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Alec and Faith pulled into Giles’s driveway just as Spike and Angel were heading up the walk. Angel headed over to the pair as they stripped off their helmets.

“You got it?” he asked.

Alec grinned as he took the book from Faith and handed it to him.

“Everything you’ve always wanted to know about the Hellmouth, but were afraid to ask,” Alec replied. Angel nodded solemnly.

Spike gagged. “Bloody hell, mate! Woody Allen?!” he spat in disgust.

Alec grimaced in agreement. “I know, I know - Lucas was robbed in ’77,” he replied. Both Alec and Spike shared a secret love for the Star Wars trilogy, though neither would admit as much to anyone else. Shaking his head, Alec dismounted his bike. Faith also hopped off and walked past Alec and Spike into the house. The blond vampire was eyeballing the bike with obvious disdain.

“Nice crotch rocket,” he snickered. “What, a Harley or a Valiant too much machine for you?”

“Harleys just don’t have the style I’m looking for,” Alec snorted back just as derisively.

Spike glared at him. “You HAVE no style, mate,” he retorted. Alec was about to respond when Angel politely interjected.

“Guys? Now’s not the time, we’ve got things that need doing.” Brooding, and with book in tow, Angel brushed past them both, heading up to the front door, opening it and, without a glance, proceeded to leave it ajar and drifting to bang against the wall. Alec and Spike exchanged glares, an indication of a disagreement between friends that had not been quite yet forgotten, before following.

The door was open, Buffy, Willow, and Xander were huddled around a computer, Faith was already watching TV, and Giles was on the phone. He nodded in greeting to his son before continuing his conversation.

“Yes, I realize that Quentin is a very busy man and needs his sleep, but this is of the gravest importance,” Giles demanded into the phone. A silence followed in which Giles’s face became a study in strained patience. “Listen, you silly little sod! I don’t care what you have to do, get Quentin Travers on the phone, NOW!” he barked. Everyone in the room turned to regard him in mute shock. The Watcher looked back at them, and had the good grace to appear abashed.

“Please!” he snarled into the phone as an afterthought.

Alec slapped his father on the back good-naturedly before going over to the computer. Willow was in the driver’s seat with Xander and Buffy huddled around her. Both of them offered greetings to Alec as he placed a kiss atop Willow’s head.

“How we doing, lover?” he asked, leaning against the desk to peer at the myriad of programming code that was flashing across the screen.

The redhead smiled at him and replied, “Miss Calendar’s techno-rites are really top notch. They act sort of like a search engine, except that they check all the information on the Internet, not just what’s publicly available.” She whistled softly. “It’s amazing; they’re a blend of magic and programming. I can’t wait to see what else they can do!” Willow beamed at him like a kid with a new toy. Alec chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Happy Hannukah, dear,” he whispered. Moving away from the screen he turned to Xander.

“Any thoughts on what we ask Riley Claus for Christmas?” Alec asked.

Xander chuckled before turning to address him. “I’m thinking a Daewoo USAS-12 full-auto shotgun. It looks sort of like a really big rifle with an eleven round clip. Problem is, the kick is pretty punishing so we should issue them only to the fairly tough. You, me, our two femme fatales, and those lacking a pulse shouldn’t have a problem.”

Alec nodded. “Think Riley will be able to get them?”

Xander shrugged. “It’s not exactly a standard issue M-16. It depends on where Riley is stationed.”

“Got it!” Willow cried out triumphantly. “I am cyber-witch! Kiss me!” she demanded, which garnered smiles from the group. Alec swooped down to steal another kiss.

“Well done, baby. Where is he?” he asked.

Willow punched a few keys before snorting in disbelief.

“Area 51, Nevada.” She looked up at him, chuckling, before turning to Xander. “I owe you ten bucks.”

Xander was grinning widely, not saying anything, then turned to face Spike as the vampire came over to tell him something.

Alec must have looked confused, because Willow took a moment to elaborate. “I made a bet with Xander when we were kids that aliens weren’t real. Looks like I was wrong.” She smiled as she turned back to the screen. “From vampires to Martians, poor Riley.”

Buffy laughed. “Can we get in touch with him?” the slayer asked.

Willow nodded. “Yep, looks like he’s got an e-mail address and everything.” She tapped a few more keys in rapid succession. “Just in case the government’s playing ‘big brother’ with him, I’m encrypting the message.”

Buffy frowned. “Will, if you encrypt it, how will he be able to read it?”

Willow smiled indulgently at her. “Oh, ye of little faith. The encryption will have a password prompt. He’ll have to answer a question correctly before accessing it. All I need is a question to ask him that no one else would know the answer to.”

“I’ve got this one covered, Red,” Spike volunteered. Grinning, he walked over from talking with Xander and, cupping his hand over her ear, whispered something. Willows face colored scarlet.

“Spike - I can’t ask that!” she cried, mortified.

“Why not? Bet you anything Uncle Sam doesn’t know that,” he countered, grinning.

“Know what?” Buffy asked cautiously as the still-furiously blushing Willow began typing again. Spike leaned over and whispered something into the blonde slayer’s ear. Buffy’s face morphed right into embarrassed outrage.

“Spike! They are not that big,” she yelled as she swatted him.

Spike held up his hands to protect himself. “Check the label yourself, if you don’t believe me, love,” he replied. Spike continued cackling as Buffy stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

“What did you say to her?” Alec asked incredulously.

Spike shrugged. “I just suggested the question Willow might want to ask Riley to make sure it’s him,” the vampire said with a wolfish grin.

“And that was…?”

“The Slayer's bra size.”

Alec stood stunned for a minute, and then howled with laughter, quickly joined by Xander. Angel looked uncomfortable and Faith was too busy watching TV to care.

“That’s brilliant man, that’s just perfect,” Alec commented, shaking his head and laughing. “But what makes you think Riley will remember?” he asked.

Spike snorted. “The three things you must always memorize when dating a woman - her birthday, your anniversary, and her measurements. I figured the first two might be on public record.” Spike continued to smirk like the cat that ate the canary.

Willow looked up from her work. “Alec, dear, do you have those memorized?” she asked innocently.

Alec scoffed. “Of course I do. April 10th, September 22nd and 36-” he stopped dead as Willow began to blush.

Abruptly, the dark-haired man turned his attention to the living room. “Faith? What’s on TV? Is that Billy Idol?” he asked as he beat a hasty retreat. Along the way, Alec was nearly run down by his adopted sister emerging from the bathroom, red faced.

Spike arched an eyebrow. “Wel-” he began to ask.

“Shut up!” Buffy snarled at him before sitting down on the couch, her arms folded over her chest. Spike just leered.
“It’s fun to be right,” Spike chortled as he got up and joined the others watching TV.

Willow, who was very much trying not to succumb to a sudden urge that involved her rolling around on the ground and howling with laughter, finished the encryption work before turning to Xander. She was not surprised to discover that her childhood friend was locked in a serious struggle for the remote control and thus not giving her his full attention.

“Okay, Xander, you’re up. Write what you need to and just hit ‘send’ afterwards,” she told him.

Xander relented in his struggles for the remote with a sigh and plopped down into the chair. “Sure, Wills, I got it,” he told her before he began to type. Occasionally, he would laugh quietly to himself, and shoot glances at Buffy, who simply crossed her arms tightly against her chest and glared at him.

A few moments later, Giles entered the room, no longer on the phone.

“Well, the council will not send anything in the way of manpower for assistance. Apparently the happenings of a rogue slayer and a disgraced Watcher are not high on their collective list of priorities.” The watcher turned his gaze to Faith, who had shifted her focus from the television to him and was now regarding the older man with a hint of dread.
Giles met her gaze steadily. “I did not reveal to them that Faith is with us,” he added pointedly. Relief and gratitude flooded the other woman’s face. She did not want to fight off another Watcher task-force sent to apprehend her and drag her back to England for trial. “The council still believes she is in police custody, locked safely away in prison,” the watcher explained.

Buffy nodded, her face returning to a less-humiliated skin tone. “Good call, Giles,” she told him, nodding approvingly.

Giles continued. “However, I did convince Quentin to send us a collection of Watcher and Slayer diaries. They date back several centuries and should prove quite insightful. With any luck, they will be here by morning.”

Buffy sighed. It was really all she could expect from the Council. You either played by their rules, or you were considered benched for the duration. Turning to Spike, who was still grinning like an idiot, she addressed him, but not before giving him a dire look which promptly caused his lecherous leer to vanish.

“What did Willy have to say?” she asked him.

Spike became grim. “Something serious is up, love. Everything that has laired either underground, or in the sewers, has vacated,” he told her. Xander turned from the computer, which was busy sending the finished letter to Riley, his jaw sagging open.

“Everything? All of them? Just like that?” Xander exclaimed incredulously.

Spike nodded. “It gets weirder, mate. Apparently, those that didn’t jump ship fast enough vanished,” He snapped his pale fingers. “Poof! Just like that!”

Giles frowned. “What do you mean they ‘vanished’? They were… killed?” The watcher asked, disbelieving. Angel shook his head as he interjected.

“Not according to those that went looking for them. In most cases, their havens were untouched, here and there a sign of a scuffle, but no blood, no bodies. Nothing.” Angel shook his head and continued in a quieter, even more somber tone. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Vampires, especially those that make their havens underground, do not simply up and leave without telling anyone. Not like this.” Angel sent Buffy a grave look. “Something is very wrong here,” he said quietly.

Buffy paled a little, and turned to address Spike. “Did anyone have a clear idea about what happened to them?” she asked him.

Spike shook his head. “Those that had a clue were not talking. Not even with a lot of persuasion, and believe me, love, I used a lot of bloody persuasion,” Spike assured her, then frowned. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Willy was scared out of his mind, Spike,” Angel put in. “I think whatever put the fear in his heart may be more vicious than you,” he said with a slightly barbed tone in his voice. Spike jerked his head up to glare at his grandsire.

“Bollocks! What would you know of ‘vicious’, you great poofter?” Spike retorted with a sneer.

Buffy cleared her throat with more than a hint of frustration. “If you don’t mind, boys, can we get back to the matter at hand here?” she asked with strained patience. “What you’re saying is that something has managed to convince everything under the ground to vacate, and not everyone made it out?” she asked, addressing them both.

Spike nodded. “More or less, you should have heard Willy griping about how this is costing him business.” Spike grinned, flashing his fangs a little. “I was almost tempted to silence the little twit when the Great Sod over here” - he casually gestured to Angel - “implied that torturing the barkeep was out of fashion.”

With a concerned look, Buffy turned her attention away from the bickering vampires and addressed Xander.

“Xander, do you remember two Christmases ago, when Angel was having some serious dark mojo worked on him?” she asked her friend. Xander nodded.

“Yeah, something called ‘the One’ ”? he replied, frowning in thought. Buffy nodded her own head.

“Right, do you remember if there were any demons or vampires in the bar that night?” she asked him. Xander bobbed his head, again, though more slowly this time.

“Y-e-e-ah. Yeah, there were. I remember, because Willy made a big deal about you walking in there and a couple of the patrons sort of slinked away. Why?” he inquired, confused. Buffy turned back to Spike.

“Spike was there anyone at the bar besides Willy?” she asked. Spike furrowed his brow in concentration before his eyes widened in comprehension.

“No,” he told her as he turned his head to lock his eyes with Angel, whose expression was equally stunned. “Not a bloody soul. That’s why it was such a perfect time to torture that little creep Willy. No witnesses,” Spike informed Buffy as he turned back to her. “Of course, with this sodding chip in my head, murdering Willy in a slow and creative way might have given me a splitting headache. But still…Willy’s was completely deserted,” he said with a shrug. “I thought we’d just missed happy hour or something.”

Alec re-entered the room, apparently more daunted by Faith’s choice in viewing programming than the blonde slayer's indignant modesty. Angel shook his head.

“No, most vampires head to Willy’s right after sundown for a quick breakfast. It being deserted means that…” Angel’s voice trailed off.

“…it means that whatever is under the ground is more frightening than whatever it was you faced that Christmas.” It was Alec that finished the sentence for the rest of them in a quiet voice. He turned to gauge Buffy’s reaction.

Buffy shuddered, remembering her encounter with the demonic manifestation of the late Miss Calendar. It was only in its last moments, as it prophesized Angel’s death gloatingly, that it revealed its true, monstrous form just for a moment, before vanishing.

But Buffy had had nightmares about it for weeks. That last, terrible moment had been enough to sear itself into her mind. And whatever was under their feet right now was supposedly even worse.

Spike, noticing the sudden ashen complexion of his lover, quickly moved next to her and gathered her into a tight embrace. In his arms, he was horrified to feel her shaking with fear. He’d never seen her like this. Not when she’d faced Angelus, faced Adam, not even when she had faced him and Dru, all those years ago. He stroked her hair soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s all right baby, it’s going to be okay,” he reassured her quietly as he sent a challenging look at Angel, expecting Buffy’s ex to be jealous, or angry, at the display. Angel’s expression did not disappoint Spike and the tension between the two vampires seethed hotly.

Alec cleared his throat and gestured at Angel. The vampire shifted his glare from Spike and focused his attention on the other man before him. The young man gestured to his father. Angel took the hint and, stalking away from Buffy and Spike, handed Giles the book Alec had given him.

“That’s the book we found at the mayor’s office,” Alec informed his father. “It looks like some sort of record or factual account.” Giles opened the tome and began looking through it as his son continued to speak. “It has a monastic seal on it. My guess is it’s a record written by the first pilgrims here,” Alec finished. Giles nodded his approval at his son’s reasoning.

“Yes, I believe so. It’s written in some sort of Spanish dialect.” Giles took off his glasses and squinted at the pages of the book, concentrating. “It looks like a hybrid of old world Latin and Spanish.” Giles closed the book and replaced his glasses on his nose, looking up to face his son. “It’ll take some time to translate,” he told Alec.

“I’ve got a pretty good translation program, Giles,” Willow chimed in. “Give me some time to adapt Miss Calendar’s technomancy to it and I can scan it into the computer.”
Buffy, having calmed down a little, turned to address her the young witch.

“I dunno, Wills, you and scanning old texts don’t have the best history together. You may want to check it first, just to make sure the Mayor didn’t try to get clever with it,” she warned Willow.

“That sounds like him,” Faith added, having torn her attention from the television. “He was pretty good at that magic stuff, managing to make himself invincible and all.” Faith turned her head away from Buffy to Alec. “The cabinet wasn’t protected?” she asked the young man. Alec shook his head.

“If there had been any sort of protective incantations placed on it, they probably dissipated once he died. Still, it’s a good idea,” he conceded before turning to address his father.

“Dad, do we have the necessary ingredients at the store?” Alec asked. Giles scoffed gently.

“Oh, come now, Alec, of course we do,” he replied; a hint of wounded professional pride creeping into his voice. “We can stop at the store to check the book for wards on the way to the Bronze,” Giles said.

Spike looked up.

“You’re sure this meeting is a good idea, old man? I mean, Drac was never exactly a man of his word or anything.”
Alec favored Spike him with a wry grin. “Whereas you are a paragon of virtue, right?”

Spike muttered something obscene which garnered a laugh from the group.

“Hold up,” Faith interrupted. “‘Drac?’ as in Dracula? Like, THE Dracula, the prince of Darkness, Bela Lugosi, Gary Oldman, THAT Dracula?” Faith exhaled hard in excitement and shot Buffy a wistful look. “Wouldn’t that be the staking of a lifetime, eh, B?” she asked. Buffy actually smiled a little at that.

“I have staked him twice, and apparently he’s still around, so I’m not sure that’s really do-able,” Buffy admitted. Faith, still shaking her head in wonder, went back to the television. Alec checked his watch.

“Well, we better not keep the Count waiting.” He turned to Willow. “Come on, love, we’ll drop you off at the magic store on the way there. You can play ‘Let’s find out if this book has a magical booby trap’,” he joked.

Willow rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, sticking out her tongue.

“Gee, my favorite game,” she commented, dead-pan, before stopping and glaring at Alec. “Hey, wait! I wanna see Dracula again!” Willow whined, perhaps suffering from a little intellectual curiosity. Alec shook his head.

“It’s not that big a deal; he’s actually much shorter in real life,” he told his girlfriend, smiling indulgently at her.

“Yeah, and he’s got bad breath, too,” Buffy added. Alec shot her an inquiring look. Buffy just shrugged, offering no explanation.

“Never tell me,” Alec demanded quietly. Buffy crossed her heart. With a quiet sigh, he changed the subject.

“Did you get Anya that talisman?” he asked his sister. Buffy nodded.

“She said she’d give her demon buddy a chant tomorrow; something about the moon being in the right phase or something.” Buffy shot Xander a mischievous look as she remembered his enjoyment of her earlier humiliation. “She also asked if Xander could stop at the all-night drug store. She said he’d know why,” she added in a voice much louder that it needed to be. With a vengeful grin of her own, Buffy watched Xander flush crimson as several pairs of eyes scrutinized him intently.

“Gum, she wants gum,” Xander retorted defensively.

Spike laughed derisively. “Yeah, what kind: ribbed or lambskin?” the vampire asked.

Alec stifled a laugh. Faith didn’t even bother with stifling.

“The Earth is doomed,” Giles declared morosely as he took in this display of childish behavior.

Buffy patted his arm in mock sympathy. “Now now, if we had a dime for every time you’d said that,” - she stopped and frowned, suddenly at a loss for words - “we’d… have… a lot of dimes,” the fair-haired slayer finished awkwardly. Giles looked at her askance at her verbal blunder.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that was witty,” he commented dryly.

Buffy glared at him. “Heel,” she barked at him as she left for the door. Spike instantly achieved a melodramatically contrite manner.

“Yes, dear, anything you say, dear…” he trailed off in a faux-meek tone, his head bowed as he followed her out the door. Faith laughed as she observed it.

“Man, B’s got her man whipped,” she commented. Xander turned to her.

“That’s only if he asks nicely,” he joked. Faith flashed him a smile and continued to laugh as she headed out the door. Willow, Giles, Angel, and Alec followed. Angel stopped to confront Alec.

“You didn’t tell me Dracula was here,” his said quietly to the other man in a mildly accusatory tone as they stepped out of the house.

“You didn’t ask,” Alec replied simply, as he closed the door and locked it behind him. Angel grumbled something about Dracula owing him money and headed to his car.

Spike was already in the passenger seat; his leg dangling over the side with his head thrown back, smoking a cigarette and banging on the dashboard in time to the Sex Pistols blaring out of the car speakers. Angel swatted his leg, hard.

“Feet in the car,” Angel said tersely as he reached out and plucked the cigarette out of Spike’s mouth just as the other vampire opened it to protest. “And no smoking,” he finished with a growl. Spike gave him the finger as Angel got in the car and carefully backed it out of the driveway.

“You know, you weren’t this much of a sodding berk when you were lacking a soul. Why don’t you go get fleshy with a piece of crumpet so you can have that stake rammed up your arse you call ‘a soul’ removed and so I can go back to having a good time?” Spike ranted contemptuously. As Angel cut the wheel, he ‘accidentally’ smacked Spike upside the head.

“Hey!” Spike protested. “Watch the hair!” he smoothed his hair back. Angel gritted his teeth.

“Spike, trust me, if I ever lose my soul again, your immediate future is going to consist of being made able to fit in this ashtray,” Angel snarled as he reached down and jerked open the car’s ashtray… only to stare at it in stupefaction - it was completely filled with ash, and cigarette butts. Spike favored Angel with a bitter half-smile.

“Yeah? Want to bet?” he commented.

Angel reached over and tore the ash tray clean out of the dashboard, then hurled it to his right without a glance; as it sailed past Spike to land onto the street with a clang (in the process, dumping its contents all over the blond vampire), the ashtray nearly clipped him in the head.

“Bloody Hell!” Spike roared as he brushed at his clothes and hair; trying to get the cigarette butts and ash out. Angel continued to stare straight ahead.

“So, a nice young woman for me to bed for a night? That’s what you want, is it Spike?” Angel asked in a quiet tone. Spike, not really paying attention, scoffed and nodded his head vigorously as he continued to fuss at his clothes. Angel whipped his head around to stare at the other vampire, who was still brushing at his clothes furiously and not paying any heed to the older vampire.

“Know any?” Angel asked casually in that same, lethally soft voice.

Spike froze mid-brush, and turned to face Angel very, very slowly. A growl that could not have come from a human throat, a vampire’s growl, low and vicious, rolled out from between Spike’s lips as the two vampires locked eyes.

Angel's knuckles tightened on the wheel until they popped and the steering wheel creaked audibly, a sound of strained leather and plastic as it was slowly compressed by the unrelenting strength of an angry vampire.

They drove on in dangerous silence.

As the lights of Angel’s car faded off down the road and into the dark, Giles, Xander, Faith, Buffy, and Willow had all piled into Giles’s car. The watcher turned to address his son, who was mounting his motorcycle nearby.

“Meeting us at the Bronze then?” the elder Giles asked.
Alec nodded. “I’ll scope it out just to make sure everything’s kosher,” he told his father. Willow hurriedly lurched out from between the two slayers in the backseat, shoving past Faith to stick her head out of the car door window and stare intently at her beloved.

“Be careful, Alec,” she warned him, sounding a little worried. Alec winked and blew her a kiss.

“No worries, luv. All is well, and all is well, and all will be well,” he quoted to her.

Willow face broke into a wide grin in recognition of the reference.

“Mr. Wednesday from ‘American Gods’! You remembered!” she exclaimed, joy and amazement melting away her fear for him.

Alec grinned his crooked grin at her; the one she found so endearing.

“Of course I did, baby, your favorite book and all.” He offered as a wry explanation before strapping on his helmet and starting up his bike.

“I love you!” Willow cried out, trying to make herself audible over the high-pitched whine of the sports bike. Alec stopped the engine and, taking off his helmet, met her eyes with his.
“I love you, too, Willow. More than anything,” he told her, quietly but firmly.

Willow smiled, and pulled her head back into the car, pointedly ignoring the bemused looks she was getting from the others. Giles was backing out of the parking lot as Buffy snapped open a compact to fuss with her make-up, peering intently into the tiny mirror.

“You know,” Faith began, “I read that book once, at the prison library. Doesn’t Mr. Wednesday turn out to be a bad guy in the end?”

Willow smiled, and shook her head as, outside, the sound of Alec’s bike starting up, again, could be heard.

“Not my ‘Mr. Wednesday’. Never in a million years,” the red-haired witch assured the scarred slayer. “You may be an expert in vampire butt-kicking, Faith, but you don’t know what it’s like to be loved by a man like that.”

Faith turned to look back out the window at the dark; to stare, more specifically, at the point where the taillights of Angel’s car had disappeared.

“Yeah, you got that right, Red,” Faith whispered softly. Willow, lost in the joy of being loved, didn’t hear her. Faith, lost in her thoughts, didn’t say anything further.

Buffy, however, who was lost in neither at the moment, watched her own reflection watch Faith in the tiny mirror of the compact. The same mirror that had just allowed Buffy to witness the entire exchange without anyone noticing. The same mirror, in fact, that now granted Buffy the opportunity to scrutinize the play of emotions across Faith’s face as it was reflected, faint and ghost-like, in the glass of the car window that the disgraced slayer was now staring out of.

Longing and a deep, abiding ache; that was what Faith’s reflected face now displayed, that was what Buffy saw in the compact mirror.

Buffy turned the compact mirror back to face her now, to stare at her own reflection; only to find her eyes had become twin slits of malice and jealousy that now stared back at her, full of accusation.

Buffy snapped the compact closed with a quick and violent motion. Willow jumped and regarded Buffy curiously. Faith didn’t appear to have noticed it. Buffy, cramming it back into her purse with tight, angry movements, proceeded then to fold her arms across her chest and stare out her own window, now also lost in thought.

Giles’s reflection, however, which had watched Faith, had watched Buffy watch Faith, and now watched them both from its place within the rearview mirror, did not appear to be lost in anything. It was sharp-eyed as it continued to observe them unawares. That reflection, Giles’s reflection, studied them with an expression so blank and devoid of emotion as to be more of a mask than a face; save for two, troubled eyes, hidden behind glasses. The reflection of those troubled eyes continued to peer out from behind the blank mask of a face, captured in the rearview mirror. It took in the state of the two slayers in the backseat and it was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

Giles’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as the blood was forced from them by the intensity in which the man squeezed the wheel.

They drove on in dangerous silence.





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