Prologue


Once in every immortal generation there is a vampire given great power and strength. He, and he alone, will protect the creatures of the night from those that would seek to destroy them. He is the Slayer of Slayers.

When the girl was first called, they saw no reason to worry. She was a far cry from what made a good slayer; a typical, clichéd cheerleading valley girl would never survive the dangers of being a Slayer. Not when so many well-trained girls died so easily. They were sure she would not last long. They were wrong.

The girl defeated Lothos, a powerful master vampire who had killed the trained Slayer who had tried to destroy him. Yet this young girl, untrained and undisciplined, did just that. It made them sit up and actually take notice of her. When the Council of Watchers moved her to the hellmouth, they began to watch her very carefully. Especially since it was the hellmouth that The Master was trapped in.

Though they had no desire to see the Master succeed in his plans, his existence was needed to keep order. They had assumed that she would stop The Master’s plans…to keep him from rising. She had proven herself capable enough to handle that. What they had not expected was for her to kill him. Keep him trapped, yes, but kill him, no.

When she stopped the plans to resurrect him, they knew that this Slayer was too dangerous to let live. She was unravelling a very thin balance, and that couldn’t be allowed. For the first time in twenty years, they needed their greatest weapon to do what he was created for…they needed him to slay the Slayer known as Buffy Summers.

l.l.l.l

When he was first called they thought that there must have been some sort of mistake. He was a far cry from the type of vampire that was normally called; he was part of the Scourge of Europe and was taught by Angelus, one of the worst known vampires at the time. He was barely past fledglinghood, not even twenty years old. He revelled in bloodshed and slaughter.

They considered destroying him just to bring fourth the next Chosen One, but they decided to watch him first. They could not kill him before they had proof that his calling was indeed an error.

They found that he was indeed different; despite his desire to suppress it, the spark of humanity still burned within him. He wanted the violence that all vampires craved, but wanted it through the thrill of the fight before the bloodshed of slaughter and torture. Where many vampires killed their family for food, he killed his mother in order to save her, only to kill her again when he realized the demon was no longer her. His heart was filled with love for his sire, who would never love him back the same way and always hold another above him. In the words of his mentor, he wasn’t ‘demon enough’.

It was just what they needed.

This vampire might resist the calling, but he would do it. Unlike most of his kind, he could change…would change without too much trouble. To their surprise, he not only accepted his calling, but embraced it. To him it was an opportunity to prove himself. He found joy facing those who were his ultimate enemy. Unlike those before him, he looked forward to the dance with death.

There were times they wished that he was not their chosen one. He was reckless, impatient and impulsive He drew out his fights for pure enjoyment when it was safer to end them quickly. All in all, he danced to his own tune. Yet he was good at his job. He killed two Slayers when it was needed, one right after he was called. He took on demons more powerful than him when they came too close to causing destruction. He protected their world without question, even if there were many complaints.

So when it came down to it, they saw no reason why he couldn’t go against this newest Slayer. Yes, she was different compared to others, but so was he. Where she was no ordinary Slayer, William the Bloody was no ordinary Slayer of Slayers.

l.l.l

Chapter One: The Slayer of Slayers


Spike was hunting.

He scanned the bar, idly sipping his beer as his eyes looked over the people around him. The club was crowded, filled with mostly younger humans. Collage kids, Spike was willing to bet. The younger ones all seemed to be on either the dance floor or sitting at a table, while the older patrons stood at the bar. Excitement and energy hummed through the club, buzzing from all of those partiers who were all blissfully unaware of the fact that there were a good fifteen vampires prowling amongst them. Spike could sense them first, and then pick them out from the crowd easily. The humans who danced, walked or sat beside them had absolutely no idea that they were standing so close to death. They had no clue that they were being hunted.

Though Spike was not hunting the same kind of prey. Where those vampires were looking for some moronic, drunk co-ed to follow them blindly into a back alley, Spike was looking for a very different kind of human to snack on. It would have been easy enough to get one of those co-eds; flash a smile, call her ‘pet’ in his accent and a make suggestion accompanied with his tongue curl, and he could have his pick of victims. He was tempted, he really was, but that wasn’t on the menu for tonight. If he had had just wanted a quick sip he would have already picked out a girl and taken a bite, but Spike was in the mood for a kill. He didn’t kill humans like that anymore. No matter how good they tasted.

Spike was just about to order himself another beer when he saw it.

There! That’s what he was looking for.

He watched as a clean cut man, a good ten years older than the average club goer in this place, discreetly slipped a little packet out of his coat pocket. The man opened it and, in a motion that was hard to catch for even Spike’s vampire eyesight, poured what looked to be some sort of powder into a passing drink. The drink landed in front of a cute little brunette who took a sip without even looking.

Spike wanted to roll his eyes at the behaviour. Wasn’t it preached that you should get your drink yourself and then never let it out of your sight? Safety first and all that rot? Bloody stupid humans. Though at the moment Spike was pleased with the girl’s carelessness. It was going to provide him with supper.

He watched as the girl finished her drink, could tell as the drug began to take effect. Her heart rate was going sluggish, she was swaying every few moments and her eyes kept un focusing. The man who had just used the drug was watching just as intently, and after a few moments sauntered up to the table. He began talking to the girl, ignoring the two very annoyed friends who sat at the table with her. Even Spike was surprised, when not even five minutes later, the girl got to her feet and began to leave with him. Her friends both looked shocked as they tried to stop her from leaving. She brushed them off and walked away, and they were too stunned by her behaviour to go after her.

Whatever drug that was, it was fast acting and powerful.

Spike turned back to the bar, tossed a few bills on the counter, muttered a quick ‘thanks mate’ to the bartender and began to follow the pair. He stayed in the shadows and outskirts of the crowd, trailing them but not giving them not indication that they were being stalked. Spike couldn’t help but grin; God he loved this feeling! The power that came with being a predator. The thrill of closing in on prey that didn’t even realize that they were being hunted. It would have been better had the humans actually been something worth stalking, but lunch was lunch.

He slipped out of the club nearly on the heels of the couple. The drug was really beginning to take hold of the girl; she could barely stand on her own now. The man’s arm was tight around her waist, supporting her faltering steps. Spike assumed he had a car stashed close by, probably so that he could whisk the girl away before her friends finally came after her and realized what was wrong. As fun as stalking was, Spike was hungry and had no desire to continue to track after the two of them were in a car and driving away, so he had to finish this now.

“Y’a know,” Spike finally spoke, “she really doesn’t look like she wants to go with you.”

The man jumped, startled as he swung around to face the direction the voice had come from. Spike stepped out of the building’s shadow, lighting up a cigarette as he went.

“She’s just had a little too much to drink,” he covered, sounding exasperated and yet not totally unpleased.

Spike just cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Right,” he drawled, taking a long drag of the cigarette he had just lit, “and that bit of powder you slipped in the bint’s drink has nothin’ to do with her state.”

The man’s eyes widened at that. The scent of fear was beginning to drift off the him, and Spike breathed it in deeply and greedily. God he loved that smell. The only thing better than the smell of fear was the taste of fear.

“I don’t know what-“ he began to stammer out some sort of explanation, but Spike cut him off.

“Really good drug you fed her. Knocked her out good and proper. Right there is where we come into a problem. See, I for one think that if a bloke needs to resort to drugs to get a woman it’s just bleedin’ pathetic. Was evil for a while and even then I didn’t care for the whole rape deal; if you can’t charm your way into a girl’s pants then you really don’t deserve to be there. But I must admit I’m glad you decided to play date rapist tonight. I’m really not supposed to be killing people anymore, but when it’s a low life like you, nobody says a word. ‘Preciate it, they do.”

All the while Spike had been casually sauntering up to him. The man apparently wasn’t considering making any sort of move to get away. When the word kill came out of Spike’s mouth his eyes did widen and he took a step back, but he didn’t run. To Spike it was very disappointing. He preferred it when they ran.

Spike finally came to stand in front of him, tossing his finished cigarette off to the side. He grinned when he heard the man’s heart beat speed up even more, and as the grin spread he shifted into game face. The man gave an unmanly shriek and dropped the girl. She hit the pavement with a dull thud and was quickly forgotten as he turned and began to sprint away. Finally there was running! With a whoop of gleeful laughter Spike took off after him. He caught him in a matter of moments, and then had him in a tight hold, back pressed to his chest.

“Please…!” he began to beg, and Spike only rolled his eyes.

Why did humans always think that begging would make any sort of difference?

Without even bothering to answer the man’s pleas, Spike leaned down and brutally sank his fangs into his jugular. The man screamed and tried to pull out of his grasp, but Spike held him tight. He pulled sips of blood into his mouth slowly, savouring the sweet taste. The struggles became less as the man’s heart beat began to slow. His breathing became strained and then non existent as his body began shutting down. Not even two minutes after the bite he was drained.

Spike moaned appreciatively, enjoying the blood down to the last drop. It always tasted better with a kill; life blood tasted sweeter and more powerful, especially when there was so much fear mixed in. Yes, it was certainly a good meal.

“Damnit Spike! Why did you have to go and kill this guy!”

Spike looked up from the man’s neck when the angry sounding words broke the silence of the alley. He saw the woman who was standing there, hands on her hips and looking very impatient, and a grin spread across his bloody lips.

“Anyanka! Don’t tell me this git is a friend of yours.”

“Of course not,” the vengeance demon looked at the corpse distastefully, “I’m here to punish him.”

“Oh?” Spike asked in interest, letting the body drop without a second thought, “what’d he do?”

“He’s married to a witch,” Anyanka replied, “a very powerful one who gets jealous and vengeful very easy. She found a stash of women’s underwear and summoned me.”

“What’d she wish?”

“For his penis to stop working,” the demon’s reply held amusement, “I came in person to make sure the wish was granted at the most inopportune moment for him.”

Spike glanced down at the corpse and held back a grimace; not that he didn’t deserve the kind of punishment that Anyanka had been prepared to doll out, but it went beyond cruel and unusual.

“And what happened to no killing?” Anyanka’s voice was impatient again, telling Spike that she was not pleased with him.

Spike had learned over the years that you didn’t piss off vengeance demons, especially ones as volatile as Anyanka.

“Allowed to kill the bad guys,” Spike replied with a small shrug, “this one was one of them. That stash of knickers you said his wife found probably belonged to girls like her,” he nodded in the direction of the drugged girl who was still passed out on the ground a few feet away from them, “slipped ‘em something and ushered them away. Probably kept the knickers to get off on later.”

Anyanka had been surprised to see the girl lying there, and by the time Spike finished explaining her presence, her face was clouded over with rage.

“You should have tortured the bastard before you ate him,” she informed him bluntly, and Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose at that.

“Did you not just harp on me for killing?” Spike reminded her.

“I don’t like rapists,” Anyanka sounded every bit vengeance demon and patron for scorned women at that moment.

“Neither do I luv,” Spike answered, “but I was just too damn hungry to go with the torture bit for tonight. Next time though.”

Anyanka gave a nod of agreement, and Spike wondered if he should invite her along when that next time came. She’d probably enjoy it more than he would.

Anyanka glared down at the corpse for a moment before the hardness in her eyes left and she sighed.

“Damnit!” She repeated, “I needed this one! For the first time in nearly five hundred years I’m below my quota. D’Hoffryn is not impressed and I have to make it up. And you had to go kill one of my victims!”

She was glaring at him, and Spike back peddled, knowing that now was the time to soothe Anyanka’s irritation. The last thing he wanted was for her temper to shoot back up. Last time he had let her stay angry with him she had gotten one of her friends to put a temporary cruse on him, and Spike never wanted that to happen again.

“Well,” he reasoned with her, “you did technically fulfil the wish. His penis isn’t gonna work again, on account on him being dead and all. So you still did grant the wish, just out sourced the grunt work to me. You were just doin’ a friend a favour, letting me make the kill.”

“You’ll give me the credit?” she asked, and Spike gave a quick nod, “Fine. D’Hoffryn won’t be pleased, but as long as the vengeance goes to my tally he really can’t complain.”

Spike couldn’t help but smirk at the look on the demon’s face. She looked right pleased she did.

“What should we do with her?” Anyanka asked, gesturing to the woman still unconscious on the ground, “we really shouldn’t leave her there.”

Truth be told, Spike had pretty much forgotten the girl was there. He supposed he should do something; there wasn’t much point in saving the girl from a rapist just to leave her out here to become (most likely, considering the amount that were in the club) potential vamp chow.

“Right then, why don’t you bring the girl back to her friends, if they’re still in there? Two birds, one black with short hair in a blue dress and a big haired blonde wearing a God awful shade of pink for a skirt. Will look less suspicious if another girl brings her in instead of yours truly. If they’re gone, call an ambulance or somethin’. Just get her out of here safely.”

Anyanka rolled her eyes, “Yes Spike, let’s saddle me with the physical labour. May I remind you, you do happen to be stronger than me.”

“What can I say? I’m the leader too, and every once and awhile I gotta give commands,” at her poignant glare, he amended his statement, “oh alright, make suggestions.”

“Fine,” Anyanka huffed, “but I will expect you to pay me back in the future.”

“Tell you what,” Spike’s voice was mock seriousness despite the cheeky smirk, “next time you an’ Lawson sneak off when we’re supposed to be workin’, I won’t say a word.”

“Yes,” Anyanka’s smiled, brightening considerably, “I like that idea. So will Sam; he still gets embarrassed when you tease him for sneaking off to have sex whenever I get bored.”

“Oh, and that’s what makes the mocking so enjoyable. Speakin’ of, where is lover boy tonight?”

“Hunting, the same as you. I was working, so we’re going to meet up later for drinks. Wait! I’m not working anymore, so I can go find him now. He should be finished by now. He hunts the bad parts of town where he knows he’ll find an acceptable human to eat.”

Anyanka was more or less rambling to herself now, and Spike was only half listening as she chirped on happily about her lover’s hunting schedule and habits. As if Spike hadn’t hunted with Lawson a thousand times and didn’t know all this information already.

“If we get drinks now it leaves much more time for orgasms. Would you like to join us?” She paused for a moment, “for drinks. Not sex. Though, if you do want to join us for sex, I would welcome you. I think you would be a very pleasurable lover. I could always talk to Sam-“

“Thanks luv,” Spike interrupted her in amusement, barely holding back laughter, “honoured as I am you’d like me in your bed, it’s alright. Gotta pick up Glinda from the library, so no to the drinks too.”

He chuckled at her disappointed face, and couldn’t help but add, “Though if you wanna run that idea by Lawson, you go right ahead. Tell me what he says.”

Spike could just imagine the bewildered and embarrassed look on the younger vampire’s face, and it had him holding back snickers. What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Especially when Anyanka would bluntly state something like “I want Spike to have sex with us” as a way to begin it.

Anyanka looked pleased with the idea, and Spike just shook his head. A vengeance demon who catered to spurned women that was addicted to sex. Who would have thought?

“Right then. Night demon girl.”

“Goodnight Spike.” She chirped happily, visions of sex skyrocketing her into a good mood.

Spike turned to leave just as Anyanka bent down to the unconscious girl. Spike heard her mutter something about men before using her demon strength to haul the girl up and into her arms bridal style.

As be walked away Spike was almost whistling. He had fed, killed and provided Lawson torture and it was only early. The night was going good so far.

l.l.l.l

“Tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

He was close to begging and he knew it, but he really didn’t care at the moment. He looked around the table, wishing one of the five demons sitting there would pull out a ‘just kidding’ message and minute now. He knew there was no chance in hell of it happening, but a demon could dream right?

“We are not joking,” the large lizard like demon spoke.

He sighed and adjusted his fedora. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, but he had to argue his point anyway.

“Spike isn’t going to like this. Go kill the new Slayer, now that part he’ll love. He’s been complaining about being bored lately. It’s the second part that’s going to have him up in arms.”

“He has no choice,” another of the five demons, this one a long, nearly translucent snowy white fairy like female, reminded him, “we give him much room, more than any past Chosen One. Yet here he will obey us and follow our orders. It’s your job as his Watcher to explain this to him.”

“Right,” he muttered under his breath, “because he ever listens to me.”

The Demon Council weren’t the ones who had to listen to Spike bitch whenever he was told he had to do something he didn’t like the sound of. As his Watcher, Whistler regrettably did.

He looked around the table again, knowing he would get no sympathy. He sighed before asking.

“When does he have to be there?”

“Before St. Vigeous.”

Shit. That was only six days away. Spike wasn’t going to like this. All Whistler could hope was that the vampire didn’t go and shoot the massager when he went and told him the news.

l.l.l

She was waiting on the front steps of the library when Spike pulled up on his motorcycle. She was alone, staring off into space, a large book bag sitting on the on the steps in front of her. There was a sad look on her face, and that worried him. That and the fact that she was apparently so distracted that she didn’t even realize a motorcycle had pulled up a few feet away from her.

“Oi! Glinda!”

Tara jumped, startled by the sudden yelling of her pet name. She looked up to where Spike was still sitting on his bike, though now it was turned off.

“Hi Spike,” she told him with a smile, standing up and shouldering her book bag onto her back.

“You were awfully lost in thought luv,” Spike said, watching as the young girl walked towards him, “anything wrong?”

Tara paused for a moment, “I’m f-fine.”

“Sure you are,” Spike’s eyebrow lifted, “because the thousand yard stare, stuttered answer and hurt puppy dog eyes tell a different story. Come on, tell ‘ol Spike what it is.”

“Just the normal,” Tara spoke up again, now sounding sad, “my partners aren’t t-that nice.”

“Want me to bite ‘em? I will.”

“That’s okay Spike,” she replied with a soft laugh, climbing behind him on the bike, “I can handle a little t-teasing.”

Spike started the bike up again in order to stop himself from replying. Spike felt the need to hunt down whoever these partners were and tear off a few limbs. Nobody treated his Glinda this way! He hated seeing the young girl upset, especially when it was caused by something like this. Tara had come a long way from when Spike had first met her, and he never wanted to see her as that scared little girl again.

-Flashback-

The Slayer of Slayers was a grand title, making one picture epic, bloody battles and fights to the death. Or at least that was how it had been described to Spike when the Demon Council had first found him. Why do you think he signed on so easily? What they neglected to tell him was how he’d be filling his calling between those epic battles. He had nothing against rushing to the aid of innocent demons everywhere, but it got boring after awhile. Especially when there was barely a challenge involved.

This time he had been told he had to find a young girl, part demon and a fledgling witch. She was supposed to need saving, and that there was in Spike’s job description. So Spike had hopped on a plane, flew down to the southern states, poked around the location he was given and waited for this danger to happen. It took three very long nights of slinking around a red neck, back water town for him to finally find her. When he did, Spike was shocked to find that this part demon wasn’t in danger from demon hunters, vigilantes (which was usually the case on one of these missions) or other demons, but from her own family.

He had finally picked up her scent on the third night and was following it when he heard loud voices. Spike went towards them, being sure to remain quiet and out of sight but still picking up his pace. The voices and the scent trail ended at a small graveyard. When Spike peaked around a tree to get a better look, he took in the scene in front of him.

There were two people in the cemetery. One was a mousy young girl, maybe fourteen years old if that, standing there clutching a candle tightly in her hands. Spike couldn’t see her face through the curtain of blonde hair that covered it on account of her bowed head, but from the way her body was shaking he knew she was crying. He could smell the faint trace of fear on her, and that made his head tilt to the side as he studied the scene. The other person was a man, and he looked furious. He was yelling at the girl, something about magic and evil.

Spike took a better look and realized that there were other candles like the one the girl was holding around a grave. It was the grave the two of them were standing over.

“What have I told you!” the man was still yelling, “using magic to contact your mother is evil!”

“Only to t-talk,” the girl pleaded, “just for a few minutes. I n-need to tell t-tell her some things.”

Spike was dumbfounded; it was true that he didn’t trust magic, but in no stretch of the imagination could he ever picture what this little girl was doing as evil. From the scene he’d saw, the girl was probably just lost her mother and just wanted to talk to her. God did Spike ever understand that. Sure it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Spike couldn’t see the harm in letting the girl summon the woman for a few minutes. The girl might be young, but she had power. Spike could feel it.

“It doesn’t matter!” the man, who Spike was assuming to be her father, wasn’t listening, “The magic comes from your demon side! That side is evil!”

So this was the demon Spike had been sent to protect. She bloody well needed it to, considering her father was clearly insane; how you could look at that little slip of a girl and think she was evil for God’s sake?

The girl was clearly terrified, her body sending out every signal possible to alert Spike to that fact. Her heart was pounding, she was trembling and the scent of fear was coming off her like a thick perfume.

This time when the girl tried to speak, the man silenced her stuttering by backhanding her. She went sprawling to the ground with a cry, landing beside the tombstone and knocking over all the candles she had placed there. She whimpered and clutched the marker for support when her father’s voice stared screaming at her again. When it looked like he was about to get violent again, Spike took action.

He rushed out from behind his tree and grabbed hold of the man’s arm that was reaching down to haul the girl to her feet. The two of them were startled by the stranger’s arrival, and while the girl only reacted with a startled jump, her father reacted with anger. He ripped his arm out of Spike’s grip and turned furious eyes on him. Before he could say anything, Spike’s cold voice stopped him.

“Leave the girl alone.”

Both of them looked bewildered, the father in a furious way and the girl full of awe.

“This is none of your concern!” the man spluttered out in fury.

“Yeah it is,” Spike replied coldly, putting himself between the girl and her father, “us demons, we tend to stick together. And we take care of our own.”

He switched to vamp face then with a growl, determined to get him away from the still terrified girl as quickly as possible. He stumbled back a few steps in an attempt to put distance between himself and the clearly enraged vampire.

“Wha-what-“ Spike was pleased to hear he had the man stuttering in fear, much as he had been doing to his own daughter.

“A demon,” Spike replied flatly, “leave.”

And he did, and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. To top it off, he made no move to get his daughter and take her away. Spike was clearly a threat and the man was willing to leave his daughter there without a backwards glance.

“Bloody coward,” Spike muttered in disgust before turning his attention to the girl who was still huddled on the ground, making sure his face was back to human when he looked at her, “don’t worry pet. Not gonna hurt you.”

After a stunned moment of silence, she spoke.

“T-thank you,” the girl stuttered out, looking up at him with grateful eyes that were still full of tears.

There was something about her that made him stay. Where he would normally get out a gruff reply before walking away, Spike found himself crouching down beside her.

“You got anywhere to go?” he asked her softly.

The girl just shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again.

“Well come on then.”

To say she looked surprised would have been an understatement. She studied him for a moment, clearly trying to decide. Though when he held out a hand to help her up, she didn’t hesitate in taking it.

“You got a name pet?” he asked as they began to walk.

“T-Tara,” she spoke, self consciously falling in step beside him.

“’M Spike.”

-End flashback-

She had followed him without question, somehow trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her. It had shocked the hell out of Spike that she could have so much trust after she had so obviously been hurt by people who were supposed to love and protect her. He didn’t ask her why though, instinctively knowing that that would come later.

The first question she had asked was where were they going. When Spike had answered he had a place just outside Calgary Alberta, Tara hadn’t even blinked. She had only nodded and asked if they could stop by her house first. Spike had been leery of the idea, thinking that if she went to say goodbye she might be convinced to stay. She didn’t want to say goodbye, but there were things she couldn’t leave behind.

They had spent the day holed up in an empty, run down shack that Spike had been taking refuge in during the day. Finally Tara had asked him who he was. Spike had told her about being a vampire, about being the Slayer of Slayers and what that meant. He left out the most violent aspects, figuring that they weren’t all that appropriate for a fourteen year old to hear. Then he told her that he had been sent to protect her.

“Did they tell you to take me home?” she had asked softly, a bit of apprehension in her voice.

“Nah,” he had replied with a grin, “decided that all on my own.”

Tara had been so relieved that he once again wondered what the girl had gone through. The question of why had been in her eyes, but she hadn’t voiced it. Maybe she was a bit scared of the answer. Spike understood it. He knew why. Sweet, shy Tara reminded him oh so much of sweet, shy (poncy, pathetic, he added in his mind) William. As much as he tried to suppress the William part of him, Spike knew that it was still a driving factor in who he was. How could he not want to help the girl?

After a little probing, Tara had finally opened up about herself. Her life had been hard, full of mostly verbal abuse but enough of the physical kind. The only person she had had was her mother, and she had just died from cancer just a week before.

It was her mother that the demon blood had come through, and it was that blood that gave her her magic. All the women in her family had it, Tara had explained, and they were considered evil if they tapped into it. Yet, despite the oppression, her mother had. Then she had begun to teach her only daughter.

Finally, just as they had been preparing to leave that night, Spike had asked.

“Why are you comin’ without question? How do you know ‘m not gonna make you my slave or somethin’?”

“The demon blood is from an empath species,” she had answered, “the actual demon in the family was a long time ago, but the ability to feel others’ emotions has carried down. I see them through a person’s aura. If you wanted to hurt me, I would see it there.”

“Aura huh? What’s mine look like?”

“It…glows.”

At that moment Spike had been sure that Tara was his human self reincarnated. It made him want to protect her all the more.

When they had finally arrived at her house no one had been home, much to their relief. The things she couldn’t leave behind, besides a few extra clothes, had been things that were her mother’s; a picture, a locket, a ring, three spell books, a quartz crystal and a goddess figurine were all carefully put into a carry on bag. She walked away from the place she had spent her entire life without a backwards glance.

While Tara had gone to her mother’s grave to say goodbye, Spike had called the Demon Council and told them that he was bringing someone back with him. They had told him no, Spike had told them there was nothing they could do to stop him. After several arguments that had fallen on Spike’s deliberately deaf ears, the council had caved and bought Tara a plane ticket.

They had returned to Calgary that night, just beating the dawn. When Tara had mentioned finding a place to live, Spike had told her flat out that she would be staying with him. Her arguments had met with a ‘It’s a big house and ‘M here all by myself. There’s room and I want you here.”

That had been two years ago. Tara had been there and in his life ever since.

When they had first settled her in, Spike had enrolled her in school because education is important (a bleedin’ waste of time, he had thought) and, despite his leery attitude towards magic, had gotten a local witch to continue her lessons where her mother had been forced to leave off.

A large part of Spike’s life had been spent taking care of others, first his mother and then with Dru. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until he started watching over Tara.

She had come such a long way since then; at first she had been so shy, stuttering and blushing whenever someone spoke to her directly. Never mind coming out and saying anything or making suggestions of her own accord.

With Spike it hadn’t taken her long to grow comfortable, but with the others of the group it had taken a bit longer. They had treated her like one of them from the beginning, never making her feel unwelcome. Awkward sometimes, what with Anyanka’s forward, blunt statements and Doyle’s shameless flirting despite the fact she had confided that she was a lesbian.

It had taken time, but Tara had come out of her shell. She was at home with them now. Too bad the same couldn’t always be said for the world outside their little group. Though she was more confident outside, it wasn’t nearly enough in Spike’s opinion. Tara was a strong woman; she had survived a childhood full of pain and yet had the strength to walk away from it without letting it break her. She had embraced her power when she had been told her whole life that it was evil. She had a spine of steel under that shy exterior and she didn’t even see it.

Which is why, Spike grumbled in his mind as he pulled into their driveway, I hate when wankers go and make her feel like this again. Stupid gits, not seein’ the amazing girl Glinda is.

He turned off the bike and waited until Tara was off before he swung his leg over and dismounted.

“So Glinda,” Spike was determined to cheer her up, “What you wanna do? Movie on the telly and pizza sound good? I’ll even let you pick.”

“Even a chick flick?” there was a hopefulness in her eyes and voice that made Spike suppress a sigh.

Bloody hell.

He wanted to say no, but instead said “sure thing pet. Whatever you want.”

The smile that broke out on Tara’s face made the next several hours of torture in the form of girly movies worth it.

“Right then,” Spike said as they unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “you pick the film and I’ll order the piz-“

Spike cut himself off when he realized that there was someone else in the house. That someone was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and waiting for them. When Spike realized who it was he groaned.

“Oh balls. What the bloody hell do you want?”

“Good evening to you too Spike,” Whistler scowled at him, then turned a warm smile on Tara, “hello Tara.”

“Hi Whistler,” Tara replied with her own smile.

“Let me guess,” Spike drawled out sarcastically as he moved towards the fridge, “you’re here in a business like capacity.”

“I’ll be in my room,” Tara spoke up, “I should work on my science project anyway. We’ll do movie night another time. Night Whistler.”

“Good night,” Whistler replied as she left the room, “she really is a sweet girl-“

“What do you want Whistler?” Spike asked bluntly, pulling out a beer he knew he was going to need, “’cuz really, we had plans-“

“There’s a new Slayer who’s causing too much trouble.”

The beer bottle was halfway to his mouth when Whistler’s words hit him. He froze completely, letting the words sink in.

“Knew that would shut you up,” Whistler commented irritability.

Mention a Slayer and Spike was all ears.

Spike slowly put the beer down on the counter and turned around. By the time he was facing Whistler, a blood thirsty, almost savage grin was plastered on the vampire’s face.

“Well now, that’s another story. Been waitin’ since the seventies for one of those birds to star causing some trouble.”

Spike hadn’t had a real fight since then. Sure there had been some close calls, but nothing compared to fighting a Slayer. They were the ultimate enemy…the ultimate challenge and test of skills. Nothing made him feel more alive than when he was dancing with a Slayer.

The gleefully evil tone of Spike’s voice made Whistler shiver. Whenever the chance of fighting a Slayer came up, a flash of the old Spike came through. The Spike before he had become the Slayer of Slayers and came over (for the most part) to their side. It was downright scary in Whistler’s opinion.

“So what’s she done?” now Spike was eagerly pressing for details.

“Killed The Master.”

“As in great great grand sire? That Master?”

“Yes Spike,” Whistler rolled his eyes.

“Bloody hell. How long she’s been called?”

“Just over a year and a half.”

Spike gave a low, impressed whistle, “Damn. Only that much time under her belt and she dusted the head of the Aureliuns,” if possible, his grin grew even more, “this is gonna be fun!”

Anticipation was already singing through his body. He hadn’t even seen the girl yet and already he was buzzing with excitement. It was making him giddy it was. This was what he needed. What he craved. He was the Slayer of Slayers after all. There was more to the job, but when it came right down to it, that was what he was created to do. Slay the Slayer.

Spike was determined to leave as soon as possible, while Whistler was even more determined to make him hear all the facts first.

“The Master was trying to rise so he could open the Hellmouth.”

That right there made Spike pause.

“Really not seeing the issue with her then; Old Batface wasn’t exactly rooting for our side. Yeah, I get the whole wantin’ to make the world better suited to demon kind, but opening up a Hellmouth and bringing fourth the Old Ones? That’s just a stupid idea if ‘ve ever heard one.”

Whistler just scowled at him, looking as though he was slowly counting to ten.

“You’re right,” the demon replied after a moment, “opening the Hellmouth wasn’t a good idea. It was downright dangerous all around; just as many demons, mostly the good ones, would die.”

“Then it sounds as though the Slayer did us all a favour by stopping it,” was Spike’s reply, raised eyebrow and all.

Damn did Spike ever want to get it on with this new Slayer and he would take any excuse to do it, but he wasn’t getting why the Demon Council was so determined to see this one dead.

“By stopping the Old Ones, yes. By killing The Master, no. Hellmouths are volatile places; if you don’t have a hellva strong demon claiming ownership then it’s complete chaos. The Master was that demon, and now he’s dust. The Hellmouth needs a new keeper.”

“What about the Brat?” Spike interrupted, “The Anointed One? Doesn’t he fit the bill?”

“Not even close. Ideas of grandeur aside, the kid has no right to claim the Hellmouth, let alone the Aurelian line. Think anyone will agree to his rights for long? No, and that means there’s going to be a turf war there sooner rather than later, and it’ll get messy. What the Hellmouth needs is someone all sides would recognize has a right to the title. Say, a master vampire with a direct descent from The Master of the line of Aurelius…”

It took a moment for Whistler’s words to sink in, but when they did Spike began to argue.

“Oh no! No! There’s no bleedin’ way in hell ‘m gonna do that! Go to the Hellmouth and clean up Batface’s mess? Sure. Go kill the Slayer? Hell yes! Claim leadership of the Order? Bugger that!”

“Who else is there?” Whistler replied patiently, “the only vamp older than you is Angelus and he’s disqualified because of the curse. The only other two that could have qualified were Penn, he was dusted years ago, and Darla, who was killed a few months ago. Other than you, the only vamp who got enough Sire’s blood is Lawson, and he’s barely that. He wouldn’t do so well in that situation anyway; he prefers taking orders opposed to giving them. It’s all that military training from before he was turned.”

“There has to be someone else,” Spike countered, “anyone else.”

“Now you’re just whining.”

“I am not whining!” Spike growled, eyes flashing yellow, “getting stuck at a Hellmouth isn’t something I want, and I don’ wanna drag anyone else there with me. Besides, if I go and make the leadership claim, ’m stuck there permanently. How the bloody hell am I supposed to do my job from there?”

“You’re the Slayer of Slayers Spike,” Whistler reminded him patiently, “it’s your job to protect our part of the demon world in any way necessary, and from everyone, whether it be humans or other demons. All us peaceful types need someone on our side, and you’re the chosen champion. Any way possible. From killing Slayers, stopping the occasional apocalypse and even rescuing others like you did little Tara.”

“’Ve been at this a hundred years,” was Spike’s irritated reply, “Think I know my job.”

“Now that anyway possible is by keeping order at the Hellmouth. That’s where you’re needed now, and when the time comes you’re needed somewhere else for awhile, we’ll figure something out. This is not a choice Spike, but your Calling. This time you can’t refuse.”

Spike knew it was a lost cause just by the sound and tone of his Watcher’s voice. It was dead serious, not exasperated like it normally was when Spike argued. It was the tone reserved only for occasions where there really was no choice in the matter. No room for argument and no room for compromise.

“Fuck,” Spike muttered, picking up his beer and taking a long swig.

Whistler looked relieved that Spike was giving in without more of a fight. He had expected yelling and possibly even threats of violence.

“Fuck!” Spike was cursing now, “I don’ want the bloody responsibility of being master of anywhere, let alone a Hellmouth! I have enough as is, and adding on to havin’ control over every vampire that sets foot in the place plus any in the Order is too much!”

“Backing down from a challenge?” Whistler jumped at the ability to persuade.

Issue Spike a challenge and he wouldn’t back down until he proved his point or finished it.

Okay, Whistler amended, sometimes just because he gets bored, but there’ll be too much to do to get bored with this one.

Spike’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what Whistler was doing. He had been around long enough to know when someone was trying to manipulate him.

“’M goin’ anyway. You don’ have to try and convince me or make me like the idea.”

“Think of it this way- you get a Slayer out of it.”

Spike had to admit that going to the place did have its perks. If he had to stay there, at least killing the Slayer would give him something fun to do. He’d have to draw it out, make it last. He had done that with the last Slayer, the one back in New York; he had kept that going for a month, and that made killing the bint so much sweeter. This one he’s take his time with too. Hopefully she’d be worth it, because after she was gone all the fun work would be gone with her.

Whistler knew that he had appeased Spike somewhat by reminding him of the Slayer. Spike may be a pain in the ass most of the time, but Whistler was still his Watcher, and he preferred his Chosen One to at least be happy.

“So you going to call a meeting of the Spikettes or not?” He asked to break the silence.

“Would you not call them that!” Spike snapped, “They’re not some bleedin’ pop band or a cheer squad.”

Whistler just snorted, telling Spike how much he thought that last part rang true.

“Go find Lawson and Demon Girl,” Spike grit out, “they should be together by now. Probably shaggin’ like rabbits, so definitely together. I’ll get a hold of Irish, if actually answers his phone for once.”

Whistler nodded and teleported out of the room with a loud pop. Spike growled, chugged down the rest of his beer and made his way further into the house. It was a fairly large house with three bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a fairly large sized living room that was perfect for ‘Spikette’ meetings, a library and a massive back room that was perfect for training and weapons storage.

Damnit, Spike thought as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, I like it here. Why the hell could The Master just been content bein’ stuck? He liked it underground after all. He should have been right at home.

Tara’s door was slightly open when he came to it. Soft, new agey music was drifting out of the room, and Spike could hear Tara’s soft voice singing along. He smiled despite his mood. Then the smile abruptly disappeared when he remembered what he was here to tell her.

He wasn’t the only one who was happy here. Spike knew Tara was, despite little upsets like tonight. He knew the others were too. Spike also knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask them to leave just because he had to.

“Spike, I know you’re there,” Tara’s voice spoke up, “you can come in.”

Spike opened the door the rest of the way but didn’t go in. He stayed in the hallway, only planning to stay for a few moments. Tara was sitting cross legged on her bed, books open all around her and sheets of paper and a pen held in her hand.

“Got a meeting,” he informed her, “Whistler went for Anyanka and Lawson and I gotta get hold of Doyle.”

“Something bad?” Tara’s face held worry and concern.

Yes, Spike’s mind said but out loud, “not per say, but ‘m gonna tell you all at once. Less chance of losin’ my temper that was.”

Tara looked intrigued at the answer.

“I’ll call Doyle,” she told him, “you go hit something while we wait for everyone to get here. Blow off some steam so you won’t lose your temper al all.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Spike smiled at how well the girl knew him, “ come get me when they’re all here yeah?”

l.l.l.l

Twenty-five minutes later Tara peeked her head through the training room door.

Spike was taking his frustrations out on a punching bag. His fists connected with it with brutal force. He wasn’t pulling his punches or taking it easy because he knew that that was no way to work out his anger.

“Spike,” Tara’s voice interrupted him mid swing, “everyone’s here.”

He let his fist fall to his side instead of finishing the punch. When he turned to face the door Tara had already left. With a deep sigh he followed her. Spike could have used a cigarette right then, but knew it was better to get this over with than take a much needed cigarette break.

When he walked into the living room everyone was waiting for him. Tara was sitting on one end of the couch, legs tucked under her and a small blush on her face as Doyle, who sat sprawled on the other end, flirted with her. Lawson was sitting in one of the arm chairs with Anyanka perched on one of the arms. She was complaining about their evening being interrupted while Lawson half listened, taking a break every once and a while to tell Doyle to leave Tara in peace.

“If you want I could use my charms on the lovely Anyanka here,” Doyle replied, to which Lawson scowled, “just like I figured.”

Spike rolled his eyes, slapping the half demon upside the head as he passed behind the couch.

“Leave Glinda alone,” he told him, “and stop baiting Lawson. Flirtin’ with a vampire’s lover is a sure way to get your throat ripped out. Though I do believe Demon Girl would whip you into next Tuesday before he could.”

“Ah Spike, didn’t know you cared,” Doyle said, to which Spike only gave a shake of his head, “’Sides, Tara here knows I’m joking, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Of-of course,” Tara replied sincerely, “you flirt with all the girls.”

“Only the pretty ones,” Doyle said with a wink

“Maybe you should try the not so pretty ones,” Anyanka spoke up, “you might not get turned down all the time.”

Spike started snickering at that, and even Lawson and Tara couldn’t hold in a small snort.

“Anyanka you wound me,” Doyle mock flinched, placing a hand over his heart.

She shrugged before turning her attention to Spike “Why are we here? This better be important. You know Sam and I have plans.”

“Yeah, I do happen to recall something like that,” Spike replied, and then remembered the conversation they had had outside the club.

Spike wondered if Anyanka had ‘talked’ to Lawson yet. He switched his focus to the other vampire and raised an eyebrow. From the way Lawson shifted slightly and looked a tad uncomfortable, Spike assumed she had. He smirked at that before turning his attention back to the room.

It was then he clued in that someone was missing.

“Where’s Whistler?” he asked, to which Lawson responded.

“He left after he found Anyanka and I. Told us to come here and then mentioned having to talk to the Council.”

“Course he did,” Spike grumbled under his breath, “couldn’t have waited a bloody hour.”

“You want Whistler here?” Doyle’s voice held a twinge of bewilderment, “is the world ending? Because if it is, I’ve got some things I’d love to do before hand.”

“If the world was ending then Whistler would be here for sure,” Lawson told him, knowing Doyle should have realized that.

“The worlds not endin’,” Spike explained to the assembled group around him, “seems my presence is needed in California.”

“What’s in California?” Tara was the first to ask.

“First off there’s a Slayer there that’s been causin’ trouble and then there’s a Hellmouth that needs tendin’ to in a long term kinda way. Apparently I’m the vamp to do it.”

“Permanent? As in live there?” Anyanka spoke up, “because Hellmouths in general are horrible places to live. Good for vengeance most of the time, but not to stay and live on.”

“Don’t gotta choice,” was Spike’s reply, and in his tone it was easy to hear the displeasure at that fact, “but doesn’t mean you lot have to come with me. I’d ‘preciate it, but not gonna force you when this is a long term deal.”

“I go where you go,” Lawson replied without hesitation, “you know that Chief.”

Spike felt a rush of gratitude for the unwavering loyalty from the vampire who had seemed to adopt him not only as a friend but a Sire. It was good to know that he’d have someone along; Spike didn’t do alone very well.

“I will have to get approval from D’Hoffryn to move if it’s long term,” Anyanka was more or less thinking out loud, “I can do vengeance just as well for there. I’m sure there’s a large market for it, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” her smile brightened considerably as her eyes flashed to Lawson, “besides, if I stay I will have to give up many spectacular orgasms.”

If his blood circulated properly Lawson would have been blushing. He gave Anyanka a sheepish smile, clearly agreeing with her but still a little embarrassed. Spike couldn’t help but smirk. It amused him to no end that, of all the human traits Lawson could have kept after turning, it was that sense of propriety that came out on top after his sense of loyalty.

“Me, I’m lookin’ forward to a change of venue,” Doyle remarked, “a change of scenery sounds nice.”

“So does getting away without settling a number of gambling debts,” Anyanka remarked shrewdly.

Doyle just shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. Spike rolled his eyes. He’d have to keep their departure secret until they were gone, otherwise Doyle’d get his legs broken before they could leave. He didn’t want to listen to the half demon bitch and moan all the way to California.

“Well then Glinda,” Spike turned to the only member of the group who hadn’t given their answer, “it’s down to you. If you wanna stay, I’ll understand. You got school here and all that, plus your magic teacher. More ties and all that. If you wanna stay I’ll make sure the Council keeps you set up real nice, and gives you money to come visit. Summer vacation of the Hellmouth sounds good, yeah?”

“No,” was Tara’s reply.

Spike tried not to let his disappointment show, but he couldn’t stop his face from falling a bit. It damn near broke his heart, the thought of leaving her behind. Out of all of them, it was the empathic witch that he held the soft spot for.

“I mean no I’m not staying,” Tara told him with a soft smile, reassuring Spike once she saw his face fall, “we’re family, all of us. There’s nothing in this world that could make me break that up.”

Spike sighed in relief and the others’ faces echoed the same sentiment. If their little group was indeed a family, then Tara was the heart of it.

“Besides,” Tara’s voice was teasing, “who else is going to put up with your moods and never complain when they get saddled with all the research?”

“You’re a saint Tara,” Doyle agreed with a wink, which inspired an eye roll all around.

Spike knew that he was close to expressing his complete and utter gratitude in a way that’d make him sound like a total ponce. Instead of letting that happen, he spoke up in the gruffest voice possible.

“Right then. Looks like we’re headin’ to the Hellmouth.”

Chapter Two: The Slayer

~…The Slayer whirled around, sword moving fluidly through the air. It connected, striking the vampire in the face. Blood began to pour from his eyebrow, but he paid no mind to it besides a fierce roar. Then he launched himself at her. His kick caught her in to stomach, sending her backwards, causing her to drop her sword as she went. The vampire hit her again, but this time she managed to counter with her own fist. He went flying backwards, straight into a pillar. The Slayer had him trapped then, her foot secure against his throat. She pulled out her stake, prepared to bring it down and end this creature’s existence. His eyes widened, showing a brief flash of fear there, but before she could move again there was an explosion. They both stumbled to the side, thrown off balance. The Slayer’s stake tumbled from her hand, and on instinct she reached for it.

Then the vampire had her. Before she could resist her arms were pinned awkwardly behind her back and his teeth were in her neck…

…This time instead of fighting against the vampire, the Slayer was fighting beside him. They were back to back, taking on humans, not demons. They were soldiers, yelling at her in a language she didn’t know, trying to take her down. The vampire at her back was nearly whooping for joy, every punch thrown apparently causing him great pleasure.

“Not as much as fightin’ you Slayer,” he called back over his shoulder as he snapped a man’s neck, “but this is a bit of alright!”…

… Now the Slayer was on a subway battling him again. She whirled around one of the poles, kicking him is the chest and sending him a back a few steps. The vampire caught his footing by using another pole. He then looked at it, a smirk forming on his lips as he broke the top part of it off. He whirled it around, a smirk never leaving his lips as he moved towards her. When she got close enough she swung at him, but he ducked under her arm and hit her in the side with his weapon. She crashed into one of the seats, barely having the time to kick out to stop him from reaching her. She punched him in the abdomen, and this time he went down.

The Slayer scrambled on top of him then, straddling his body to pin him. They struggled, the vampire trying to escape and her trying to keep him down long enough to pull out her stake for a quick dusting. Then the lights flickered out, and the next thing she knew he was on top, hands clenched around her throat. His hands gripped the side of her head and twisted.

…Strong arms wrapped around the Slayer from behind, pulling her back against a solid chest. She was held there tightly, trapped by his grip. Yet she didn’t feel threatened. She felt…safe.

“Hello cutie,” his voice whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver from something other than fear…~

Buffy Summers woke abruptly, sitting up so quickly she almost fell off of the bed. The sheets were tangled around her, telling her that she had been tossing and turning throughout the entire dream…

Which her gut told her was a Slayer dream.

Buffy gave a long sigh. You’d think the Powers would let her have at least a little break from being the Slayer. But no, they had to keep reminding her of her Chosen status even in her sleep. They never gave a girl a break.

Life was so totally not fair.

She glanced over at her clock, groaning when her sleep addled brain made out the numbers 2:30. She had only finished patrol a couple of hours ago and by the time she had climbed up her tree she had been exhausted. She still was.

Patrol had been brutal. Apparently the Anointed One was a little upset with her for ruining his plans to resurrect The Master. She had minions coming at her from every which way. She had dusted ten tonight alone, and just as many every night in the past week. Not to mention her social life was becoming a bust. With the increase in slaying it meant a decrease in down time. She had no time for something like Bronzing it, let alone something like studying. Angel was still sulking about her stunt as a bad girl when she had first gotten back from L.A. Yeah, using Xander to make him jealous wasn’t one of her best ideas, but that was weeks ago! Shouldn’t he be done brooding about it by now? Plus Snyder had forced her to take up responsibility for parent-teacher night. Shelia wasn’t being a very big help, or any help at all actually. Since the little troll of a principal had declared that no one but Shelia was to help her, Buffy was on her own. Not to mention her mother found out about parent-teacher night, and Buffy had a feeling that that wasn’t going to turn out pretty.

Being the Slayer sucked sometimes.

Now she had a Slayer dream she was going to have to tell Giles about, and that would lead to a load of research. Which in turn would lead to even more time spent not doing something fun. Buffy was an action girl; her and research were totally unmixy.

Giving one more grimace as she looked at the clock, Buffy turned on the lamp beside her bed. Opening her top drawer she pulled out a book, grabbed a pen, opened it to a blank page and began to write. Giles had told her that, whenever she had a Slayer dream, she should write it down immediately, with every detail she could remember. It made sense considering that, by the time morning came she would have probably forgotten most of it, but at 2:30 in the morning it was a pain in the ass. Not to mention if her mom or Dawn got up and saw her light on, she’d get to add being grounded to the list of things that were sucking in her life.

Okay, Buffy thought to herself, dream. Let’s see. There was a vampire –isn’t there always?-, and I’m pretty sure it was the same vampire. Well, maybe not the last one, since I didn’t see his face. Though, it did sound like the same vamp…

Buffy scribbled down the basics first; there were four Slayers, and she was pretty sure that the last one was her, and they had all fought the same vamp. Well, two of them had fought –and been killed by- the same vampire. One of them had apparently fought alongside him, which made no sense. Vampires were evil, and they so did not fight beside Slayers. Unless they were Angel, but that was because of the soul. Considering this vampire had killed two of the Slayers in her dreams, she was willing to bet that he didn’t have a soul.

Now what to write about the fourth part of the dream? Because, when it had been her, there was certainly no fighting going on. There was holding, and kinda sexy whispers in her ear. Oh, and shivering, and that warm feeling pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

Best leave that part out, Buffy concluded when she imagined the look on Giles’s face if he read about that particular fact, just say that he had me trapped in his grip. That’s probably all it was anyway. Besides, the only vampire that really gives me those types of shivers is Angel, and it’s going to stay that way. I’m a one vamp kinda girl, even if this one was kinda hot…for a dream, anyway.

Giles was going to have a field day with this one.

l.l.l.l

“The same vampire you say?”

Buffy held back a retort, knowing Giles wouldn’t appreciate it.

Why couldn’t Giles get over the idea of a vampire fighting more than one Slayer? Okay, killing more than one Slayer seemed pretty big, but it didn’t seem all that impossible.

“Yes Giles,” she said, “for the third time. Believe me when I tell you there’s no one else that could have those cheekbones. They are so one of a kind…”

Giles made a throat clearing sound and began cleaning his glasses. Clearly reminiscing about what a hottie the dream vampire had been was not Giles-friendly material. Which meant she was so right about leaving out the last part of the dream.

That was what Willow was for.

“But what about the part where he helped?” Buffy asked. That had been something she had been curious about ever since she had woken up. It didn’t make sense; vampires were all grr, fangy and let’s end the world because they didn’t have a soul.


“That is the most confusing part,” Giles sounded just as perplexed, “there has never been an instance where a vampire has fought beside a Slayer. Not before you and Angel anyway. And you said they were fighting humans?” Buffy nodded her confirmation, “that it entirely unheard of. Slayers are meant to protect humans from vampires and other demons. One would never work with them to destroy humans.”

“There’s never been a Slayer who’s gone bad?” that was another curious thing Buffy had wondered about.

Slayers were all different right? For all their power, they were still just human girls…and humans had a tendency to go all corrupt. Just look at politicians.

“Why yes there have been Slayers who have gone rogue,” Giles looked surprised by her question, “but not to the extent that your dream would entail. It’s rare. Rogue just means a Slayer not doing her duty. Yes, there is a certain level of corruption with the girl, but there have been no documented cases where they have begun to consort with vampires-“

“Umm Giles,” Buffy rushed to interrupt, knowing her Watcher was about to go on a long and most likely boring lecture, “that’s not what my dream said.”

“You must have misinterpreted the dream,” Giles said, rather casual in his dismissal of her.

Buffy bristled at his words. The dismissal, especially since it was her dream, stung. Especially since it was so casual, making it sound as though her being wrong was a common occurrence. She might not be the most serious Slayer around, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give details about her own dream. Besides, something told her she was right-That little wiggly feeling in the base of her stomach that she had named her Slayer’s intuition (when she wasn’t so annoyed she’d have to ask Giles if that was a real thing or not). Whether her Watcher believed it or not, her Slayer dreams didn’t lie. Sure they could be all cryptic and open to interpretation, but this one was pretty straight forward.

“Will you look anyway?” Buffy asked, causing Giles to look up from where he was reading Buffy’s Slayer dream journal.

“Yes of course,” was the reply, “but we have other more pressing matters.”

Buffy was fuming now, but Giles was once again looking down at the book and didn’t notice.

“I have to get to class,” she said finally, not waiting for Giles to say anything before she stalked out of the room.

“You must have interpreted it wrong,” Buffy began to use a horrible British accent to much Giles the minute the library doors slammed shut, “we have more pressing matters,” she dropped the accent, “more pressing, my ass!”

“Buffy!”

She broke out of her grumbling to see Willow coming towards her, one of her overly cheery smiles on her face.

“Hey Wills,” Buffy was still miffed, and it showed in the tone of her voice. Willow was instantly concerned.

“What’s wrong Buff?”

“Argh! What does Giles have to act so…so…so British!”

Willow blinked in confusion, “He is British, Buffy.”

“Pft,” Buffy waved away the comment, “he’s in America. Don’t you think he should act a little more, I don’t know, American?”

A mental image of Giles in shorts and a sports jersey, sitting in a lazy boy on a Sunday to watch football with a beer in his hand flashed through Willow’s mind, and it caused her to giggle.

Buffy shot Willow an odd look before continuing, “Sure he’s a Watcher, but I’m the Slayer, and it was my dream.”

“Oh,” Willow said, visible excitement on her face, “Slayer dream?”

Buffy held back a sigh. If Willow had to be the ones having the dreams she wouldn’t be so excited.

“Yep,” was what Buffy said, “there was fighting, death and more fighting.”

“That’s it?” the disappointment was practically leaking from Willow’s voice.

“Well,” Buffy answered with a bit of a sly grin, “the vamp I was fighting was a hottie.”

That perked up Willow’s interest again, “Really?”

“Yep. He had the best cheekbones ever. Super models would die for those cheekbones. He also had this accent, and it was sexy British, not Giles British.”

Willow began to smile, but then her brow furrowed a bit, “Do you have to fight this vamp? Was that what the dream was warning you about? Because in that case, being a hottie not so good.”

Buffy frowned, still trying to figure out this part.

“Well, I was fighting him,” she answered, still trying to move past the confusion herself, “but I wasn’t either. You know how I dream about past Slayers?” Willow nodded, “it was like that. There were three of them, and then I think the last one was me. And we weren’t fighting in that one…”

Buffy’s voice trailed off as she remembered dream arms being wrapped around her, being held close. She fought back a shiver much like the one that had invaded her dream.

“You what?” Willow’s eyes were wide with curiosity.

She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice cut her off before she could speak. The two girls turned to see Xander sidling up to them.

“Hi Xan,” Buffy told him while she mouthed ‘later’ to Willow behind his back.

Xander was her best friend and she loved him, but mentioning other boys around him was like lighting a fuse. Especially if those boys happened to be of the undead variety. This was really a girls’ only conversation.

“What are we talking about?”

“Nothing much,” Buffy said, “just slaying stuff.”

Willow looked a little guilty about the small half lie, but Xander didn’t really notice. He was too focused on Buffy at the moment.

“How was patrol last night?” He asked.

Last night had been just her and Willow. Xander had had an essay due that he couldn’t put off any longer, and didn’t come.

This gave Buffy another chance to launch into her ‘why being a Slayer sucks’ routine. She left out anything about not seeing Angel for a few days, because he wouldn’t be sympathetic on that front. He’d be happy that ‘Dead Boy’ wasn’t around, and he wasn’t very subtle about it. Whenever he got like that, Buffy had to resist the urge to slap him upside the head. Buffy was just getting to the part about Giles not taking her seriously enough when a very unwelcome and unpleasant voice stopped her.

“Ah, Ms. Rosenberg, just the young lady I wanted to see.”

Buffy barely held back a cringe when principle Snyder walked up to their group.

“Me?” Willow’s voice came out in a squeak.

Well this was a change. Usually the troll had his sights set on tormenting Buffy.

“Yes you,” Snyder smirked, “On Thursday we have a new student coming, a transfer from Canada. I want you to take her under your wing. Look after her, show her around, and made her feel at home.”

Buffy was miffed; she had never gotten a guide to help her around when she had first transferred to Sunnydale High. Cordelia had taken up the mantel for all of one day and then Willow and Xander had taken over the job. But that had all been voluntary.

“What’s so special about the new girl?” Xander couldn’t help but ask, and it got him a quick glare from the principle.

“She’s transferring from one of the best private schools in the country. A very expensive private school. That makes me believe one of our top students should make her feel welcome, don’t you?”

Buffy got it now. Snyder wanted to play nice with the new girl who had rich parents. That way, said rich parents would feel generous whenever school fundraising came around.

“And Ms. Summers,” Snyder’s attention finally turned to her, “I hope you’ve been getting ready for parent-teacher night.”

“Yep,” Buffy’s answer was a cheerful lie, “Shelia and I have been working away like busy little beavers.”

“Good. 8:45 in my office Thursday morning Rosenberg.”

“What a troll,” Xander complained the moment he was out of hearing range.

“Think I can slay him?” Buffy asked.

“I wouldn’t call him human,” Xander said with a grin, “so I’d say he’s slayable.”

Willow on the other hand was getting into one of her panicky modes.

“Why me? I’m not that good at making people feel welcome. I get nervous and I babble and it makes me look like an idiot. It makes things all awkward. And it sounds like she’s a Cordelia. I don’t think I can handle another Cordelia…I can only take so much humiliation.”

“You’ll be fine Will,” Xander comforted the panicking girl by throwing an arm around her shoulder.

He didn’t notice the blush that spread across Willow’s cheeks, but Buffy did. She just mentally shook her head, wondering how Xander could be so dense. Willow’s crush was kinda obvious.

“Besides, it’s not a guarantee she’ll be another Cordy,” Xander continued, “and if she is, we’ll just introduce her to the real Cordy, and let her take the girl off of our hands.”

“You’re a great show the ropes kinda girl anyway,” Buffy said to her friend, “you did great when I first moved here.”

Willow smiled at the compliment but there was still a bit of tension in her eyes. Poor Willow, thought Buffy. She had come out of her shell quite a bit since Buffy had moved to Sunnydale, but she was still so shy underneath. Willow so needed someone of the male variety to boost her confidence. It would be great if Xander ever noticed the girl, but somehow she didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Hey,” Xander said as he seemed to remember something, “On the way to school this morning I saw a ‘sold’ sign in the window of that magic store on main street.”

Buffy groaned. Since she had moved here, she had had to fight various demons in front of that store on numerous occasions. It had gone through four owners, all of them killed by various creatures of the night. The last one had been murdered when a demon cult had wanted ingredients and a sacrifice. After the Bronze and cemeteries, it was that store that attracted the most trouble of the Hellmouthy variety. Which is why she much preferred it when it was closed.

“I wonder if they bring up the fact that all previous owners have died mysterious deaths, when the realtor shows the place?” Willow wondered out loud.

“This is Sunnydale, Will,” Xander’s reply was almost dry, “There’s probably at least one mysterious death at every location in this town.”

“Good point,” Willow said, “You should ask Ms. Calendar to tell them about the dangers,” Willow suggested.

“Huh?”

“Ms. Calendar shops there all the time,” Willow explained, “so when the shop opens up again, get her to talk to the owner about being really careful.”

“Shouldn’t they just be able to say bipity, bopity, boo and be all protected? It is a magic store after all. Why not Poof! Instant safety?”

“It’s not that simple Xander,” Willow’s voice was somewhat reproachful, “Ms. Calendar says it’s much more complicated than that.”

“You’re doing magic?” Buffy asked her in surprise.

“No,” Willow sounded a little hesitant, “but it’s super interesting, and I had some questions. Ms. Calendar told me she can help me out if I want.”

“That’s cool,” Buffy saw that her friend was a little nervous about how they would respond, “Just don’t get into something you can’t handle alright?”

“Yeah,” Xander jumped in with a joke that was a little more sarcastic than he intended, “remember how well that went with Mickey.”

Willow couldn’t help but be a little hurt that her friends didn’t think she could handle herself, but she didn’t show it. Instead she just smiled and said, “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be super careful.”

“Though it is a great plan,” Buffy told her, “maybe if we warn the shopkeeper what they’re getting into beforehand, they’ll be able to keep the demons and vampires out for once.”

l.l.l.l

On patrol Buffy made sure they swung by the Magic Box to confirm that there really was a sold sign in the window. There was and it made her groan again.

“Told ya so,” Xander said, sounding a bit peeved that she hadn’t believed him.

“Sorry Xan,” she apologized with a smile, “just needed to see for myself.”

“I’ll talk to Ms. Calendar tomorrow after computer sciences,” Willow volunteered as they continued on their way.

“Thanks, Wills,” Buffy accepted the offer gratefully, and then lapsed into silence as her two friends continued to talk.

Buffy on the other hand was searching the shadows for vampires…or at least one vampire, in particular. She hadn’t seen Angel in days, and it was really bothering her. Usually he would at least shadow her patrol if he didn’t join her, but she didn’t sense him anywhere near. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most comfortable around her friends, but he could still make an effort to at least say hi to her.

Buffy was pulled out of her sulk by the sound of Willow’s voice.

“Wow. This time last night, hadn’t we been attacked four or five times?”

Buffy blinked in surprise. She hadn’t even realized how long they had been on patrol and how they hadn’t seen a vamp or demon yet.

“Huh. That’s weird. Not that I’m complaining, but where did all the nasties go?”

“Here comes one now,” Xander practically sneered, causing Buffy to swing around, stake raised and ready to fight.

Buffy rolled her eyes when she realized that the nasty Xander was talking about was Cordelia. She was sauntering towards them, impeccably dressed and with a haughty look on her face.

“Oh look,” Xander snarked when the girl had almost reached them, “now we have live bait.”

Cordelia barely flicked her glance at him before ignoring him completely. Xander looked more than a little annoyed at that.

“What are you doing here Cordy?” Buffy gestured around the cemetery they had just entered, “and are you trying to get eaten?”

“The Bronze was lame tonight,” was Cordelia’s answer, “I saw you walking as I was driving home, had nothing better to do and decided to grace you with my presence.”

Xander snorted, Willow made a little choking cough while Buffy just rolled her eyes again.

“Let me get this straight,” Xander spoke up again, “you’re so bored you want to help Buffy slay.”

“Would I be here if there was even the least bit of excitement elsewhere?” Cordy answered with a flippant reply.

“Whatever,” Buffy replied, refusing to take Cordy’s bait, “just be careful. Do you have a stake?”

Cordy nodded and pulled a sharpened piece of wood out of her purse.

At least she comes prepared, Buffy thought, had to give Cordy that.

“So where’s Angel?” Cordelia’s question came out of nowhere. It was said in a casual voice, but it still made Buffy turn to look at her sharply. Cordy stared back at her unblinking. She looked only mildly curious, but Buffy’s eyes narrowed none the less.

“Busy,” she managed to reply, “Why?”

“Oh no reason really,” Cordy didn’t even balk at Buffy’s death glare, “Just noticed he wasn’t here, and I know how much he enjoys patrolling.”

Buffy completely ignored Xander’s ‘Thank God,’ and focused on what Cordy had just said.

“When did he tell you this?”

“Oh,” Cordy said, sounding perfectly innocent, “didn’t he tell you? He told me the other night. I ran into him at the Bronze and he was hoping you were going to drop by. I couldn’t just leave him sitting there by himself now could I? So we talked for awhile, and he told me he enjoys patrolling. When you didn’t end up coming, I gave him a ride home.”

The bitch. This was so not a ‘I have nothing to do so I’ll come along,’- it was a ‘I can run into the guy I’m trying to get as a coincidence’-Buffy knew it well, as she had used it plenty of times back at Hermy High. The devious, boyfriend stealing bitch.

“What else did you talk about?” Buffy asked through grit teeth, barely containing the need for violence.

Cordelia might have looked like she was just stating a fact, but Buffy could see the smirk in her eyes.

“Oh nothing much,” Cordy replied with a shrug, “talked about how he helps you out with the slaying, some of the places he’s been. Asked me about school, and even promised to help me on a history report. He was alive during World War I so he knows a whole bunch about it.”

Buffy was angry at the satisfied look in the other girl’s eyes, but most of all she was hurt. Angel never shared anything about his past with her. He was all mysterious and broody. Trying to get something out of him was like pulling teeth- and yet Angel had no problem sitting down and talking to Cordelia of all people about it.

“So I was just curious to where he was,” Cordy concluded, looking Buffy straight in the eye.

Buffy knew a challenge when she saw one. Oh, it was so on. Xander’s idea of live vampire bait was very appealing at the moment.

“Hey look!” Willow’s voice broke in before Buffy could give Cordy a tongue lashing.

Buffy spun around, following Willow’s pointing finger, once again ready for an attack. This time what she was left looking at was a moving van. The three of them turned to a now blushing Willow with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, so it’s not really ‘hey look!’ worthy, but look where it’s going. It’s parking in front of the Crawford Street mansion.”

“That place has been abandoned longer than we’ve been alive,” Xander spoke up, finding this information interesting.

Something clicked in Buffy’s mind, a memory of something her mother had been saying at breakfast (not that she had actually been paying attention).

“I think Mom said something about someone moving in there. They want to buy some stuff from the gallery, or something.”

“I for one wouldn’t be caught dead living in that place,” Cordelia’s nose scrunched up in distaste, “The house is old, tacky and a total eyesore.”

“Never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Queen C, here,” Xander sounded a bit disgusted to say it, “But who would want to live in this place? It’s creepy as hell.”

“Maybe someone who wants to fix it up?” Willow said.

“Or someone who just has horrible taste,” Cordy countered.

“Unless it’s a vampire or demon,” Buffy’s voice was on the verge of snapping, “I really don’t care. Let’s get back to patrolling.”

Chapter Three: Welcome to the Hellmouth


“I bloody well hate movin’.”

The words were muttered under Spike’s breath, too low for human ears, though Sam managed to pick them out and give a nod. The two of them were currently hauling box after box out of Spike and Tara’s house, which was the main cause of grumbling on Spike’s part.

Everything was arranged on the Sunnydale side of things. The day after their meeting, the Demon Council had set everything up on the Hellmouth, including school, work and home. A large house had been bought for Spike and Tara, while an apartment had been rented for Whistler. A duplex was set up for the remaining Spikettes, with Lawson and Anyanka sharing one side, with Doyle having the other side to himself. All the buildings were within a ten minute walk, and all located on the side of town that housed the more harmless demons that generally stayed below the radar.

Tara had promptly been registered at the local high school, set to start two days after they arrived. There had been a magic shop up for sale, that the Council had purchased it and handed it over to Anyanka to run. It was not only useful for the income, but also gave them a place to train and research; it had any magical supplies they might need right at hand. Everything was set up at the other end. Now they had to get through the actual moving part. Moving six people at once wasn’t an east task, especially when they had all of three days to do it.

It had already been decided that there was no way they had time to take everything, meaning that some items would be sent for once they settled in Sunnydale-but they still had lots to pack. Already Spike and Sam had brought out enough boxes to fill a good quarter of a moving van, and Tara was still inside packing more.

Whistler’s place had already been taken care of, and Anyanka and Doyle were currently back at their apartments packing. As soon he was done here, Lawson intended to return to his place and begin his own moving preparations. Yet it was decidedly Spike and Tara’s place that was taking the longest.

“Least they could have done was given us more time to do all this,” Spike continued as he loaded the box into the truck.

“They want us there before St. Vigeous,” Sam said as he put down the box full of weapons he was carrying, “they want you to take ownership before next Saturday, and they seem to be under the impression that you’ll actually use St. Vigeous to fight the Slayer.”

Spike grinned at the other vampire. Lawson was completely right; when he took on the Slayer, he wouldn’t be doing it with some magical power boost. He enjoyed fighting slayers because they posed a challenge- because they could kill him. Fighting them was so amazing because there was such a risk. Why would he take away from its pleasure by attacking at a time he had very little chance of losing? Not to mention he had plans to make this slayer last longer than next Saturday.

“I’ve been with you a long time, Chief. I know you.”

After Whistler, it was Sam that had been with him the longest. Lawson had been fighting at his side for forty-three years, and he had known him longer than that. It had all begun on the damn submarine, where that bastard Angelus had forced the two of them off and into the ocean. They hadn’t had much choice than to start swimming, hoping that they could reach shore and find shelter before sunrise. Spike had been cursing up a storm, using every insult he knew against his Grandsire. Lawson had been silent, and it wasn’t a surprise. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed for him; one minute he was the all American sailor, and the next he was a vampire, and he hadn’t been given a choice.

They had reached shore just as the tingling that warned the sun was coming began on the back of Spike’s neck. He had breathed an unneeded sigh of relief, even though he knew they weren’t safe yet. They still had to find some place to hole up for the day, and all he could see was beach.

“You got any idea where we are?” Spike addressed the other vampire.

Sam had shook his head mutely, and Spike had known they didn’t have time to play any guessing games. He had started inland, figuring that would be the most likely source of shelter. Sam had followed him, and just as the horizon was lighting up with pink and gold, they had found what seemed to be a storage shed for beach equipment. Once they were safe inside, Lawson spoke for the first time since they were on that sub.

“What happens to me now?”

In all his long years, Spike had never seen someone look so lost. He had really studied the new vampire then, and had realized something that he hadn’t figured out before- Angelus hadn’t created a minion, but a childe. Spike could feel the tingle that meant family, even if it was faint; Angelus had only just given Lawson enough blood to make him a childe, probably because childer rose faster, and Angelus had wanted that sub fixed quickly.

Spike had felt rage on the fledgling’s account; Childer were meant to be trained and taught. They were above your everyday minion, and were supposed to be treated better. They needed a sire more than a normal minion, and had a deeper connection. They could be beaten, tortured, staked or shoved into the noonday sun on the whim of their sire, but they were not meant to be abandoned. Childer without a sire slowly went insane as the connection fell apart, and usually ended up walking out into the sun.

Bastard, he had cursed his Grandsire.

Spike had known that he couldn’t just leave this newest family member to his fate, unlike Angelus. If a sire, for whatever reason, couldn’t handle their duties, it was possible for an older family member to take up teaching the fledge. Angelus had done so for him, because is practical matters, Drusilla was unfit to be a true sire. Blood had to be exchanged and ceremonial words said, but it was possible for Spike to take over Angelus’s role and become a foster sire for the new vampire, if Lawson wished it.

“Reckon you should stay with me,” Spike had told Sam, “learn to be a vamp. Won’t turn out good for you if you don’t.”

So Lawson had, and Spike took on the role of sire for the first time. Lawson had learned easily enough, and thankfully didn’t turn out to be the bloodthirsty sort. Spike had been grateful for that; it was hard enough curbing Dru’s more violent and bloody tendencies, let alone if Sam had turned out into another Angelus or Darla. Lawson had stayed for five years, until Spike had had to rush off to Paris to rescue Drusilla- who had gone off on her own because the stars told her to, and had (not surprisingly) gotten into some trouble. Lawson decided to stay behind in the states and try to get along on his own for awhile. They had kept in touch, but it wasn’t until seven years later that Spike saw him again.

-Flashback-

Spike had seen the death wish in the Chinese Slayer’s eyes, and had used it against her. He hadn’t understood it at the time, him being so new to being the demonic Chosen One. It took him fifty-five years, but he finally understood how the girl felt.

He had never thought that the desire for death would ever hit him; he loved being the Slayer of Slayers, thrived on the fight, so how could he ever want it to end? He never would have imagined wanting to give up, it wasn’t in his makeup, but after Dru…

He didn’t care anymore, and with every fight he grew more tired…tired of the life he was living, tired of the fight that had once given him so much joy. Nothing anyone said could make it better, no matter how they tried to snap him out of it. He could see the fear in Whistler’s eyes that one of these days he was going to get himself dusted, or even worse, wait for the sunrise.

God he wanted to. Just say screw it all and walk out into the sun. Surely hell, if that’s where he was destined to go, couldn’t possibly hurt as much as he did now.

He was alone now, barely clinging to unlife and going through the motions without an ounce of joy. With Drusilla at his side, he had been full of life, but without her, he felt as dead as the corpse he really was.

It was having to go to London that finally broke him. There was a group of wannabe demon hunters terrorizing a community of demons, and the Council had sent him to stop it. He had gone, but being in London had been too much; everywhere he went, memories of him and Dru bombarded him. Memories of reeking havoc when they were still part of the Scourge of Europe, and of the years after, when it was just him and Dru. Everyday spent in the city, his heart broke a little more.

It hadn’t taken him long to track down where the vigilantes had their home base and that that they had roughly thirty members. After they had found out the numbers, Spike had promised Whistler that he’d recruit some help before going after them. He had lied of course. The minute night fell, Spike went looking for them. It was a stupid move, and it the past he would have done it for the pure thrill, but now he just didn’t care.

Spike had walked right into their lair, snapped the neck of the first man he came to, and then the fight was on. He fought mechanically, with none of the flourish he normally exhibited. It was a half hearted attempt, even if he was technically winning.

Then a punch to the jaw sent him stumbling back until he his a stack of boxes. For the first time, Spike realized exactly where he was. It was different now, used as a warehouse, but he was able to tell that this was originally the stable that Drusilla had turned him in. He completely froze, in shock and misery, and didn’t even react when the man who punched him, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him to the ground. Another man was on top of him a moment later, stake in his hand.

Spike began to struggle, but then stopped. What was the point? Why should he keep fighting, when he had nothing left to live for? So he just stayed there and waited for the stake to be thrust into his chest, at peace with his decision…and then the pressure was gone as the man was hauled off of him and thrown brutally to the side.

“Need a hand Chief?”

Spike blinked, focusing on the person who spoke. When he was able to clearly recognize the man standing above him and extending a hand down, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Lawson?”

The other vampire just grinned down at him, until he too was tackled by one of the few remaining humans. Sam rolled when he hit the ground, and was back on his feet in time to block a bunch and shove his elbow into the man’s ribs.

“Some help would be appreciated,” Lawson called over, ducking under another swing.

Spike’s desire to stay down and be staked didn’t go away, but it was severely muted as he saw Lawson take a knee to the stomach. No matter how much he didn’t want to fight, Spike wasn’t going to let his adopted childe take on the rest of these humans by himself. Spike protected his own, and Sam fell into that category.

Spike was back in the fight in time to stop the downwards thrust of a stake into Sam’s back. He snapped the man’s wrist with a roar, and then threw himself into the fight. Between the two of them, it hadn’t taken long for the fight to end. The last two humans standing became lunch. Once Spike sucked the last drop of blood from his victim’s neck, he finally turned his attention to the other vampire.

“What are you doin’ here Lawson?”

The question of ‘why didn’t you let him stake me?’ was in Spike’s voice, even if he didn’t say the words.

“Whistler found me,” Sam told him, “told me what happened with Drusilla. I knew I had to come…Knew you’d need family. Looks like I got here just in time.”

- End Flashback-

When they had returned, and after Whistler had yelled at Spike for twenty minutes for going off by himself, Spike had finally demanded to know why the hell Whistler had sought out Lawson in the first place. His Watcher’s anger had softened at the question.

“You need someone,” Whistler had said, “Sam isn’t Dru by any stretch of the imagination, but he is family. You don’t do well alone Spike, and being so is making you miserable and suicidal. We’re not like the humans, who want their Slayers isolated and alone; we want out Chosen One to have a strong support structure. Drusilla was your support, and now that she’s gone, you need someone to become that anchor.”

Spike had protested of course, even if he did agree with Whistler’s statements about him being alone. They were both determined to keep him alive, and were doing just about anything to accomplish that. Lawson went with him whenever there was going to be fighting, and if it looked like Spike was going to let someone get their one good day, all Sam had to do was appear to be in trouble, and Spike would snap out of it and go to his rescue. It had taken Spike a long time to figure it out, and when he did, it resulted in a rant and days of sulking, but by that time he was beginning to heal.

As Whistler had predicted, having someone beside him helped. The desire to dust faded over time. Lawson’s presence made it easier, and as they added each member to their family, it went away and he found joy in living again. Sometimes he still missed Drusilla so much it hurt, but most of the time, she stayed in the back of his mind. When he did think of her, he was able to enjoy the memories and not be bitter about how it ended.

“How long do you plan to put off fighting her?” Lawson’s voice broke Spike out of his thoughts.

“Fighting her? I’m going to jump at the chance as soon as I can. Killing her, now that’s another story. That I plan to hold off as long as I possibly can. ‘Sides, I need time to get a feel for her. Chit good enough to beat the Master, just can’t rush in there guns blazin’. It’d get me dusted.”

It amused Sam to no end that, as rash and impulsive as Spike could be, he could be overly cautious as well. When it came to Slayers and the safety of other group members, especially Tara, Spike was truly obsessed with knowing what he was getting into. The rest of the time? It was up in the air how long he’d stick to any given plan.

“The Council won’t like it,” Sam commented, already knowing that Spike could care less.

“Don’t rightly care,” Spike scoffed, “they saddled me with the Hellmouth, so I do it my way. Still, don’t suppose you want the job?”

He had already asked (multiple times) and been turned down, but Spike didn’t see the trouble of asking again. You never know, one of these times Lawson just might cave.

“Answer’s still no,” Sam said, “Sorry Chief, but the leader thing is your job. Besides, I’d hardly be able to get the respect you do. I’m not a master, and I am an abandoned Childe. Who do you think other vamps are going to listen to?”

Spike grumbled anyway, even though he knew Lawson’s reasoning was right on the mark. Hell, if Spike wasn’t complaining about all this, they’d think something was wrong with him. It just wasn’t his nature to go along quietly.

They walked back into the house together, finding Tara waiting for them in the kitchen with two mugs of blood warm and ready for them.

“Thanks Tara,” Lawson spoke first, and Spike nodded to show his answer was the same as the other vampire’s.

“You done packin?” as soon as he asked her, Spike silently prayed that he’d receive a positive answer. He was sick of hauling boxes all over the place. A glance at Lawson’s face showed that he shared the sentiment.

“All done,” Tara said, looking as relieved by the prospect as they were, “Now, do you want me to help you get things into the van?”

“Nah,” Spike waved off her suggestion, “why don’t you go and see how Anyanka is doin’. Knowin’ her, she could be at this for the next few days. What is with you birds havin’ so much bloody stuff?”

“Says the man that has eight boxes full if weapons.”

“Oi! Those are all work related!”

“Right,” Sam said, “because you ever need them all.”

Tara giggled, and Spike huffed.

“Sure, make fun of the bloke who owns all the pointy weapons.”

Tara was still laughing as she grabbed her coat off one of the chairs.

“I’ll be back,” She told them as she headed out the door.

“Be careful!” Spike called after her.

“You do realize that there isn’t a demon alive that would think of touching her,” Sam said, “not after what you did to the last one.”

The last (and only) demon that had thought it was a good idea to use Tara to get to Spike, had taken days to die once the vampire had gotten a hold of him. Spike had made sure that word got out about the demon’s long and painful death, and there had yet to be another direct attack on Tara.

“Not worried about demons,” Spike replied, “it’s the humans of the world who don’t know that I’d rip ‘em apart for touching her.”

“Humans? Tara’ll just turn them into toads…or whatever.”

Spike snickered at that. The last time Tara had tried to turn a human into a toad, she had accidentally turned them into a rabbit. That had sent Anyanka into hysterics, which in turn sent Doyle into giggle fits, and Spike hadn’t been that far behind. Lawson meanwhile, had tried his best to calm Anyanka down. It was probably the most ridiculous fight they had ever fought. Spike still had no idea how they had managed to win.

“Come on,” Spike said, putting down his now empty mug, “let’s finish this.”

l.l.l.ll.

Buffy was only half listening as her Watcher droned on about some sort of vampire holiday. She got that it was important, she really did, but thanks to her brat of a kid sister, her mom now knew all about parent-teacher night. If Snyder got anywhere near her mother, Buffy would be grounded until graduation.

“Buffy, are you even listening to me?”

Buffy snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Giles’s exasperated voice. She looked at him and flashed her most innocent looking smile.

“Yep. St. Valentine’s Day equals extra strong vampires. Gotcha.”

“It’s St. Vigeous Buffy,” Giles sometime wondered if she did that on purpose. Surely she couldn’t mispronounce that many words without meaning to?

“Right,” Buffy agreed without paying attention to the actual word.

“Valentine, Vigeous, who cares?” Xander said, looking just as board as Buffy was, “all we have to know is how Buffy can stop it.”

“You can’t stop it,” Giles replied, “it’s part of the lunar cycle.”

“Right, so we’re all about surviving Saturday night,” Buffy said, “as long as I take out a ton of vamps before they get all turbo charged, everything should be good.”

“There probably won’t be any out,” Willow added, “There weren’t any out last night.”

Giles nodded, “It sounds as though the Anointed One is preserving his forces until St. Vigeous, presumably waiting to send them all at Buffy when they’re most powerful and nearly impossible to beat.”

Again, Buffy knew that this was really, really bad. She totally understood that. She really did, but there were still more pressing matters.

“Look Giles,” she said, “once I get through Thursday, I’ll begin to worry about Saturday.”

“Surely you’re joking,” Giles looked at her incredulously, “Vampires with nearly unlimited power takes precedent over a school function.”

“If I get expelled, I won’t have to worry about vampires killing me. My mother will do it for them.”

Had it been a dignified course of action, Giles would have rolled his eyes. He was beginning to understand why the Council took slayers away from their families. There were too many distractions otherwise.

“Anyway,” Buffy continued, “you’ll be the one to figure out the plan. You’re the brainy one who tells me how to take care of the baddies. I’m the one who goes out and kicks ass.”

The smile she sent him told Giles that their was Buffy’s attempt to butter him up in order to avoid another lecture on priorities. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of the his nose. God give him strength to deal with the dating rituals of California teenage girls.

“Well, time for class. See you Giles!”

Once in the hallway, the three friends began to compare notes.

“What are you planning to do for parent-teacher?”

“Is Shelia even planning to help?”

“Snyder already told us what he wants. All I have to do is make some banners, buy some cookies and stir some punch. As for Shelia,” Buffy paused and made a face, “I have no idea. I’m going to go with no.”

“If you need any help,” Willow began, but was cut off.

“Thanks Wills, but this is me.”

“See you at lunch Buffy,” Xander called back as he and Willow continued down the hall.

Buffy opened the door and slipped into the classroom as the final warning bell sounded. She took her seat quickly, just in time for the teacher to turn around and begin her lesson.

Buffy zoned out before the teacher spoke her first word. Not that advanced fractions weren’t fascinating or anything, but Buffy’s mind was so not up to thinking about it. Being a slayer was hell on sleep patterns. Between school, stress over the stupid parent-teacher thing, everyday slaying and now over Super Vamp Saturday, Buffy was already feeling exhausted.

She glanced at her teacher, who was droning on. Surely Mrs. McManus wouldn’t notice if Buffy caught a quick nap. Not even a nap even- just a chance to rest her eyes. She was sitting at the back, hidden behind a tall, beefy football player. Not to mention, she rarely turned away from the board. So really, if Buffy were to take this opportunity to catch a few Z`s, no one would be the wiser.

Content with her decision, Buffy rested her head on the desk. It would only be a few minutes

…The tingling on her neck told her that the vampire was close again. This was the third time in as many nights. She should have hunted it down, stalked it like it was stalking her, but the world was exploding all around her. All this destruction, caused by humans this time, was making her dizzy. Demons she could destroy, but she did not know how to handle the darkness in humans. Her mind wandered as she moved through the streets, but her senses came back to her when the fist caught her in her unprotected face…

…The rain was pouring down, making it damn near impossible to see, and even harder to fight. The vampire’s grin was throwing her, making her shiver, even if she would claim that it was the cool, wet air that made her do it. Unadulterated, violent glee shone in his yellow eyes. He laughed as they traded blows, especially when she managed to land a punch. He was drawing it out, and she needed to end it…

…”I don’t like this anymore than you do,” the vampire was irritated and looked like he was barely restraining from hitting her, “but we don’t have a choice.”

The Slayer was about to argue, but her watcher cut her off.

“The vampire is right…you cannot do this alone, and he is powerful enough to be of use.”

She stared at her Watcher incredulously. This man, who had taught her that all vampires were evil, was now telling her to work with one? The Slayer turned back to look at the vampire, and was infuriated to see the smirk on his face…

…”Buffy!”

She whipped around in time to duck the sword that was coming towards her head. She stumbled away, only stopping when she hit the wall. Her entire body hurt, and she was beyond exhausted. She had no idea how long she could keep fighting.

“Really Buff? That’s all you got?”

She recognized the voice, but she didn’t know who it belonged to. It was familiar, but so different than anyone she knew. One thing she did know, it wasn’t the same voice that had called out the warning to her. Her eyes searched the room, and then she saw him. The platinum blonde vampire. He was looking at her with wide, panicked eyes, and he was restrained. He struggled to break free, but it wasn’t happening.

“Buffy! Get out of here!”

In the next second, she heard the twang of a crossbow firing, and saw as an arrow flew through the air…heading right for his chest…

“NO!”

Buffy woke up screaming. She bolted up right, nearly falling out of her chair. She looked around her frantically. It took a moment of absolute panic for her to realize that she was sitting at her desk, in her math class. The second after that, she noticed that everyone in the room was staring at her.

“I, umm…broke a nail,” Buffy put out lamely.

“Next time you have such a world shattering crisis,” the teacher snapped, “try not to share it with the rest of the class.”

There was a general round of snickers and eye rolls, and Buffy slouched down in her seat. Why, why wouldn’t the floor swallow her up right now?

The snickering died down as the teacher took her lesson back up. A few mocking looks were thrown her way, but that was nothing new. This would go down as yet another tick in the ‘Buffy Summers is a Freak’ list. Buffy really missed the simple says of Hermy High.

She sighed, keeping it soft in order to avoid calling anymore attention to herself. Now that the humiliation was dulling down to mere embarrassment, her mind turned towards the dream.

It was the same vampire that she had dreamt about the other night. It was a lot like that dream, only the flashes –memories?- were longer. It was like watching clips from four different movies, the last one staring her. Even though there was no evidence to that fact, Buffy knew it was true. The first three felt like strangers, not the last. The last was her.

Why did she feel such gut wrenching horror when she watched that stake flying towards the mystery chest? Besides Angel, she totally believed that all vampires should be dusted. Especially ones that that fought, and probably killed, slayers.

She was not letting Giles blow off her dream this time. With the Buffy version of the resolve face firmly in place, Buffy was determined to march to the library the moment lunch came and demand answers from her watcher.

l.l.l.l

The minute the sun would finally set, they would all be leaving. Everything was packed and ready to go, and all of them anxious to be off. Spike, Lawson and Tara would be traveling in the Desoto in order to continue traveling through the day. Doyle, after making much sweet talk, would be driving Spike’s bike the distance from Calgary to Sunnydale. Anyanka would teleport there and wait for them to arrive. Whistler wouldn’t be arriving until a few days later, and he too would teleport.

“Have a very pleasant drive!” Anyanka told them all with a cheery smile.

Spike muttered under his breath, “The chances of that happening are bloody unlikely,”.

It wasn’t the long drive that was bothering him, though he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it either. He may have been a wanderer by nature, but Spike liked having a safe haven there waiting for him. Their home here was one. It was safe here, with a low crime rate, both demon and human. Here, he didn’t have to be on guard, didn’t have to worry. It was…home.

A hellmouth, on the other hand, was never safe. There was always going to be danger and violence. By claiming the Master’s place, he was never going to get any peace.

“Pleasant travels!” Anyanka announced, kissing Lawson one last time before disappearing with a loud ‘pop’.

“I’m gonna take off too,” Doyle announced after she was gone, “since I don’t need to wait for the sun and all.”

He walked up to Spike expectantly, holding out his hand to receive the keys to the bike. Spike clenched his hands and grit his teeth, staring at that hand. Only when he heard Lawson snicker behind him, did he reluctantly hand them over.

“Crash my bike and I’ll rip you apart.”

“Sure you will,” Doyle smirked at him.

The smirk infuriated him, but Doyle had snatched the keys and was out the door before Spike could so much as say another word.

“Tell me why I keep that git around again.”

“Because he suffers migraine inducing visions to help you do your job,” Tara said, using her most sensible voice. She couldn’t help but giggle a bit when Spike glared at her.

“There is that,” Spike had to admit.

Doyle did suffer for his place among the Spikettes. He might not have been the one doing the most physical fights (in fact, he wasn’t much on the fighting part itself), but Doyle was certainly the one who was constantly in the most pain. Spike had never understood why the Powers That Be made the visions so bloody painful. Dru had been a Seer, and as much as her visions could torture her mentally, they never caused her physical pain. Doyle was receiving visions for the good of the world, while Dru had gotten them and, for as long as Spike had known her, used the knowledge to reek bloody havoc. How fair was that? Not that Spike ever believed that the world was ever fair, but still.

It was that pain that finally made them accept Doyle at all. At first, Spike hadn’t even liked him. He reminded Spike of a toned down version of himself, and there was only room for one of that personality type. Not to mention the accent put him on edge; it brought back memories of Angelus, and those were memories he tried to avoid. It wasn’t really anything that Doyle had done that had made him reluctant to use or like him. Most of all, it was that Doyle was a seer. When he came, all Spike could think of, was that they were trying to replace Dru. Drusilla was his seer, and he had wanted no other. He couldn’t help but feel resentment that Doyle was going to be there, acting as his seer, when Dru wasn’t.

- Flashback –

Since Lawson and Anyanka were off frolicking away on some sort of anniversary honeymoon, Spike was taking this mission solo. It wasn’t supposed to be anything particularly difficult, just the average wannabe Big Bad moving into neutral territory and killing anything that didn’t agree with it.

It wasn’t turning out to be such a basic mission after all. They couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the thing was. It was a big area, and they couldn’t find its next. They couldn’t find it until it was attacking, and by the time Spike got there, it had already disappeared and the damage was done. By the end of the week, Spike was gritting his teeth in frustration. He hadn’t been able to track the thing through the thick veil of magic that was surrounding it.

It was the eighth night, and Spike was ready to kill something. If he didn’t find that damn chernabog demon soon, he was going to rip the city and surrounding country side to shreds, innocent bystander population be damned. Whistler had known better than to stick around and when he was in this kind of mood, so Spike was wandering around the night alone.

When he heard footsteps coming towards him, Spike growled. He turned silently, praying that he could kill whatever it was that was coming his way. When he turned, there was a man walking towards him. After taking in a whiff of his scent, Spike amended his conclusion to someone with a good dose of demon blood in them. From the way he was making a beeline towards him, Spike knew that, whoever he was, he was coming for him. He was walking with forced casualness, and Spike could sense the small tendrils of fear and a touch of desperation coming off him. He wasn’t a threat, at least not at the moment.

That just irritated Spike, because it meant he couldn’t kill him.

“Look mate,” Spike said as the man reached him, “’m really not in the mood.”

“Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere. Look, it’s like this: name’s Doyle, and I’m here on behalf of the Powers That Be.”

Those were along the same lines that Whistler had used when he first popped up in 1899 and told Spike that he had been Chosen.

“Bloody hell! Not another one! Isn’t Whistler enough?”

“I’m not another Watcher,” Doyle explained, “not even close.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you?” Spike couldn’t help but sneer, his bad mood making him even more snappy than usual.

“A seer.”

That stopped Spike short. A seer? The last seer he had interacted with was Dru, and that was a long time ago…decades in fact. The Powers were apparently going to try and foist a new one of him, and that nearly made Spike vamp out in rage. Lawson stepping up in the place of Dru was one thing. Hell, even Anyanka tagging along was different, but there was no way in hell that Spike was going to let this little, Irish, badly dressed half-demon truly take Dru’s place. There was only one seer that Spike had ever, or would ever put up with, and that was his Sire.

“Not interested,” Spike told him flatly.

“You need my help-“ Doyle began to protest, but a snarl from Spike cut him off.

Doyle’s eyes widened and he took a step back, hands going up in the universal sign for surrender.

“Right. Backing off now. But when you figure out you do need me, I’ll be around.”

Spike was damn sure that that would never happen, but he didn’t bother saying it as he walked away.

l.l.l.l

Two nights later, Spike’s damn sure had fallen to a reluctant, distasteful agreement that there was no way in hell he was going to find the chernabog on his own. He had called in every contact he had in the state, and some from outside. No one could break through the barrier that was stopping the demon from being found. Spike was beginning to think that some higher power was doing all that it could to force him into accepting the seer’s help. Spike wouldn’t put it past them.

Spike really didn’t like being played.

It only took him a few hours to track Doyle down, and he found him in a rather seedy looking bar, a beer in hand. When he saw Spike coming and then slide into the booth, sitting across from him, Doyle quirked an eyebrow.

“Thought you didn’t need me.”

Spike had to stop himself from physically reaching across the table and snapping Doyle’s neck. Instead, he spoke through clenched teeth, “Talk. Where’s the demon?”

Doyle’s look faltered at that, and he looked away, “Well…there is this small problem. I don’t know exactly where it is…”

Doyle wasn’t even finished his sentence when Spike was out of his seat and heading towards the door. Doyle cursed under his breath, threw down a few bills for his drink and went after the vampire. He caught up with him in the parking lot.

“Wait!” Doyle stopped short of grabbing onto him to stop him, because he much preferred his arm attached to the rest of his body.

“You said you could tell me where the bloody demon is, and you can’t,” Spike said with a glare, “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I didn’t!” Doyle protested, “Not really! The Powers That Be sent me a vision to find you, and I did. I’m supposed to help you, and if you’re going for the chernabog, then it means I’ll end up helping you with that. If I wasn’t supposed to, they wouldn’t have sent me now.”

“The Powers That Be? Think you’ve got the wrong bloke mate. They’re the ones who get their jollies screwin’ with slayers.”

“Powers That Be is just a name given by mortals, a way for us to classify something. Yeah, the Powers are technically the ones who look out for the Slayers, but the ones who look out for you? They’re all about the balance in the universe. No one’s really bothered to give them a collective name, and they’d rather be associated with the Powers than the Senior Partners. Hasn’t your watcher told you all this?”

“Probably,” Spike shrugged, “but I haven’t listened to his lectures since…well, ever.”

Doyle opened his mouth to say something else, when pain shot through his entire system. He screamed, hands going up to grab his head, before he crumpled to the ground. Spike was stunned, but instinctively caught the other man before he hit the hard ground. He looked around hurriedly for any sort of threat, and seeing none, turned his attention back to Doyle. He saw no injuries, which left him confused as to why the hell he was convulsing on the ground.

What the bloody hell was happening?

Just as suddenly as he went down, Doyle’s body stopped twitching. He was breathing hard, tiny aftershocks of pain still racking his body.

“South side,” he gasped out, still clutching his head.

“What?” Spike could only ask in confusion.

“The chernabog,” Doyle said between deep breaths, “south side…”

Spike debated staying to make sure the other man was alright, but Doyle seemed to read his mind and said, “Go!”

Spike didn’t need to be told twice. He took off on foot, using every ounce of his vampire speed to get across the city. He didn’t have time to question Doyle’s instructions, but as he ran, he hoped that he hadn’t been sent on a wild goose chase. Once he was close enough, he heard the screams, and knew that Doyle had been telling the truth. The chernabog was rampaging down the street, the large, multi-armed body pummelling anything in its path, including the fleeing humans. It was big and nasty…just the thing that Spike needed after over a week of pent up frustration.

With a savage grin and yell, Spike charged the thing. The fight didn’t last long. In the end, Spike had a few cracked ribs, a gash in his arm and a split lip, while the demon lay in pieces all around him.

He stood there panting in the street, the general post fight chaos happening all around him, when someone spoke.

“Told ya you needed my help.”

Spike turned to see Doyle leaning against a car. He was still pale and shaky, but had a self satisfied look on his face. Spike almost refused to acknowledge the truth of it, but in order to get some answers, he needed to say it.

“Point taken. Now wanna tell me what happened back there?”

“Vision,” Doyle said simply.

Spike winced at that. Considering it had looked like painful epilepsy, he could certainly pity Doyle for that.

Seeing that Doyle wasn’t going to elaborate any further, Spike turned to leave.

“Ta.”

“No!” Doyle’s cry stopped him, “You can’t!” Spike just cocked an eyebrow at that, “I’m supposed to help you! Not just now, but from now on!”

“Ah, no,” Spike wasn’t taking on anymore strays. Lawson and Anyanka were enough.

“You have to!” Doyle argued, and Spike heard that tiny bit of desperation in his voice.

“Why the hell should I?”

So Doyle told him. The half demon stared ahead blankly and told Spike everything. Spike didn’t say a word, just let him talk. He told him about doing his best to deny his heritage. So much that, when members of his demon family had come to him for help, he had turned them away without a second thought. Then he described the first vision, and what he had saw in it. After finding the bodies of those he had refused to help, Doyle felt that these visions were punishment. He needed to make up for it. He needed a way to ease the guilt and somehow make it right. Doyle was on a redemption kick, and the Powers That Be had sent him Spike’s way.

Spike would normally balk at any help that any Powers would give him, because he knew damn well that there were always strings attached. He was more than ready to tell Doyle to sod off and carry on his merry way. Spike didn’t need visions; there was enough evil in the world that he’d always be able to find something with ease.

Yet the look on Doyle’s face stopped him. Spike had never known anything but an insane Drusilla, but from the way that Angelus had described her (in great detail) pre-turning, she had been a scared little girl, trying to understand what was wrong with her and how to make it better. He could see some of the same thing in Doyle.

That’s what kept Spike from turning away. He didn’t get the need for redemption, being soulless and all, but he did understand the guilt of letting someone down, and then them having to pay the price. Doyle needed something to wash away the guilt. Spike wasn’t going to deny the half-demon the chance.

“Right, you can stay, but on a trial basis. You do somethin’ I don’t like, you’re gone.”

Doyle tried to hide the small smile that tugged at the end of his lips, but he didn’t quite manage it.

- End Flashback -

Doyle hadn’t gotten the best start. Hitting on a vengeance demon the moment she walked into the room, especially one dating a vampire, did not endear him to the other two. Anyanka had threatened to curse him and Lawson had wanted to rip his head from his shoulders.

Spike had given a brief explanation and told them that they couldn’t harm Doyle. Doyle, while continuing to be his charming self, had avoided hitting on Anyanka, and everyone had gotten along just fine. Not fine exactly, but the other two had tolerated Doyle’s presence. Spike had actually felt bad for Doyle, because it was damn hard to break into their trio.

He was willing to cut the half demon some slack, knowing his past. When he had suggested letting the other two in on the tale, Doyle had adamantly refused. Spike hadn’t been surprised, considering the guilt was only a few months old. So Doyle had done his best to make nice despite the standoffish attitude he was confronted with.

The first vision that Lawson and Anyanka saw had changed everything. Seeing Doyle in intense pain in order to make their job easier, made them a little more accepting. After they had saved the day, Doyle had joined them on the traditional post-fight drinks for the first time. Spike had watched Lawson and Doyle bond over copious amounts of alcohol. Anyanka had come around not long after that, and just like that, Doyle was one of them.

“Sun’s down,” Tara spoke up after peeking out the curtain.

The three of them moved out of the empty house. Once outside, Tara paused, and Spike stopped when he realized that she was no longer at his side. He moved back to stand beside her, waiting for her to speak.

“It’s only been a few years, but this place has been more home for me than anywhere else.”

He heard the sadness in her voice, and had to offer, “You can stay.”

“It’s only home because you’re all here.”

Spike slung an arm over Tara’s shoulders. They stood there together for a few more minutes, before Tara gave a big sigh, “I’m ready.”

With that, the three of them left.

l.l.l.l

“I swear to you Buffy, I’ve searched through all the diaries in my possession. I cannot find any record of this vampire that you’re seeing in your dreams.”

Buffy was getting frustrated. As she had told herself she would, she’d demanded answers from Giles. She was actually surprised that Giles had given and hadn’t put up any fight when she told him to look for her dream vampire. Buffy wasn’t 100% sure that Giles was taking her completely seriously, but he had researched the dream for her. Buffy was pretty sure that he was just happy she was finally taking her slaying duties seriously.

“Is that all of them?”

“No,” Giles replied, “far from it. At the Council’s beginning, there were no journals kept. Later, the journals were in use, but a number of them have been lost over time.”

“Why are some missing?” Willow asked.

“Some were never found. If the Watcher died before passing it onto the Council, the journals would more than likely would never recovered. Others were destroyed after being given to the next Watcher. They are books, notably fragile things, after all.”

“How many gaps are we talking about?”

“Quite a few.”

“Then it is possible that my vampire is mentioned in one of those books.”

She had been referring to him as ‘my vampire’ for the past couple days, and they gave her strange looks anytime she used it.

“It is, certainly, but the Council would have heard about a vampire that killed two Slayers. Let alone who fought alongside one.”

“He’s real Giles,” Buffy insisted, “I know he is.”

He was, because Buffy wouldn’t be dreaming about him if he wasn’t. She also knew he was coming. Buffy didn’t know the who, the why or the when, but he was coming.

l.l.l.l

Spike drove straight through to Sunnydale. Despite the long, long drive, he had refused to allow either Lawson or Tara to take over for him. His bike was already in the hands of another, and there was no way he was risking his Desoto too. Tara slept most of the way, and Lawson did his best to keep Spike awake. Whistler had even popped in unexpectedly to check on their progress, nearly making Spike swerve off the road.

Finally, they found themselves at the town limits of Sunnydale, California. Spike was tempted to gun his car and take out the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign, but he resisted. Having Tara in the car meant that the had to be all responsible and set a good example, no matter how boring it was.

Instead, they cruised into town, driving until they came to the address that Whistler had provided. Spike sighed in relief when he saw his bike, safe and sound, sitting in the driveway. He pulled in beside it, then looked closely at the place that would be his new home.

Spike let out a low whistle, unwillingly impressed. It was a damn big house, bigger than the one they had just left. It was designed Victorian style, and was in good repair.

Lawson was clearly impressed as well, “Why is it that you and Tara get the obscenely large house while Anyanka, Doyle and I share a duplex?”

“I’m special, and the Council thinks that you lot are just hanger ons, and they pay the bills. Jealous?” Spike grinned.

Sam gave him a look, “I’m living with a vengeance demon. I’m absolutely terrified. The first time we fight, I’m moving into one of your spare bedrooms.”

“You’re the one who decided to date her. At least the sex is good, yeah?”

Spike snickered at the uncomfortable look on Sam’s face. He would never understand how a vampire, a creature that was supposed to lose any moral tie ups after they were turned, was so damn shy about sex. Especially one that was dating a vengeance demon who was obsessed with it.

Either way, Spike would never stop teasing him about it.

“You ever get back to her about that threesome?” Spike said with a leer, cocking an eyebrow and curling his tongue behind his teeth.

Lawson just glared at him and got out of the car. Sometimes it was just too easy. He turned to look in the back, where Tara was sleeping, resting her head against the window.

“Glinda, time to wake up.”

Tara woke slowly, blinking as she sat up straight. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, clearing the sleep from them. After a few moments, she looked at Spike, still dazed from sleep.

“Huh?”

“We’re here luv.”

Tara’s face scrunched up into an adorable look of confusion before she realization crossed her features, “Oh.”

She unbuckled herself, and once she was opening the door, Spike did the same. Once out of the car, Spike turned to see Tara’s initial reaction to the house. She was looking at it, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“Wow,” was all she said.

Spike knew that, at least so far, the house at Tara’s stamp of approval.

“Come on, let’s go on inside.”

The two of them walked inside together. Once inside, Tara actually had to catch her breath. It was even more impressive than the exterior. Everything was high and open, making the building seem larger than it actually was.

Seeing the look on her face, Spike shooed her away, “Go explore. You know you wanna.”

Tara flashed him a grin and took off deeper into the house.

“And I get the biggest bedroom!” Spike called after her, knowing that the girl would be claiming a room somewhere along her travels through the building.

Once Tara was gone, Spike followed the voices into what he figured was a living room. Doyle, Lawson and Anyanka were all there. They looked over at him when he entered the room.

“Where’s Tara?”

“Exploring.”

“The house is impressive,” Anyanka pouted, “much better than ours. Why is that? I don’t think that’s right. Ours is too small, with not nearly enough interesting surfaces for Sam and I to have sex on. Not to mention, Doyle will complain about hearing us having sex in the confined space.”

Spike almost gave the same answer he had given Lawson five minutes ago, but then thought better of it. The ‘I’m- more- special- than- you’ talk would just piss her off. Instead, Spike shrugged.

“Lawson, go to the hospital blood bank and she what you can do about getting blood,” Spike instructed, “with a Slayer running around, hunting for fresh blood won’t be easy. Check at the butcher’s too. Disgustin’ as pig’s blood is, there may come a time when we have no choice.”

“Sure thing Chief,” Lawson replied, and then left.

“I’ll go through the local haunts,” Doyle suggested, “get a feel for the demons of this town.”

“Take Anyanka with you,” Spike said, “I don’t trust you not to get yourself killed.”

“Why me?” Anyanka was pouting again, and didn’t look very happy about her order, “last time I went with him, he started playing poker and almost got us both killed when he got caught cheating!”

“Hey now!” Doyle said, “I wasn’ cheating!” two pairs of eyebrows went up, and Doyle sighed, “Alright, I was cheating, but only a little.”

Spike rolled his eyes, and then spoke to Anyanka, “’cuz Lawson’s gone, and there’s no bleedin’ way that Glinda’s goin’ anywhere near the places you’ll be visitin’. Plus, I trust you to keep him out of trouble.”

“Where will you be?” Doyle asked.

Spike’s smile was absolutely vicious, “Me? I’ve got a Slayer to find.”