1

Spike Giles was far beyond bored. He had been sitting in the darkened reception of the Watchers’ Council Headquarters in London for what seemed like an eternity when the woman sitting behind the large glass desk, in the uninterested yet condescending voice that only a receptionist could possess, said: “Mr Travers will see you now,” as though she was doing Spike some great favour.

“Cheers, love,” he replied with his trade mark lopsided grin. As with all other females, the grin did not go unnoticed by the woman who smiled coyly and batted her eyes at him. ‘Well who can blame the chit?’ Spike speculated.

He was gorgeous and he knew it. Spike did not meet the stereotypical idea of a tweed clad watcher. His bleached hair was slicked back. His all black attire was completed by the leather duster that billowed around him in the night wind. His chiselled cheeks and stormy azure eyes saw to it that he never went without a warm body to leave in the middle of the night.

Quentin Travers had told him to change his appearance many a time, and Spike had told him where to go more times than that. The only reason why he got away with it was because he was the best. Well, almost.

Such was the case when Spike strolled into Quentin’s office and threw himself into one of the leather armchairs at the long polished oak table.

“Dear Lord, Spike. Have you still not outgrown that guise?” Travers asked.

“Apparently not,” Spike replied in a deadpan voice with a similar expression.

When Travers got nothing else for a few seconds he cleared his throat loudly. He knew better than to aggravate Spike Giles. He was unpredictable and ruthless to the point of being a danger to the Council. However, he had proven that an alliance was better than a deviation during the months that the Council had asked him to leave for trivial misconduct.

“Er, right. Yes, I suppose you’re wondering why you’re back here.”

“It had crossed my mind,” Spike said in a pessimistic tone.

“Well, surely you’ll have noticed that in recent weeks we have been without a slayer. A travesty that we cannot let be any longer. However, the Wiccas tell me that there is an active Slayer. You, Spike, have been entrusted with the mission of finding the Slayer and training her.”

“You mean all the other watchers are too old to do it and I’m the only one fit enough to travel the globe in cargo looking for this slayer.” His voice did not change.

“One could put it like that if one wished,” Quentin said only to receive a roll of the eyes from Spike.

“So you accept?”

“Ain’t got nothin else better to do, have I?”

“Wonderful! This document tells you everything you need to know about your assignment.” A beefy man in a suit passed Spike a stack of paper that looked thick enough to be the entire history of the world with illustrations and diagrams.

“Right, We’ll start at the beginning then, shall we?”

“Makes sense.” Quentin clearly didn’t pick up on the cynicism in Spike’s voice since he went straight on with his presentation.

“Well, you may have heard that a prophecy was uncovered several weeks ago. We hadn’t had much luck translating it, until yesterday in fact. This prophecy tells us a great deal about the slayer.”

After a long pause Spike felt the need to usher him on a bit.

“Such as?”

“Well that she is completely different in all ways to anyone around her, not just in her obvious physical condition. Her appearance is also different. The text says, and I quote, “the Stolen Slayer shall be the colour of the night. Her hair and eyes shall be darkest black and her skin more fair than the palest moon. She shall be pure. No marks will tarnish her skin.” From this we hope you will find her quickly.”

“The Stolen Slayer?”

“Yes. She was taken from her homeland as an infant . She doesn’t belong in her current location. That’s why she looks different.”

“Right. And are you going to tell me where I’m headed? Because if I knew there was a country full of tanned blonde girls, I’d have set up shop there years ago.”

Travers merely offered him a slight grimace in place of a smile. In a solemn voice he said: “Well that is the slightly off putting part. It’s rather a distance, to say the least.”

“Australia?!” Spike exclaimed in horror. “No way, Trav. I am not spending a full day on a plane, I don’t care what class you put me in! You know I get restless easy.”

“No, Spike. Not Australia. Where I’m sending you is further away than that.”

He had hoped not to have to elaborate further, but at Spike’s perplexed face, he saw that he would have to.

“The place you are going is called Operimius. It is another world, Spike.”

“Oh.”

Spike had come to terms with this piece if information that Quentin obviously didn’t want to tell him quickly. Too quickly, as far as Travers was concerned.

“Bloody hell, Travers! Are you completely off it? Another world? Why don’t you just activate another potential? There’s loads of them!”

“Because this slayer is to be the greatest slayer that ever existed. The prophecy says that only the Stolen Slayer can stop the evil that shall contaminate the Earth.”

“That’s a pretty detailed prophecy. Does it even give you the time of contamination?” Spike retorted with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Yes, it does actually.”

“Christ,” Spike muttered.

“So do you accept?”

“No! Send Wesley.” Spike was getting concerned with how whiny he sounded.

“We can’t. Wesley, while being of the correct age, was not fit enough for this mission. We don’t know what you’ll face out there and we have to be sure that you won’t end up …” Quentin trailed off as if looking for a better word than the one Spike used.

“Dead?”

“Er, not to put to fine a point on things, yes.” Quentin shifted uncomfortably.

“Is there no one else? I’ve already been “deemed unsuitable for the Watchers’ Council”, remember?”

“I know that Spike. But we all know you are skilled in combat and what little grey matter you do possess seems to be working. There isn’t time to train a new watcher. The prophecy has given us one season before some unspeakable evil comes and wipes the world away. That’s three months.”

“So what you’re saying is that I have the fate of the world on my shoulders?”

“Yes.”

“You better be paying me well for this,” Spike grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Spike was looking at Quentin as though he had gone completely mad.

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Not at all,” Quentin said as though it were Spike who was losing his mind.

They were sitting in Quentin’s Jaguar in an alley way in a shady area of London. It was the dead of night and apart from a stray cat the place was deserted.

“You’re telling me that there is a portal here that will take me to this other world and all I have to do is go through it?” Spike said with a raised brow.

“Precisely. Take this. One charm will disintegrate every week. We don’t know what the time scale will be out there and we need to make sure you’re back in time, so don’t loose it.” Quentin handed him a long chain with what looked like small mussel shells attached to it. One for each week he would be away. He had also been given a bag with a few things in. There was a protection charm, some food, a knife, matches, a change of clothes and a silver amulet that supposedly made the wearer invisible.

“The portal is over there behind that dumpster. If you look at it from the front you can’t see it, but if you go behind it it looks like a mirror. Remember where you come out in the other world. That’s where the portal will be for you to return home.”

Spike nodded. His heart was going at a mile a minute. He was so scared. He wished he could talk to his dad.

As though reading Spike’s mind, Quentin said: “Your father would be proud of you” in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Spike nodded once, shook Quentin’s hand and slammed the car door shut behind him. He crept behind the dumpster and flattened himself against the wall. He examined the area closely until he saw it. The portal was no bigger than an average radiator. It was touching the floor and the mirror effect made there appear to be a combat boot and shin standing without a leg. He would have laughed if he wasn’t been so anxious.

Taking one last look at the world around him, Spike got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the portal, entirely unaware of what awaited him on the other side.

Spike heaved himself through the portal on his elbows. The first thing he noticed was the heat. It had to be 120 degrees. The second thing was the dusty desert floor he was on.


Spike stood up and looked around him. What he saw took his breath away.


Everything in his vision was gold. He was standing at the top of a hill. The dew that covered the wheat on the hillside seemed to glitter in the morning sunrise. A stream was trickling somewhere nearby. To his left was a tree. It appeared to be dead. From it’s blackened state Spike assumed a forest fire had claimed it. A bird sang his melody from the highest branch. To his right was a beaten path that lead down the hillside. He had never been in a more tranquil and beautiful place.


Cautious of the crumbling earth beneath his combat boots, Spike walked forwards and gazed at the village below. Most of the small buildings were bright colours. A few were dazzling white. They reminded Spike of the houses he saw the summer he spent in Santorini with his Dad. The memory brought a smile to his face.


Miles past the little town, Spike could see the ocean. The sea was golden too. The sweat dripping from his brow made him want to jump in it. “You’re a long way from London now, mate,” he said to himself.


He decided to make his way down to the village and find a place to stay mindful that he was buggered if they spoke some language that he didn’t have the vaguest comprehension of.


~ ~ ~


After stumbling down the slope in a less than graceful fashion, Spike was beginning to wonder if it was possible to drown in your own perspiration. His duster and T-shirt had been stripped off ages ago, the duster over his arm and the shirt over his head. Not that it was doing much good. The harsh sun beat down, making him dizzy and sick.


He felt like he had been walking for days although the dying cell phone in his pocket told him it had only been half an hour. In addition to his soaked state he was also dehydrated.


He couldn’t see a lake anywhere. The sea that had greeted him from his place on the top of the hill was gone from his view. All he could see was sand for miles.


That sand was the last thing he saw before blackness consumed him.


~ ~ ~


Spike didn’t open his eyes immediately when he woke up. He was more relaxed than he could ever remember being.


He was cool and his thirst had been quenched. A woman was singing nearby, her beautiful voice lulling him into a feeling of security. His sticky clothes had been removed and he had been placed on a soft bed.


When he did open his eyes the sight he took in made his heart soar. The eyes staring back at him were so dark they were almost black. He heaved himself up into a sitting position, eager to discover more. The owner of those hypnotising eyes was staring back at him with a kind smile on her pale face. Her skin was so pale it was almost silvery. And it was completely unmarked. Her straight black hair fell around her shoulders. She was beautiful, in an eerie way.


He had found her.


The Slayer was right in front of him.


She began to speak in a foreign tongue that was strange even to a Watcher. It was almost like Sumerian, but the accent was softer.


“Welcome, stranger. I am Areesh, ruler of this land.”


Spike tensed at this. A queen would certainly be harder to train what with her guards and all. When she just looked at him for a second Spike saw she was after his name.


“My name is Spike, your highness,” he replied. It wasn’t usually like him to kiss ass but he didn’t know what these people were like, and he couldn’t help the Slayer if he was dead, so he figured he should be respectful. “I am sure you are wondering where I came from,” he said with a smile and no intentions of telling the truth.


He relaxed slightly when she returned his smile.


“It had crossed my mind.”


“I am sorry to tell you that I have no idea where I was before being in your presence. I don’t remember a thing.”


She narrowed her eyes at him and said: “It is of no matter. I’m quite sure it will come to you in due time.”


Spike released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and smiled at himself more than her.


“This land is vast and between villages there is much distance. You are fortunate that my warriors found you. You would have been dead long ago otherwise. As it is, you will be the guest of my country until your memory returns to you. You shall stay with the family of one of the guards. They have few children and far more room than anyone else in this village. The guard will take you there in the morning. For tonight I think it best that you stay here.”


“And where is here ma’am?”


“Please Spike, call me Areesh. And you are in my palace. We are holding a banquet tonight in honour of our army’s latest victory. I would be very pleased if you came.”


“Of course. I’m flattered by your invitation.”


Areesh beamed at him. “Wonderful. I’ll send clothes down for you. Sleep until then. There is water by your bed,” and with one more grin she was out the door.


Spike settled back into the warm covers of the bed and took the opportunity to look around himself before his heavy eyes refused to stay open any longer.


The room was bright, sun streaming in through the colossal windows on the far end of the large room. The walls were a rich terracotta colour. Wide wood panels covered the floor. The huge four poster bed he was in was covered in cushions and throws of deep reds and oranges.


It reminded Spike of the time he spent in Morocco with his dad.


With memories of his father’s laughing face in his mind, Spike let sleep wash over him.


~ ~ ~


Spike woke hours later just in time to see his door being closed from outside. A sky blue robe was draped over the end of his bed. He slipped it on and started to look for some shoes.


After a fruitless search there was a knock on his door and once again Areesh came gliding in. She was wearing a similar robe to Spike, but hers was more feminine and purple. A large diamond hung around her neck on a silver chain.


“Ah, you look perfect!” she exclaimed, taking his arm and leading him out of the room and down a wide corridor to a balcony.


The music, laughter and loud chatter below was infectious. Spike was feeling excited, but since he no idea what was going to happen he was unsure of what he was excited about.


“The dining hall is down there. In a minute we will go to the edge of it and wave. Then take the left stairway and I will take the right. When you reach the bottom go and sit in the chair on the left side.”


“Er, okay,” Spike answered, more than a little confused.


“Good.”


She grabbed his arm once more and steered them to the large marble balcony.


He looked over it and as fast as his heart had soared when he first met Areesh, it plummeted just as quickly when he saw the dining hall below him.


Hundreds of pale faces looked up to him through black eyes.


“Shit.”

Chapter 3



Areesh grabbed his arm once more and steered them to the balcony.


He looked over it and as fast as his heart had soared when he first met Areesh, it plummeted just as quickly when he saw the dining hall below him.


Hundreds of pale faces looked up to him through black eyes.


~ ~ ~


“Shit.”


“Is there something wrong, Spike?” asked Areesh who felt him tense next to her and utter a word in his foreign tongue.


“Hm? Oh, er no. Nothing at all.” He was devastated.


She smiled and started walking down the grand staircase, oblivious to the million thoughts running through Spike’s mind as he did the same.


‘If they all match the description in the prophecy, does that mean they’re all Slayers? Or that there’s no Slayer? Or that there is only one and I have to find her amongst all these people?’


He sat dazedly in the left chair, which he could only describe as a throne, and looked at the crowded room with a grave concern for the task at hand. It was not until Areesh stood to address the people at the several long banquet tables that he was disturbed from his thoughts.


“My people,” she began in her melodic voice that had more volume than before. “We dine tonight in honor and reverence of our fierce warriors, and grief for the ones who were lost. May they rest eternally on the higher plane and be remembered in our land. We also dine in greeting of the strange traveller who has arrived in our land. May our thoughts be on new friends and departed friends during this feast.”


There was a couple of seconds silence as the people took in what she had said. After allowing them sufficient time to do so she clapped her hands and the huge wooden doors behind all the tables were heaved open. From them spilled at least fifty servants carrying platters, bottles, glasses, and plates. Once they had set them all on the tables they turned towards where Areesh and Spike were sitting, bowed lowly, and left the room.


The tables were now so laden with food Spike wondered how there was room for the people. A tap on his arm told him someone was speaking to him and he looked around to see Areesh smiling at him.


“Shall we take our seats at my table, Spike?” Since she was a queen though, this was not a request, and she stood and waited for him to follow before leading him to the most central and lavish table in the room.


Spike took the seat that was pulled out for him next to Areesh and, after being instructed to do so, began heaping food on his plate.


He made no effort to join the conversation around him. Nobody was speaking to him, he was ravenous, and he had little interest in what they were saying anyway.


The food was like nothing he had ever eaten before. While it all looked familiar, the flavours didn’t make sense to him. When he bit into something that strongly resembled a potato, he was surprised at the creamy lemon taste that exploded in his mouth. And when he put some bread into his mouth, finding it hard to imagine being like anything else, he smiled at the distinct taste of red meat. He carried on amusing himself this way until he had eaten so much he was beginning to feel glad of the loose robes he was wearing.


Areesh stood and like everyone else Spike focused all his attention on her, though it wasn’t just out of respect. She had a presence that couldn’t be ignored or half noticed. She demanded total awareness and drew out every last pinch of concentration until it was centred on her.


“Friends, we must all remember that without our fearless and dedicated fighters we would not be here tonight. It took them more determination than any of us can imagine to defeat our enemies, and we are forever grateful. Let us give them our thanks and appreciation.”


She clapped again and once more the doors where the servants had come from opened. But this time it was soldiers rather than servants who came from them.


Spike was captivated by them. Every one of them fitted the prophecy. They were tall wide men. Spike watched in awe as they mingled everyone else.


To Spike the whole thing seemed very rehearsed. And he wasn’t completely happy with the treatment of these men. They had defended their people, yet they weren’t to eat with them? Merely to pay them a short ceremonial visit before they were banished to the barracks again?


But Spike had to remember that he was foreign to their ways and not in a position to judge.


Areesh had settled next to him again. “I’m most eager for you to meet two of our soldiers. One is the man with whom you’ll be staying. The other is the strongest and most efficient in our entire army, the Golden Warrior, the person that found you in fact. Come.”


She lead Spike to a burly man, and after a few minutes he learnt that the man and his family lived in the center of the village and he was free to come and go from their home at his leisure, they were honoured to have him as their guest.


Spike said his thanks and allowed Areesh to lead him to a one of the smaller soldiers who measured about six feet two inches. “Do you know where the Golden Warrior is, Yeema?” she asked him.


“Over there, my lady. With Miral.” He indicated to the largest group in the room and Areesh approached them. Spike was slightly unnerved. He didn’t know how they would react to him and didn’t like it at all.


She cleared her throat behind them and they parted like the sea, bowing lowly.


“I was told the Golden Warrior is here, Miral,” she addressed the most approachable man of the group. While he grinned at Spike, the rest offered nothing but their cold stares.


“Of course, your highness.” His voice was not unlike Areesh’s. It was cordial yet where hers was feminine, his was masculine. But then, in a totally different voice that was hard and commanding, he barked “Come forward, Elizema.”


For the third time that day, Spike’s stomach did a somersault. From behind the men came a petite woman. Her skin was tanned and golden, just like her hair. Her green eyes sparkled with emotion. She was everything that the people around her were not.


She was the Stolen Slayer.

For the third time that day, Spike’s stomach did a somersault. From behind the men came a petite woman. Her skin was tanned and golden, just like her hair. Her green eyes sparkled with emotion. She was everything that the people around her were not.


She was the Stolen Slayer.


~ ~ ~


Spike took a moment to look at her properly. Although she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen he thought she was quite pretty, in an quirky way perhaps. Her tan leather dress was fitted around her waist and gladiator sandals that tied around the tops of her calves dressed her feet. Unlike the rest of the warriors she was immaculate, and her hair shone like that of a shampoo commercial.


But the thing that struck Spike most about her was the total joy she seemed to radiate.


“I am glad to see you wakened, Spike. How are you feeling?”


“Yes, I’m very well thank you. And thank you for finding me. Areesh tells me you were the person who first saw me.”


“Yes, when we were returning from battle.”


Her smile was warm and her voice musical. She seemed easy to get along with and Spike found himself looking forward to the coming weeks. It had been a while since he’d had a slayer to train, and this one could definitely be interesting.


He was just about to work where he was from into the conversation when Areesh grabbed the slayer’s arm and said something to her. Spike watched her face light up and Areesh nodded at her and she sped off.


Spike watched her run into the arms of a big man who swept her up and kissed her deeply.


“Who’s that?” He asked Areesh. An unusual feeling of jealousy spread though Spike’s stomach and he just couldn’t understand it. ‘Fair enough if I was really attracted to her,’ Spike thought in indignation. Still, it did nothing to remedy his feelings. ‘Must just be because she’s my Slayer. Never liked them getting distracted and all that junk.’ And now that he was feeling more himself, Spike’s cynical outlook was making a eager reappearance.


“That is Angelus, Elizma’s husband. He too is a warrior but he was injured in the battle and like you he has only just wakened. I’m sure you will be great friends with him, he is a very respected member of our village and one of my most trusted advisors.”


“Yes, I’m sure we’ll get on well.” ‘When Hell freezes over and Wesley finds those testicles he‘s been looking for all these years.’ Spike never had never really gotten on well with other alpha males.


“Do you think you will be alright alone for a short while? Only I must go and speak with people.” Areesh looked at him as though he were her ten year old son. This feeling did not sit well with Spike and his enjoyment was quickly deteriorating.


“Of course, Areesh. I’m sure I can occupy myself for a while.”


The look of relief she sent his way sickened him. Nobody had looked at him like that since he was fifteen and could have passed as an intern at the British Museum. Although he probably would have still been like that if it weren’t for his dad.


However he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, where it could remain for another decade.


Spike almost jumped from his skin when someone touched his arm.


He turned to look at the Slayer hand in hand with her oafish husband. They both had huge smiles on their faces. It made him want to hit someone. The fact that her husband looked like a Calvin Klein model did not help matters.


“Spike this is my husband Angel. Angel this is Spike, the stranger I found on the planes.”


“I’d say I’ve heard much about you, but I’ve learned that being unconscious doesn’t allow me to retain much information,” Angel laughed. “But I can say it’s good to meet you.”


“Yeah, you too,” Spike said in a tone that didn’t really do much to back that statement up.


Elizma looked at her husband for a second and then at Spike. “How are you adjusting?”


“Quite well thank you. I met the man that I’ll be staying with while I’m here.” ‘Might as well try to make some type of conversation. Might not be easy to get her to trust me if she doesn’t even like me.’


“Ahh, yes. Areesh mentioned to me that you’ll be staying with Lornein,” Elizma said. Angel pulled a face when he heard this and his wife turned to him in surprise. “And what is that face for?”


“Oh, come on,” he began as though it should be obvious. All he got was a blank look from Elizma. “I mean, yeah, Lorne’s my best friend and all, but to a stranger? He might be a little much to handle.”


“Oh.” Elizma’s face fell. “I never thought of that.” Angel looked smug and Spike fought to hide a laugh. In spite of himself he was actually quite liked Angel. Elizma looked at Spike with a sympathetic smile. “You can feel free to come to our house whenever you feel then need. Morning. Night. For the afternoon. Maybe even the weekend. Maybe it would be a good idea for us to make up the guest room,” she looked at Angel who nodded.


“Why? How bad can it be? I mean if he’s your friend, he must be okay, right?” Spike asked in a slight panic .


“Oh absolutely,” Angel said. “Don’t get me wrong, Lorne’s great. Everyone loves Lorne. The thing is he lives with his parents, you just met his dad actually, and they’re rarely there. In fact they have another house a few villages over by the mountains and they seem to prefer it there. So Lorne’s house is the unofficial night club of the village. There’s a party there every other night. And Lorne is very open about being gay. For us manly men it can sometimes be a little weird, uncomfortable, you know? Kinda petrifying when it‘s teamed with his uncommonly huge personality.” At Spike’s look of sheer horror Angel was quick to comfort him. “But Lorne’s great. You’ll have a blast.” He followed this with a huge smile that showed quite a few of his perfect white teeth.


“Yeah,” Elizma piped up. “And remember, our door is always open.”


“Er, yeah, thanks. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” ‘While I’m counting the days until I can get out of here,’ Spike thought glancing once again at the chain that hung from his neck to the muscle shell types that fell around his chest.