallvaror continued, giving his companion an update of ongoing events.

“They would know best which ships belonged and which ones did not,” Ivor nodded. While it wasn’t good news, it seemed that Ktulu’s minions would not be mounting an attack from the sea. This gave them a direction to focus their defenses, though the Sea Dragons would not be letting up on their patrol of the seas anytime soon.

“Thal and Eydar are leading small patrol groups at the moment while the others are getting into position around the town.”

“Good,” Ivor replied. “This continuous slaughter can not be allowed to carry on.”

“Indeed,” Hallvaror snorted, shaking his massive head.

“Is there a problem old friend?” Ivor asked, his tone flat, dark eyes gleaming in the early evening light.

“There is talk.”

“That is not an answer Hallvaror,” Ivor scolded. “There is always ‘talk’.”

“Some say that Caius is ‘soft’ to the humans’ plight.”

“Their ‘plight’ is ours as well,” Ivor corrected with a sharp retort. “Ærworuld is home to both our races.”

“It wasn’t always so!” Hallvaror snarled as his wings fluttered around his body. “Caius simply refuses to see reason.”

“And what would that be?” Ivor replied angrily. “Let the humans suffer the Dark One’s vengeance all the while hoping that he never turns his gaze our way?”

“Our kin are dying in this foolish war the humans started!”

“Hallvaror! Do not blame these people for crimes supposedly committed millennia before they were born!” Ivor roared as he turned flashing eyes onto the Wyvern sitting next to him. “Ktulu and his master lie, we all know this.”

“It does not matter,” Hallvaror snapped. “No matter how much time passes they will always be bloodthirsty savages.”

“Some humans say the same thing about us,” Ivor stated, frustration filling his words as he unfurled his wings. Flapping them once, then twice more, Ivor slowly lifted into the rapidly darkening sky.

“And if we ignore this war then it will have been true.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon peeked out from behind thick rolling clouds. Waves crashed against the shoreline. Thunder rumbled in the distance, while lightning flashed and danced across the sky. Winds picked up, filling the night with mournful howls and the scent of rain.

Scattered over the dale, hiding amongst a few trees and rocks, fire and ice drakes kept a steady watch over the sleepy city. It was their job to scourer the land looking for signs of the Dark One’s army.

The churning waters beyond Ceryus were patrolled by the sea serpents who kept a continuous look out for any ship trying to slip by. battle dragons and wyverns soared across the sky, adding their keen eyesight to the fire and ice drakes’ vigils.

The Alantria Forest, located a few miles from Ceryus, was ancient and thick with undergrowth were the towns people had not cleared it to make room for their roads and cattle fields. Its trees were towering giants, their trunks wide enough to hide a leviathan, or Nikias himself, if needed.

At the edge of the forest, Nikias stood overlooking Ceryus. His gaze swept over the landscape, eyes intense and filled with merciless glee. His hilltop perch provided extra coverage for him and his army. The battle would be bloody, Nikias knew, and he relished the idea.

“Are the arrangements coming along as we planned?” A childish voice whispered to his left. Stepping from the shadows, a small girl smiled coldly up at the powerfully built leviathan.

“Everything is running smoothly,” Nikias snapped. “There is no need for doubt.”

He watched, disgusted, while the girl let her eyes travel over his army. Small squads held positions next to clusters of rocks and trees, while three battalions marched closer to Ceryus’ surrounding wall-one coming from the north, another marching along the main highway towards the city, and the last coming up from the south. A select few leviathans were already at Ceryus’ wall, working carefully to place small bags of black explosive powder along the perimeter.

“You should close off access to Ceryus’ main gate and harbor. That way it will be harder for the humans to escape.”

“Since when do I take orders from you?”


Loathing filled his words. His narrowed eyes blazed with defiance, and a barely audible growl echoed from his throat. The noise caused her head to snap back in his direction. Fury flashed briefly in her eyes, before a calm mask fell over her face. In a quiet, steady voice, the promise of cruelty dancing along her words, she said, “Do well to remember Lyr, Nikias. You wouldn’t want to start emulating your predecessor.”

In his mind’s eye, Nikias could see the image of Lyr lying on blackened earth. His eyes were wide and unseeing. His chest was cracked open, displaying his crushed innards. Next to his open mouth was Lyr’s tongue. Nikias, on orders from Ktulu, had ripped it out when he’d offered excuses for his failure at retrieving the Souled-One for his Master’s new allies.

Scowling, Nikias quickly sent a messenger to give the orders for three squads to take up the new postings, two at the harbor, and one at the gate.

“Do not forget our agreement with your Master, Nikias. The Dark One got himself imprisoned and will be defeated without our help,” the girl casually reminded. “Besides, you do want the humans to pay for what they did, don’t you?”

Despite his strengths, Nikias was easy to manipulate. She knew which buttons to push. She needed only to play on his fanatical need for revenge and he unknowingly danced to her tune. It was too bad she couldn't do the same with Ktulu. He was a remarkable sight and delightfully cruel but, unfortunately, remained loyal to his Master.

“At least your exotic magics have provided us with adequate cover.”

It was a tactical concession, made only to ensure continued support.

“Remember Nikias, please us and our power will be your Master’s as well,” the girl said before she vanished, leaving Nikias to complete his task.

Leaving the cover of Alantria’s ancient woods, Nikias carefully made his way to the edge of the cliff. Turning towards his troops, and letting out a ululating wail, Nikias thrust his arm into the air, broadsword held high, and signaled for the attack to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lightning split the sky. Crackling thunder followed immediately after. Rain poured down, soaking the ground.

Thunderous explosions splintered wooden beams, causing sections of the wall to collapse. Lights flooded windows, and doors flew open. People stood, terror freezing them in place, watching as thousands of the Dark One’s minions poured through the gaps in the wall.

Stepping through a collapsed section of wall, Nikias grinned. Before him chaos reigned. Screams mixed with wailing winds as one by one the cities’s inhabitants were dragged forcefully from their homes. Mud squelching beneath clawed feet, Nikias strode through the now burning city.

Walking towards the huddled group near the cities’ fountain, Nikias let his gaze travel over the dismal gathering. The humans were cowering together, soaked through, and covered in filth.

It was a smaller group than Nikias had expected given Ceryus’ size. He had thought their entrance would have garnered more attention than it was receiving.

Locking eyes with the people before him, Nikias let loose a deep rumbling growl.

“Where are your people?” the oily thought poured through the humans’ minds, seeping into the very recesses of their souls, tainting them. “I cannot believe this settlement holds such a pathetic gathering of mortals.”

One older man managed to hold Nikias’ gaze. Raising his chin defiantly, he waited a beat before speaking in a loud clear voice.

“They surround you! You filthy beast!”

An arrow followed his insult immediately. It struck one of the dragonets’ chest, bouncing harmlessly off its thick hide. Before more could be fired, Nikias pulled out his

broadsword and impaled the mortal scum who had dared to defy him. Lightning flashed across the sky, gleaming off the bloodied sword sticking out of the man’s back.

“Jarl, no,” Siaya cried softly.

Fighting to free herself from her eldest son’s grip, Siaya watched helplessly as her husband’s wide eyes sought hers. He opened his mouth as if to speak but only a watery gurgle came forth. Blood overflowed his mouth and oozed down his chin.

As slowly as possible, Nikias extracted his broadsword from Jarl's body. When the blade caught on the man’s ribs, Nikias grabbed Jarl’s shoulder with his free hand, dug in his claws, and jerked his sword loose. It came free with a wet sucking sound covering the man's last dying gurgles. Without the blade's support, Nikias' first victim collapsed with a splatter on the wet street.

For his own amusement, Nikias found Siaya’s distraught gaze. Letting a grin spread across his face, Nikias raised a clawed foot. He brought it down on the dead man’s skull causing it to splinter and pop. Blood and mashed brains gushed out mixing with the sodden earth.

Looking over the horrified Ceryusans, the dim light of hope gone from their eyes, Nikias threw his head back and roared. It gave Nikias a thrill to cause such mayhem, and soon the other occupants of his army joined their voices to his, nearly drowning out the thunder from the storm.

As if in answer, a ululating wail echoed in the darkness followed by more lightning dancing across the horizon. Looking towards the dark shape of the half-crumpled wall surrounding their city, the citizens of Ceryus watched in relief as familiar giant figures appeared in the sky above. Thunder cracked again and the dragons attacked.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A rapid succession of images flowed through Spike's mind, like a VCR stuck on fast-forward, making him dizzy and nauseous.

An old man dragged from his hiding place, a young woman’s throat savagely cut, and the leviathan responsible grinned.

One man stood tall and fought bravely, but hopelessly, as he was cut down. Others immediately took his place but soon faced a similar fate, their bodies ripped apart with sword and talons alike. A few families tried to flee, most ended up with the barbed ends of spears forced through their backs.

With a loud roar a golden dragon swooped in, its wings unfurled, clawed feet extended towards a worm. The two met with the worm’s teeth clamping on to the dragon’s neck and the dragon’s feet raking the worm‘s soft underbelly. As the dragon broke free, a nearby firedrake let loose a blast of fire, igniting the wretched beast.

Along the coastline, sea serpents rose up high, towering over the town. With unerring accuracy, one lunged forward, catching a leviathan in its massive jaws and quickly dragged it beneath the waves.

Fires burned through homes and businesses. Black acrid smoke rolled skyward. Screams could be heard coming from some of the buildings, only to be silence when the buildings collapsed.

Lightning flashed again and a wyvern alit before a huddle of evacuees cornered on a cliff’s edge. The people scrambling on the back of a sea serpent, while the wyvern fights off a leviathan.

The leviathan swung a broadsword at the wyvern, cutting open the thick hide on its neck. Roaring in pain and angrily gnashing needlelike teeth, the wyvern finally catches the leviathan on the shoulder. Howling, the leviathan jerks free of the wyvern’s jaws. Taking advantage of nerveless fingers, the wyvern knocks the leviathan’s sword to the ground. Fighting back with its good arm the leviathan slashes its talons at the wyvern’s eyes. As the wyvern reared back to protect its eyes, the leviathan lunges forward. Wrapping its good arm around the wyvern, the leviathan’s talons and teeth sink into the wyvern’s neck. A quick jerk and a loud crunch precede the wyvern’s limp body falling to the earth. Face sporting a rictus grin, the leviathan stepped back, dropping the chunk of flesh it had bitten free. Blood and gore covered its face.

“Now my traitorous brethren, you will know my pain.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning dawned cold and gray. A fog had settled around the city, creating an almost soft and gentle background to the carnage left behind by Nikias and his army. Building after building lay in smouldering ruins. The few survivors moved slowly, cradling precious burdens tightly in dirt-crusted hands. Barely a word was said. Those able went to help their neighbors. Meanwhile, some of the dragons quietly went about clearing any debris too large for the survivors to handle.

In the town square before him, Draco watched as the bodies of loved ones were methodically placed on the remains of shattered wooden beams.

Shoulders slumped and eyes vacant, a woman tottered closer to the funeral pyre. Her hand gripped a cloth doll, tattered and soot-covered. A man arranging the body of a small girl took it from her, and carefully placed it in the girl’s arms.

Draco had not known the people who died but the world already felt empty. The numbness inside his heart felt peculiar to him though Draco still felt the grief it was blocking.

Turning his attention to a cluster of wyvern at the promontory’s edge, Draco looked on as Thal helped load the body of their kin onto Alvora’s back to be carried away.

Hearing the crackling sounds of the pyre lighting, Draco turned back and saw the young mother he had seen earlier. She was standing in the center of a ring of townspeople, eyes staring straight ahead, as the flames consumed the bodies of those stolen from their families.

Even in their shocked state, Draco could see the fires of vengeance beginning to burn in the Ceryusans’ eyes. Whether they turned their anger towards the Gods, the Kings, the Dragons, or all, Draco did not know. Only time would tell.

Besides him, Rocher watched Alvora’s disappearing form, while Ivor’s cold voice echoed inside their minds.

“Caius, Hallvaror is gone.”

The streets of Los Angeles seemed deserted. Kennedy couldn’t remember the last time a car had passed her, and people were curiously absent. Her slayer senses tingled. The night was too calm and Kennedy was certain the Senior Partners were up to something.

Coming around the corner, Kennedy scanned her surroundings. The Wolfram and Hart building lay in a pile of rubble. Yellow police tape was being used to deter anyone brave, or foolish enough, from checking out the unstable heap.

As she drew closer, she saw the figure of a man standing near the remains of the building. He was tall, broad shouldered, and well dressed. His hair was cut short and neat; his smile was cold. From the description Angel had given, she figured him to be Hamilton, the liaison he said he had killed. It looked like Angel hadn’t done a very good job.

He seemed to be talking to one of those lizardy demons, though she could not hear what was being said. Creeping forward Kennedy watched as their conversation appeared to wrap up and the demon disappeared into the shadows.

When Hamilton stepped away from the rubble, Kennedy tried to sneak away. This was definitely something that Giles needed to know. Unfortunately for Kennedy her right foot kicked a small bit of concrete when she moved. It went skittering across the sidewalk, and hit a metal dumpster with a clang.

Hamilton turned narrowed eyes in her direction as a smirk replaced his smile.

“Well, what do you know,” Hamilton said. His voice was smooth, casual, sounding as if he was simply speaking about the weather. “It seems I’ve found a little girl playing at being a slayer, and poking around where she shouldn’t.”

“I’m not playing,” Kennedy said, head high and eyes icy. She adjusted her grip on the handle of her axe as she prepared to fight.

“You’re not Buffy or Faith,” Hamilton said, his voice sounding smug. “So I’d say you’re playing pretend little girl.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Hamilton,” Kennedy smirked. “Looks like I’ll get to finish what Angel started. You really should have stayed dead after he killed you.”

“That would have implied Angel had succeeded.”

Rushing forward, Kennedy swung her axe, aiming for his head. Hamilton was fast though, and ducked out of the way. He was also stronger than she had anticipated. His punch caught her in her side and launched her into the air. Her flight was stopped when her back slammed into a brick wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and stars danced before her eyes. Sharp spikes of pain raced along her back, and her body begged her to lie down and stay still. Distantly her mind registered the high-pitched clang of her axe hitting the ground. It was by will alone Kennedy pulled herself to her feet. She was a slayer, and no two bit demon wanna-be was going to take her down.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Kennedy sneered, refusing to acknowledge the warm sticky sensation on the back of her head. “Cause if so, I gotta say I’m a bit disappointed.”

“I am a part of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart little slayer.” Hamilton smiled and casually cracked his knuckles. “You have no idea as to what I‘ve got.”

“You sure about that Hammy?” Kennedy asked, voice all little girl innocent. “Angel beat you once; who’s to say something like that won’t happen again?”

Hoping for the element of surprise, Kennedy lobbed a heavy chunk of concrete at Hamilton. When he moved to dodge the missile, Kennedy launched herself at him. Again, he was faster than she hoped. Hamilton caught her with ease, holding her off the ground by her forearms.

“We can not be defeated.” Hamilton grinned as he began to squeeze. Struggling, Kennedy tried to break free, but his hold was too strong. Pain flew through her body, as her bones were ground together. Gritting her teeth, Kennedy refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Pulling her foot back, she tried to deliver a kick to his stomach, and prayed the impact would loosen his grip on her arms.

Before she could attack though, a sword was pushed through Hamilton’s chest. His eyes widened in shock and his grip slackened. Dropping to the ground, Kennedy scrambled away, her eyes wide at the surprise rescue. Suddenly, the tip of the blade was yanked free, and then, Hamilton’s head was flying across the room while his body tumbled to the ground.

Looking up, Kennedy came face to face with her savior. He was tall, with broad shoulders and blonde hair. He had a scar bisecting his left eye. He wore black military fatigues and had a gun clipped to his belt.

“Damn villains are all the same,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Love the sound of their own voice.”

Pulling herself to her feet, Kennedy raised her fists, and prayed she wouldn’t have to fight the newcomer. Hamilton had taken more out of her than she thought, and it was by will alone she was standing.

“Who the hell are you?”

A slight smile crossed the strangers face. Shaking his head, he put the sword in a sheath resting along his back.

“I’m Riley Finn,” he said as he took a step towards her. “We’re on the same side.”

Eyebrow arched, Kennedy glared at the man, refusing to answer. Her fists were still raised, and she took a step back, putting some distance between herself and the solider.

“And I’m supposed to take you at your word?” Kennedy asked with a disgusted snort. “Please.”

“Look, just talk to Buffy,” Riley said. “She’ll tell you.”

“How about I get back to you on that one?” Kennedy kept her eyes trained on the solider before her. An exasperated sigh answered her obvious suspicion. With a roll of his eyes, Riley pulled out a card and slowly placed it on the ground between them. Straightening to his full height, Riley held up his hands and started to back away.

“Fine, just tell Buffy that she can call me at that number.”

Kennedy stayed silent, watching as the soldier disappeared into the ruins of Wolfram and Hart.

Darting forward she scooped up the card and ran back to the hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And he said his name was Riley?” Giles asked, again, as he paced his hotel room.

“Yes,” Kennedy growled. “He kept talking like he knew Buffy.”

Pausing briefly, Giles eyed the card in his hand and the telephone sitting on the end table. Making up his mind, Giles picked up the handset and dialed. The phone rang three times before a familiar voice answered.

“Buffy?”

“Sorry, to disappoint,” Giles said, his tone cool.

“Giles,” Riley said. His sigh carried over the phone. “I thought Buffy would be calling.”

“I gathered,” Giles replied. “Though how you figured it was her is beyond me.”

“The card has my personal cell number on it.”

“I see,” Giles said. “Frankly, now that I know it was in fact you who approached our Slayer, I can’t help wondering what you are doing here.”

Riley‘s exasperation could be heard clearly. “I guess there’s no point in saying that information is classified since we’re probably here for the same reasons.”

“I doubt that.”

“We received intel saying there was something going on in Los Angeles and that whatever it was; it was connected to Wolfram and Hart. Since I heard Angel was running the Los Angeles branch, I thought it would be a good idea to put a team together and find out what was happening.”

“And when you got here you found a group of slayers and a destroyed building,” Giles summarized.

“Exactly,” Riley answered. “I thought my team and I could help Buffy get rid of these demons and try and figure out what happened here.”

“Well,” Giles said with a sigh, “I’m pretty sure you already know what hotel we’re staying at. Be here within the hour, if possible. There are many things to discuss, and I’d rather not do it over the phone.”

“I’ll be there.”

Hanging up the phone, Giles prayed he wasn’t making a mistake in taking Riley up on his offer of help. However, with Buffy gone and only a handful of slayers left, any help against the hordes of Wolfram and Hart was welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Giles,” Riley nodded in greeting once the door was opened.

“Riley,” Giles said. Nodding, he stepped back and allowed Riley to enter. Kennedy was still sitting on the couch, watching his every movement with wary eyes.

“Hey,” Riley said with a friendly smile. “I didn’t get your name earlier.”

“I know.”

“This is Kennedy,” Giles said when it was obvious she wasn’t going to introduce herself. “She’s one of the slayers called during the last battle in Sunnydale.”

“I heard about that,” Riley said. “We sent a team out to investigate but we didn’t find any answers.”

“An entity known as The First Evil, rose and tried to raise an army of prehistoric vampires,” Giles answered. “Buffy took her group and a handful of potential slayers down into the Hellmouth. Needless to say, we won.”

“Sounds messy.”

“It was.”

“So,” Riley said as he looked around the room. “Where is everyone? I thought they’d be here.”

Taking off his glasses, Giles let out a tired sigh. “Buffy and a few of the others are in another dimension, looking for Dawn and Spike.”

“What?” Riley shouted, his eyes wide in shock. “Okay, Dawn I get, but Spike? I know Buffy had his chip removed, but Spike?”

“A lot has changed since you left.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Riley said as he ran a tired hand over his face. “Alright, I guess this is where we share information, huh?”

“That it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me get this straight,” Riley said as he began pacing Giles’ hotel room. “Spike has a soul, and on top of that, he purposely got it back, all for Buffy. Then he goes and sacrifices himself to close the Hellmouth and stop this “First Evil?”

“Essentially, yes,” Giles said.

“And then he gets brought back only to fight in another apocalyptic battle with Angel and is now in another dimension, one that Dawn was later sucked into?”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, yes,” Giles answered. “I know you find it hard to believe, what with your past experience with Spike, but he really has changed. He’s a champion now.”

“Oh no, I believe you,” Riley said with a chuckle. “If that harebrained story could be true about anybody, it would be Spike.”

“Well, when put that way I see your point.”

Pausing, Riley turned and locked eyes with Giles. “She really loves him, doesn’t she?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Buffy,” Riley clarified. “She loves Spike. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does,” Giles answered. “Though I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

Riley’s face broke out into a grin. “I bet it really pisses Angel off.”

His words caused Giles to choke on the water he was drinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was having trouble focusing. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl inside his mind, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed not to start breaking things. Spike had awoken abruptly the previous night, the image of a ruined city and a grinning monster frozen inside his mind. The dragons’ anguished howls, and the cries of the people, still rang in his ears.

To help take his mind off the horrific visions swimming inside his head, Spike forced his attention to the morning’s menial tasks. First, Spike rolled up his bedding and secured it, setting it aside to be packed away later. Then he started a small fire in the hearth, and began to put together a small breakfast- porridge for Einarr and blood for himself. Spike made a mental note to go hunting again soon. Rabbits only held so much blood in their small bodies, and Spike was currently heating up the last of his reserves.

Despite his current mood, Spike was glad Einarr had been able to find the small hunting cabin he had frequently utilized when he would make the trek to King Aneirin’s castle. It was still cold and miserable, but it had kept them out of the weather for the night. Luckily, the snow had stopped falling, and the skies had cleared. Spike prayed their luck would hold a bit longer and they would not fall victim to the mountain’s ever-changing weather patterns.

Looking over at his companion, Spike silently watched as the other man stretched out sore muscles. He could tell old scars and injuries were bothering his friend, so he had made sure to pack up the bulk of their gear into his pack. Spike knew Einarr noticed his fretting, but chose not to bring it to light. Spike figured Einarr thought if he wanted to burden himself with all of their equipment then it was his choice; Einarr would simply get him back later, probably by kicking his butt in sword training.

Sighing, he went back to watching the lump of blood gradually defrost and the porridge heat through. Spike wanted to take action, not go off and meet with some pampered king who knew nothing of what war really meant. Planning had never been Spike’s strongest characteristic, but ever since he had arrived in Ærworuld he had been forced to curb his natural impatient tendencies.

“You’ll have action soon enough, my friend,” Einarr said as if he had been reading Spike’s mind.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just bloody frustrating not being able to do something,” Spike grumbled.

“Politics is always frustrating,” Einarr stated firmly. “The nobles want to sit around and argue the cost of sending in an army, or discount it all as someone else‘s problem. They seem to forget while they’re squabbling, their subjects are getting slaughtered.”

“Speaking from experience mate?”

“King Edderon never tolerated such petty bickering. Unfortunately, from what I hear the same can not be said for his son.”

“Great, a spoiled rich kid,” Spike growled. “And this would be one of the blokes we have to convince to let us play with their armies.”

“The last time I saw King Aneirin he was a young, naïve child who was easily manipulated by those with stronger wills than his own,” Einarr sighed. “He wasn’t even king yet.”

“Maybe he’s done some growing up since you last saw him,” Spike suggested as he sipped his now lukewarm blood. Einarr was quiet for a moment, staring into the small pot holding his food.

“Again, what I’ve heard doesn’t hold much promise.”

Silence descended once more as they moved to clean up their breakfast. All too soon, in Spike’s opinion, they smothered the fire and he found himself trekking through a deep layer of snow. If the weather held it was possible they could make it to the castle in four days. Glancing at the sky, Spike prayed their journey would not be delayed any longer.

The next night found Kennedy and Riley wandering the streets of Los Angeles. They had set up a schedule and patrol route with the help of Riley and a few of his men. Each group of slayers would be paired with at least one soldier. Riley and Kennedy, as the more experienced members of the team, would patrol together.

“So you’re like this super-secret solider guy who goes around fighting demons?” Kennedy asked.

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you know not to get in my way,” Kennedy said as she began walking a few paces ahead of Riley.

Rolling his eyes, Riley said, “Yes, Ma’am,” in the most nauseatingly insincere voice he could manage. Apparently having spent so much time with Xander had paid off for Riley, if the tightening of Kennedy’s shoulders was any indication.

They walked along, silent, both scanning the streets and alleyways. Despite their mutual dislike, Kennedy and Riley took advantage of each others strengths-Riley with his high-tech weaponry and scanners, and Kennedy with her slayer senses. As they continued their patrol, they took out various demons and vampires, but nothing to indicate that Wolfram and Hart were up to anything.

Spotting movement up ahead, Kennedy went still, trying to extend her senses the way she had been taught. The other slayers and soldiers were scattered around the area and were a few blocks away; Riley was standing a little to her left and behind her.

Kennedy gripped her weapon tighter. A dark shape pulled away from the shadows. When it stepped forward into the light provided by a street lamp, she saw it was one of the lizard-like demons they had been fighting since their arrival in Los Angeles. It stood at the mouth of an alley, a rictus grin stretching across its face when it spotted them. A matching grin spread across Kennedy’s face. This creature she could take.

“Stay back,” Kennedy said, her tone firm. “There’s only one.”

Not waiting for Riley’s assent, she started forward, meeting the demon’s rush halfway. It slashed at her with its claws, and tried to knock her down with its tail. Kennedy landed a few good hits on the demon, though to Riley’s eyes they appeared to do little harm. The demon’s grin seemed to widen. In a move that surprised both Riley and Kennedy, the demon rushed forward, faster than either could see and landed a hit that sent Kennedy sailing into the air. The hit itself had not been too bad, but her landing drove the air from her lungs. Several shots rang out in the night, the sound causing Kennedy’s ears to ring. Bullet wounds appeared on the demon‘s torso. Blood trickled from the wounds, but the demon’s grin stayed firmly in place.

Gasping, Kennedy watched as the demon bowed perfunctorily, and backed away into the surrounding darkness and disappeared.

This set off alarm bells in Riley’s head. The demon could have ended her if it had wanted to. Riley would never have been able to reach her before it did, and the bullets he had fired seemed to have done little damage. So why had it disappeared without finishing her off? Riley thought as he jogged forward to help Kennedy to her feet.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he held his hand out for her to take.

“I thought I told you I could handle things!” Kennedy yelled as she shoved Riley’s helping hand away. Pulling herself to her feet, Kennedy dusted her clothes off and tried to get the dirt and grime from her hair. She would worry about the blood later.

“If that‘s what you call handling things, then I‘m surprised you‘ve lasted as long as you have,” Riley yelled back, outraged. The creature, in Riley’s opinion, had only been toying with her, and this pissing contest Kennedy seemed set on playing with him starting to wear thin.

“I know how to do my job!”

“If that was the case then you’d know when to accept help too!”

“Whatever,” Kennedy said with a trace of disgust in her voice. “Let’s go gather the others and head back to the hotel.”

“I’m going to take a look around,” Riley said, eyes scanning the darkness. “You can head back if you want.”

“There’s nothing here, Agent Finn,” Kennedy said with a roll of her eyes. “Slayer here. I’d know if there was.”

“Well, Slayers aren’t always right you know,” Riley shot back as he cautiously stepped forward. Edging around the corner and into the alley the demon had come from; Riley shone his flashlight around the area, trying to see if there was anything to tell them what the demon had been up too.

Riley did not get very far. His light hit a dark red puddle. It was still wet. Taking a few more steps forward, the stench of dead bodies and garbage hit him. A small detached part of Riley’s brain, the part that was still a country boy from Iowa, was curled up in a corner, sickly green and trying to convince the rest of him that turning and throwing up was a good idea. Riley had learned years ago to ignore that part of his brain, at least until he was alone and no one would see him fall apart.

The pile of mutilated bodies was currently making it very hard for Riley to ignore that small bit of himself that hadn’t been hardened from years of combat. The bodies before him had literally been pulled apart. He could see the blood splatter along the brick walls of the alley and the ground. It wasn’t so much seeing the massacre that was affecting him; it was the fact that the bodies had been artfully arranged. There were three heads resting atop the severed ends of three arms, three torsos had been tied together to make one, and two severed legs were resting against the bottom. Two more arms had been placed against the bloodied shoulder sockets, palms facing up. Blood had been used to draw wings on the concrete.

Pulling out a digital camera from one of his pockets, Riley took a few pictures of the scene. He didn’t know how well the pictures would turn out, but Riley knew that he couldn’t wait until morning. By then the bodies and the blood would be gone. Wolfram and Hart would make sure of it.

Hearing a gasp from behind him, Riley turned to see Kennedy. She was standing at the mouth of the alley, having followed despite her desire to leave. Her eyes were wide, and her skin was pale. Turning swiftly she fled around the corner and moments later, Riley could hear gasping retching sounds. Despite her bravado, Kennedy wasn’t yet hardened enough to withstand the gruesome sight, and part of Riley envied her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike could smell the salt from the ocean in the air. He saw the sparkling ocean waters off in the distance. Ships dotted the water; some lined up in the city’s port, others fished the bay and more still sailed off for distant lands.

The city itself was vast, and filled with buildings of many different sizes. Spike could see what looked like temples, places of business, and homes. To his right he could see one of the tallest and most impressive buildings in Andreas Bay. Its base was several city blocks wide. Windows lined the sides, and its ceiling was a smooth dome. In front of the building Spike could see the statue of a fully armored man on horseback. One of the statue’s hands was thrust into the air, sword held high. On its other arm rested a shield with a griffin carved in it. This was Andreas Bay’s military academy. Einarr had gone there when he had been younger. He had told Spike about the academy after Spike had shared stories from his own school days.

Below, Spike could hear people wandering about conducting business, or simply passing on gossip. The servants talked freely beneath him, but unfortunately, most of the gossip had to do with the possibility of King Aneirin becoming betrothed. Spike figured no one wanted to speak of the harsh reality of the Dark One’s war. Therefore, they focused on the silly things, like who was supposedly seeing whom, and which noble was drunkest the night before.

A sound from behind him had Spike turning towards the door. The metal of the balcony railing felt cool and solid under his hands. It kept him focused. They would be meeting with King Aneirin soon, and the last thing Spike wanted was for the meeting to start, or end, badly.

Looking towards the open doorway, his eyes settled on a man he figured was Frederic, the royal advisor Einarr had told him about. He felt his friend stiffen beside him.

“Greetings, Father.” Frederic bowed slightly in Spike’s direction. “Einarr, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

His tone was much cooler when addressing Einarr and Spike took an instant dislike to the older man.

“Frederic.” A stern voice called from behind the advisor, and Spike noticed Einarr’s eyes snap up to peer over Frederic’s shoulder. The emotions flickering across his friend’s face were easy for anyone to see. Pain, anger, regret, and loneliness shone brightly before the old soldier reined them in, locking his emotions behind a stoic mask.

The man who emerged from behind Frederic was tall, a few inches taller than himself, Spike observed. He held his head high, his shoulders straight, arms clasped loosely behind his back. He was young, Spike knew, but it surprised him to see the age in the haunted green eyes. They reminded Spike of Dawn’s eyes. King Aneirin had the look of someone who, while not on the frontline of battle, had seen and suffered in the aftermath of those battles. He had lost loved ones and people, dictated by the crown he wore, he was sworn to protect. This was not the naïve young man Einarr remembered, and Spike’s heart ached for the innocence he knew Aneirin had lost.

“Father,” Aneirin greeted softly. Turning his gaze towards Einarr, Spike watched as similar emotions shone in the king’s eyes. It was clear to Spike, Aneirin regretted whatever had happened all those years before, but lacked the knowledge of how to repair the rift.

“General Einarr,” King Aneirin said. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Your summons said there was an urgent crisis, my Lord.”

Ignoring his icy tone, King Aneirin let his gaze wander over both men before continuing. “You know about the raids along the border towns. They‘ve grown more…vicious if possible.”

“We know.”

“I have been trying to get the Alliance to gather their armies together again, but it has proven a difficult task.”

“And you needed me, why?” Einarr asked softly.

“King Aneirin believes you could contribute to our continued effort against the Dark One’s army,” Frederic offered. “Maybe as a military advisor or…”

“No, Frederic,” Aneirin cut in. “We have already discussed this. I want Einarr reinstated as General, and head of my royal guard.”

“But your Majesty, this is not possible.”

“And if Einarr’s willing, then why not?” Spike asked, speaking up for the first time. “He’s the bloody king. Can’t he reinstate someone if he wants to?”

Shaking his head Frederic stated, “I’m sorry Father, but I don’t think you quite understand what’s at stake here. We have rules, laws, and traditions. They can not simply be tossed aside on the whim of one man, king or not.”

“I understand quite well, Freddie,” Spike stated firmly. A smirk grew on his face at Frederic’s wince. He hated it when people talked down to him, or anyone he cared about. “You’ve got a bloody massive war on your hands, and a Big Bad who doesn’t care one bit about your precious laws. This bugger is killing people, end of bloody story. All we need to discuss is how we’re going to stop him.”

“I believe Frederic had one point in his misguided explanation,” Aneirin said. “You don’t understand our laws and traditions, and I believe this is a point in our favor.”

“How so?” Einarr asked his interest truly piqued.

“Let us take a seat, and discuss this properly,” King Aneirin said, gesturing towards the table and chairs a short distance away.

They talked for hours. Ideas and theories were interspersed with explanations of who certain people were, and why things were done in certain ways. The awkwardness of Einarr and Aneirin’s reunion soon fell away under the weight of the impending crisis. Old wounds would need to be dealt with, Spike knew, but at this time the threat of war took precedence.

During the talks, Spike took the time to observe all three men together. Often he would see Frederic try and hide his frustration as Aneirin occasionally ignored his advice. At the same time, Einarr’s estimation of the young king grew, and his eyes shone with a hint of familial pride.

Spike was also pleased to find his friend being proven wrong. He had worried a good bit of their journey about how he should approach the king, and being told it was rumored Aneirin had not grown out of his spoiled brat phase had not helped.

Now Spike found himself engaging in a passionate discussion with a young man who truly cared for his people. When the meeting finally drew to a close, Spike felt his burden was a bit lighter. Tomorrow would bring the Alliance’s Council, and Spike’s worry would begin anew, but for now he could rest knowing he had one more powerful ally in his strange new world.

“Molly,” Aneirin called to one of the serving girls as they all stood. “I’ve had the rooms next to Lady Dawn’s set aside for the Father and General Einarr, so if you could show them to their rooms I would appreciate it.”

“Who’s Lady Dawn?” Spike demanded, eyes wide and filling with hope.

“She is just a young woman who happens to be King Aneirin’s guest,” Frederic answered.

“Tell me who she is, old man!” Spike demanded, his blue eyes flashing yellow.

“I’d advise you to stop playing your games, Frederic,” Einarr stated coldly. “They will not be tolerated.”

“How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful manner!” Frederic cried out. “I am the king’s advisor, and you would both do well to remember that.”

“You would also do well to remember your king is standing right here, Frederic,” Aneirin stated softly. Turing his gaze towards Spike, he continued, “The Oracle brought Lady Dawn to us a few weeks ago. I had planned on introducing you to her since she is the Key.”

Spike’s knees went weak even as his heart soared in his chest. By luck alone he had stumbled upon his Bit. It was only Einarr’s quick reflexes that saved Spike from crashing to the floor.

Bringing wide eyes to focus on Frederic, Spike demanded with a harsh shout, “Take me to her now!”

He didn’t give Frederic time to argue as he lunged forward, and dragged the royal advisor along behind him. Dawn was here, and that was all Spike needed to know.

“He’s not very subtle is he?” Aneirin asked.

“No,” Einarr said. “Spike is rather candid, and does not hide behind propriety.”

Einarr could see the wince his words caused, and a part of him was pleased. Many years had passed, but the pain of not only being blamed for his king’s death, but having his status stripped away by a boy that Einarr had treated as his own son, was painful.

“My King,” Einarr ground out. “I have spoken out of turn…”

“No, General,” Aneirin interrupted softly. “I think for this moment we can forget propriety, and simply speak as two men. One of whom I have always thought of as a beloved Uncle, despite some harshly spoken words.”

“You called me a traitor and a coward.”

“I suppose saying I was young and stupid won’t help matters, will it?” Aneirin said, his tone filled with regret. “I would also like to say I was simply lashing out in my grief, but that would be false as well. Simply put, I did blame you. I was wrong, but that is the truth.”

“You were young,” Einarr sighed, suddenly feeling every one of his near fifty years.

“And that is still no excuse,” Aneirin stated. “My father would have slapped me, and then lectured me on respecting those who choose to serve our family.”

This brought a rueful chuckle from Einarr. He could well remember how such lectures had sounded. Einarr carried many memories of watching King Edderon gently and sometimes not so gently teach his son how a good king should rule.

“You were definitely a handful.”

“That, kind sir, is putting it mildly.” Aneirin smiled at his father’s old friend. “I was stubborn, impulsive, and thought I knew everything.”

“My boy, you may have been lashing out, but I should have known better,” Einarr said as he wrapped Aneirin in a tight embrace. “And for that, I am sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Spike?” Dawn whispered softly, eyes going wide. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Standing in the open doorway of her room was Spike. There were differences in his appearance. His hair had grown out some since she had last seen him. A white cotton shirt and brown pants had replaced his usual black on black dress. She could see the tip of a sword’s handle peeking out from under the long fur-lined wrap he wore. He looked tired, his eyes haunted with the same shadows she had often glimpsed in her sister’s. Regardless of the changes, Spike was the most welcome sight Dawn had seen in a long time.

It only took Spike a few seconds to reach her side, but soon their arms were wrapped around each other.

“Spike, I can‘t believe you‘re here!” Dawn cried, her words muffled against his chest. “It all happened so fast. One second I was with Buffy, and then I was here. They were all looking at me like I was some sort of freak!”

“It’s okay, luv,” Spike murmured, holding her tightly. “I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Spike returned, a grinning Dawn at his side, the rift he had noticed earlier was still evident, but gradually growing smaller. This made Spike’s happiness at finding Dawn seem sweeter. It looked as if the painful, and unnecessary estrangement would soon be over.

“I see you have found Lady Dawn,” Aneirin said, his amusement clear.

“Bloody right I have,” Spike replied with an impish grin. His arm was still slung across Dawn’s shoulders, while hers were wrapped around his waist. Neither seemed inclined to let go of the other anytime soon.

“I am glad your reunion was a happy one.”

“Not too sure your advisor feels the same way,” Spike replied. “Bloke seemed a bit flustered.”

“It was probably because you ruined his carefully arranged plans,” Einarr said. A smile broke out on his face as Spike’s smile turned all too innocent. Dawn simply rolled her eyes.

“Kind sir,” Aneirin said his tone haughty. “I don’t believe that expression will be cause for anyone to believe you. It certainly never worked for me.”

“Your father saw right through it every time.”

“If I remember correctly, so did you,” Aneirin bluntly stated.

“A bit of a troublemaker were you, mate?”

“I had my moments,” Aneirin answered, smiling. He resolutely ignored Einarr’s incredulous snort and mumbled, “Moments? King Edderon should have put you on a leash.”

“There were times her sister and I considered putting a leash on this one as well,” Spike replied. His grin only widened at Dawn’s enraged “Hey!” and his chuckles didn’t desist when she jabbed him with her elbow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following days were pleasant, but busy. It seemed every waking moment of Spike’s time was taken up by nobles wanting a bit of his time, or in audience with Einarr, King Aneirin, Frederic, and a few of the remaining visiting kings. These talks always turned heated, leading Spike to retreat to the training grounds.

Most of the soldiers had heard tales of the Key and the Father of the Key their whole lives and were either in awe of Spike, or showed arrogance. None were outwardly disrespectful, but a few felt they could easily beat Spike. Needless to say, he had fun proving his worth.

“Father,” Frederic said, interrupting Spike’s meal with Dawn. Despite the pleasant expression he wore, his tone gave away his irritation. “Caius insists on seeing you.”

“Caius?” Spike asked, confusion coloring his words.

“I believe he said you know him as ‘Draco’.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike cried out, his eyes lighting up. “Come on Bit. You’ve got to meet him.”

Jumping up, Spike grabbed Dawn’s hand and dragged her down the corridors, following Frederic‘s retreating form.

Bursting through the doors and onto the castle lawn, Spike found his friend sitting rather smugly before the main entrance of the castle. Upon seeing the pair, Draco’s dark eyes lit up. Cocking his head to the side, Draco brought his head forward and gently sniffed Dawn. With an incredulous look Spike noted the dragon had been very gentle.

“So mate,” Spike started, his words filled with suspicious humor. “How many times were accidental and how many were on purpose?”

“I have no idea what you are speaking of Father,” Draco responded, false innocence lacing his words.

“Holy cow! You can talk!” Dawn cried out, once she had gotten over her shock at seeing a real dragon. It also helped that there was no portal opening below her this time.

“Why of course I can Lady Key,” Draco responded. “Though based on what the Father has told me, I am not surprised at your reaction.”

“Sorry Caius…um Draco,” Dawn said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Hey, if your name is Caius, why does Spike call you Draco?”

“To many I am Caius, Dragon Lord,” Draco answered tone serious. “But to the Father, I am Draco, friend.”

“Father?” Dawn asked as she went over what Draco had said. “You mean Spike?”

Draco nodded.

Looking from Spike to Draco, Dawn scrunched up her nose. “Why does everyone insist on calling Spike Father?”

“Niblet…”

“Spike,” Dawn grumbled. “I’m the Key and here that seems to be a very big deal. Now quit stalling and tell me what’s going on!”

“Didn’t want you involved,” Spike answered with a sigh. He resolutely ignored the soft echo of Draco’s voice in his head saying, “She can not be sheltered from this, not matter how much you wish her to be.”

Taking pity on his friend, Draco said, “What Spike is having a hard time saying is that he is the Father of the Key.”

Dawn’s eyes grew and she jerked her head around to look at Spike. He was watching her intently, worry and fear shining in his eyes.

“Father,” Dawn stuttered. “Of the Key, who is me and Spike is the Father of the Key. Oh boy…”

“I thought you had already told her,” came Aneirin’s voice from behind Dawn and Spike. Turning, Spike took in the scowl on the young king’s face. Tired of being reprimanded for not telling Dawn sooner, Spike snapped, “I was going to! I just…didn’t know how.”

“It was certainly something she needed to know.”

“Your Majesty,” Draco interrupted sensing that Spike’s temper was reaching its breaking point. “There is much we need to discuss now that the Father has been reunited with his Daughter-Key.”

“You are right Dragon Lord,” Aneirin said.

“Caius, please. Dragon Lord is a bit to formal in my opinion.”

“Of course,” Aneirin said with a slight smile and nod.

“Is there anywhere we can talk privately?” Draco asked.

“Dawn?” Spike said as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Bit?”

“Huh?” Looking around Dawn saw everyone staring at her and felt her face flush red.

“We need to go with Draco pet,” Spike said, his voice soft. “Got a lot we need to discuss.”

“I’ll say,” Dawn muttered, sarcasm lacing her words.

“Right,” Spike replied as he put his hands into his pockets. Seeming to withdraw into himself a bit, Spike turned back to Draco. “So, where are we doing this?”

“Right here, if no one else minds,” Aneirin said. “Once the area is cleared, Caius will be able to tell if we have any unwanted participants.”

“Makes sense,” Spike said with a nod.

Motioning for one of the soldiers, Aneirin passed on a few whispered words. Nodding the soldier ran off while Aneirin turned to face the small crowd that had gathered around them.

“For the next few hours this area will be off limits to anyone not participating in this meeting,” Aneirin spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. Giving the people a stern look, Aneirin added, “If anyone does not follow my orders, they will end up staying a few nights in jail.”

“I say if anyone is stupid enough to eavesdrop on a royal meeting that we should let Caius eat them,” Einarr said as he came up behind the group. Spike grinned at his friend’s suggestion and noticed Aneirin fighting a grin of his own. Frederic on the other hand was not amused.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Spike added, a mischievous light entering his eyes.

“As tempting as that suggestion is, General Einarr,” Aneirin said, surprising everyone by keeping his voice steady. “I think it might be a bit extreme.”

“Besides, dragons don’t eat people,” Draco added, his tone haughty. “They taste too gamy.”

Shock filled several of the spectator’s faces at the dragon’s words. Spike roared with laughter.

Once the area had been cleared, after the people had been assured that Draco had in fact been joking, they gathered around the dragon, each taking a seat at in the chairs Aneirin had ordered one of the soldiers to bring.

“Okay,” Dawn said once everyone was settled. “This whole Father of the Key stuff, what does it mean?”

“Our legends say that the Father of the Key is the only one who can truly wield the power of the Key,” Aneirin said.

“That’s it?” Dawn asked. “Then why call Spike ‘Father’? Why not just say ‘Wielder of the Key’ or something like that?”

“Because it is not as simple as that, my dear,” Einarr said his words gentle. “The Key, we are told, was made to access great power and to travel across the dimensions. The Father of the Key, while being the one who can use it, is also said to be apart of the Key as well.”

“But that doesn‘t make any sense,” Dawn said, her confusion plain. “Spike was born in England.”

“The Father did not have to be born here to be a part of the Key,” Draco said. “The Key was created millennia ago after all.”

“Yeah, I’m an ancient ball of green energy,” Dawn interrupted. “We know this. Still not explaining Spike being a part of the Key.”

“Part of you is, yes,” Aneirin said. “The other half, the part that stabilizes the Key’s power, is a part of the Father.”

“What?!?” Dawn said, staring wide eyed at the young king.

“Bloody hell!” Spike said with a shake of his head. “I just realized something.”

“What?” Dawn asked as she turned to face Spike.

“Dru knew,” Spike answered. “All this bloody time and she knew.”

“And how would this Dru know?”

“She had visions,” Spike said. “When she turned me she said that I walked in worlds others couldn’t begin to imagine.”

“And that Skanky Ho couldn’t have dropped a few hints the last time she came through Sunnydale?”

“Bit…”

“No Spike!” Dawn yelled. “If we had known then maybe…”

“Buffy wouldn’t have had to die,” Spike interrupted his tone harsh. “Already thought of that Dawn.”

“I do no know if this knowledge would have helped your Buffy live or not,” Draco cut in, his apology filling his words. “We just have to have faith that the Gods will reveal the answers when we need them most.”

“Oh this is just great!” Dawn sneered. “A talking dragon is lecturing me about having faith.”

“Lady Dawn!” Aneirin said his tone biting. “I know you are upset but I will not tolerate someone speaking to one of my guests in such a manner.”

“But…”

“No,” Aneirin cut in as he raised his hand for silence. “Believe me, I understand your pain, but right now the best thing for you to do is leave. If you stay, you will say something you regret. The Father will fill you in on the rest of the meeting later.”

Not giving Dawn a chance to reply, Aneirin nodded towards Einarr. Gently taking her arm, Einarr steered Dawn back into the castle.

“Bloody hell. I knew she’d react badly,” Spike said, his eyes on Dawn’s retreating form, his heart sinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let go of me,” Dawn growled as she jerked her arm free of Einarr’s grip. “I’m not some kid that needs to be escorted to their room.”

“Well maybe when you stop acting like a spoiled brat then you won’t need an escort.”

“Excuse me?” Dawn said, stopping to glare at Einarr. “You have no right…”

“I have every right,” Einarr said, his tone unsympathetic. “Spike is my friend, Caius is my friend, and I will not have them treated badly because you choose to throw a temper tantrum.”

“I am not throwing a temper tantrum!” Dawn yelled. “My sister died because we didn’t know about this whole ‘Father’ business.”

“Is she not alive now?” Einarr asked, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, but…”

“She had a hard time adjusting, I know. Spike told me,” Einarr interrupted. “But before you let your righteous anger fester, remember that you have your sister back. The rest of us will never have that. Your room, Lady Dawn.”

Gesturing towards her door, Einarr waited until Dawn entered and closed the door before turning to leave.

He knew she was upset. Hell, he even understood her pain. If there had been any information that would have saved King Edderon, he would have been more than angry to learn of it after his King’s death. However, there was no such information and his King would remain dead. It was only a little comforting to know that a paradise for the dead actually existed.

As he reached the front doors of the castle, Einarr paused briefly. Taking a deep breath, he shoved his turbulent emotions aside, squared his shoulders and headed back out into the bright sunlight. He had more important matters to worry over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Dawn was still pacing her room, her arms waving around as she ran through her thoughts. An untouched tray of food set on the coffee table.

“How dare they!” Dawn growled as she trod a path across the room. “They have no idea what I…we went through after Buffy died.”

Continuing her trek, her angry words filling the quiet of her room, it took Dawn a few minutes to notice the hesitant knocking. Pausing, Dawn turned and marched over to the door.

Pulling the door open, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of her mind, Dawn’s words stalled when she saw Spike standing before her. His eyes were anxious and full of fear, and suddenly Dawn realized that Spike thought she might reject him all over again. It caused a good portion of her anger to recede and a tiny spark of guilt crept in.

Sighing, Dawn pulled the door wider.

“Come in Spike.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Dawn said as she sat across from Spike, her hands fiddling with the front of her dress. “Father of the Key huh?”

“Seems like,” Spike said with a shrug, his own hands wrapped tightly around themselves.

“Look,” Dawn said, her guilt over her earlier reaction causing her words to tumble out. “About earlier, I’m sorry! It’s just that, we could have saved her.”

“Maybe,” Spike said, his eyes reflecting his pain. “Maybe not. The problem is that we’ll never know.”

“But…” Dawn started but trailed off. Looking closely at Spike, Dawn sighed and slumped back into her chair.

“I know Spike,” Dawn said as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. “It’s just…I have some apologies to make later, don’t I?”

“They understand luv,” Spike replied as he moved to wrap his arm around her. “More than you realize.”

“Yeah,” Dawn sighed. Looking up at Spike through lowered lashes she said, “Things aren’t going to change, are they?”

“No!” Spike said as he pulled Dawn into a tight embrace. “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you. You’ll always be my Niblet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tugging on the straps of her pack, Buffy carefully surveyed her new surroundings. The city of Andreas Bay gleamed in the waning sunlight. Bright colors full of gold and red spiraled across buildings adding to the rich colors in the stone. It was cleaner than she had expected. The streets were paved, and Buffy had spotted a few workers sweeping up small bits of litter.

Caius had dropped her and the Scoobies off just outside the city’s border, and flown away without a word. Gaelwine had quickly followed, after allowing Liana to dismount. Buffy knew she was to act as their tour guide, and guard, while they were in Ærworuld.

Once the dragons had gone, Liana had glanced over her shoulder, issued a brisk, “Follow me,” and started off onto the city’s winding streets. They had stood silent for a few brief moments, unsure of whether they should follow or not, before Angel had grumbled under his breath and set off after the female warrior.

Casting her gaze towards their reluctant guide, Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Angel and Liana were deep in conversation. Angel had his gaze locked on her, his voice purposely pitched low so his words would not carry. It was his body language, however, that gave his agitation away. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his shoulders were bunched, as if waiting for an attack. Liana, by contrast, seemed calm, and slightly amused, if Buffy was reading the look in her eyes correctly.

It felt strange. Despite his constant nitpicking, it seemed out of the whole group Liana liked and tolerated Angel the most. His overbearing attitude and need to burden himself with guilt appeared to intrigue Liana. She actually answered his questions instead of just glaring, and this irritated Buffy. She was in charge of this rescue mission after all.

Pushing aside her irritation with the female warrior, Buffy concentrated on where Liana was leading them. After walking for what felt like hours, Liana ushered them up a paved driveway. Sitting on top a hill, overlooking Andreas Bay, was a luxurious castle. The walls were made of the same white stone Buffy had seen making up several buildings. Tall windows spread out across the structure. It looked to be at least three stories tall, though how many wings it contained Buffy could not tell.

Soldiers stood before an iron gate. Through the bars, she could see manicured lawns scattered with trees, bushes, and a large variety of flowers. People, all dressed in dark green uniforms, pants and tunics for the men, white blouse and green skirt and apron for the women, scurried about. Some carried baskets full of food; others held bundles of cloth. A few led livestock to what Buffy guessed to be the stables.

Greetings were called out and answered, children hurried after parents and a few of the soldiers were sparring off to the right. Swords clanged, bows were fired at stationary targets, and staffs clacked together in mock battle. She could just hear the soldiers’ friendly bantering, and an ache settled in her chest.

She missed Spike. He had been her sparring partner, lover, friend, second-in-command, and now, unknown to him, the love of her life. She had come to this strange world to find her sister, and hopefully along the way, she would find Spike as well. There was a battle going on, and a Big Bad in need of killing. Buffy would need him in the coming fight. She was sure that whenever she finally did find Spike, he would be right in the middle of things, possibly irritating everyone around him.

Pulling her thoughts away from Spike, Buffy watched as Liana marched up to the guards stationed at the gate. The guards seemed to recognize Liana, and after a few whispered words and a terse nod, the guards let them pass.

They were led through an elegant, and ornate, set of double doors and into the foyer of the castle.

“Oh my God.” Buffy heard Willow whisper. Well-lit and filled with people, Buffy couldn’t help but stand and gawk. She would have been ashamed at her blatant staring, but she was positive the others were wearing similar expressions.

The ceiling was domed and two hallways branched off to Buffy’s left and right. The stone floor was white with soft swirls of gray mixed in. Lanterns hung from walls, along with paintings, tapestries, and decorations, which were being strung up as they watched.

More servants hurried by carrying vases full of flowers. Buffy could smell food being cooked in a nearby kitchen. Laughter carried from one of the adjacent rooms and was soon followed by a group of women, all dressed in the finest of clothes. When they noticed the group standing with Liana in the foyer, their expressions changed to sneers and Buffy could hear one of them scoff, “Dragon lover.” Buffy wanted to slap the mocking smiles from their overdone faces.

Resting her hand on the pommel of her broadsword, Liana smiled at the noble women, though her eyes were cold.

“Lady Shir, elegantly spoken as always,” came a man’s voice behind the group.

“General Einarr,” Lady Shir greeted as she smiled, wide and patently fake, at Einarr before moving off. Her friends followed obediently behind her, their gossip filling the hallway.

Giving Lady Shir’s retreating form a tight smile, Einarr brought his gaze towards the strangers standing with Liana. Their clothes were odd, and looked very much like what Spike had told him of fashion in his old world. These must be the people he left behind. They certainly match the descriptions, Einarr thought as images from Spike’s stories filled his mind.

“Liana,” Einarr greeted formally and with a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“General once more, Einarr?” Liana smirked as her eyes raked over his uniform. His shirt was a deep forest green, and he wore black fitted pants, sword hanging from his waist. It was all new, with straight lines and shiny buttons. His boots however were old, worn, and looked to be scrubbed with polish. Trust Einarr to conform only so far. “Whatever would Caius say?”

“Congratulations, I believe,” Einarr replied. “Anyway, what brings you and your ‘friends’ to King Aneirin’s home?”

“These people,” Liana said her tone brusque. “Were brought here to see the Girl-Key.”

“I see. And how was your journey?” Einarr paused then, “And Gaelwine? He is doing well I hope.”

“He’s cranky.” Liana’s smile was tight, her eyes cold as they shifted towards the group under her watch. So they had managed to annoy her as well, Einarr thought gleefully.

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in the man’s gray eyes allowed Buffy to let go of some of her anxiety. She would have rushed forward, and demanded to be taken to Dawn, but Liana still stood between Buffy and the General. Buffy didn’t think it would be polite to start tossing the female warrior around.

“Well he never was very personable. However, we’ve dallied long enough. Molly will bring the group to Lady Dawn. King Aneirin and the Father are waiting for us.”

Nodding to the young serving girl, Einarr extended his arm for Liana to take. She did, grudgingly. With a nod towards the Father’s ‘friends’, Einarr led Liana off down the opposite hallway.

Following Molly, Buffy couldn’t help but stare. Her long held beliefs of castles being cold, dark and dreary was quickly being proven wrong.

Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls with vibrant colors covering their surfaces. Some of the tapestries depicted scenes with dragons and knights fighting beastly figures, while most of the paintings were simple portraits of people Buffy figured where past Kings and Queens from all of the finery they wore. Small niches were carved into the walls between paintings holding vases, figurines and decorative weapons. Large windows allowed in plenty of sunlight.

Occasionally they would pass finely carved wooden chairs and benches. If they had held cushions Buffy would have thought they were resting places for people who had gotten lost trying to maneuver the castle’s winding hallways, but they were simply decorations to be admired and nothing more.

“Man, you could buy a small country with some of this stuff,” Buffy heard Xander mutter to Willow. Noticing the quick glance their guide sent their way, Buffy knew Xander hadn’t been as quiet as he had hoped.

Finally the young servant stopped, motioning towards the door on her left.

“Lady Dawn is waiting for you inside.”

With no other words, the young girl left Buffy and her friends standing in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Buffy placed one hand on the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand, and then nothing else mattered.

Standing in the middle of the room was Dawn. She was dressed in a similar fashion as the noble women, a deep blue dress, with long sleeves, and matching shoes. Dawn’s grin was spread out across her face and when the two sisters hugged, Dawn’s grip was nearly as rib crushingly tight as Buffy’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco flew through the air, clouds passing by in a blur of white. The sun glinted off his scales, warming his body. The ground below was a lush green, full of life. Animals scurried for food.

The nest was easy to find; Draco knew where all of the female dragons laid their eggs. All around him, tiny pieces of eggs, mixed with dirt, twigs, and half formed baby dragons littered the ground. Another generation lost. At the rate the nests were being destroyed, the dragons would have no new lives to fill in for those who died. Their numbers were slowly dwindling. A female dragon only nested three times in their long lives, usually laying between two to three eggs. The scent of humans still lingered in the air, and their foot prints still marred the earth.

“The humans have struck again, I see.” Ivor’s voice came from behind Draco as the old dragon landed, careful to avoid the egg’s remains.

“They have.”

“The others will not be happy,” Ivor said, his anger lacing his words. “They will question our role in this war.”

“I know.”

“Caius…”

“Come,” Draco said as he took to the air. “We must speak with the others.”

Nodding, Ivor soon followed, keeping his own questions to himself, for now.

“And there was nothing at all to indicate where the demon had gone?” Giles asked as he studied the pictures Riley had given him with a clinical detachment.

“Nothing,” Kennedy answered from her place on the couch. “It was there one minute and the next it had disappeared.”

“I had some of my men search the area with a few slayers,” Riley said. “They didn’t find anything either.”

“I see.”

“I think the demon was toying with us.”

“I can see that from its artistic endeavors Agent Finn,” Giles said, his voice harsh as he continued to scan the photos.

“But why arrange them like that?” Kennedy asked, a slight shiver crawling up her spine.

“Possibly to pay homage to something,” Giles answered. “Or simply because it wanted to.”

“Fine. So let’s say this demon is paying homage to something,” Riley said as he came to stand beside Giles. “Do we have any idea what that something is?”

Sighing, Giles took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All we have is what you‘ve already been told.”

“Right,” Riley sighed as he eyed the stack of books hiding the surface of the coffee table from view. “Need any help with research?”

“No,” Giles said, and then valiantly fought the smile that tried to break out at the sight of Riley’s relief. “Just make sure that you and your men keep an ear out for any mention of ‘The Father’ and ‘Ktulu’. It is imperative that we find out who or what they are and what the Senior Partners want with them.”

“Will do,” Riley said as he turned and left the hotel room.

“I’m going to bed,” Kennedy said as she too left the room. However, Giles was sure it was more in an effort to get out of research duty than any real desire to get rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kennedy lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was tired but every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing the pile of bodies from the alley. Kennedy had thought she had seen the worst. She had survived the battle in Sunnydale and had been actively slaying for a year. Still, the sight of the mutilated bodies had done her in and she had reacted like one of the newbies.

Embarrassment and rage filled her. The wanna-be Slayer, Agent Finn, hadn't even blinked at the mess the demon had left but one look and Kennedy was getting reacquainted with her dinner.

No more, she decided. She would not react like a green slayer. She would show them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, after delivering a set of very strict instructions, Giles stood back and watched while the slayers and the Initiative soldiers combed through the remains of the Wolfram and Hart building. Kennedy was off a bit to his right, directing a group of slayers through a less hazardous section of rubble. Riley was to the left leading a group of soldiers who were trying to stabilize a section of the building.

When they had first arrived in Los Angeles, their primary focus had been finding out what happened to Spike, and killing off any demons left over from Wolfram and Hart’s demon army. Giles should have known the problem would be bigger than a simple recon mission.

“What are you looking for?” came the voice of a small girl from behind Giles. Turning, he saw a little brown haired girl standing just in the circle of light cast by the tall lights the soldiers had set up.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Giles replied gently. “Now run along. This is not a place for children.”

“Oh how sweet!” the girl said as she came forward. “You’re concerned for my safety when really, you should be concerned for your own. That is my building your people are digging around in.”

At her casual warning, Giles eyes narrowed as a distant memory surfaced.

“So which one are you?” Giles asked, his tone cold. “The Wolf, the Ram, or the Hart?”

“I’m all three,” the girl smiled. “And none at all. I am the Senior Partner’s conduit.”

“I thought you could only manifest in the Wolfram and Hart white room?”

Laughter, light and innocent, greeted his question before she shook her head.

“Oh the things we were able to get people to believe,” she said. “Do you honestly think an entity as strong as we are would only be able to manifest in one place? By the way, you might want to look on the left hand side of the building. You only have about twenty minutes before our cleaners come.”

“Why are you giving us this information?” Giles asked. “I would have thought you’d want to keep the advantage.”

“Who says we aren’t?” the girl asked with a tilt of her head. “Besides, I thought you white hats would have already looked over the building. I know Mr. Wyndam-Pryce certainly would have.”

Seeing Giles’ posture stiffen at the mention of Wesley, the girl’s smiled widened.

“Don’t worry Mr. Giles. We just like to keep things interesting.”

Her words echoed inside of Giles’ head long after she had vanished from sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy?” Spike whispered, stunned. He had come running into Dawn’s room upon hearing her screams. He had not been prepared to find the Scoobies standing in the middle of the room with Buffy and Dawn wrapped around each other.

Hearing Spike’s familiar voice, Buffy turned her gaze towards the door. Letting her gaze wander over him, Buffy took in the changes to his appearance. His hair was grown out and it hung over his forehead in a riot of curls. Only the tips remained bleached. His clothes were brown pants and a white long sleeved shirt. A sword hung at his waist. His skin was no longer pale, but carried a light tan. Spike looked almost human.

Stepping away from Dawn, she quickly walked over to Spike. Placing her hand on his cheek, she relished the feel of his soft cool skin under her palm. A wide beaming smile lit up her face as tears filled her eyes.

“Spike,” Buffy said, her voice soft and hesitant. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“How…Why…” Spike tailed off shaking his head in confusion.

“We came here looking for Dawn,” Angel said, interrupting the tender moment between the two.

Focusing his gaze on Angel Spike growled, “Of course she did Peaches! Slayer knew I could take care of myself.”

“Angel! Stop it,” Buffy said, a scowl on her face. Her voice and gaze softening, Buffy focused her attention on Spike again. “We headed for L.A originally to look for you, but then Dawn disappeared and…”

“The Bit comes first,” Spike finished, a smile on his face. “I understand. Though I wish you lot could have come sooner. We had a hell of a fight on our hands.”

“We didn’t find out until after the battle Spike,” Willow replied, her eyes full of regret. “Angel’s message never got through.”

“That‘s all right Red,” Spike said as he ducked his head and gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “You all were busy putting you’re lives back together. Though I gotta admit I wasn’t happy to find out about the Slayer’s new boyfriend.”

“New boyfriend?” Willow asked, confusion filling her words for a moment. “Oh you mean the Immortal?”

“Well, yeah. Who else would I be talking about?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Buffy said as she laid a hand on Spike’s arm.

“But Andrew said you’d moved on,” Spike said, pain filling his eyes. “Said we should do the same.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to let you think that,” Buffy replied, her voice soft and full of regret. “I was trying to find out all I could on how the Immortal worked. We were trying to shut down his operation.”

“And what? You couldn’t slip me a note?” Spike asked, anger filling his words. Taking a step back from her, Spike let his glare roam over everyone in the room. “Until that little ponce Andrew showed up in L.A, all I knew was you were in Europe.”

“I know,” Buffy answered. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t trust Wolfram and Hart. Our operations were too delicate to risk compromising.”

“Nice line of bull Slayer. Did you think it up yourself, or did someone do it for you?”

“What? It’s not bull Spike.”

“Of course not. It’s just a nice way of saying you lot still don’t trust me,” Spike sneered.

“If it helps any I still don’t like you,” Xander said. Seeing the glares focused in his direction, Xander slipped behind Vi and muttered, “Gee, tough crowd.”

“Despite what Xander just said, we do trust you Spike,” Willow replied.

“If you had, you would have told me,” Spike growled. “Instead you thought it was better to let me believe I meant nothing to you.”

“Spike, that’s not how it was!” Buffy pleaded, though her annoyance slipped through. “I’m sorry if you’re upset, but I’m still the slayer and I had a job to do.”

“Don’t, Slayer!” Spike yelled. “Don’t stand there and give me some memorized lines about ‘sacred duty’ and ‘fighting the good fight’. I get it, more now than I ever did in Sunnydale, what with this whole ‘Father of the Key’ prophecy. There’s just one difference, pet. I would have trusted you enough to tell you. You obviously felt it was an inconvenience to tell me.”

Turning, Spike stormed out of the room. When he slammed the door, it banged against the frame so hard the door cracked and bounced open again.

Looking at her sister, Dawn sighed, “I told you guys he’d be pissed.”

“Forget pissed,” Xander said as he finally stopped hiding behind Vi. “I want to know what he meant by ‘Father of the Key’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner that night was an eye opening experience for the Scoobies. Long plates of food were set in the center of the tables for the guests, and everyone simply served him or herself. Only royalty were waited on and they sat apart from the rest of the crowd. Since the Scoobies were sitting with some of the lesser nobles, it helped quell some of Buffy’s irritation, but every time she looked over at the king’s table her jealousy would rise again. Spike and Dawn sat next to King Aneirin, who Dawn had described as ‘dreamy’, his advisor Frederic, who had received the description of “A bit like Giles only not English”, and General Einarr, who Buffy had been told was “Spike‘s best friend, besides Draco the talking dragon” and not someone to piss off. Apparently, he was just as good as Giles at giving disapproving lectures. There were also several other influential royals gathered at the table that Dawn had glossed over.

It was hard watching them, laughing, talking, and generally enjoying each other’s company. Buffy knew she had to make things right with Spike, their reunion not being everything she had imagined, but after years of being “The Slayer” with the weight of the world on her shoulders, it was unsettling to have her decisions questioned. However, if she were being honest with herself, Buffy would have to acknowledge that Spike had been making her question her decisions for years. Buffy knew her jealousy was illogical, but she couldn’t help it. No one here seemed to care how hard being the slayer was; they were all hung up on Spike and Dawn.

“Did you hear the Father’s single?” one woman near Buffy whispered to her neighbor. The tone of her voice had Buffy gripping her fork tight enough to bend the handle.

“I heard he paid particular attention to Lady Brin the other night,” her friend answered. “She was quite taken with him.”

“I heard King Aneirin has taken a liking to the Girl-Key,” a man said as he leaned forward to add to the growing gossip.

“He gave her rooms reserved for high ranking royals,” Lady Shir replied, her tone snobbish, indicating the very thought of giving Dawn a nice place to stay was simply scandalous. Bitch, Buffy thought snidely.

“Well she is the Key,” the man rebuked, though his eyes traveled over to where Dawn sat laughing at something Spike had said. Buffy had the urge to gouge his eyes out. No man was allowed to ogle her baby sister.

“This is ridiculous,” Xander muttered under his breath. Looking in his direction Buffy raised an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate.

“It’s Spike! Sure he’s a good guy now, but I just don‘t see what the big deal is,” Xander finished, shaking his head.

“He’s their savior,” Vi answered with a shrug. To her it was obvious, but it seemed the others didn‘t understand what all the fuss was about. “They’ve spent years frightened because of this Dark One and his minions, praying for the arrival of people some of them had begun to believe didn’t exist. Now Spike and Dawn are here. They’re relieved and in awe of them. I felt the same way when I met Buffy and Faith for the first time.”

“It’s not the same,” Angel insisted. “Buffy and Faith are slayers. They were chosen to save the world. Of course you’d be a little star struck when meeting them.”

“And here Spike and Dawn are the chosen ones,” Vi shot back, eyes flashing. “So tell me Captain Forehead, how is it any different?”

Glowering, Angel turned his attention back to his dinner. Silence settled over the group once more.

As the evening wore on and the food was collected, Buffy noticed people were starting to move around. Some came together in groups, pulling out what looked to Buffy to be playing cards and dice. Others moved to the center of the room to dance, or off to the corners to watch the minstrels play.

Seeing an opportunity, Buffy stood and quickly made her way to where Spike was standing. He was talking to a group of nobles, and judging by the look on his face, was bored to tears. Buffy was childishly pleased to note that Lady Shir was among the group.

“Spike,” Buffy called out, gaining his attention. Turning, Spike simply raised his eyebrow and waited for Buffy to speak. Lady Shir spoke up instead, her voice filled with confusion and disdain.

“My Lord, you…know this person?”

“Bloody right I do,” Spike answered with a shrug. “I’d be careful what you say around her. This one is Lady Dawn’s sister.”

Eyes flickering over Buffy once more, Lady Shir offered a terse smile.

“Well then, I guess you’ve arrived just in time for the festivities. I do hope you and your…friends…enjoy yourselves.” Turning to Spike, her smile became coy. “And I certainly hope to see you later.”

Casting a final dismissive glance Buffy’s way, Lady Shir’s group moved on down to where General Einarr sat. Buffy had to resist the urge to give in to her inner child and stick her tongue out at the woman.

Bringing her eyes back towards Spike, Buffy swallowed down the lump trying to lodge itself in her throat. Her stomach felt like a herd of butterflies had been trapped inside and were trying to fight their way out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this nervous. It was ridiculous really, since she was only talking to Spike. However, when Buffy remembered how well their last conversation had gone, her palms got sweaty.

“Um, hey,” Buffy mumbled as her planned speech took flight and flew from her memory.

“Slayer,” Spike nodded his tone quiet and formal.

“Look, I’m sorry alright?” Buffy blurted out, louder than she expected to. Seeing the looks she was getting she wrapped her arms around herself. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

Noticing their audience, Spike nodded. Leading Buffy to the empty hallway just beyond the banquet hall, he turned to face her, arms crossed.

“Well Slayer?”

“I thought we were past this?”

“And I thought you trusted me,” Spike replied. “Bloody stupid of me, now that I think about it.”

“Spike, don’t do this,” Buffy pleaded as she fought to keep her annoyance from creeping into her voice. She just wanted things to be like they were when Spike would forgive her practically anything.

“What did you expect me to do huh, Buffy?” Spike snapped. “Listen to all of your pretty words, and then throw myself at your feet declaring you my ‘Golden Goddess’? Please! If I did that pet, you’d pop me in the nose. Bloody hell, I‘d want to hit me!”

“Spike, I had a job to do!” Buffy insisted, forgetting her plan to make things right as her emotions got the better of her. “Besides, you weren’t going to tell me you were alive.”

“Gee Slayer, why would I ever do something like that?” Spike hissed, blue eyes flashing yellow. “And now I have a job to do, and you’re keeping me from it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Spike was still pissed, though more at himself than Buffy. He and Buffy had been reunited for all of five minutes before the fighting began. It was no wonder she had kept him at arm’s length, Spike thought. They always seemed to bring out the worst in each other.

Sighing, Spike settled down in one of the overstuffed chairs in his room. A small simple lunch was resting on the coffee table before him, a decanter of blood next to the tray. Once King Aneirin had learned of Spike’s love of human food, he had made sure the kitchen staff knew to include a small portion of the day’s meal with Spike’s blood. The gesture spoke of acceptance and it touched a part of Spike’s soul that had been resigned to being an outcast. It only made the Scoobies reluctance to accept him all the more painful. Here in Ærworuld, he had done nothing but show up and pledge to fight in their war and the people, for the most part, accepted him. Spike had fought by the Scoobies’ side for three years, at first reluctantly and then willingly, and they still did not trust him. It hurt more than Spike thought it would and he wondered briefly if his death had fazed them at all.

Pushing the depressing thoughts from his mind, Spike focused on his meal. He only had a few moments of quiet before his meeting with King Aneirin. A delegation from a small island kingdom, Croshka if Spike remembered correctly, wanted to meet him. Spike figured the meeting was due to simple curiosity, but reckoned since Aneirin was nice enough to ask, then he would attend.

He was almost finished with his lunch when a firm knock sounded at his door. Knowing Einarr would be arriving soon, Spike thought nothing of calling out a simple, “Come in.”

“Almost done, mate,” Spike said as he sat his glass down on the tray. “Just give me a minute to clean up a bit. You damn near ran me ragged today.”

“Sure I’ll give you a minute, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The unexpected sound of Xander Harris’ voice caused Spike to nearly fall off his chair.

“Bloody hell, Harris!” Spike said as he righted himself. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Yeah I noticed.” Xander shrugged. Walking forward, Xander settled into the chair across from Spike’s. He kept fiddling with his hands and his eye never stayed on Spike for long. Spike could hear Xander’s heart beating rapidly in his chest. For some reason Xander was nervous, and for the life of him, Spike could not figure out why.

“Are you going to tell my why you’re here?” Spike asked. “Or are you just going to sit there not staring at me?”

“Very funny Not-So-Evil Undead,” Xander said, a hint of his usual sarcasm lacing his words. Spike simply cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, Xander muttered quickly, “I’m sorry you think we still hate you and you really need to talk to Buffy.”

For a few silent moments, Spike stared at Xander, a confused look on his face. Leaning forward, Spike gently patted Xander on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Spike said calmly. “I’m sure we can get Red to exorcize whatever demon is possessing you.”

“I’m not possessed!” Xander grumbled as he slapped Spike’s hand away.

“You sure about that Harris?” Spike asked, eyes narrowed. “Cause I believe you just told me that one, you lot don’t hate me and two, that I should go talk to Buffy.”

Rolling his eye, Xander let out a disgruntled snort. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because she loves you,” Xander said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, we made a mistake not telling you about the Immortal but that doesn’t change the facts. Besides, you never know how long you’ve got.”

“I’m sorry.”

At Spike’s words, Xander’s eye widened. “Huh?”

“About Anya.” Spike clarified. “She was a good one.”

“Yeah, she was,” Xander said as his gaze focused inward. “She would have hated it here though.”

“Maybe not,” Spike said with a chuckle. “Andreas Bay might have appealed to her love of Capitalism.”

“Maybe,” Xander said with a nod. “But it would be a bit too conservative for her.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh at the image Xander’s words evoked. He could clearly see the horrified looks Anya’s blunt manner would have received.

Standing, Xander nodded before heading towards the door. Before leaving he paused and said softly over his shoulder, “Just think about what I said,” and quietly closed the door.

Shaking his head, Spike cleaned up the remains of his lunch. He never thought he’d see the day when Xander, of all people, would encourage him to pursue Buffy.

Turning back towards the Wolfram and Hart building, Giles called out over the din, “Kennedy, get your slayers and help the soldiers look on the left side of the building.”

When Kennedy opened her mouth to argue, Giles glared and yelled, “Now Kennedy!”

Giles watched as Kennedy reluctantly followed his orders. Soon the slayers were picking through the rubble along side the soldiers. Close to twenty minutes in and a shout of excitement was heard. Once the soldiers had helped the Slayer free whatever they had found, Kennedy quickly made sure the items were brought to Giles. They may have been willing to accept the Initiative’s help, but that didn’t mean Giles trusted them completely.

“Don’t know what use this book is going to be, since it’s all blank,” Kennedy said as she handed the heavy tome to Giles. “But this scroll should keep you busy.”

“Hold the scroll for a minute Kennedy,” Giles said. Handing her the scroll, Giles turned the book over in his hands, wiping dust from its cover. Going on a hunch, Giles brought the book up towards his mouth and whispered, “Shanshu prophecy.” When he opened the book, the pages filled with text, some of which Giles couldn’t read.

Closing the book quickly, Giles gave a firm shake of his head, signaling for Kennedy to keep quiet.

Snapping her jaw shut, Kennedy nodded, though Giles could see that she would want an explanation later.

“Kennedy round up the girls. It’s time we left.”

“But we’re not through looking,” Kennedy said confused. “If we keep looking we might find something else.”

“We’re not going too,” Giles said. Before he could elaborate, a black van pulled up. “Kennedy, get the girls, we’re leaving now.”

“Who…”

“Wolfram and Hart’s cleaners.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the hotel, Giles had both the book and the scroll open on the coffee table. The empty tumbler in his hand rested on his bent knee. His eyes were focused on the page before him.

The creature in the drawing, Giles was fairly sure, would be massive if he were looking at it in person. Three heads, like those of a hydra, rested atop broad shoulders. The thing’s torso was covered with armor and it carried a sword in one clawed hand. Wings stretched out from its back and Giles could see the end of a tail resting over several dead bodies. The artist had drawn one clawed foot resting on a pile of human skulls.

It would have all seemed rather clichéd to Giles had he not been holding the pictures of the mutilated bodies Kennedy and Riley had found. It was a rather crude match for the detailed drawing in the book, the lizard demon had not added in the tail, armor, or sword. Giles figured that if Kennedy and Riley hadn’t found it when they had, the demon would have added in those extra touches as well.

Either way, Giles now knew who Ktulu was, and with a sinking feeling, he had realized that his Slayer and her friends were now in the same world as this monstrous beast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Kennedy sat curled up in one corner of the couch. Her eyes were focused on Giles, and her fingers tapped against her thigh.

“Care to explain why we’re not telling the soldier guys about this new book of yours?” Kennedy’s voice was harsh and impatient. It was times like these that Giles wished he could throttle the girl.

“It’s one of Wolfram and Hart’s template books,” Giles said with more than a bit of his annoyance coloring his words. “All you have to do is hold the book, call for a specific text, and the book will bring it forward.”

“Great,” Kennedy said with a shrug. “A one book library. Again, I’m not seeing the importance.”

Rolling his eyes, Giles opened the book to the page he had been staring at all night. The creature’s picture immediately grabbed Kennedy’s attention.

“That looks…”

“Similar to our demon’s grotesque art work, yes,” Giles said. “It’s called Ktulu and serves a being known only as the Dark One. It is currently waging war in Ærworuld, which I’m pretty sure is the dimension Buffy and the others have traveled too.”

“But they only went there to get Dawn back.”

Taking off his glasses, Giles sighed as he sat down across from Kennedy. “Well it seems that the success or failure of this creature’s plans depends on gaining control of the Key and the Father of the Key.”

“So they bring Dawn and this Father back here.” Kennedy shrugged. “No biggie.”

“Well, be as that may, “Giles said, his tone dry. “We both know that Buffy and the others won‘t leave, not if they can help save lives.”

“But if Dawn and this Father aren’t there, then this thing can’t win.”

“That doesn’t mean it will stop killing,” Giles said, his tone softer than before when he noticed the worry Kennedy couldn’t hide. “And since we know Wolfram and Hart are interested in this distant war that means what we do here can either help or hinder Buffy and the other’s cause.”

“Right,” Kennedy said as she shoved her fears aside. Willow would be all right, she just had to believe it. “So what can we do here to mess up their plans?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking along the castle grounds, her borrowed gown brushing the ground at her feet, Buffy stifled a bored sigh. Spike and Dawn were with Einarr and Liana. They were teaching her baby sister how to fight. Buffy had objected; she wasn’t about to let Dawn fight in any battle. Her protest had gone unheeded though. Spike had simply given her a withering look and stormed away. Dawn had rolled her eyes at her sister, and then she too, followed after Spike. Before leaving Einarr had given her a kind smile and said, “There are some battles you can not fight for them, no matter how much you’d like to.”

Buffy had been left alone, and instead of storming off and fretting in her room; she had opted to explore the grounds. Now she found herself in a lush garden full of people. It was quiet, peaceful despite the crowd. She could feel her dark mood lifting a bit as she wandered. There was nothing she could do about the situation now, and barging in on their training session would only make Spike angrier. She wanted to talk to him, and maybe keep from getting angry herself.

“What is this place?” Buffy asked, her eyes scanning over colorful flowers, tall shade trees, and thick green shrubs. Pathways snaked through the lush garden with the occasional bench providing a place of rest. People ignored them though, seeming to prefer sitting on the cool grass at the base of a tree.

“It’s a Garden of Souls.”

Aneirin’s voice came from behind Buffy, startling her. Turning, she found the young king sitting under an old tree, its branches reaching far into the blue sky above them.

“Interesting…ah name,” Buffy nodded politely. A soft chuckle greeted her words. The simple action caused imagined years to fall from Aneirin’s appearance, leaving a young man, barely into his twenties. The light played off his long golden hair, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement. He was not much older than they were, despite her first impression. It all made Buffy think of how she appeared to others. Did she seem older than she really was, or maybe colder?

“You appear as a worried young woman, fearful for her sister and friends,” Aneirin answered, ignoring Buffy‘s blush when she realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. “As long as one does not look too closely into your eyes.”

“Great way to boost a lady’s ego,” Buffy said as she sat down across from Aneirin.

“I must admit, I haven’t had much practice at it.” Aneirin shrugged his shoulders, an impish grin on his face.

“I can tell,” Buffy said, before slapping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t…I mean, it’s not like you couldn’t get a women…I…shutting up now.”

Aneirin’s laughter filled the quiet of the garden, attracting the attention of people near by. Seeing a few disgruntled faces, Buffy ducked her head and fervently wished for a hole to open up and swallow her. Where was a good old-fashioned Hellmouth opening when she needed one?

“So,” Buffy spoke loudly, her voice carrying to anyone nearby. “About this Garden of Souls thingy, what is it?”

Chuckling, Aneirin answered, “It’s a garden.”

Seeing Buffy’s slightly exasperated look, his grin widened. “Sorry, Lady Buffy. I could not help myself. It’s not often I’m simply allowed to act my age.”

“Yeah,” Buffy mumbled. “This whole destiny thing sucks.”

“I have to agree with you there,” Aneirin sighed though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” Buffy smiled. “So garden?”

“It’s all in the name really,” Aneirin said, eyes scanning his surroundings. “Here when someone dies, a plant is placed. It is a symbol of that person and their continued existence in the realm of our Gods.”

“So it’s a very pretty cemetery,” Buffy replied, her confusion clear as she once again gazed around the lush environment.

“No,” Aneirin said. “A cemetery is for the dead, this is a place to remember their lives.”

“I like it. We should have these back home.”

“What does your world do to honor the dead?” Aneirin asked, head cocked to one side.

“We have funerals,” Buffy grumbled, remembering her own mother‘s funeral. “Then we either cremate or bury them in big depressing cemeteries while people tell you how sorry they are for your loss.”

A disgusted snort drew Buffy’s eyes back to Aneirin. “I remember having to put up with such sympathies when my father passed.”

Silence followed as the two continued to sit in the shade provided by the ancient tree. People came and went, a few even stopped to exchange pleasantries with King Aneirin, but for the most part they were left in peace.

“He does love you,” Aneirin said, startling Buffy from her thoughts.

“What?”

“The Father,” Aneirin said. “He loves you.”

“The Father? Oh you mean Spike,” Buffy said with a slight nod. Then, quietly, her insecurities lacing her words, “How can you tell?”

“I see the way he watches you, and I hear it in his voice when he speaks of you. It reminds me of how my father spoke of my mother.”

“Is she…um,” Buffy tried to asked, hoping she wasn’t bringing up any painful memories.

“Yes,” Aneirin smiled. “During child birth. I learned to know her from my father’s stories. He often told me that I should never leave things unsaid, nor should I when I finally marry, go to bed angry.”

“We’ve only ever been angry,” Buffy sighed as she thought back over her relationship with Spike.

“Maybe you should ask yourself why that is,” Aneirin said with a kind smile. Standing, he casually dusted off his clothes, and then offered Buffy his hand, helping her to her feet. “And now I must return to my duties. I believe I’ve hidden myself away long enough. Good day Lady Buffy.”

Nodding, Buffy stood and watched Aneirin head back towards the castle. He seemed to age before her eyes as he once again assumed the role of King. It was a destiny he could no more get away from than she could stop being the Slayer. It made her heart ache and her determination to make things right with Spike grew. Aneirin was right, people should never leave things left unsaid.

Unfortunately, despite Buffy’s best efforts, Spike seemed to elude her. She just missed him at the training grounds, and when she arrived at the dinning hall, he had already retired. Miffed, and more than slightly hurt, Buffy retired to her room, promising that tomorrow she would track down her vampire for a long over due heart to heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, sun shining brightly through the gauzy curtains covering her window, Buffy meticulously dressed, hoping to impress Spike. Her hair was clean, and she let it fall in soft waves around her shoulders. She knew Spike loved her hair long, and Buffy hoped he recognized the effort she was making.

To complete her look, Buffy chose to wear a long black and red dress. Delicate patterns were embroidered along the hem, cuffs, and neckline of her dress. A hasty knock at her door pulled Buffy from her fantasies, and when she opened it, she knew her plans for reconciliation were bust.

“What is it?”

“I don‘t know,” Dawn said her voice strained. Grabbing her sister’s arm, Dawn dragged Buffy from her room. “But something bad happened, and everyone is meeting in King Aneirin’s office.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So here’s what we do know,” Aneirin stated as he unfurled the map. “See these lands here? This is the area surrounding Wygar. As you can see, there isn’t much that can get in their way.”

“Your Majesty, do we know how many Ktulu is leading the city’s way?” Liana asked quietly.

“The dragons have reported close to ten to fifteen thousand marching towards Wygar. From what the Father has said, Ktulu is suspiciously absent.”

“Draco said he and the others believe the bugger is planning another attack on some sacred temple,” Spike offered, his eyes focused inward, as if listening to something only he could hear. “I have to say, I agree with him. Ktulu is being quiet for a reason.”

“Then it is likely Ktulu is making plans to head for these lands here,” Aneirin said, pointing southwest of his kingdom. “It is said this is where the Gods created the Key.”

A harshly drawn in breath precluded Liana’s words. “That is the site of the ancient library. Millennia’s worth of information is stored there. Information most have thought to be lost.”

“So the library does exist,” Einarr said, his voice carrying a note of hope.

“With help, we might be able to reach it before Ktulu,” Aneirin said, mind already at work on figuring out how to keep Ktulu away from the library.

“What I don’t get is, why send an attack on Wygar?” Willow asked. “Why not just, you know, go for the gold so to speak?”

“Bugger is probably hoping to catch us with our pants down Red,” Spike answered. “Send out an army to slaughter one city, and nobody sees the second until it’s too late.”

“What do we need to do?” Dawn asked as she leaned forward to get a better view.

“Nothing,” Buffy said as a determined look settled on her face. “I want you somewhere safe.”

“Buffy!” Dawn cried. “I‘m the Key. I’m supposed to fight.”

“She is passable with a sword, but has a natural talent for the bow my King,” Liana offered.

“How good is she?” Aneirin asked, finally lifting his eyes.

“Given more time she could surpass Greyam,” Einarr stated from his place beside Spike.

“Then we’ll put Dawn with Greyam and his men,” King Aneirin stated. “What can the rest of you do?”

“No, no, no!” Buffy said, shaking her head. “Dawn is not fighting.”

“I‘m sorry my dear, but as Lady Dawn has already said, it is her destiny to fight this war,” Frederic said, speaking up for the first time. His eyes were soft but his was tone firm.

“Look, we don‘t need Dawn,” Buffy declared. “We’ve got this huge army, a couple of dragons, a powerful witch, Spike, and four slayers.”

“Since it is obvious you are simply worried for your sister, I will only ask you to choose your words with more care next time,” Aneirin admonished, a scowl settling over his face.

“We need all the able bodied fighters we can get,” Einarr said not unkindly.

“Hey! Buffy knows what she’s taking about. Besides if this Ktulu guy is as bad as you say, shouldn’t Dawn be, you know, in the land of Far-Far-Away?” Xander offered as he tried to defend his friend.

“I am not some helpless Fairy Princess Xander!” Dawn growled as she smacked him hard on his shoulder.

“Dawnie, if anyone is going to beat this Ktulu and Dark One, its Buffy,” Willow chimed in.

“Father,” Liana said, her voice soft, cold. “I believe your friends are missing the point.”

“Oh and what is that?” Buffy asked, her own voice icy.

“That Lady Dawn and Spike, as you call him, are the ones prophesied to fight this battle, not you.”

“Hey!” Willow interrupted. “Buffy can so kick this Ktulu’s butt. Right Spike?”

“Don’t know about that Red,” Spike replied. “Prophesies are tricky things. But none of this matters at the moment since I won’t be here.”

“What?” Buffy shouted, eyes wide. “Of course you’ll be here.”

“No, Slayer I won’t,” Spike answered firmly. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

“What did your dreams show you?” Einarr asked quietly.

“A bloody massacre.”

“Then you shall go my friend,” Einarr nodded, indicating the decision to be final. “I’m sure Caius would be willing to fly you to Wygar.”

Spike was silent for a brief moment, then, “Can’t, mate. He’s got some business to take care of. Besides, I need to speak with the barbarians first.”

“I’ll ask if Gaelwine can fly you to wherever you need,” Liana promised.

“Can he carry more than one person?” Spike asked head tilted to the side.

“If he wants too, he will.”

“If he’s willing, we’ll need to leave just after dawn. Also, pet, let him know I appreciate the help.”

“No!” Buffy protested. “Spike can’t leave. There’s an army headed towards a temple full of people. I need him here.”

“The Father goes were the Gods need him to,” Liana spoke quietly, her narrowed gaze focused on Buffy once more.

“Enough with this Father crap!” Buffy shouted, fury lighting up her eyes. “I’m the Slayer, and if I say he needs to stay, then Spike stays!”

Soft snickering from the doorway had the group turning to see the Alliance’s Oracle. The greasy old man wore a rictus grin, his yellow teeth showing as his sightless eyes roamed over the room.

“Someone thinks too highly of themselves,” the Oracle whispered. “The Key and the Father, made of each other, but not from blood. Together they will either banish evil or cause it to reign free, but only the Father and the Key can decide which.”

Laughing softly, the Oracle left. His words seemed to echo inside the quiet room.

“Sadly enough, the crazy old sod has a point,” Spike said, breaking through everyone’s thoughts. “Buffy, luv, this fight is mine and Dawn’s. No, hush for a minute. In your world you’re the Chosen One. Well here, Dawn and I are.”

Silent, all Buffy could do was stare. She knew he was speaking the truth; she just didn’t want to believe it. She also hadn’t missed how easily Spike had referred to their home as ‘her world’. Her stomach tried to purge itself, and her heart sank down to her toes; Spike felt he was home. She would make sure to change that.

“Who’s going with you?” She asked quietly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Peaches,” Spike called out, a smirk spreading out over his face. “You up for taking a ride on a dragon?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late that night after everyone had long since retired, Spike’s eyes jerked open. Gasping for breath and trying to choke back a scream, he sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If he’d had a heartbeat, it would have been trying to pound its way out of his chest. As it was, his head ached, his throat was raw, and his body seemed to have forgotten he didn’t need to breathe.

Before he could pull himself together his bedroom door was flung open.

“What’s wrong?”

The dim light of her lantern allowed Spike enough light to see. Buffy stood in his doorway, hand gripping the doorknob. Her hair was a tangled mess, her bedclothes rumpled, and her feet were bare.

“You’re not wearing any shoes,” Spike whispered, his eyes focused on her dainty feet.

“I heard you scream,” came Buffy’s breathless reply.

A deep chuckle worked its way from Spike’s throat. The sound caused Buffy’s concern to deepen. Closing the door, she walked closer to his bed.

“Spike?” Buffy asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

Meeting her eyes, Spike let a small smile spread across his face. “Luv, you’re not wearing any shoes.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s bloody freezing in here, and you came running to my room wearing a thin nightgown and no shoes.”

Upon seeing her still confused look, Spike reached forward, and grabbed her free hand. Pulling her down next to him, he quietly laced their fingers together before looking her in the eyes and repeating, “You’re not wearing any shoes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you’re having your own version of Slayer dreams huh?” Buffy asked. She was lying on the bed besides Spike, her head propped up and resting in her hand. Spike mirrored her position.

“Yeah,” Spike sighed. “Bloody useless things. I usually never get to see what will happen, except for this last one. At least now I’ve got a chance at preventing the dream from occurring.”

Buffy’s disgusted snort had Spike arching an eyebrow in question.

“My dreams,” Buffy explained. “They were so cryptic that I only ever understood them after the crisis had started.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Buffy said with a nod. “Around the time you were still evil and with Dru, I had a dream that Dru staked Angel.”

Spike merely raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

“He lost his soul pretty soon after.”

“Ah…” Spike said with a nod. “And the bloody Powers couldn’t have said ‘Don’t shag the Poof or his soul will go ‘poof!’.”

“Spike!” Buffy giggled as she shoved him. “That was awful!”

Spike’s grin told her all she needed to know.

“So, you’ve found something useful from yesterday’s search,” Riley said as he settled onto the couch in Giles’ room.

“Yes,” Giles said after a brief pause. “It seems that the being our demon was paying homage to was this Ktulu we’ve been hearing about.”

“Are you sure?”

“I found a picture to go with the relevant information,” Giles said then placed a copy of the hand drawn picture in front of Riley. Next to it, he placed the picture of the mutilated corpses.

“I can certainly see the similarity,” Riley said. “So, how do we find and kill this thing?”

“We don’t,” Giles said. “It is located in the same dimension that Buffy and the others traveled to. I am sure Buffy will be able to stop this monster. What we can do is figure out why the Senior Partners are helping it, and then stop them.”

“I take it the Senior Partners are the ones bringing this thing’s followers here.”

“Precisely,” Giles said.

“What does this Ktulu want?” Riley asked as he studied the picture once more. The thing really was ugly.

“The gist? To free its Master and help it achieve world domination.”

“Typical demon stuff then.” Riley nodded. “So, any idea on how it plans to do this?”

“There is a prophecy concerning the Key and the Father of the Key,” Giles said. “It states that these beings will either help or destroy Ktulu and its Master.”

“So this Key and Father of the Key, they are…”

“Presumably in the same dimension the others are in.”

“I don’t get it,” Riley said after a few moments. “If the people who can stop it are on the same world as it, then why would the Senior Partners send Spike and Dawn of all people there? Wouldn’t it be better to keep Buffy and the slayers away from this thing?”

“I can only assume that the Senior Partners want Buffy and the others out of the way,” Giles said as he stared Riley in the eyes.

“And by getting Buffy and the others out of the way, the Senior Partners are free to do whatever they want.”

“Exactly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ocean’s waters rolled and swelled, rocking the ship. A gentle breeze caused the sails to puff outward, pulling the ship along at a steady pace. Spike was enjoying his time on deck. Cool salt water misted the air, and droplets formed on his skin, helping alleviate the heat caused by the sun.

Gaelwine had taken Angel and Spike to a small fishing village along the Sarian Sea. He would take them no further, but with Liana’s help, they had hired a merchant vessel, De’Sara, to carry them to the outskirts of the barbarian’s kingdom. It also helped that the Sea Dragons had agreed to escort the ship through the hostile waters; the barbarians and the people of the village were not friendly neighbors.

The last time Spike had been on a ship, he had been hiding in the cargo hold on his way to Africa. The return trip was fuzzy at best, but Spike well remembered the uncomfortable quarters and the nauseating swaying motion. Now, with his immunity to sunlight, Spike could enjoy the voyage. His sleeping quarters were also much better and this time the swaying of the ship didn’t cause his stomach to churn. It was too bad Angel could not say the same. He was a little off to Spike’s right, hugging the railing; his skin tinted a lovely shade of pale puke green.

Off to Spike’s left a long dark figure slithered through the water, scaled back briefly breaking the surface.

“This great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beast.”

“What is that ye say?” asked Captain Eras, causing Spike to jump slightly. He had been focused on watching the sea dragon as it swam through the waters and hadn’t noticed the man’s approach.

“Oh? That? It was just a saying from a religious book back on my old world,” Spike answered with a shrug.

“Psalms, 25-26. This great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beast. There go the ships: there go leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein,” Angel clarified with a nauseated groan lacing his words. “It is a book in the Bible.”

“Ye have leviathans in yer world?”

“Nah mate, just myths about them.”

“Sounds like a world I’d be liking to visit, it having no scaly beast like me own.”

“Sounds like you’re not too fond of the dragons,” Spike said, his tone cooling.

“Have nothing against yer dragon friends Father,” Eras said, hurrying to reassure Spike. “I’m just not going out of me way to make friends with ‘em is all.”

“Why is that?” Angel asked once he was able to breathe again. Once this voyage was over, he was never setting foot on a ship again.

“I’m just of the thinking that people and dragons are not to be mixing. Live and let live I say. Though I’m not above making mutually beneficial arrangements like today’s.”

“Fair enough.” Spike shrugged and turned back to watching the ocean’s waves.

Two weeks into their journey, the winds began to change. The sun’s heat no longer warmed, and an icy wind chilled everyone to the bone. When they weren’t working, the crew spent more and more time below deck, trying to keep warm. Angel spent his time huddled under layers of fur and thick wool blankets, his teeth knocking out a steady rhythm. Even Spike was feeling the cold and stayed tucked away in his own quarters. He was here to help save the world; it wouldn’t do to be turned into a vamp-sicle.

At the beginning of the third week, Spike heard cheers go up along the deck. Coming out of his room, carrying every blanket and wrap he possessed, Spike could see Ceolas, the Barbarian’s homeland.

Anchoring the ship, the crew helped Spike and Angel load their packs into one of the ship’s rowboats. Climbing into the boat with two crewmembers, the rest lowered the small boat into the frigid waters.

Quickly, the two crew members took up the oars and swiftly began to bring the boat ashore. Waiting on the beach was a tall redheaded barbarian. He wore thick leather clothing and the clasp of his cloak was stamped with the image of a large bear. With only a slight nod in greeting, the barbarian came forward and helped Spike and Angel retrieve their packs. With another brief nod, this time to the ship’s crew, the barbarian turned and walked back up the beach. After their own brief goodbyes Spike and Angel followed, beginning their two day journey to reach the barbarian’s village.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The barbarian’s village stood stark against the gray misty dawn. Small bushes and clumps of grass dotted the frozen landscape. Stone houses lined the distant horizon.

Huddled in his thick fur-lined cloak, Spike let the sounds and scents of the barbarians’ homes fill his senses. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the smell of smoked meat and livestock drifted on the breeze. People went about their daily chores while small children played in groups.

“We should be there soon,” came Angel’s voice from Spike’s left.

Casting a quick glance at his companion, Spike tried unsuccessfully to hide his snickering. Angel plodded along, covered in many layers of fur, wool, and leather clothing. The bulk made him look overweight. He had an unsteady gait to his walk, and his constant shivering didn’t help. Angel reminded Spike of a waddling penguin.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Spike said. “They’ll have hot food, and a nice fire for you to warm yourself by when we get there.”

“Are you sure?” Angel asked again. “It’s not like we gave them much warning.”

“Peaches, for the last time, they wouldn’t have sent Mr. Personality here if they weren’t expecting us,” Spike sighed, indicating their silent guide with a nod of his head. “Besides, King Aneirin told us this Gunnarr bloke seemed to be a reasonable fellow.”

“I know what he said Spike,” Angel grumbled. “I just don’t trust this world. In Pylea…”

“Bloody hell, Angelus!” Spike growled. “Enough about Pylea! Ærworuld is not Pylea! It’s not even a hell dimension.”

Sighing Angel aimed a quick glance towards Spike. “It’s just…”

“You’re overly paranoid, and have severe trust issues?” Spike quipped, his tone carrying a light teasing edge.

“Very funny Spike,” Angel shot back. “I just…I don’t want anyone letting their guard down, that’s all.”

“I understand Angel, really,” Spike replied. “But the thing is, this place isn’t all bad. It‘s kind of like where we come from, mate. It’s got both good and evil, and for the most part good usually prevails.”

“Yeah, I guess you‘re right.”

“Well did you hear that,” Spike said with a grin. Looking over, Spike directed his words to their guide. “He said I was right. Bloody hell, if I didn’t know better I’d say he was possessed.”

“Shut up Spike.”

“Ah…there’s my old Grandsire,” Spike chuckled. “Had me worried there for a minute. Thought I was going to have to get Red to have a look at you.”

Angel chose to ignore Spike’s comments; their guide kept his back to them, hiding his slight smile.

Falling silent, they continued on into the village. The stone houses where bigger than Spike had first thought, and he noticed a few were even placed closely together. Small windows were located on the front of the houses, some covered with wooden shudders to block out the chill wind. However, a few places had their doors open, and as Spike and Angel walked past they caught random glimpses of families working, playing, or just gathered together. Animals roamed freely in well-tended pastures. Generously sized gardens were placed in back of some of the houses, though the vegetables had been harvested long ago.

As they walked by some people stopped and watched. A few pointed and whispered, speculating over who the Father of the Key was. It became a little disconcerting for Spike the further into the village they went. Even though he could not understand the barbarians’ guttural language, he knew they were discussing him. Spike didn’t think he’d ever get used to the wide-eyed stares his status in Ærworuld afforded him.

After awhile their guide led them to a two-storied house in the center of the community. In front stood a man whom Spike guessed to be Gunnarr from the various descriptions given to him by Dawn, Aneirin, and other members of the royal court. Standing with him were people Spike assumed to be other clan leaders, none of whom seemed all that happy to see either he or Angel.

Coming to a stop before the group, Spike locked eyes with the Barbarian leader, and gave a slight bow in greeting, arms spread wide in a gesture of trust.

“Rise, Father of the Key,” the soft-spoken Barbarian greeted. “I am Gunnarr, son of Rylach, and leader of the Great Barbarian Clans. It is an honor to welcome you and your companion to our home.”

Gesturing for them to follow him inside, Gunnarr led the group into a wide uncluttered room with a massive fireplace along one wall. A long wooden table, covered with food and drink, dominated the center of the room. Other members of the community stood along the outer edges of the room. Spike figured they were there either out of sheer curiosity, or to witness whatever meetings took place. He was willing to bet it was more of the former rather than the latter.

Once everyone was seated around the table, Gunnarr lifted his glass, gaining the crowd’s attention.

“We are here, because dire circumstances call for us to be. However, today the Gods have seen fit to bless us with the presence of the Father of the Key, and this is a cause worth celebrating.”

A loud cheer rose among the gathered crowd, and Spike wished a hole would open up so he could crawl in and hide. Instead, Spike raised his own glass in thanks. “It is an honor to be here.”

More cheers rose, and soon food was passed around. When a goblet of warm blood was placed in front of Spike, he turned shocked eyes towards Gunnarr.

“Our people have long known the Father would not be human.”

“Thank you,” Spike replied as he fiddled with the cup.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Angel asked, confused by these people’s easy acceptance of Spike’s demon status.

“Why would it?” one of the other clan leaders asked. “Our Gods are not human, and yet we honor them.”

“He’s a demon!” Angel stated. “Don’t you people know what that means?”

“It means the Father needs blood over food,” a nearby woman rebuked. “Orlong, one of our beloved Gods, is a drinker of blood. It is said the Father is one of Orlong‘s beloved children.”

“Excuse Angelus, please,” Spike said, his voice soft but cold. “He doesn’t understand the differences between my old world and this one.”

Throughout the night, the festivities wore on inside, laughter and music accompanying stories of past victories and treasured fables. The night air carried the scent of an approaching winter storm, but the cold could not persuade Spike to re-enter the chaos inside.

“You are not one for boasting about past deeds, are you?” Gunnarr spoke softly, joining Spike on the small patio behind the house.

“Used to be.” Spike shrugged. “Find I don’t have the taste for it anymore.”

“Your friend, he does not understand our world, or you.” Spike simply snorted in response.

“His world, it is different from ours?”

“Yeah, there most people see the world in extremes,” Spike sighed. “It’s bloody hard on humans when the beliefs they’ve had their whole lives turn out to be false. Many are willfully blind.”

Gunnarr nodded, eyes still trained on the dark landscape before them. “If you wish to retire none will think ill of you.”

Giving Gunnarr a grateful smile, Spike quickly made his escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What was that ‘Excuse Angelus’ crap earlier?” Angel snapped as he and Spike got ready for bed. Gunnarr and his people had offered Spike a private room to sleep in, and since he knew they didn’t trust Angel, Spike had offered to share.

“What do you think Peaches?” Spike sneered, then in an imitation of Angel, “He’s a demon.”

“Well, you are,” Angel replied, confused as to why this angered Spike so much. “And nobody here seems to get what it means.”

“Wrong, Hero,” Spike snapped. “They just don’t think it makes me a disgusting thing like everyone else does.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You bloody well didn’t have to!” Spike hissed. “You made it plain for everyone out there how you felt. I thought we had gotten past this, but obviously I was wrong.”

Pulling his shirt over his head, Spike tossed it on top of his gear and crawled into his bed. The whole time he kept his back to Angel. The tense silence following his words pursued them into sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and early, and painfully cold. The Barbarians once again gathered in the main room with food and ale. A roaring fire kept the room pleasantly warm.

Spike sat next to Gunnarr, and was soon surrounded by other clan leaders. Angel was left to find a place along the wall, the Barbarians’ low opinion of him obvious.

“King Leof is an honorable man.” Angel could hear Gunnarr say. “But his people are no allies of ours.”

“I know,” Spike sighed. “But without your help he and his people will be slaughtered. I can’t let this happen.”

“None of the Alliance have ever cared when it was our people being killed,” one old clan elder growled.

“Maybe now would be a good time to show them their preconceived ideas of you are false?” Angel ventured tentatively knowing his involvement was unwanted.

“And why should we care what they think of us?” the old man challenged. “They despise our ways and declare our Gods to be false.”

“The young Mountain-King does not believe these things, Horlrich,” Gunnarr said, addressing the old clan elder.

“Even so,” Horlrich snapped. “He’s scarcely old enough to be a man, and he’s idealistic. They won’t listen to him.”

“That’s because a lot of his allies are greedy bastards who only see his age and not his intelligence,” Spike snorted.

“Well, if you say so Father,” Gunnarr said, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“And would this King Leof fall into that category?” Horlrich asked snidely.

“Don’t know mate,” Spike replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never met the man, but Gunnarr here has already said he’s honorable.”

His words caused Horlrich’s dark eyes to narrow and his lips to thin. His gnarled hand clutched at his glass, knuckles turning white.

“I have already promised my aid to King Aneirin,” Gunnarr said, his voice soft, eyes serious. “Will your clan not stand with me old friend?”

“The Alliance does not need nor do they want our aid.” With a disgusted snort, Horlrich stood, cane grasped in one shaky hand. Promptly, a young clan member appeared by his side, aiding the old barbarian from the house.

Sighing, Gunnarr ran a hand over his tired face.

“Will any of the other clans stand with me?”

A few faces seemed uncertain. Eyes flickered between Gunnarr and Spike, to Horlrich’s retreating form.

“We have many things to discuss and a few days in which to do so,” one clan leader said as the others stood. “We’ll reach a decision then.”

When the other clan leaders had left, Angel brought his gaze back to Spike and Gunnarr.

“Can’t you, you know, order them to help?”

“No, Companion of the Father,” Gunnarr answered. “I may be chief of all the clans, but we still have leaders who take care of the day to day decisions.”

“It’s all right mate,” Spike said as he placed a hand on Gunnarr’s arm. “We’ve got a few days to change the old bugger’s mind.”

The next few days flew by and soon Spike and Angel found themselves bundled up and waiting to be escorted back towards the beach. Horlrich had not been moved and because of this only a handful of the clans would stand with Gunnarr. Spike tried to hide his disappointment but he knew a few pretty words could not heal such deep wounds.

“I am sorry Father of the Key,” Gunnarr said, his voice soft. “I had wished to gain you more allies. Horlrich seems to forget that at one time we had earned our brutal reputation.”

Nodding, Spike shook Gunnarr’s hand. With a quick farewell, Spike beckoned for Angel to follow him and their guide. Spike had a city to save and no time left to attempt to heal old grudges.

Gaiana’s breathing was labored. She would heal in time, but for now, even the simple task of sitting up took most of her strength. The dragons had insisted she rest, but she had guarded the temple and its treasure for too many years to let someone else hand over the contents.

When the door to her room opened, Gaiana’s tired eyes focused on the figure just inside the doorway. Her breath caught for a brief moment. The Key was in Ærworuld at last.

Looking at the young girl housing the power of the Key, Gaiana could see her aura dancing and swirling around her in a brilliant green. This young girl would one day help save Ærworuld. Gaiana rejoiced in the knowledge, and smiled.

“Come closer my dear. I have waited a long time for this day.”

Stepping into the room, Dawn let her gaze travel over the woman on the bed. Her hair was white, and her eyes a pale blue. She gave off a sense of peace and love, but a steely glint flared in her eyes. She was a priestess and a warrior, and no one would ever mistake her for being weak.

“My Lady,” Dawn spoke softly, while trying to copy the formal curtsies she had seen in various movies. Her words were unsteady, and her bow a little clumsy.

“No need for such formalities. Besides, it is I who should bow to you, Lady Key,” Gaiana said with a kind smile.

“You wanted to see me?” Dawn asked as she wrung her hands together before her.

“Yes, I’ve got something to give you.”

Beckoning her closer, Gaiana undid the clasp on the case in her lap. Pushing the lid up, Gaiana revealed two golden rods set into plush velvet. To Dawn it looked like the ends of the rods screwed into each other. There were also two small bags resting inside the case.

“So what’s the deal with the shiny sticks?” Dawn asked, confusion lacing her words.

“They are for you and the Father,” Gaiana said, her voice kind and patient.

“Really?” Dawn asked as she picked up one of the rods. It was cool and heavy in her hand. Putting it back, Dawn picked up one of the small bags. “What’s in this?”

“Open it and find out.”

Taking one of the bags, Dawn opened it and let the small ring fall out onto her palm. It was a simple gold ring, a green stone in the center.

“Hey, cool!” Dawn said. Reaching forward, Dawn picked up the other bag. Inside she found another ring, this one with a clear stone in the center. “Oh, pretty!”

Looking up, Dawn asked with a kind smile on her face, “How come I get the feeling you didn’t call me here just to hand over some pretty jewelry?”

“No, I did not,” Gaiana said, returning her smile. “The rings will identify who you are to those who do not know you. However, they are not what is important.”

“So, one of these is Spike’s?” Dawn asked as she eyed the two rings.

“Spike?” Gaiana asked before her confusion cleared. “Oh, you mean the Father, of course. To answer your question, yes, one is for the Father, while the other belongs to you.”

“So, you called me here to give me some gold sticks?” Dawn asked as she raised her eyes from the ring now gracing her ring finger.

“Those sticks, as you call them, unlock the doors to a library full of scrolls and books,” Gaiana said. “Things that were written millennia ago. Things many believed to be lost to the ages.”

“Holy crap!” Dawn said as she picked up one of the keys. “The library Liana mentioned. Those scrolls could tell us how to defeat Ktulu. This is so awesome!”

“They could,” Gaiana answered. “That is why we have kept it hidden for so long. We knew that if the Dark One’s servant ever found the library’s location it would be destroyed.”

“Knowledge is power,” Dawn said with a sage nod.

At Gaiana’s blank look, Dawn explained further, “It’s a saying back home, though I can’t remember where it originally came from. I bet Spike would know.”

“The Father is wise then,” Gaiana said.

“Yeah, he is,” Dawn replied as she looked at the ring now adorning her finger. “Though a lot of people seem to miss that.”

“He is underestimated?”

“Constantly.”

“But this Spike is the Father,” Gaiana said, a frown marring her face. “He should be respected…”

“Pfft!” Dawn said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “For the most part he likes it that way. Keeps people guessing.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” Dawn said with a cheeky grin. “If everyone knew how smart Spike really was, then my sister‘s mentor would make him do more research.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing, Buffy looked out over the landscape. The snow reflected the moon’s light creating an unearthly blue tinted glow, like a perpetual twilight.

Spike had been gone for nearly three weeks and Buffy felt like she was slowly going out of her mind. Thanks to their skillfulness at putting their foot in their mouths, Buffy and Spike had barely gotten any time to speak to each other. Sure, their last conversation had been promising, but Buffy knew they were a long way from being okay. There had been so many wrongs committed…

On top of missing Spike, Buffy also had to contend with the fact that everyone seemed to be taking up every waking moment of her sister’s time. It wasn’t fair. Although, no one had been outright rude except for Liana, and Buffy was beginning to see that she was basically rude to everyone, they had made it clear that it was Dawn they were interested in.

Dawn made sure to include Buffy in almost every meeting though, often looking to her for guidance, and no one outright ignored any idea Buffy had. They would often consider if any of her suggestions would work, sometimes combining it with the strategies they already employed. It helped sooth some of Buffy’s feelings.

The soft knock at her door had Buffy turning around. She thought maybe that it was Willow or Xander looking for company. Dawn was off in another meeting with King Aneirin, though Buffy suspected this one to be a bit more on the social side of things.

She was surprised to see Faith standing in the doorway.

“Hey, B.”

“Faith,” Buffy said as she turned to fully face the door. “What are you doing here? Not that you can’t be here, but…”

“Why am I here?” Faith asked, a grin on her face.

“Yeah.”

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light on,” Faith said with a shrug. “So, why are you still up?”

“Honestly,” Buffy said with a slight shrug. “I’m feeling a bit, well...”

“Restless?”

“Useless,” Buffy corrected. “Though restless does come in a close second.”

“Ah,” Faith said as she came to stand next to Buffy. “So this is a pity party of one then huh?”

“What?” Buffy said, shocked. “No. It’s just there’s not much for us to do here.”

“Right,” Faith drawled, her disbelief clear.

“Faith,” Buffy snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“No, I get it,” Faith replied. “You’re feeling useless because you’re not the big hero of this world.”

“That is not it at all!”

“Then why have you spent most of your time since Spike left sulking and hiding in your room?” Faith countered.

“I haven’t…I’m not hiding!”

“Right, and Angel doesn’t brood.”

“If the only reason you came in here was to insult me, then I think you should leave,” Buffy said as she turned her back on Faith.

“I didn’t come here to insult you,” Faith growled, her eyes narrowed. “I just find it irritating that the moment you’re not the star of the show you turn all poor-pity-me. You really need to get over yourself, B.”

When Buffy gave no reply, Faith snorted in disgust and stalked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The attacks were brutal and surprising. They were systematic in their approach, taking out a few of the people inside and then the buildings themselves.

The reports started to come in at around three am, and Giles had been coordinating research with search and rescue missions. Slayers and Watchers from all over were now either busy clearing out what was left of the buildings, or heading towards Los Angeles. Kennedy and Riley’s men patrolled the city in a steady rotation. They had already stopped three separate attacks, but the groups of demons seemed to be getting bigger and stronger. More and more lizard demons were showing up and a few were even heading the attacks.

The phone rang, cutting into his thoughts.

“Rupert Giles,” Giles said, his tone brisk as he kept leafing through notes. “Yes, I know demonic activity is rising…yes I know…how many this time? I see.”

Sighing, Giles took off his glasses. Placing them on top of a stack of paper, he began to rub his tired eyes, all the while listening to the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Change of plans,” Giles said, interrupting the speaker. “Bring whoever can be spared. This is bigger than we thought.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Camped for the night, Nikias ran a wet stone over his blade, honing the already sharp edge. Every stroke pulled at his almost healed shoulder, but the fearful whimpers from his guest were too tantalizing to pass up.

“Hello Nikias.” The voice sounded from behind him and Nikias turned and watched as the conduit emerged from the surrounding shadows. “Playing with your food again, I see.”

Halting his motions, Nikias growled at the interloper.

“I do not eat mortal flesh,” Nikias said, disgust lacing his words. Casually, he reached over and snapped the scout’s neck, silencing the terrified man’s whimpers. He could always find another one to play with later, and this one had started to smell. “Besides, I thought you were not a part of this battle.”

“What can I say,” the girl said as she shrugged her shoulders. “Ktulu changed his mind when he learned what we knew.”

“And what is that?”

“The Father and our Souled-One will both be in Wygar.” A smile spread across the girls face as she gazed smugly back at him. “If we are careful, we can take out two birds with one stone, as the mortals like to say.”

Grinning, Nikias nodded his head in agreement. “Tell me what you’ve got planned.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Our scouts have spotted the Dark One’s followers flying over the city,” Hendrick said, reporting to his king.

“So they are coming,” King Leof sighed. Opening the door to his office, Leof caught the attention of a passing soldier. “I need you to send for General Krile.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the young solider headed off, Leof closed the door once more before turning to face his advisor.

“Do we know how many are headed this way?”

“No, sir,” Hendrick answered.

“That is unfortunate,” Leof grumbled. Stalking over to the table, he leaned forward, eyes intent on the map spread out before him.

“Now where exactly did the scouts spot this insidious army?”

Pointing along the southern region of the map, Hendrick answered, “They come from the direction of Kersh, following the Kyl’es Mountain rang…”

“That is weeks away! We should be able to meet them halfway, and prevent them from reaching Wygar all together.”

“I wish we could, my Lord,” Hendrick offered with a sigh. “I believe they are using some sort of magic to cover their movements. We have not been able to spot the army itself, just the remains of their camps. They have even left a few gifts for us. They want us to know they are coming.”

“Damn it!” Leof slammed his hand on the table. The impact rattled the table, knocking off papers and pens. “And our Priest’s magic has been unable to detect them?”

“Yes.”

Another growled obscenity and Leof rammed his fist into the tabletop once more. Before he could continue his rant, a sharp knock at the door rang throughout the room. Trading a look with his advisor, knowing Krile hardly ever knocked when summoned, Leof opened the door.

As he expected, it was not Krile standing before him but a young page. His face was flush and he was breathing heavily. With one hand against the doorframe, the boy faced his king.

“Your Highness, there is a man at the gate. He claims to be the Father of the Key.”

“What!” King Leof cried. “Bring me to him.”

Following the young page through the castle’s corridors, they quickly arrived outside and made their way to the main gate.

“Who dares to claim the title of Father of the Key?” Leof asked, his gaze raking over the crowd.

“That would be me.”

Looking past his General, Leof spotted a thin man with light brown hair that faded into an unnatural blonde. His sharp blue eyes raked over the gathered crowd and his taller companion stood slightly behind him. Their clothing gave no indication of where they had come from, nor did they seem to have any identifying markings.

“And how am I supposed to know if what you say is true?”

“Well, mate,” the man said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I could always camp out here and freeze my ass off while waiting for King Gunnarr to arrive, or I could give you this.”

Pulling his hand from beneath his cloak, the odd man held out one slim hand. He held a small rolled up parchment, the wax seal still intact. Stepping forward, Krile took the scroll and quickly handed it to King Leof.

Checking the seal, Leof gently opened the scroll and read its context.

“Krile,” Leof spoke quietly as he raise his eyes to meet his General‘s. “Open the gate, and let the Father and his companion enter.”

“By the Gods, he is the Father!” a nearby soldier exclaimed. Stunned, the visitor watched as several of the gathered crowd dropped to their knees before him. A shocked exclamation of “Bloody hell!” had King Leof bringing his gaze back to the man at his gate.

“It’s Spike,” the man explained. Looking over the crowd, he spoke again, this time loud enough so all could hear him. “I may be this Father bloke you’ve been waiting for, but to me, I’m still just Spike.”

“Well then, Spike,” King Leof acknowledged. “Welcome to Wygar.”

Buffy wandered along the castle grounds. She had risen late that morning having spent most of her sleepless night thinking about what Faith had said to her. She knew in her heart that Faith was right, but it appeared as if changing her way of thinking was easer said than done.

Now she was on a search for her sister, wanting to spend some time with Dawn while she could.

Buffy soon found her, right where she hated to see Dawn most, on the training grounds. Surprisingly there was just Dawn and Aneirin present. Dawn was holding a short bow. The bowstring was pulled back, though Buffy could see the effort Dawn was putting forth to hold it in place. The arrow was pointed towards a stationary target. Aneirin was standing behind her, one hand on her waist, the other gesturing as he spoke softly in her ear.

Buffy could hear Dawn’s giggles and could see the smile on Aneirin’s face. As she watched, Aneirin stepped back right before Dawn let go of the arrow. To Buffy’s amazement, it hit the target dead center. The smile the two shared caused Buffy’s stomach to sink.

Turning, Buffy quickly left before they could see her. Today’s session seemed to be private after all.

Later that day, Buffy found herself, along with the others, sitting in Aneirin’s office. She didn’t speak much, but listened intently as they went over how they would remove the contents of the library before Ktulu’s army could reach it. A part of Buffy wondered if the Watcher’s Council had ever thought to move their archives before the First destroyed the building.

“The library is located beneath the temple.” Buffy heard Liana say as she pushed her wayward thoughts to the back of her mind.

“It will take us four weeks to reach the temple,” Aneirin said with a sigh. “And possibly longer than that to empty it and transport the contents to a safer location.”

“You do not think we have enough time to do so?” Liana asked, one eyebrow raised. Though she seemed more curious than skeptical to Buffy.

“Even with help from the dragons, I do not think we’ll have enough time.”

“Why not?” Dawn asked as she looked from Einarr to Frederic and Liana to Aneirin. “Ktulu’s army is farther away from the temple than we are.”

“Be that as it may,” Frederic said his face stern but voice gentle. “We have no way of tracking that beast’s movements.”

“How so?” Willow asked, her curiosity lacing her words.

“Our mages have tried to locate the Dark One’s minions, but all attempts have failed,” Frederic said. “All we have are the remains of their camps, and the gruesome surprises they like to leave behind.”

“Maybe I should try…” Willow said, her voice trailing off as an inkling of an idea formed in her head.

“My dear…”

“No!” Dawn said, her shout startling everyone. “Let Willow try. I think she might be on to something.”

Looking at Dawn for a few seconds, Aneirin nodded. “Let Lady Willow try. It certainly won’t hurt. Is there anything you need to perform this spell?”

“Um…you wouldn’t happen to have something of this Ktulu’s would you?” Willow asked.

“No,” Aneirin said. “But would this drawing do?”

Picking a book up off one of the shelves behind his desk, Aneirin flipped the pages until he found what he was looking for.

Taking the book, Willow looked at the picture and her face screwed up in disgust.

“Oh boy!” Willow said. “I don’t think Buffy’s ever come across something this ugly.”

“Let me see,” Buffy and Xander said at the same time. Moving quickly the two came to stand at Willow’s side, each peering over her shoulder. Eyes scanning the picture, Buffy’s face contorted as well. “I think you’re right. Though Chaos demons come in a close second just because of all the slime.”

“I’d though you would have said Fyarls, Buffy,” Xander said.

“Why?”

“Because they shoot snot at you?”

“Oh right,” Buffy said. “That is gross.”

“Not as gross at that stink monster Spike killed that one summer,” Dawn added, her disgust lacing her voice.

“Oh yeah!” Willow replied. Turning to Buffy, “You were, well gone at the time, but seriously this thing stunk.”

“And it exploded,” Xander added with a nod.

“Don’t forget the lovely odor of fermented dead bodies that it reeked of,” Dawn said with a shudder.

“What are you people talking about?” Frederic asked, his eyes wide. “How can you even joke like this? This beast…”

“Relax Freddie,” Faith said, cutting in before Frederic could continue. “This is just standard operating procedure for when the shit hits the fan.”

“End of the world comes, we make with the merry,” Xander explained with a shrug.

“I see. You make crude jokes because it helps keep you human,” Einarr said, understanding in his gaze. “I remember some of my men doing the same thing between battles.”

“I too, have seen warriors partake of this ritual,” Liana added.

“My father never let me listen to those stories,” Aneirin said, a slight smile on his face. “He told me they were not suitable for a would-be king to hear.”

“Your father told you that because if he had said you were too young, you would have thrown a fit,” Einarr remarked, a grin on his face.

“So did he scream ‘Get out!’ or is that just a Dawn thing?” Buffy asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Buffy!” Dawn cried, her face red. “Don’t make me tell stories about you as a teenager. I seem to remember a certain Dorothy Hamill phase you‘d rather forget.”

“You wouldn’t!” Buffy shouted, outraged.

Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

Looking at Aneirin, Einarr said, his voice steady and calm, “This is why I was glad you were someone else’s child.”

Almost everyone was shocked when Frederic burst out laughing. Aneirin glared at his General and Advisor before saying, “I think that’s enough joking for now. Unless someone wants to clean out the stables, for a month.”

Once everyone had calmed down, Willow concentrated on the picture, trying to focus her magic on finding where Ktulu was located. A small dot appeared on the map, a two-week journey away from the temple, and it was moving.

“How is that even possible?” Frederic asked. “We have tried for so long…”

“They were cloaked by dark magic from our world,” Willow answered, her brow furrowed.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Buffy asked, a grim look on her face.

“Senior Partners?” Dawn asked, her own expression cold.

“Yep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how long until they arrive?” Spike asked, his eyes scanning the lay of the sprawling city before him. He was leaning against one of the merlons along the top of the castle wall. The gray stone was cold beneath his hand. The structure would offer little protection; far too many of their adversaries could easily cause the stone to crumble or simply fly over it.

“Our scouts have spotted their camps a few days travel from the city,” Gunnarr answered. “They number into the ten thousands.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike swore as he rubbed his face with his hands. “Right, how many fighters do we have?”

“I currently have around six hundred men at hand,” Gunnarr replied. “An additional six thousand are on the way, but it will take them at least a week to arrive. It took some negotiating to get that many.”

“And how many do you have, King Leof?” Angel asked as his own gaze took in the strength and weaknesses of Wygar’s strong hold.

“At present, my troop’s number five thousand three hundred strong,” Leof replied. “We have been stretched thin with this war and most of my army helps to protect the southern borders.”

“So we’ve got roughly six thousand trained fighters plus a few willing civilians,” Spike stated, a far off look in his eyes. “How is the evacuation going?”

“Surprisingly well, Father,” Gunnarr replied. “Most of the city’s inhabitants are already sequestered inside Dronham Fort. I was told there are a thousand soldiers located there. From there my men will guide them back to my homeland.”

“The oil casks?”

“They are placed along the outer wall of the castle,” Leof replied. “There are torches standing next to the barrels waiting to be lit.”

“Majesty, Father,” one young page called from the entrance to the inside of the guard‘s tower. “Several rooms have been set aside for the injured as well as weapons, food, and water.”

“Places to rest?” Spike asked.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good,” Leof answered. “Now go gather the rest of the servants and tell them they are to head to Dronham Fort immediately.”

“Your Majesty, Father,” The page spoke his voice soft but sure. “The servants and I wish to stay.”

“You’re leaving,” Spike stated, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

“With all due respect Father, this is our home,” the boy replied, head held high. “We would see it defended, with our lives if we have to.”

“Are you sure?” Leof asked. “War is an ugly business.”

“Some of us may not be able to fight, but we can help in other ways.”

A low rumbling growl had every head turning. Spike stood from his slumped position, his posture going rigid. His eyes were flashing from blue to amber, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Now is not the time for heroics, boy,” Spike growled.

“We are staying,” the young boy replied with a slight waver to his voice.

“If you lot don’t leave, I’ll drain every single one of you dry and toss your corpses to the enemy myself!”

Eyes wide, the young boy turned and ran, the sound of his footsteps fading fast.

“This is my Kingdom, Father,” King Leof bellowed. “You had no right to speak to my people in such a fashion.”

“You lot are the ones who put me in charge of fighting this bloody war!” Spike yelled back. “And I do not wage wars with children!”

Storming away from the group, Spike settled himself against the sill of a distant merlon. His hands were shaking, and he wished he had a cigarette to calm his nerves. In his mind’s eye, he could clearly see the battered remains of men, women, and children. He hadn’t been able to stop those slaughters, but if he could keep naive children from foolishly throwing their lives away, he would.

“Spike,” Angel called out as he approached.

“Go away, Angelus.”

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” Angel reprimanded softly.

“I refuse to allow a child to fight this war,” Spike growled.

“Shouldn’t that be his decision?”

“Bloody hell, no!” Spike shouted. “The kid’s nothing but a wide eyed babe! He hasn’t got a clue as to how vicious this battle is going to be. Probably has a head full of romantic ideas about how he saves the day, or some such rot.”

“Spike,” Angel sighed. “We’re facing two to one odds in their favor, if our guesses are correct. We need all the able bodied fighters we can get.”

“Children should never be soldiers, Angel,” Spike snapped. “I’m leading this war, not you.”

“You’re only one person, Spike,” Angel said softly. Then with a weary sigh, “Let me help.”

“Nice offer Peaches, but I’ve got things under control.”

Grabbing Spike’s shoulder, Angel swung the haggard looking vampire around to face him.

“Spike, you’ve been up for days, you haven’t been feeding properly, and some of my past victims looked better than you do right now.” Taking a firm hold of Spike’s arms Angel looked him in the eyes and stated determinedly, “Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m incompetent.”

Seeing the lazy smirk gracing Spike’s face, Angel nearly groaned. He had certainly stumbled into this one.

“You’re right, mate. Being human doesn’t make you incompetent. Simply being you does.”

“Spike…”

“I know, I know,” Spike said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You can help. You always were better at making plans than I was.”

“Not when it concerned something, or someone, you cared about,” Angel smiled as he slipped his arm around Spike’s shoulders. “Then you were damn near unstoppable.”

“Always did like a good fight,” Spike replied.

“I can’t remember how many towns and villages you caused us to be run out of,” Angel reminisced. “Darla would have staked you for it if it hadn’t been for Dru.”

“Well, I finally learned to guard my perimeter.”

“And I finally tired of fights I knew I was going to win.”

“So, William the Bloody and Angelus together again, huh?” Spike asked with a tired grin.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Good,” Spike said with a firm nod of his head. “I was getting tired of that whole ‘The Scourge of Europe’ thing. Now we get to be scourges of a completely different world.”

Laughing, Angel dragged Spike back over to their waiting allies, minor arguments forgiven and forgotten.

Over the next few days, Spike and the others hurried to finalize plans and put defenses into place. Thanks to Angel, they reached a compromise; only the older servants were allowed to stay while the young and elderly were to flee.

Still, Spike hardly slept except when one of the others forced him too, and even then, his dreams were full of nightmare visions of the coming battle. Once awakened, Spike would quietly make his way to the Great Hall. There he would pour over detailed maps of the castle and city, hoping every avenue was covered. It was an impossible task, he knew, but it didn‘t stop him from looking.

Eating was also a luxury Spike would often avoid indulging in. The smell and taste of blood frequently lingered after his dreams, and when handed a glass of the thick red liquid all of his memories would come rushing back. Bile would rise in his throat, and Spike would politely set the cup down, making excuses for his lack of appetite. It was only when the others threatened to force the blood down his throat did Spike finally feed.

One day while setting up a defense in the guard’s towers, Spike spotted rounds holes cut into the floor. He could see the ground outside of the gate and looking up at Leof and Krile, eyes bright, he exclaimed, “You’ve got murder holes! Good, we can put some of those barrels up here along with a couple of knights.”

“Murder holes?” King Leof asked as he glanced at the openings Spike had indicated.

“Yeah,” Spike shrugged. “These openings are called ‘murder holes’ in my old world. People used them to dump rocks and boiling water on the enemy attacking their castle.”

“That is strange,” General Krile said with a smirk. “We use them for the same thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were giants compared to well, almost everyone, but here he was, with some of these enormous creatures looking at him like he was the giant. Of course not all were looking at him this way. Some of the looks he was getting made him feel two inches tall. Other looks made him feel that being two inches tall was a bit too tall for him to be.

He wanted to sink into the earth, hide from their wise gazes. He could handle the slightly disgusted looks; he had made a habit out of annoying anyone who looked at him that way. It was the ones who looked to him for leadership, like he was a champion and not a silly man playing pretend, that he could not handle.

“All right,” Spike said as he cleared his throat and tried to push his insecurities aside. Feelings of two inches in height or not, he was still considered the champion of this world.

“I have King Leof’s word that his lot will play nice. Of course this doesn’t mean there won’t be rude comments, but humans are just finicky like that so ignore them.”

“And why should we?” Eald asked, his voice a low growl to match the anger in his eyes. “They want to drive us out and yet we are told to help them. I say we should leave them to the Dark One.”

“And then they would be right about you, you stupid git,” Spike answered with his own growl, eyes flashing yellow.

“They hate us,” Cyne said, her tone sad. Spike noted she had a wistful look in her eyes.

“They just need someone to blame,” Spike said, this time his tone gentle and filled with understanding. “Doesn’t make it right, but it explains things.”

“But why blame us?” Eald asked. “We are not the ones responsible for the Dark One’s destruction, nor are we the reason half of our brethren joined his army.”

“I don’t bloody know!” Spike said, his frustration clear. With growing disappointment, Spike noted that even with all of their wisdom, the dragons shared a common theme with the humans. Both were blaming the other for some long ago event that only a select few dragons had been around to witness.

In Spike’s mind they should have let the grudge die ages ago, but he knew what it was like to carry one. It had been years before Spike had finally let go of his anger towards Angel, and even now he could still get mightily annoyed by the over gelled git.

“The Father is doing the best he can,” Draco said with an edge of warning to his voice. “It is up to us to try and make things easier.”

“But the humans…”

“I know, Eald,” Draco said, his voice still full of authority but now carrying a hint of sympathy. “I remember it well, but it is time we let such old hurts go my friend. These humans are not the ones who hurt us so.”

“Hallvaror died protecting these humans,” Ivor growled. “And because of this, the Wyvern grow weary of aiding us. Do you wish to see his sacrifice cheapened?”

Eald did not respond vocally, but simply nodded and turned his gaze towards Spike.

“Do you think, if we help,” Cyne asked. “The humans will like us again?”

Her tone was so hopeful it tugged at Spike’s heart. He knew all too well how she felt.

“Don’t know,” Spike answered and he felt even worse when she nodded her head with a slight dejected air. “I can’t say, but I do know that there are those who are working on changing their kin’s attitude. It won’t happen overnight, but it might happen.”

“I understand Father,” she said, and Spike could tell that she did. “How shall I be of help then?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The others had long since gone, all having kin to look after. Ivor stayed behind though, watching as the Father spoke some final words to Caius before climbing onto Gaelwine’s back. Once they had lifted off, Ivor walked over to Caius’ side.

“Am I doing the right thing, my friend?” Caius said, his gaze still locked in the direction the Father had gone. “Sending our kin and allies out to help fight this war?”

“Caius…”

“And be honest Ivor,” Caius said, interrupting. “You are nearly as old as I.”

“Nearly, Caius?” Ivor asked, amusement clear in his tone. “I believe you have that backwards, young one.”

“You should have been made Dragon Lord. You are the eldest, after all.”

“You are more diplomatic than I,” Ivor said with a snort. “I would have lost my patience with the humans long ago and simply eaten them.”

“I think you have been listening to Gaelwine for too long.”

“Well, his idea does have merit.” Seeing the look Caius was giving him, Ivor sighed. “No one can tell you if what you are doing is right. Only time will reveal if we have been fools or heroes.”

“Then I suppose I must await time’s answer and hope that she agrees.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the battle came all too quickly. A scout had notified everyone in the early morning hours. The enemy, judging by the remains of their campsite, was only a few hours away. Finally, with last minute preparations hastily put into place, the waiting began. Soldiers said silent prayers along with Billard, a local priest, who called on the Gods and Goddess’ to watch over those fighting in the battle to come. Spike and Angel shared a long look. With past grievances forgiven, old bonds were renewed. The time to be heroes had come.

In the clearing before the castle wall, air began to shimmer, reminding Spike of the horizon during a heat wave. Steadily a figure began to form and soon, standing calmly before the castle and its army, was a small dark haired girl. A slight smirk graced her round face as she raised her hand to give a quick wave.

“Hello, Angel.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Angel growled his eyes narrowing in disgust.

“You know little Miss Muffet here?” Spike asked eyebrow raised.

“Did you ever see the panther in Wolfram and Hart’s white room?” Angel asked while his gaze remained focused on the girl before them.

“No,” Spike answered. “But Charlie-boy told me about it one night.”

“Well, she came first.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Father,” the little girl smiled.

“Sorry, pet,” Spike shrugged. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“What do you want?” Angel interrupted.

“Angel, you ruined our plans,” the little girl said, disapproval filling her voice. “I told you once before, we don’t like chaos.”

“Yeah, well too bad, cause that’s what you’re about to get.”

“We’ll see,” the little girl grinned. “So long Angel, Father.”

When she vanished the army they had only heard about from brief reports given by the scouts, was finally seen marching over the horizon.

“Bloody hell! They’ve got siege towers…”

“And trebuchets,” Angel added. Then in a falsely cheerful voice, “Oh and look! The Senior Partners took a page from Tolkien and summoned what looks like a couple of cave trolls.”

“Angel?” Spike said, drawing his attention from the advancing army. “Shut up.”

Turning, Spike quickly made his way over to the nearest archer. “Be sure to aim for the chest and head area. The arrows might not kill the buggers, but it could slow them down long enough for someone else to finish the job. Got it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good,” Spike nodded. Moving his gaze, Spike found General Krile. “Go warn your men that some of these bastards are pretty hard to kill. If decapitation doesn’t work, keep hacking until it stops moving.”

Nodding Krile hurried off to spread the message. This was not something they had planned for.

‘They warned me about the Dark One’s army. Why in the bloody hell couldn’t they have done the same for the Senior Partners,’ Spike thought as he ran over to King Leof’s side and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“We’re bloody screwed,” Spike hurriedly explained. “The Senior Partners have entered the fray and joined their army with the Dark One’s.”

“Who are these Senior Partners you speak of?”

“They’re the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart.” Angel’s winded answer came from behind Spike. “And they’re almost here.”

“Then we change our plans,” Gunnarr stated. “Hopefully we can hold them off long enough to evacuate the rest of the city. The Dark One and Wolf, Ram, and Hart can not use what is no longer there.”

“I will not let that beast take my city!” King Leof growled, frustrated and fearful for his people. “Where would we go?”

“Most of my people are already willing help,” Gunnarr said. “And I’m sure the dragons can take some to young King Aneirin.”

“There are maybe forty five thousand bearing down on us,” Angel interrupted. “We don’t have time to argue.”

“Let Wygar go, King Leof, son of Aitor,” Draco softly whispered in his mind. “The Father saw it fall in a massacre; let us at least prevent that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in front of the assembled Watchers and Slayers, Kennedy and Riley at his side, Giles let his eyes roam over the crowd. They were haggard, bruised and bloodied. They were all that stood between evil and its plans on destroying their world. Giles knew that many of them would willingly die in order to defend it.

‘We few, we happy few. We band of buggered,’ Giles thought, remembering another long ago battle with seemingly impossible odds.

Taking a deep breath, and gathering every bit of courage left in his tired body, Giles began to speak.

“As you know, we are facing a crisis. All of you know about the attack Angel and his associates perpetrated against Wolfram and Hart. Now it seems that the Senior Partners have decided to unleash an apocalypse in retaliation. Several of our Champions are absent, having journeyed to another world to rescue two of our own. Wolfram and Hart know of this and it looks as if they have decided to take advantage of our situation. If we do not succeed in stopping this apocalypse, then I fear for what type of world our friends will be returning to.”

“Fire!”

A slew of arrows rained down on the advancing army. Spike could see hundreds of demons and beasts falling; unfortunately, they had several thousand to go.

“Ready! Fire!”

More arrows soared across the sky, and more bodies fell. Angry roars filled the air and soon the archers from the Senior Partner’s army were in range. They quickly began to return fire.

“Draco! Drop the barrels!” Spike urged his friend. “Ivor, torch the bastards!”

Draco and the other dragons swooped down, dropping several barrels of oily blue liquid. It stuck to everything it touched, and gave off a bitter scent.

Once Draco’s unit was well away from the throng, Ivor let loose a stream of fire. There was a loud whoosh, and then bright orange flames. Several hundred died instantly, while hundreds more screamed in agony as the flames ate away their flesh. Rolling black smoke blotted out the sun in brief intervals, and the sickly scent of charred meat filled the air, reminding Spike of cooked brisket. Spike could have sworn Ivor was smiling.

“What manner of creature are they?” one solider asked, his eyes wide as a few of the more resilient demons withstood the heat of the flames.

“They’re demons,” Spike answered him quietly. “Those specifically are Morah demons. They can only be permanently killed by breaking the jewel on their foreheads.”

Spotting scaly hands coming over the edge of the wall, Spike let a gleeful grin spread across his face. Sword in hand, Spike rushed forward and the demon met with the sharp edge of his blade. Its head rolled towards Spike, and with a kick any soccer player would envy, lobbed it back into the mass below. It hit a Chaos demon in the head and stuck to its antlers. ‘Goal!’ Spike thought as he went back to hacking at various demons.

Hearing a distinctive roar, Spike called over his shoulder, tauntingly, “Hey Peaches! Looks like your good friend the dragon is back! Thought you said you killed it?”

“I did!” Angel yelled as he pulled his sword out of a demon’s chest. Spinning, he quickly decapitated a demon stupid enough to try to sneak up on him. “I can kill it again if I have too.”

“That is no proper dragon,” Ivor snarled in their minds. “That is an abomination, leave it to me.”

Ivor slammed into the demonic being. Claws and teeth dug into flesh, and wings beat furiously against massive bodies. Snarling, Ivor twisted, forcing the demonic dragon’s back towards the ground. Pulling his wings back, Ivor drove the other dragon towards the ground.

The impact echoed over the battle, and squashed a few demons too slow to get out of the way. The ground shook and dust flew into the air, hindering vision. When the dust clouds cleared, Spike found himself face to muzzle with a Worm. It was only his vampiric reflexes that saved him from being eaten.

Faster than Spike thought possible, it slithered forward, and then juked right at the last second, whipping its tail at Spike. Spike barely had time to roll to the left before the thing’s long muscled tail slammed down where he had been standing. Seconds later, a sword severed the Worm’s head from the rest of its serpentine body. A dirty, blood covered Angel stood behind it.

“I thought you could use some help.” Angel’s grin was smug.

“Would have had the bastard eventually,” Spike grumbled as he turned and beheaded an incoming demon.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Spike could see Ivor lifting his body a short distance into the air. His jaws were still clamped around the demonic dragon’s neck, and flexing his legs, Ivor raked his claws down the beast’s underbelly. An outraged roar greeted his action, and the demonic dragon arched its back, dislodging Ivor.

Surging upward, the other dragon not far behind, Ivor spun mid-air, lowered his head and plowed forward. His massive shoulders hit the other dragon mid-climb, causing it to tumble back towards the earth. A beastly roar of triumph echoed across the land as Ivor continued his pursuit of the demon.

A loud crackling sound caught Spike‘s attention. Turning, he saw that the demons had started using the trebuchets to fire boulders at the wall. Once the boulders struck, their much bigger allies used their hands or claws to tear sections down. The cave troll-like demons, luckily for Spike, were quite busy. After the barrels had been dropped, Draco and some of his kin had swarmed the giant demons, teeth and claws slashing at the demons’ tough skin.

Turning, Spike spotted three soldiers fighting off a Fyarl demon. It was obvious they didn’t know how to kill it, and to Spike’s annoyance, it was toying with them. Sheathing his sword, Spike charged, and taking a flying leap over several demons, landed in front of the Fyarl. It growled at him, angry that Spike had interrupted its game.

Grinning, Spike said, “I think its time we up the stakes of this little game, eh mate?”

Shocked at hearing it‘s language being used, the Fyarl stopped its advance. Taking advantage of the Fyarl’s momentary confusion, Spike grabbed the Fyarl’s horns and twisted. The Fyarl’s neck cracked and popped and Spike kept twisting until its head was facing the opposite direction.

Letting go, Spike planted one foot on the Fyarl’s ruined neck.

“Anybody got any thing sharp and silver?” Seeing that no one had heard him, Spike grabbed the nearest soldier. “Go find me something sharp and made of silver. Now!”

Wide-eyed the soldier ran off. Meanwhile Spike kept digging his foot into the Fyarl’s neck every time he swung his sword.

Moments later, the soldier returned and thrust something at Spike with a hurried, “Here!” It was a dinner fork. Shrugging, Spike spun the fork prong side down, and stabbed the Fyarl with it. The Fyarl went quiet. Pulling the fork out, Spike put it in his pocket. He might need it later.

Suddenly Spike’s feet flew from beneath him. Something cold, muscled, and very sharp had bit down tightly around his ankle. Spike could feel bones grinding together beneath the unbearable pressure. Looking up, Spike had just enough time to see the maw of the demonic dragon before the beast tugged sharply, causing Spike to skid across stone. There was nothing for him to grab onto and he had lost his sword when he lost his footing. Another sharp tug and Spike went up and over a crenel, head cracking painfully against the edge of the stone.

For a terrifying second, Spike felt nothing beneath him but air. Then something grabbed his shoulders and Spike felt as if the bones in his leg were being wrenched from their sockets. A hoarse cry forced its way from his throat, and with a quick blast of heat, the pressure around his ankle released.

Forcing open protesting eyes, Spike looked up into the bright sunlight to see the underside of Draco’s neck. He was holding Spike very gently with his front claws, though Spike could feel the sharp tips through his clothes.

A loud thunderous crack had Spike turning his sore head. A jolt of vicious satisfaction ripped through him as he watched the demonic dragon drop to the ground, dead. Then Spike blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was cold. She hated being cold. She wanted nothing more than to be back in sunny southern California, kicking demon butt with Spike by her side. After all, it was warm there. Not that Ærworuld was a bad place. Aneirin’s castle had indoor plumbing with hot and cold running water so Buffy wasn’t completely deprived of modern comforts. It was just really freaking cold in the mountains.

To Buffy, it seemed that winter had settled in rather comfortably, and wasn’t leaving anytime soon. This meant that while they hurried to reach the library before Ktulu did, Buffy got to freeze. The only plus was that she was riding a horse. The downside was that her butt was numb from sitting in a saddle for days at a time.

Buffy wished she could have just ridden on the back of one of the dragons, but they were off helping Spike. Worst of all, she didn’t really have anyone to talk to. Faith was up ahead sharing war stories with a soldier who had caught her eye, while Xander traded jokes with another. Willow was riding beside one of the mages, talking in hushed whispers. Dawn was riding next Aneirin; they were surrounded by a ring of solders, all of whom were pretending not to hear them. She didn’t think Dawn would appreciate her sister interrupting their conversation.

The only other person riding by themselves was Liana and Buffy would rather freeze before willingly seeking the other woman’s company. Buffy was fairly positive that Liana felt the same way.

Shivering, Buffy tried to pull her fur lined wrap tighter around her body while simultaneously holding onto the reins. When another shiver danced up her spine and the fine hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, Buffy knew something was wrong.

Scanning the landscape, all Buffy saw were mile long shadows. She also noticed that the other slayers were doing the same thing. Liana’s hand rested casually on the hilt of her sword, and the soldiers were still talking and laughing, but Buffy could tell that they too, had noticed a change in the atmosphere.

A shimmering ripple appeared before them. Soon, the figure of a small girl stood in the road, a polite smile on her face. Buffy’s slayer senses went into overdrive and she reached back to retrieve her scythe.

“Hello, Dawn,” the girl said. Her voice was surprisingly normal, which creeped Buffy out even more. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dawn said in her snidest tone. “Can’t say the same for you.”

The girl only laughed, her eyes crinkling and her smile widening.

“Oh how funny!” the girl said. “The Father said almost exactly the same thing when we met a few days ago.”

“That’s nice,” Buffy said, a patently false smile on her face. She had maneuvered her horse until she was positioned next to Dawn. “So who are you? Wolf, Ram, or Hart? Cause I gotta say, you look about as threatening as Bambi.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Slayer,” the girl replied, her smile gone, her eyes cold. “You should have learned that with Glorificus.”

“Glory‘s appearance wasn‘t deceiving,” Buffy said with a shrug. “Her bad home perm gave her away.”

“You joke now, but let’s see what happens when you meet our allies.”

With another shimmer, the girl vanished. In her place, seeming to step out of nowhere, stood a massive three-headed figure, an army of leviathans, worms, and demons behind him. Also, he was a lot taller than Buffy had envisioned.

‘Crap’ Buffy thought. ‘Mental note, next time do not make jokes comparing the Senior Partners to Disney characters.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike stood, leaning against a merlon, chest rising and falling in unneeded breath. Dirt, blood, and grime covered his body. A steady mass of leviathans, worms, and dragonets pushed forward along with various demons crawling over the mass to reach the top of the wall.

They were all tired, aching, and filthy, though some were worse off than others. His leg ached with a steady pounding; the pain in his skull matched it. The battle had lasted almost four days, such a small amount of time in contrast to the destruction that had been caused. And the lives lost, so many gone in a blink. Spike preferred not to think of such matters but it couldn’t be helped with the dead resting on both sides of the wall.

Suddenly pain ripped through Spike’s skull causing him to drop his sword. Groaning he grabbed his head, hoping that by applying enough pressure he could keep his head from exploding.

He didn’t feel the bite of the stone along his back as he slid to the ground. Images flashed before his eyes, a mountain trail, a group of soldiers fighting valiantly against a horde of demons, and Dawn, his Niblet, laying dead, her throat slashed and her eyes vacant. Screaming, Spike tried to fight his way through the images. He had to get to Dawn.

Rough hands shook his frame, and Spike pried open protesting eyes. Everything was too bright and too loud, and if his heart had beat, Spike was positive the pounding in his skull would have matched the rapid beating of a terrified heart.

“What is wrong?” Spike heard Gunnarr ask, though his voice seemed distant for some reason.

“The Father has not been hurt, has he?” another voice asked, this one Spike did not recognize.

“No, I think he‘s had a vision,” Angel said as he gently shook Spike again. “Spike, look at me.”

Slowly, Spike raised half-open eyes to meet Angel’s worried gaze.

“Spike, did you see something?”

“See?” Leof asked. “What sort of question is that?”

“I told you,” Angel snapped. “I think he’s had a vision.”

“I did not know the Father carried the Sight,” Gunnarr said as he knelt down beside Angel.

“I didn’t either,” Angel said. “I thought it was just dreams.”

Placing a gentle hand on Spike’s, Gunnarr spoke in a soft voice, “Father, what is it that you have seen?”

“Dawn,” Spike said, his voice a harsh croak. “They’re in trouble.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been lucky. Gaelwine and three other dragons had shown up before the fighting could begin. Buffy hadn’t realized exactly how fast the dragons could move. Gaelwine had blocked Ktulu’s advance, while the other two had reared back and torched a good portion of the army.

Ktulu had roared, long and loudly. An ear shattering roar that had caused many to clamp their hands over their ears. The flames were doing nothing but pissing him off. The dragons had done their best to keep Ktulu busy, but Buffy could see that nothing seemed to affect him. When Ktulu had swatted one of the dragons away as if it weighed nothing, Buffy’s stomach had dropped.

Then an arrow had hit Ktulu, sinking into his shoulder. It didn’t look like a debilitating wound to Buffy, but the smoke started to rise from the wound and Ktulu’s roar turned to one of pain. Looking over her shoulder, Buffy saw that the arrow had come from Dawn.

Dawn could hurt this beast when no one else could, and if Buffy was right, then so could Spike.

Ktulu had focused on Dawn then, all three heads writhing and hissing. Then Dawn, with shaking hands, had readied another arrow. Ktulu had shrieked again, and when they could all hear, the army and Ktulu were gone.

Now, Gaelwine and the other two dragons were sitting in a loose circle around the group, keeping watch. A few of the soldiers, along with Liana, Vi, and Rona were keeping watch as well.

Hearing a scuffle Buffy turned her gaze towards where Aneirin sat. His left leg was propped up on some saddlebags, his pant leg ripped open to his thigh. He was being fussed over by a group of people, and even through the pain she knew he was feeling, Buffy could tell he was getting irritated.

“I am just a king,” Aneirin said, his tone sharp. “Easily replaced. Dawn however isn’t.”

“But your Majesty…” one soldier said, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he wound the bandage around Aneirin’s leg. He was lucky the slice had missed any important arteries. As it was, muscle and tendon had been injured and it would take months for him to heal properly.

“Oh, so just because you’re not some mystical Key that means you’re allowed to get killed?” Dawn said, her hands on her hips. Buffy could she that she was shaking.

“Lady Dawn…”

“Do not Lady Dawn me!” Dawn yelled, cutting Aneirin off. Various soldiers all looked on, shocked as Dawn marched forward and came to kneel beside Aneirin. She promptly slapped him across the face. “You are not allowed to die!”

Then she kissed him and almost everyone found something more interesting to look at.

“I didn’t know Dawn knew how to kiss like that,” Xander said, his eyes averted as the kiss went from desperate to heated.

“I didn’t either,” Buffy growled. It was well past time she had a talk with her sister.

“Just imagine how Spike’s going to react,” Willow muttered beside them. She, too, had her eyes averted.

“He’ll be ripping people’s arms off,” Xander said with a nod.

“Not if I get there first,” Buffy growled, again. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and she had just started forward when a firm hand wrapped itself around her arm. Turning, Buffy saw Faith standing behind her, a scowl on her face.

“No, you don’t B,” Faith said, her grip tightening. “Let Dawn have her moment. Her boyfriend almost got killed protecting her. She needs to reassure herself that he’s in one piece.”

“But…”

“Do I have to hit you over the head with the scythe?” Faith threatened. “Cause I will.”

“She’s my sister!” Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, all the while trying to free her arm from Faith’s grip.

“And she’s old enough to kiss a guy!” Faith hissed back. “Though I have to hand it to her, at least he’s not centuries older than she is.”

Buffy quit struggling after that. A sulky expression settled across her face as she watched Dawn and Aneirin hold a private conversation. At least the kissing had stopped, but the gentle tear filled looks were almost as bad.

‘Spike will agree with me,’ Buffy thought as she turned her back on her sister. ‘After all, he’s the one who said she wasn’t allowed to date until she was forty.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time seemed to still. The sounds of battle muted. His eyes lost focus of everything, but the sight before him. A Turok-Han stood grinning, its sword buried in Angel’s side. A deep red stain spread out over Angel’s shirt and with it the unmistakable scent of his Grandsire. Spike’s demon howled. His eyes turned yellow. Ridges formed on along his forehead and nose. His fangs elongated and jagged teeth appeared. With a furious roar, Spike ripped and tore his way through any being standing between him and Angel. A flying leap had his hands wrapped around the prehistoric vampire’s head. A vicious twist removed the thing’s head from its body. Dust exploded around them.

Lunging forward, Spike wrapped his arms around Angel’s body, catching him before he could fall. Blood was pooling in his mouth and slowly creeping over his chin. Spike could hear his heart fluttering weakly in his chest.

“Angel, Sire, wake up.”

“Father, give him to me.”

Holding Angel’s body close, Spike pressed his tear, blood, and dirt encrusted face against Angel’s neck. He could feel Angel’s frail pulse, his heart struggling to pump blood through his veins. Spike’s demon howled once more, anguished at the loss of its sire. He wanted to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of his wrist and force Angel to live.

“Angelus, you arrogant bastard! Don‘t you dare leave me again.”

Insistent hands dragged Angel from his tight grip. Snarling, Spike looked to find Gunnarr staring at him, eyes kind, arms holding Angel’s bulky frame easily.

“Let the healers care for your friend now, Father,” Gunnarr said as he passed Angel to Draco.

“He’s not my friend,” Spike bellowed as he lunged to his feet. “He is my Sire!”

“He is but one person!” Gunnarr yelled back. “There are thousands here who need you now. Would you let them down simply because you grieve?”

Snarling, Spike lifted his battleaxe and charged. He was a whirl of destruction. Heads flew; body parts fell to the ground. Soon he had a pile of dead bodies littering the ground around him. When the pile got too high, Spike merely leapt over and went on to the next mass of demons.

A loud ululating wail caused heads to turn. Standing before the advancing army, but well away from the charred mass of dead demons, was a tall, broad shouldered leviathan, inky black wings spread wide. He stood well above the others, and carried a heavy broadsword in one hand. It was the grin Spike recognized.

Letting loose a rolling thunderous growl of his own, Spike charged forward.

The leviathan turned its head at Spike’s answering roar, and its grin widened.

“Father.”

They met in a field of burned bodies. Pieces snapped off like charcoal. Soot floated in the air, coating both skin and filling lungs. Battleaxe and broadsword clashed with a deafening ring. The rest of the fighters seemed to give them a wide berth. Neither combatant seemed to notice. All Spike could see was the monster from his dreams, the one who slaughtered entire towns with malicious pleasure, all because Ktulu had wished it.

Spike could feel the vibrations from his axe in his arms, the ringing echoed in his head. The leviathan was bigger than Spike, his arms longer. His clawed feet gave him better traction, and Spike regularly found himself fumbling over the uneven ground. It was like fighting an immovable wall.

Spike could see that the leviathan was simply letting him tire out. Growing frustrated, Spike swung his battleaxe, and again he was met with the blade of a broadsword, only this time the leviathan flinched.

Spike’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the beast’s movements. He was favoring his right shoulder ever so slightly. Diving forward, Spike aimed for the leviathan‘s legs. It was a move Spike had seen Buffy perform on countless patrols. Spike’s luck held and his strike was true. The leviathan howled. A silver fork was now buried in the leviathan’s leg. Following through on the attack, Spike rolled to his feet behind the leviathan, axe already arching towards his target.

The blade struck his opponent’s shoulder, denting armor. The leviathan let out a bestial roar. Turning, he ripped the axe from Spike’s hands, adjusted his grip, and swung the blade at Spike. Jumping back, Spike barely missed being chopped in half. The next swing caught Spike on the side of his head and caused stars to dance before his eyes.

A ululating wail stalled the leviathan’s next attack. A dark shadow fell over the two fighters, and Spike was lifted into the air. Cursing, Spike struggled to break free, but the grip on his shoulders tightened.

“I will not let you get killed over your foolish need for vengeance!” Draco’s voice growled inside Spike’s head, causing the pain from his concussion to double. “You are meant for more than that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sore, tired, and covered in dirt and gore, Spike limped through the narrow halls of Dronham Fort. There was very little room to maneuver, the fort’s primary use being a military lookout, not a temporary refuge. Most of the fort’s space was being used for the sick and injured; everyone else slept where they could. The soldiers dolled out small rations of food and water to those in the fort, the only exception being those few who were gravely ill. They received whatever they needed.

The place reeked of blood, waste, and death, all of which caused Spike’s demon to stir restlessly. In his soulless days with Drusilla, the scent of fear, despair, and utter hopelessness would have been a temptation he would never have ignored. Spike would have relished these people’s misery, and gleefully caused more.

Now he just felt sick, the scent of blood making him nauseous. Walking into one of the packed sick rooms, Spike slowly made his way over to Angel’s side. His skin was a deathly gray color, and heat radiated off him even as Angel shivered from the cold gripping his insides.

Spike could smell the rot filling his veins. He wanted to run, to ignore what was right in front of him. Angel, his sire, his master, the bane of his existence, and the only true family Spike had left, was dying a mortal death. The thought alone caused another surge of bile to rise in his throat. His eyes watered as he forcefully swallowed, refusing to give in to his desire to fall apart.

As Buffy had done in Sunnydale, it was now Spike’s turn to do the same. He would remain strong, keeping his emotions under lock and key. Here he was a champion, the Father of the Key, and would-be savior of Ærworuld. Spike couldn’t afford to break; there was no one to help pick up what pieces would remain.

“How much longer?” Spike croaked out, his eyes resting on Angel.

“Not long,” the healer answered quietly. “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.”

Standing, the Gods’ Priest hurried away, though Spike paid him no mind. When he reached the door, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Seeing the Father looking fragile and lost caused an unsettling feeling in his chest. Billard had heard his whole life of the great heroes who would come and save his people from evil. He had thought these heroes would be glorious, fighting back the enemy and ultimately saving the day. No one had left any room in their legends about the trials and heartbreak their saviors would have to endure.

Sighing, Billard turned and quietly closed the door. It would at least give the Father some semblance of privacy while he grieved for his friend. Eyes straying towards the ceiling, Billard didn’t know if he wanted to pray to the Gods for divine intervention, or curse them for their cruelty.

It was only an hour later when Spike returned from the sick room, this time with Angel’s lifeless body held in his arms. His face was a stoic mask as he walked past his allies and headed for the tiny room he was sharing with Gunnarr.

“Father,” Gunnarr called out. “Let the others take care of his burial.”

Turning a cold gaze onto the Barbarian King, Spike spoke softly, but with steel lacing his words.

“I’ve already done what is necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to be alone.”

“Red,” Spike called as he walked up behind Willow, startling her. The huge amounts of injured, weary, and dead shocked her. True, she had been helping Buffy fight the forces of evil for over seven years, but nothing had ever prepared her for the vast amounts of misery contained in Dronham Fort.

“Yes, Spike?” Willow stuttered, unsure as to why he had called for her to be here instead of Buffy.

“Come with me,” Spike said as he turned and walked down the hallway leading Willow to a small room.

Upon entering the room, Willow gasped, covering her mouth and nose as the stench of death reach her.

Lying on a small cot in the room was the pasty grey-skinned body of Angel. He looked unnatural and eerily still. Even with the image of him as a vampire fresh in her mind, Willow was having a hard time wrapping her mind around how still he was. It wasn’t right and Willow had to forcefully stop herself from running out of the room.

As she turned wide eyes towards Spike, silently begging for an explanation, she noticed the slump of his shoulders, and the dark purple rings under dull blue eyes. He looked like he had lost nearly twenty pounds since the last time she had seen him, and this alone stalled any harsh words that had been threatening to burst forth.

“What happened?”

“The Senior Partners have decided to enter the fray,” Spike said his voice laced with exhaustion. “Bloody Turok-Han got him. Damn thing shoved a sword into Angel’s side.”

“Damn it!” Spike raised one eyebrow at Willow’s uncharacteristic cursing, waiting for her to explain.

“We figured as much when I was able to locate Ktulu’s army and Aneirin’s mages couldn’t.”

“Bloody hell! Why I didn’t think of that?” Spike said with a groan.

“It’s okay,” Willow said with a shrug. “We didn’t either, until we were trying to figure out how to get to the library first.”

“I still should have though of it,” Spike growled. Balling his first, Spike hit the wall. It cracked and splintered. Some of the slivers stuck in Spike’s bleeding knuckles. He didn’t seem to notice. “I might have been able to save more people.”

“Spike,” Willow said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re only one person…”

“But it’s my job to stop this bastard!” Spike yelled, though his voice wavered. “And now thousands of people are homeless, countless more are dead, and Angel…I got him killed.”

“Well, if all you’re going to do is yell, then why did you call me here?” Willow asked, unsure how to comfort Spike. They hadn’t exactly been close in Sunnydale, and that hadn’t changed.

“I need you to make sure his soul is there when he wakes up.”

“Spike! How could you!” Willow shouted, all thoughts of compassion fleeing in the face of what Spike had done.

“I only did what he wanted, Witch,” Spike said before turning and leaving Willow with a soon to be re-vamped Angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Einarr walked through the halls of Dronham Fort. He had only arrived moments before, but could already see the relief efforts were going to take more than those here could provide.

“General Einarr,” a soft voice said from the bend up ahead. Raising his eyes, Einarr nodded a greeting to Gunnarr as the barbarian walked towards him, a bucket of cool water hanging from one hand.

“These people can’t stay here,” Einarr said his voice firm while his gaze took in the suffering around him, storing it away in his memories.

“I know,” Gunnarr said as he sat the bucket on the floor. “We have already started to send a few of the refugees to my homeland. They will be well taken care of.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Einarr said a sigh filling his words. “But thank you. Things have been…hectic, what with Ktulu’s march on the temple library.”

“There is no need for thanks General Einarr,” Gunnarr said as he laid a gentle hand on Einarr’s shoulder. “We are all fighting this war together.”

Giving the barbarian a weak smile, Einarr crouched before an elderly woman. She was dirty and tired, much like the rest of the refugees. Her bloodied feet stretched out before her. Taking the small cup Gunnarr offered Einarr helped her lift it to her lips. She drank the cool water in greedy gulps, ignoring the bit that trickled down her chin.

“I’ll go tell Caius that these people need to be transported to Andreas Bay,” Einarr said as he stood. “Frederic has already been instructed to set up a temporary shelter inside the city.”

“And after you have run your errand,” Gunnarr said as he passed another cup of water to a young child. “You will go speak to the Father. I believe he needs the ear of a friend right now.”

Nodding, Einarr turned and left the fort. He quickly found Caius sitting in front of the fort. Swarms of eager children were running circles around him while he playfully growled at them. Their laughter lifted his spirits.

It was only when the children had successfully ‘killed’ him did Caius finally chase them off with promises of more games later.

“Your little ones are very resilient,” Caius said, his dark gaze trained on the still playing group.

“That they are,” Einarr said with a nod, his eyes also tracking the children’s movements.

“I have already relaid your request,” Caius said before Einarr could speak again. “Cyne is rounding up those who are free.”

“You heard that?” Einarr asked, before nodding and answering his own question. “Of course you did. You dragons always were the nosy type.”

Seeing Caius’ amused look, Einarr shook his head.

“Have you spoken to the Father yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” Einarr said. “I wanted to speak with you first. Tell me, how he is? Gunnarr implied that something had happened.”

“You do not know,” Caius replied, more to himself than to Einarr. “The Father’s friend, Angel, was mortally wounded in battle.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Einarr nodded his head. It was no wonder Gunnarr felt Spike would need someone to talk to.

“He’s not taking his friend’s death well is he?” Einarr asked, though he didn’t know how anyone could take a loved one’s death ‘well’.

“At his friend’s request,” Caius continued, gaze focused on the distant horizon. “The Father turned Angel into the creature he once had been.”

“But I thought he had received his humanity as a reward?” Einarr asked, having heard the story of Angel’s Shanshu. “Why would he ask to be transformed again?”

“Because it was not his prophecy that did it,” Caius answered. “It was a ploy by the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, to rid themselves of the warrior who was prophesied to destroy them.”

“How did Spike learn of this treachery?”

“The ones known as the Wolf, Ram, and Hart appeared once more at the end of the battle to gloat over Angel’s death. They had hoped to fully anger the Father.”

“And throw him off balance.”

“Precisely.”

“So, I take it Angel will be returning to his own world then,” Einarr guessed. “Once his transformation has finished.”

“And once we are all sure that the Lady Willow has been successful in returning Angel’s essence.”

“Do we know if this Wolf, Ram, and Hart have figured out what Spike has done?”

“We pray that they have not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Einarr found Spike sitting in his room. His posture was defeated, and his head was resting in his hands. Both hands were bloody. Looking closely, Einarr could see the subtle tremors running through Spike’s slim frame. He had lost weight since Einarr had last seen him, and he looked to be in desperate need of a bath, clean clothes, and a soft place to rest his head.

“Tell me, what troubles you my friend?” Einarr asked as he laid a gentle hand on Spike’s shoulder.

The shaking stopped and Spike’s shoulders stiffened. Shrugging off Einarr’s hand, Spike rose, scrubbing at his face with weary hands.

“Nothing,” Spike said, his voice sharp. “I’m fine. Just needed a few moments to clear my head is all.”

Pulling on his wrap, Spike quickly left the room, leaving Einarr to his worry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dronham Fort wasn’t as big as she had imagined. For some reason, when thinking of the military outpost, the image of Helms Deep always sprang forth in Buffy’s mind. She had been way off the mark. There was no sheltering valley, no imposing stone structure, just a regular fort that looked like it belonged on the set of a western. The high wooden wall surrounding the fort was topped with vicious looking spikes. Two guards stood sentry at the gate. The surrounding land was covered with a few scattered trees, all fairly short.

The land was also flat, very, very flat. Buffy expected to see a frozen tumbleweed roll across the land at any moment.

“Not quite what you were expecting, huh Buff?” Xander commented from her side. His eye scanned the landscape, taking in the soldiers and civilians, all working to help make the long trek to the Barbarian’s homeland easier. Those too wounded, too old, or too young to walk were being flown to Aneirin’s castle by the dragons.

“No, it’s not,” Buffy sighed, her voice barely audible.

Casting a glance in Buffy’s direction, Xander noticed the slump of her shoulders, and the dark circles under her eyes. The shadows that had been slowly receding from her eyes over the last year were back. She stood silent, fur lined cloak wrapped tightly around her shivering frame. Buffy was the picture of dejection and misery.

“Hey, Buffy,” Xander said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Speak to me.”

Turning her head briefly, she gave him a wane smile before letting her gaze drift back to the scene before them.

“I just never realized you know?” Buffy answered with a shrug. “We’ve been fighting the good fight for years, and I thought, ‘Hey, I’m the slayer. If there’s a Big Bad, point me in their direction and I’ll slay it.’ I never…I just thought I had seen the worst.”

“Buffy…”

“No Xan,” Buffy interrupted. “I thought I could help, that I could beat this Ktulu guy. I was wrong. This is Dawn and Spike’s fight. I never should have come.”

Leaving Xander, Buffy walked a few yards away from the fort. There was a small cluster of rocks next to a miniature tree. Sitting, Buffy let her gaze wonder over the landscape. It was peaceful, giving her a chance to silence her thoughts.

She didn’t know how long she had sat there until she felt a slight nudge, followed by Spike’s softly spoken, “Scoot over will ya?”

Silence reigned for a few moments until Spike turned to look in Buffy’s direction.

“Feeling a bit blue, luv?”

“Xander found you didn’t he?”

“Yeah…”

“Not quite up for the pep talk, huh?”

“No.”

“Good, cause I’m not in the mood to hear one.”

“Fine by me, luv,” Spike murmured.

Glancing out of the side of her eyes, Buffy noted the mud covering his boots and the dirt still encrusted under his nails. Spike’s hands had been scrubbed clean, but it was impossible to get the hard black dirt out from each tiny crevice.

He had been helping take care of the dead, and Buffy knew, taking each death as if he had killed the person with his own hands.

Tears began to fill her eyes, and Buffy jerked her head forward. Everything was a mess. Hundreds of people were dead, they had barely made it halfway to the temple library before a few hundred demons showed up.

Right now, Faith and the other slayers were still helping to guard the temple while the soldiers worked to empty the library. Dawn was back in Andreas Bay fussing over Aneirin.

Pressing her lips together, Buffy struggled to keep her emotions in check. This wasn’t about her, but about Spike. He was the savior here, and he was now suffering. Buffy knew this feeling, having experienced it during that last year in Sunnydale. She would not be selfish. She would not.

The hand on her shoulder was her undoing and she turned her face into Spike’s chest, letting her tears fall. She cried for Angel, for herself, for all of the people she had not been able to save, but most of all, she cried for Spike.

Through it all, he just gently rubbed her back, saying nothing. She didn’t know how long they had sat there curled around each other, but when she finally lifted her head, she noted Spike’s red-rimmed eyes.

“We make a bloody pathetic pair don’t we, luv?” Spike said with a sad chuckle.

“We do,” Buffy agreed. Softly, “Can you…I mean…When will he?”

“Just after sunset I reckon,” Spike answered as he stood up. Taking her hand, Spike led her over to an area about fifty yards away from the fort. There they could see several people working on building another funeral pyre. The remains of the previous one still smoldered, allowing the breeze to carry the scent of burned bodies and ash along the wind.

“They tell me that in the summer, when the sun is rising, its light hits this area first before spreading across the rest of the land,” Spike said with a rough whisper. “He’s not far down, so he’ll be safe until one of the mini-slayers can get him home. Would have left him in the fort but…”

“You couldn’t,” Buffy said. “They needed the room. We’ll just have to be sure to start digging just before sunset. I don’t want him to wake up down there, again.”

“Said a prayer while they covered him. Poor buggers didn’t know what I was talking about. Don’t know if anyone was listening, but I…”

When he couldn’t continue, Buffy’s small hand found his. Giving Spike’s hand a gentle squeeze, Buffy turned her gaze back to the hastily dug grave.

They stood like that, side by side, both mourning a man they had loved and hated, all the while waiting for him to rise once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Right, so when do we shove off?” Spike asked Gunnarr as he roughly shoved his things into his pack.

“Soon Father,” Gunnarr said, his concerned eyes following Spike’s every move. “Your newly risen friend has already departed for the temple, and it is only a matter of time before we too, leave.”

“Where exactly will we be going?” Buffy asked. She was leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

“Vel‘Hein,” Gunnarr answered.

“Vel’Huh?” Buffy asked, confusion marring her face.

“Capital of the Barbarian’s homeland,” Spike answered with a weak chuckle. “And it’s Vel’Hein, luv.”

Nodding, Buffy turned to leave. “I’ll go gather the others.”

Once Buffy had left, Gunnarr turned his attention back to Spike.

“I have been where you are, Father.”

“I don’t want to bloody talk about it.”

“I know, General Einarr told me.”

Finally lifting his head, Spike let his gaze focus on the barbarian. “Then why are you bringing it up?”

“Because I didn’t talk about it.”

“So?”

“It eats at you, the grief, the anger,” Gunnarr whispered. “I did a lot of things I am not proud of. There is a reason the Alliance thinks of my people as nothing, but savage killers.”

“Who was it?” Spike asked after a brief lull in the conversation.

“Oeric,” Gunnar answered. “He was my friend, my enemy, and in the end my brother.”

“What happened?”

“Villagers under the Alliance blamed us for a raid done by the Dark One’s minions. They believed we were helping that monster.”

Nodding his head, Spike sat down on his bunk. It was odd; he had’t noticed his hands were shaking.

“I hated that bugger,” Spike whispered. “He got everything I always wanted. Dru, Buffy, friends. I had to fight for everything, and even then, I still wasn’t considered good enough. And then he was gone, and I’d have given almost anything to have the annoying Pouf back.”

“It is always that way with family.”

Sighing, Spike lowered his head and covered his face with his hands. His demon face rippled forth and Spike let out a howl of rage. While his grandsire was not truly gone, for a while he had been, and no matter what happened afterwards, the lose of Angel’s humanity was, in Spike’s mind, his fault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was day three of their trek to the Barbarian’s homeland, and aside from that first day, Spike had not said more than three words to her. Buffy was worried. Spike was quiet, defeated, and Buffy didn’t like it one bit.

Hastening her pace, she quickly caught up to where Spike was. Reaching out she wrapped her hand around his and held on tight. The look he gave her clearly said, “Bugger off,” and when he tried to free his hand, she only held on tighter.

“Spike,” Buffy said, her voice low so that he was the only one who would hear her. “Please don’t shut me out, not now.”

This only earned her a glare, but he stopped trying to free his hand from hers.

They walked for several more hours, the landscape barely changing, adding to the monotony of their journey. When the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the bitterly cold winds of the tundra began to howl and whip past them, Gunnarr called everyone to a stop.

“We shall make camp here,” Gunnarr said as he began directing some of his men to start setting up camp.

Xander’s “Oh thank God!” was heard throughout the group and caused a few laughs.

That night found Spike sitting by himself, staring into the small fire burning before him. He had purposely set his tent up away from the others. After everything that had happened in Wygar he needed time to think, and if a few others who had survived the battle were doing the same thing, no one remarked on it.

When a shadow fell across his line of sight, Spike didn’t even raise his head. He already knew who was standing before him.

“Hello, Harris,” Spike said, his voice bland, carrying none of the emotions that were swirling around in side him.

“Spike,” Xander said as he sat down across from him. “We need to talk.”

“Don’t see how we have anything to say to each other.”

“You’re making Buffy miserable.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Spike growled, standing. He was surprised when Xander’s hand halted his movements.

“Well, you better make time,” Xander said in hushed tones. He wanted this conversation to remain private.

“The only thing I have to make time for is this bloody war,” Spike said, jerking his arm free.

“But…” Xander started only to be interrupted when one of the soldiers in their group walked up to Spike.

“Father,” the soldier said with a slight bow of his head. “King Leof wishes to speak with you.”

Nodding Spike cast a quick look at Xander before shaking his hand off.

“Alright, mate,” Spike replied, his voice low. “Lead the way.”

Walking off, he left Xander standing at his campsite, wondering when the vampire who had worshiped his friend had been replaced with this cold, hard being.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, Buff,” Xander said as he sat back down next to the slayer. Willow was seated on Buffy’s other side, the two sharing a thick wool blanket. “I tried talking to him, but that Leof guy needed him.”

“And he didn’t let you get very far before that did he?” Buffy asked, a weak smile on her face.

“No,” Xander said with a shake of his head. “He didn’t.”

“Figured.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said, wrapping an arm around her friend. “I’m sorry he’s being difficult.”

“He’s got his reasons,” Buffy replied with a shrug. “Though, I guess I now know how he felt in Sunnydale.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asked, frowning.

“Well I wasn’t exactly all touchy feeling those last few years, was I?”

“But you had a lot to deal with,” Willow protested. “What with Dawn and slayage, and…oh.”

“Yeah.” Buffy nodded.

“So, the Bleached One is pulling a Buffy, huh?” Xander said with a crooked grin.

“Not funny, Xander,” Buffy replied as she jabbed her elbow into Xander’s side. Her grin belied her words.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Willow asked.

“Nothing, at the moment,” Buffy answered. “I figured I can corner him once we reach that Vel’Hail place.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Xander said with a nod.

“So what do you need us to do?” Willow asked. Soon the three were speaking softly, though Buffy’s eyes kept straying towards the tent where she knew Spike was residing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You wanted to speak to me,” Spike asked as he entered King Leof’s tent.

“Please, Father,” Leof said. “Have a seat.”

Taking the offered seat, Spike waited until a steaming cup was placed before him. Reaching forward, Spike wrapped his unusually cold hands around the warmed ceramic, letting some of the heat leach into his skin. Bringing the cup towards his lips, Spike blew softly before taking a sip. The warm liquid slid down his throat and warmed his insides.

Ever since he had tasted the warm ale favored by the people of this world, Spike had taken every opportunity to partake of the smooth drink. Plus, it was really good at getting him really drunk, and fast. And tonight, Spike felt like he would need an entire cask to quiet his raging thoughts.

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” Spike asked as he held his cup against his knee.

“Actually,” King Leof said as he placed his cup on the table sitting between them. “I was hoping for a bit of respite, and simply thought you’d like to share in it.”

“And you asked me here and not the other’s why?”

“King Gunnarr is a new ally, one I am still learning about,” Leof said. “And General Einarr and I have only two things in common.”

“What are those?”

“This war, and King Aneirin.”

“I see.” Spike nodded. “Though, I think you’re selling the other two short.”

“Perhaps,” Leof said. “But that is the way of things.”

Falling silent, Spike simply sipped at his drink, and listened to the night winds howling their misery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was clear and bitterly cold, the kind of cold that settled into bones and muscles and refused to leave. Fires burned brightly in a circle around the temple, illuminating the work area. It made it harder to see if any demons or minions of the Dark One’s were approaching, but the soldiers and priest needed to be able to see if they were to remove the contents of the library. Luckily, the group had a few slayers and a couple of dragons to help keep watch.

As for Faith, she was tired. Her breath formed misty clouds before her. Her fingers were aching despite the gloves she wore and she regularly spun the slayer scythe just to keep her blood moving.

A commotion to her left had Faith’s grip tightening on the scythe. Jogging forward, she saw Caius lowering his bulk, making it easier for Angel to slide off his back. Angel spoke a few soft words before Caius nodded. Then he took off, leaving Angel standing in the glow of a nearby bonfire.

As she drew closer, her slayer senses started going off. Looking around, Faith thought that she must have missed seeing Spike, but saw that he was not around. Eyeing Angel, she slowed her jog. His skin was pale once more, and Faith could see that he wasn’t breathing.

“Angel,” Faith said, tension filling her words.

“Faith.”

“Last I saw you, you were a card carrying member of the warm blooded crowd. What happened?”

“The Senior Partners happened,” Angel growled, giving no further explanation. “Lets get these scrolls and books moved. I’ve got to get back to L.A soon.”

Nodding, Faith followed Angel over to the temple. “Guess its back to fun in the land of smog for me.”

“Faith,” Angel said as they came to the temple’s doors. “Thanks.”

“No prob. Now let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got a law firm to take down.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They stood, silently watching as people came and went from the now fully restored Wolfram and Hart building.

“It all looks so, normal,” one of the soldiers said. “How is it that people don’t realize…”

Kennedy and Riley shared a look as the soldier’s voice trailed off at the sight of an orange skinned demon walking casually through the front doors of Wolfram and Hart. What Kennedy and Riley found amusing was that the demon was also wearing a powder blue leisure suit.

“You were never in Sunnydale, were you?” Kennedy asked, eyebrow raised.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” the soldier asked, standing up straighter and holding his gun a little tighter.

“It means, soldier,” Riley said. “That had you been in Sunnydale, you would know exactly how far people will go to not see what is right in front of them.”

“Sunnydale Denial Syndrome,” Kennedy said with a nod. “It’s easier to ignore the strange than it is to acknowledge it.”

“Head’s up,” Riley said breaking into the conversation. Everyone focused in the direction he was pointing. “We’ve got incoming.”

Carefully they made their way over to the alley parallel to the Wolfram and Hart building. They could see shadowy movements along the walls. Getting closer, Riley was stunned to find Faith, Angel, and a group of girls he didn’t know. He was also shocked to find that Angel was a vampire, again.

“I thought you were human,” Riley said, his voice echoing his surprise.

Angel lifted his head and leveled a glare in Riley’s direction. His voice was cold and emotionless when he replied, “I was. It didn’t stick.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me get this straight,” Giles said as he rubbed his forehead. “Spike is this Father we’ve heard about, and he and Dawn are destined to save Ærworuld?”

“Yeah,” Angel said with a nod. “He’s got half the world thinking he’s the next messiah, and the other half looking at him like he a novelty act.”

“I would imagine that this reaction is a bit disconcerting for Spike,” Giles said.

“Disconcerting? Please,” Faith snorted. “Every time these people get all, ‘Oh Father’, Spike gets this look on his face like he wishes the Powers had left his ass down in the Hellmouth. Little D’s getting it too. Of course she just hides behind B, or her new boy toy.”

“Excuse me?” Giles said, his eyes snapping up to lock onto Faith. “Boy toy?”

“Yeah,” Faith said with a chuckle. “Little Dawnie is all grown up and making googly eyes with a real life king.”

“But…”

“Aneirin’s only a few years older than her, and he damn near got himself killed trying to protect her,” Faith said as she cut off Giles’ questions. “He’s a good guy.”

“It’s true,” Angel said, adding in his option.

“Huh,” Riley said, a frown on his face. “I wonder how Buffy feels about all of this.”

“She’s scared and hoping Spike will agree that Dawn is too young for a boyfriend,” Faith replied. “But since the guy’s a friend of Spike’s, I doubt he’ll care much beyond the whole making sure he knows to treat Dawn right.”

“So, when are they coming back?” Kennedy asked, finally speaking up.

“We don’t know,” Angel said after sharing a long look with Faith. “They’ve just found a huge library full of information that may help them stop this Ktulu guy, and they now know the Senior Partners are helping.”

“Plus, there’s the raids on the other cities,” Faith added in. “Those have been keeping Spike and the others pretty busy.”

“And Buffy isn’t leaving Spike or Dawn,” Giles said. “And that means that Willow and Xander are staying for the meantime as well.”

“Pretty much.”

“Right,” Giles said. “At least we now have more concrete information than we previously did. If we can take out the Senior Partners, we might be able to help the people of Ærworuld destroy their own enemy.”

“Then lets get started,” Riley said. Soon everyone was gathered around the coffee table, throwing out ideas, and leafing through notes and books. The general idea being the sooner they took out the enemy the sooner their loved ones could come home.