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Willow slid her key into the deadbolt and opened the door, allowing Michelle to walk in ahead of her.

"And when he jumped off of the tombstone right onto my stake." The excited newly-called Slayer continued, "I couldn't believe he was so stupid."

"Fledglings are like that sometimes. Buffy can usually get pretty close to the younger ones without them even knowing who she is," Willow explained the finer points of young vamps to the new slayer. "They seem to wake up pretty much like they were before they were turned, though. You really have to watch out for the athletic ones."

Michelle took off her light blue jacket and hung it on the coat rack near the door. "Like the gymnast Xander spoke of?"

"Yeah. Oh, and the ones that were criminals or crazy before, too. They can be even worse after." Willow set about putting the weapons away in a cupboard.

Michelle stifled a yawn. She didn't want to go to sleep, despite the late hour. Unfortunately for her, Willow saw her gaping mouth. "And all good Slayers get a good night's sleep after a full night of the slaying," she added to her Slayer/vampire knowledge list.

The dark haired Slayer smiled. "Good night, Willow, and thank you."

The reformed witch gave her a quick hug and watched her go into the guestroom.

The young Slayer was good. Not as good as Buffy of course, but she was a natural. Something that should be a given, but Willow had seen four different Slayers fight now. Kendra had been regimental, Faith was a risk taker, and Buffy seemed to be a little of both. Michelle hadn't done enough to have her own style yet, but Willow could see it forming even in just the one evening of slayage. She found the fastest way to dispatch the demons, and did her best to make it as painless as possible for them. But she was able to be creative and have some fun with the chase.

Perhaps meeting and talking with Spike had not changed her view of the creatures that roamed at night, but it had made her aware of what they had been. Who they could have been if given the chance. For Michelle it seemed, she wanted to be as humane in ending the existence of something that reminded her of someone real. But she wanted them to die fighting. Somehow it seemed only right. She had something to compare these evils to.

Willow made her way into the room she shared with Tara and quickly changed into pajamas.

Tara rolled over when her lover crawled into bed. She cuddled close to Willow. "Did everything go alright?'

Willow turned her head enough to see Tara's open eyes looking into her questioningly. "She did fine, sweetie."

Tara nodded. "At least we know the Hellmouth isn't opening up anytime soon."

"Yeah." Willow agreed and closed her eyes ready to let sleep take her. "We'll be fine till Buffy gets back. All..." she yawned, "bases covered."

"Hmm," her lover responded, and fell back to sleep.

~~`~~

Nathan pulled another chart from the files of the computer and compared it with the one he'd found within the folder he'd discovered in the library. He scanned and compared the two. The similarities were there. With a grin he jotted down the placement of the stars.
He took note of the dots that lined up with his drawn out version and the one on the screen of the computer and called across the short distance. "Audrey?"

The brunette stood and looked over her computer to the one across from her. "What is it, Nathan?"

She was on hand along with several other computer hackers and programmers in training. She, along with any Watcher in training for a specialty other than the training of a Slayer, earned credits for final projects by the work she did for the children who aspired to one day have a Slayer in their care.

They were expected to take part and make there own discoveries by the work they did in assisting. One of the changes instated by the new Head of The Council of Watchers; learn by doing.

"I need to mark the position of these stars." He said as she walked around the shared desk and looked on the monitor. "And search for other charts matching their position."

Audrey studied the chart. "That shouldn't be a problem." On closer inspection she noted the chart's date. Almost 60 years ago. "Would you like it to search for only charts in the past?"

Nathan took a moment and decided. "No. Any time within one hundred years before and after should be sufficient."

Audrey nodded. "In that case, copy the information to a disk, and I'll get to it after I'm finished with this program."

Nathan pulled a disk from the stack of papers, books and folders and began the download.

~~`~~

Buffy, now dressed in slacks and a button up shirt, swung the long wooden handle downward and effectively moved aside the offensive dirt. "I hate gardening," she said and wiped her brow.

Sam smiled before hefting the hoe in her hand towards the raw earth. "I like it. Gives me time to think."

The blonde Slayer pulled the weeds marring the ground and hefted the clods of dirt into the barrel. "I think I'd rather stake vamps. They don't fight as much."

"True, but all the dust." Sam offered, scrunching her nose.

Buffy held her muddy hands up. "Oh yeah. This is much better than dust."

It was then that Sam took a good look at Buffy.

Coordinated as she was when it came to battles, gardening was most definitely not something with which Buffy excelled. Her hands were covered in mud as were her pants and shirt. Not too mention the mud on her face and in her hair. With no other recourse, Sam bent over and began laughing harder than she could remember doing in a long time.

Buffy watched her, letting her face fall. "That's it. I need a bath, a massage, and a good dose of coddling when this is all over."

Sam got her giggling under control just when Buffy began to smile and joined her. Both ladies erupted once again when Buffy began trying to wipe away the mud from her face, effectively covering herself with more of the thick brown substance. Then Buffy looked up at her laughing comrade in arms and came up with recourse of her own.

Sam had no time to duck when the mud came flying towards her chest.

"Ahh!!" The dark haired Slayer fell backward trying to move out of the way but was only pushed back to the ground by the force of the projectile She sat in the goo and slowly lifted her head to eye the woman across from her.

Buffy watched the eyes of a miffed Slayer as they looked back at her. "What? I had to." She cocked her head to the side. "You know I had to?"

Again the laughter filled the small area of land behind the apartment building.

The blonde Slayer calmed herself. Taking deep breaths and trying to shake the caked on dirt from her hands. "Xander would love this."

"Xander?" Sam asked as she wiped the dirt clod of her coat. ""He is the one who married the demon?"

"Ex-demon," Buffy quickly corrected. "Yeah. He's Mister Dig. Construction work," she explained.

Sam smiled. "And he and… Willow?" Buffy nodded, letting her know she'd gotten the name right this time. Having her redheaded friend referred to as "Spruce" was a funny moment she was resigned not to share with any of the Scoobies.

Sam continued, "They have been with you all of you‘re time as Slayer?"

"Yup, pretty much." Buffy said, having cleaned herself off the best she could before going back to weeding.

Sam struck the earth as she continued the conversation. "I can't imagine having so many friends that stayed with you always."

Now on all fours, Buffy yanked at the plants determined to keep their position rooted in the ground. "And a sister, too. Can't forget Dawn."

"Of course." Sam was still shocked to know Buffy had a sister. She had no siblings and had come to understand most Slayers didn't. "Witches, werewolves and vampires," Sam said. "It sounds like what we should be fighting, not with whom we fight alongside."

"Yeah, well," Buffy shrugged and dropped another weed onto the growing pile in the wheelbarrow. "Kinda had to make up some rules as we went along."

"I think I would like to meet these friends of yours. Do you think I could?" Sam waited knowing from the overheard conversation that she may have the chance in the future.

Buffy stopped what she was doing and looked back at her breathless. "I thought I told you already. One: there are some things I just can't tell you."

"And two?" Sam held the hoe upside down and waited.

Buffy sighed. "And two: even if I write it out for you, it doesn't mean things won't change. Or that we haven't already changed things by being here."

"But if you already changed things," Sam pleaded.

"Then I don't want to make things any worse," Buffy finished. "I can't. You know this." She tried not to let the wine seep into her voice. A large part of her really did want to reveal everything. But she knew better. Enough movie choices dictated by Xander had shown her that much. Doc Brown wouldn’t want her to say a word.

A small nod was given by Sam before she turned around. What Buffy said was true. She may have already made changes in the future that couldn't be fixed. Sam had information that she shouldn't, and for good reason. IT was bad enough.

If she took what she knew and used it to her advantage, irreparable damage may be done to the future. Buffy's and Spike's future. One where a vampire and a Slayer might be happy. Sam looked back at Buffy who was yet again hunched over, yanking at a weed.

Determination set into Sam's mind. They would get back. Such a pair as they were, her guests gave her hope. They would return, if for no other reason than that future she had only whispers of.

~~`~~

Sam looked at her reflection in the small mirror over the chest of draws with the television playing the local news while she tightened the bun holding her graying hair in place. This town seemed to have a lot of odd occurrences and, therefore, a lot of news.

Updates were a frequent occurrence, Samantha Emerson soon found out. In the time she'd checked in less than 24 hours ago, she'd had four programs interrupted by "Breaking News."

But then again, she reminded herself, there was a Hellmouth under this town. Pulling the same demons here that had plagued most of Europe in her time. The fact they would take note of a person found in a cemetery with possible damage to the neck was a sign this town knew the score, so to speak.

In all likelihood, people watched the news a lot here. If for nothing else, to be sure it wasn't their son or daughter who'd been found. A wife or a husband was safe at work. If their loved ones were in danger, a news flash would let them know.

With a final look at herself in the mirror, she pulled the strap of her small purse over her shoulder and walked out the door of her hotel room.

~~`~~

It had started out innocently. It really had. The accent was the only reason he'd even asked.

Most vampires lost their accents somewhere around age 200. Mostly because they travel so much that they would pick up on the others they aquatinted themselves with. But Ashton's was strong. The Russian in him had not died with the body.

So Spike, hoping to encourage a conversation, had asked, "Got any decent vodka?"

In truth, he'd not thought the vampire would. This was a war. Rations were low, and getting vodka good enough for a native of the country it was known for, would be more than difficult.

Ashton had been none too happy to share his space. But Sam had made the request, and there was no denying her. Not in his mind. The odd human should have been reason enough for him, as he soon found out.

The factory that had once been used to produce clothing was all but rubble after the first bombs were dropped. The only surviving element was the basement below, now closed off to anyone who didn't happen to know the entrance. A secret he'd shared with only two people; Mike and Sam.

Now the vampiric human, sitting across from him on a chair that had seen much better days, also knew the location of the refuge he'd called home for more than two years.

It was dark, of course. No windows or doors directly to the outside. He managed to procure enough candles that if needed, they were available. But generally he used the senses given to him along with the demon and his death, to move about in the pit below.

Spike seemed impressed with his host's home. Furnished, and like his would- be Mate's, neat. Small things about it let people know this place was lived in. Books and candles. Magazines and, he almost chuckled, more rugs.

It was dark, and several of the walls were crumbled remnants of what they'd been. Passages had been cleared to open up the area. But to Ashton it was a home. One that, Spike had to admit, was nice for any vamp.

Unfortunately, once they'd arrived, the dark demon had fallen silent. Little was said and Spike hated the new quiet that settled. Sleep was next on the to-do list, he knew. But he wanted to pick up where the previous discussion left off.

The conversation had been simple. Spike understood what was going on with Ashton and his Slayer. But when pressed on how to fix it, Spike had no real idea. Whatever had happened to Buffy and he was different, and Sam had been a big part of what made Buffy reconsider.

So, the quiet came, and an idea, and then the bottles. Apparently, having a friend who actually owned and ran his own bar--or two--gave Ashton some helpful connections to his homeland. Mainly, the aforementioned vodka.

Which had brought them here. One drunken vampire, listening to advice from a very drunk human. Each idea more outlandish than the other. What the vampire found more unbelievable was that most of the ideas were ones Spike had actually tried.

Ashton spit his last gulp across the room in a spray that was classic to any burst of surprise when taking a drink. If he were human, he would have choked. As it was, he was having trouble getting the air into his body needed to make sound. Vampire or not, air was necessary.

"You shackled her… to the wall?" he said wiping the escaped alcohol from his shirt.

Spike waved his arm in the air. He was drunk enough to stop worrying so much about what the vampire found out. He just wanted to make a point. He wasn't sure he remembered what the point was, but it was supposed to be made. Besides, he enjoyed telling his tales. "Was more like supports in the wall. But yeah." He took another long swig then eyed the bottle. Its clear glass showed the water-like liquid inside. Crystal clear and refreshing. At least when you haven't had it in years.

"And that worked?" Ashton asked, now resuming his drinking as well.

Spike chuckled. "Nah. Got me banned from her home."

The vampire shook his head, bent over, set his bottle on the ground, then lifted his head up to eye the man across from him. "What were you saying?"

Spike smiled and let his head fall to the side as he looked glazed-eyed at the rug on the floor. "Buffy."

Ashton shook his head. "No, about being banned. She banned you from her home, but you had the invitation?"

Spike's smile slowly left his face. A frown came in its place. "She took it back."

The words filtered through the vampire’s drunkenness slowly, forming the idea of what was being conveyed. "That's possible?"

"Yeah. Right unfair, you ask me. All the hard work gone through, for such a basic thing," he said before taking another long drink.

"But how?" Ashton was beginning to sober up. No matter how much he knew he was kept out of Sam's life, he'd never thought she'd be able to keep him out. The idea struck fear in parts of his mind he'd never considered before. His dead heart squeezed in on itself as the idea sunk in.

"Magic, of course. How else? Little mojo here," he waved his hand to his left, "little mojo there," he waved his hand to the right, "an' no more Spikey invites." He watched his hand, scrutinizing his need to wave it around, shook his head and let his hand drop onto the arm of the worn flowered upholstery of his char.

Ashton was still processing the information. "How did you ever get so close to her again?"

A flash of a memory took over Spike's mind.

She stood at the top of the stairs. He hadn't even bothered trying to cross the threshold. It was one of the first times he had ever noticed a look in her eyes that said more than ‘I put up with you cuz I have to’ Since he'd been banned.

"I got 'er killed," he said and dropped his chin to his chest. Ashton watched as Spike's shoulders began to shake, tears falling silently down his cheeks..





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