Author's Note : Hi. I'm new to this site, so bear with me. I wrote this story quite a while ago, obviously. Post-Chosen, but pre-Conviction. So some things aren't very canon, specifically Spike. Please forgive me, and thanks for clicking!

----

Buffy sat down on the bench, third seat from the back of the yellow school bus, and stretched out. Finally, all was quiet, and she was alone. She could not remember when things had last been quiet like this for her, except when she was dead. She took a moment to enjoy the salty smell of the ocean through the school bus windows. It was a beautiful day-- and how long had it been since she'd had time to admire the weather? This moment was wonderful. Calm. Lovely.

And absolutely, perfectly silent.

Most of the mob that had crowded her home and life for the past few months was gone. This dusty school bus had carried her and the survivors miraculously out of Sunnydale and unloaded in San Diego, where the others went their separate ways. The potentials had all gone home, at last, except for Kennedy, who for better or for worse had remained with Willow. Faith and Wood had headed off together to Cleveland, to fight the new hellmouth they said, but everyone knew better. Giles, tired and worn, had caught a flight back to England. This left only Dawn, Willow and Kennedy, Xander, Andrew, and Buffy, their old hometown a giant sinkhole, with a dusty yellow schoolbus their only home.

At that blessed moment, the rest of the Scoobies were at the zoo. They had gone to see a baby tiger that was newly born, about which Buffy could care less. But she did love that little tiger now, because it had afforded her this wonderful, magical, empty moment. No one to ask her about money or their future. No one to bicker about whom was going to drive or what they were going to eat, and no one to check in every five minutes to see if she was alright.

Which she was. Alright. Yes, many of them had died, and she grieved for them. But how could she truly mourn when they were so lucky that most of them had survived? And she could hardly grieve for Spike. He had become her friend, a little, but he was hundreds of years old, and he had died well. All was well; Spike had known. She hadn't loved him. She had maybe wanted to. But in the end-- and it was the end-- she had felt for him and cared for him and longed for him, oh yes, but nothing more. There was no future with him, just as there had been no future with Angel, and in her heart she knew that. She felt peaceful; perhaps she would take a nap. She lay down on the bench, closed her eyes, and cracked a smile. She was alright.

"Are you alright?"

She sighed and opened her left eye. Xander. She opened the other eye. Of all people, Xander was asking her if she was alright. Xander was not alright. His former fiance had been sliced in half-- well, Xander didn't know that detail, as Andrew had been told not to tell him-- but he was still acting as though nothing had changed. Maybe it was his lack of perspective. Er.

"I'm fine," she grumbled. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "You looked sad."

Buffy stared back at him. "I was smiling."

"Yes, well," he stammered, scratching his head. "It was a sad smile. Do you want to see a postcard of the baby tiger?"

"Xander," Buffy said. "Any time you want to talk, I'm here for you, one-hundred percent, I am support-o gal. But I'm fine. Look at me. Happy smile."

Xander scowled. "Are you speaking pointedly again?"

"Yes. I was implying that you are asking me if I am okay to compensate for the fact that you are not okay. Which you are not, by the way. You loved Anya, and now she is dead. And you lost an eye."

He stared at her and said, "Anya made a choice," as he had said to her many times, these past few days. "I'm proud of her. Anyway, we weren't together anymore. And I'm over it."

"Me too." Buffy nodded, as was her usual response. Also, "Hmmf."

Xander sat down on the other side of the bus, pulled out his postcard of the baby tiger, which Buffy admitted was fairly cute, and began to write on it.


Buffy sat up and looked over his shoulder. "Who are you writing to?"

"Your subconscious," Xander said. "I'm telling it that if it keeps suppressing your pain, it's going to crack... you."

A car drove by, going fast, shaking the bus. Buffy didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Xander looked back at his postcard and continued writing. He was writing a lot. Buffy hoped he wasn't actually writing to her subconscious.

"Isn't this a little out of character?" Buffy said, shoving him gently. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to be waving the Buffy's-demon-lover-is-dead banner, screaming 'Hurray'?"

"Eh," Xander said, shrugging his big comfortable shoulders. He took a deep breath. "That's gotten old. I guess I am feeling extra understanding, lately."

"And I'm sure that has nothing to do with your own loss," she said, trying to be gentle. "It must have everything to do with how much you loved Spike and admired my loveless non-relationship with him."

He caught his breath and stared at her silently.

Buffy put her hands on her hips. "What?" she snapped. "What did I say now?"

"Do you really still believe that?" Xander said. "Honestly? I mean, five years ago when you were pretending you didn't love Angel after he came back from Hell, that was absurd, but at least then you were a teenager. Now it sounds like you just aren't coping."


Buffy threw up her hands. "Is that all? Where are Kennedy and Willow and Dawn, huh? Don't they want to psychoanalyze me too?"

"No," he said. "They're looking at baby zebras."

She turned away from him, and he went back to his postcard. It must be to family, Buffy decided. Xander had warned them to leave weeks ago, and they were safe with friends in Santa Barbara. She smiled. That would be like Xander, to write a hi-how-are-ya postcard to his family just after the end of the world was narrowly avoided and all of Sunnydale was destroyed. He was probably offering to build them a new house. She turned back to him. "Xander," she said.

He looked up. "Yes?"

"Maybe I'm not okay," she said. "Maybe we're all repressing. But you know something? Everything is going to be fine, from now on. Because I love all you guys. Okay, I don't love Andrew or Kennedy... but I love you, and Willow, and Dawn, and you're all I need. And everything is going to be okay for everyone, from now on."

"Wow," Xander said, blinking. "Gosh, I should tell Dawn you don't need Chicken Soup for the Slayer's Soul anymore. She was going to get it for your birthday."

Buffy stared at him blankly.

"Joking," he explained, shrugging, then added, "badly."

"Well, I'm not," she said. "Something incredible has happened. We won. The balance of good and evil has been tipped in our favor, permanently. I may not be alright, but that's okay. Because everything else has been taken care of."

Xander nodded. "And how."

But it was true, and she really did mean it. After all, she had defeated the first Evil, and the Hellmouth was gone - the one in Sunnydale, anyway. Xander smiled back at her. He was starting to see the beauty of it. Life had never been so simple. They were all alright.

Buffy nodded, and returned to her nap.

* * *

He feels his soul burning, yellow and terrible. It floods him with light and fire, and it is clear that he is going to die. After living so long, it hardly surprises him. His vision blurs and fades, but he can still see shapes around him. His hearing is dulled, and he can hear only himself, crying her name. "Buffy!" He hopes one of the shapes around him is her, still here, still alive.

One is. Buffy grabs his hand, and he knows it is her. He catches her cool scent. She is wounded, badly, but she will survive this. She will survive him.

Her voice floats towards him, calm but sad. He responds automatically, understanding little. Three words jump out at him clearly. "I love you," she says, sad, determined. She must know he is dying, or she would never say it.

He shakes his head. Her voice is caring, apologetic, even a little grateful, but it is not loving. Perhaps she does love him, a little, or would some day, but not yet, and there is no point wondering now. Best to let her go, to be with Angel, or whoever she is meant to be with, than to wonder about him. He is dead. "No you don't," he assures her, smiling, "but thanks for saying it."

She nods and leaves. That is all. Thick-skinned, he tells himself, trying to forget that she never would have left Angel, that she had picked him to die over the old poof. It doesn't matter. His own love is eternal, and that will have to be enough. The light suffuses everything, more glorious than the sun. There is no footwear this time, no nothing. Spike bursts into flames, and dies. Again.

A familiar nothingness surrounds him. The whiteness presses in on him, and pulls back slowly as his soul forms its consciousness. Thousand of voices echo through his head, and then a gentle noise, humming. And finally, a clarity, as though he is just waking up. He nods, looking around. Here I am again, he muses silently. Heaven. His soul remembers it. It has only been a heartbeat since it was ripped from this place. "Gabriel? Peter? Hello! I'm back!"

"Hello again, William." A silhouette approaches him, a shape forming. "You're taking it much better this time. You must have died like a champion."

"Spot on!" Spike says, smiling. "Nice to see you again, Pete."

"And you, as well," Saint Peter says, emerging from the whiteness whole, his white hair and sublime features oddly familiar. "We have been worried about you, since you left. There are a lot of new temptations down there, you know."

Spike agrees, smiling pleasantly. "Always evil to fight and find redemption." This is much different than the last time. Spike feels no fear. He remembers everything, and he knows how much time has past since he died. About eight hours. And something else, too. A deep sense of loss. Oh, he felt cheated the last time, when Drusilla sunk her teeth into his neck and tore his soul from his body. But this time he feels more than that. Unfinished.

Another shape emerges, this one larger, brighter. "So our prodigal son has come back whole?" says a deep, lovely voice. "You didn't last very long down there, did you, William?"

"I go by Spike now," he tells the archangel. "That's what the Scoobs called me, anyway. Might as well keep it. And how are you then, Gabriel? Was it a good year for you too?"

"Each year is as another for us," Gabriel says. He seems even more familiar than the saint, yet somehow, less reassuring. And again, that feeling of being unfinished. Gabriel stands straighter and grander, if that is even possible, and says, "I bring important news. The Almighty requests a personal audience with you, William. That is... Spike."


"Oh yes? Little old me?" Spike's eyes widen. "Did the Old Wanker seem chummy, or smiting?"

Gabriel's brows furrow, and he exchanges a glance with Peter. "Well," he says. "It sounds like someone has spent too much time in his demon body and gotten a little punchy. Even champions have to show respect, Spike. At least to the Powers That Be."

"Sorry, mate. It slipped." Spike shrugs. "Besides, it strikes me the fellow has a good sense of humor. He invented platypuses, after all."

Peter looks at Gabriel and coughs. "I believe it's 'platypi.'"

Gabriel snaps. "Enough! William, or Spike... whoever you are. Come with me. God wants you."

Spike nods, and obliges.

* * *

"Wow," Buffy said, waking. "That was some dream."

"What did you dream about?" she heard Andrew's thin voice inquire.

Andrew was leaning over her, squinting. Buffy did have nightmares about Andrew, sometimes, his nasal voice chasing her through the dark, wailing about Boba Fett. Not this time. This was a dream of fire and heaven. It all seemed very familiar... and there had been something about Spike. She didn't want to think about that part; she certainly didn't want to talk about it with Andrew. "None of your business," she said, sitting up.

He sneered at her, hiding his hurt. She realized suddenly that everyone was watching. Xander was glaring; she should be nicer to Andrew, she realized. He had been evil for a time, but he had proved himself in the end. Buffy did basically forgive him, as she had forgiven the long list of people in her life who had done her wrong and then repented. She just wished he was as readily likeable as Willow, Angel, and Spike had been.

"I was thinking I might call Angel," Buffy said, after a moment of silence. "I mean, I'm sure he's figured out by now that the world hasn't ended, but it would be nice to let him know how things went."

"Oh, he'll just feel left out," Xander chided. "You know, he'll be like, 'Buff, you mean my amulet saved the world without me? No fair.'"

"You know, he probably will wish he had the opportunity to burn to a crisp," Buffy said. "That's our Angel."

She found herself smiling deeply at the thought of him; she felt euphoric. She considered it before the feeling passed. At the sound of voices, she looked out the window.

Dawn, Kennedy and Willow were traipsing back to the bus, looking sweaty and tired. Willow and Kennedy were involved in each other, and Buffy's little sister looked left out. She had her arms crossed and was glaring at Kennedy. Buffy knew exactly what Dawn was thinking, and secretly agreed.

She was thinking, "I miss Tara."

Kennedy and Willow were talking heatedly, under their breath. Buffy couldn't hear them, but she hoped Willow was telling Kennedy to stop being an enormous bully. Which she was. Ever since she had been raised slayer, the already bossy know-it-all had turned into a ferocious twit. She wanted to be in charge of what they were doing and where they were going at all times. In fact, it was on her insistence that they had all gone to the zoo. It was perhaps why Buffy had stayed in the bus.

Buffy threw Xander a glance, which he refused to acknowledge. Kennedy reached the door of the bus and threw it open with a crash. Xander and Buffy stared at her silently as she walked in.

"What?" she demanded.

Willow walked in, newly composed and cool. "Hmm?" she said innocently, looking at Buffy as though she had just said something. "What are we talking about?"

"Oh," Buffy said, obliging. "I was just saying I should call Angel and let him know how things went."

"Oooh!" Dawn squealed, jumping into the bus. "Call Angel. Ask him if we can come visit."

"We are not going to Los Angeles," Kennedy said suddenly, crossing her arms. "It's too far away."

"Too far away from what?" Buffy asked. "We don't even know where we are going yet."

Kennedy glared at her, and Dawn interrupted the silence quickly. "I haven't been to L.A. in so long. Can we please go Buffy? Please?"

"Angel does have that big hotel," Willow said. "And it has been a long time since we've visited."

There was one thing that Buffy was not admitting, and that was the emptiness she felt in her gut. Not because of Spike; not really. But he had filled a hole that had been in her since she had come back from the dead two years ago. Before his death, she had decided it was because he had loved her constantly and unconditionally, and as corny as it sounded, that was a little bit of how it had been in heaven. She knew he was a fool, and a poser, and terribly flawed, but somehow he made what she had lost more bearable. Now he was gone, and she would have to find another way to fill that hole.


Maybe it was Angel.

"Dawn's right," Buffy said suddenly. "It's summer. We need to stop worrying and have a little fun. I for one have done enough worrying this year to last a lifetime. Well, worrying's over. We beat the Big Bad. The Biggest, even. And now there are thousands of brand new slayers running around, ready to handle the little bads. No more arguing. No more planning. Let's just go where we wanna go, do what we wanna do. You know what? Let's just go, right now."

They all stared at her. Dawn began to grin.

"Should we... call, first?"

"Calling ahead be damned!" Buffy declared. "Xander, you're nominated. Get in the chair and start driving."

The euphoric feeling began to flood her senses again. Maybe it was Angel. Maybe she would be happy, for keeps, very soon. She hugged herself giddily.

"Living dangerously, aren't we, Buffy?" Willow suggested.

"What's dangerous?" Buffy said. "The First Evil has been defeated. There are more slayers than you can shake a stick at. It's a bright sunny day in Southern California. What could possibly go wrong?"

They shrugged, and agreed. Xander started the bus, and they were off. Inside, Buffy ached. But everything would be better, soon. And there would be nothing more to fear.

* * *

Drusilla awoke from her reverie feeling new and exciting. Her crypt felt smaller and the world seemed brighter. There was a power coursing through her lifeless veins that she had never felt before. Perhaps her worship of the dark lord Aterarmak had finally paid off.

She looked into a glowing orb lying out on her table. It was a strange trinket she had stolen from a villager in Peru; it contained the essence of an ancient God. "What say you, Aterarmak?" she asked the orb. "Have you finally given me fancy treasures?"

The light of the ball began to seethe and darken, as if in rage. It spoke. "No, you crazy git. I told you to leave me alone. I give power to kings and pharoahs, not lunatic vampires bent on ending the world. Now let me go!"

"Now, now," she scolded, pouting. She tapped the ball with her finger. "Play nice and tell me why I feel so big and strong."

The glow of the ball dulled. It quieted, said only, "I don't want to tell you."

Drusilla's eyes lit up, and she grabbed the ball in her long fingers. "You will be a good dark lord, and tell me," she threatened, slipping into her viperous game face, "or I will smash you into little glowing bits, and use your sparkling shards as stones in my garden."

The glow died in the ball, and it fell silent. Drusilla's dark eyes lit up, and she grabbed the ball, held it over her head, eager to smash it into shiny pieces. The ball relented. "Alright," the ball said. "I will tell you. Your power comes from the good guys, amazingly enough."

Drusilla's eyes narrowed. "You are a bad liar, little bauble."

"No really, it's true," the ball said quickly. "Although you are an evil thing now, your original host was pure and good. So good, in fact, that she was a potential slayer. Well, the white hats in Sunnydale just used their magicks to raise every potential slayer in the world to full Slayerhood."

"Speak English, precious."

"You're a Vampire Slayer."

Drusilla sat down. This was too much. "Do I have to be a hero?" she asked sadly. "I don't like heroes. They make me feel crawly."

"Oh, no," the ball assured. "The Slayer's power comes from the demons. Their power is as old and as dark as the first vampire. You're still perfectly evil, Drusilla... but now you're really, really strong. Oh, and you'll no longer be bothered by holy water or crosses or direct sunlight."

"And everything seems clearer," she whispered.

"Yes," the ball agreed, "you will probably find that the slayer's power has made you a smidge less... bonkers. A slayer is given the gift of strategy. Which, given your previous mental state, probably just means you'll now be able to form cohesive sentences."

Drusilla smiled slowly, then began to laugh. "Oh, I can do much more than that," she said. She walked to the door of the crypt and opened it suddenly. Sunlight poured in, and she flinched momentarily, but there was no pain, and she felt even stronger. She smiled to herself. "The world is glittering with possibilities."

"I suppose you'll be letting me go, then? I mean, you don't really need me anymore and we never got along as it was..."

Drusilla laughed. A plan was forming in her head; it was a fantastic plan, full of terror and delicious irony. She would have to start moving soon, though, to get to Cleveland in time. Casually, she picked up the ball, about the size of a honeydew melon, and crushed it in her hand. There was screaming and pulsing and then nothing. She stood up and flexed.

"Well," she said happily. "Time to patrol."

* * *

The Cadillac was not bad, Angel mused, as he sped down the highway with the windows down. He did miss his old black convertible; it had style, and it suited him. But this car that Wolfram and Hart had given him was nice. The glass was treated to keep out the sunlight without blocking his vision, allowing him to drive easily during all hours. And at night he could roll down the windows, turn up the tunes, and zip along down the coast at an easy buck-five. Well, since the speeding ticket he was keeping it closer to seventy, but on the open road this kitten could purr.


He looked at his watch and smiled. The world had not ended. It had been days since Buffy had said she was entering the Hellmouth, and the world was still here, stinky and vast and not altogether evil. He hadn't gone very far, driving slowly, if at all. Something wouldn't let him get far from her until he was sure things were... alright. He expected that she had won; perhaps it was time to stop touring the coast in his new ride, and head back to LA. Maybe there would be a cheerful message on his machine when he got home. "Hello, Angel, dearest. We won."

Angel flinched. He hadn't helped much, it turned out. If they had won at all, it had been because of her. Her and Spike, he supposed. He flinched again.

The years had changed them both. They both still loved each other, he was sure. But they had both been involved, in love, and in bed with other people since then. He wondered why his skin still crawled when he thought about someone else's hands on her. He shook his head. Not just anyone else. Spike. His underling, the wicked thing he had grandsired, had been with Buffy in ways that Angel could never be with anyone.

He shivered. Bad enough Spike had taken Dru, who was merely an obsession. Now he had to spoil his first love, his most perfect and most innocent.

Oh well. It did not matter. He was over her; he had moved on. Perhaps she had called, he thought. Maybe she left a nice message on the machine. He pushed harder on the gas pedal.

Twenty minutes later, the gas light came on, reminding Angel that this car was a luxury, not a practicality. Not that the convertible had boasted good fuel economy, but it hadn't been so fun to drive that he had ever taken it this far out of the way. He sighed and pulled into the next rest stop he saw.

The sign said full service, but there was no one there. Angel got out of the car and followed his nose. He smelled blood. The smell led him to the back of the convenience store, where one of the station's attendants lay dead, and the other sat next to him, bawling, barely alive.

Angel approached him slowly, but the man didn't seem to notice him. He was an average looking fellow, and Angel didn't know him but he was sure he hadn't deserved this. There were neck wounds, but even without seeing them Angel could tell it had been a vampire. He knew which vampire it was, too. Drusilla... he could smell her. But why had she left one of them alive?

"Angel?" the man called out.

Angel jumped, and edged closer to him. "Yes," he said, then asked carefully, "How do you know my name?"

"She knew you were coming," the man said, speaking suddenly, still sobbing. "She said she could smell your... your soul, she said... from miles away. She wanted me to tell you something."

Of course. She must have had one of her visions. "Don't speak," Angel said. He reached out to calm him. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'm already dead," the man said. "We all are. She is too..."

Angel realized the man was right about one thing. He was dying. Angel sighed and asked, "Where did she go?"

"Cleveland," the man said. "She said there was power.... And... argh..."

Angel nodded and watched the man die. Calling Buffy would have to wait. There was a crazy vampire to be stopped, and a new Hellmouth to be protected. Angel got in his Cadillac and started driving.

* * *

"This looks like as good a place as any," Xander said, pulling the bus off the road into a turnaround. They had passed Angel's place several minutes ago, but it was a narrow street near downtown Los Angeles, and there had been no place to park.

Cities, thought Buffy, rolling her eyes. "Why didn't you warn us it was such a bitch to park here, Will?" she asked her friend. "I would have worn more sensible shoes."

After a glance at Buffy's trademark platforms, Willow smiled. "I wasn't exactly driving a bus the last time I came here," she replied.

"Yeah, Buffy," Andrew said quickly. "You don't have to park a broomstick."

Willow turned to stare at him. "Andrew? I came in a taxi."

He winked back at her. "Like you could fit a cauldron in a taxi."

"You know, if I weren't so tempted to turn you into a toad right now, I might say you were stereotyping."

Xander stepped up beside Buffy and took a deep breath. They stopped. "I don't mean to interrupt the diversity fair," he said, "but where's Dawn?"

They looked around. It was very dark, but they counted heads and there was one missing. Buffy strained her eyes, peering into the trees by the side of the wood. Then she heard a scream, trailing away, small and needy. "Right," she said. "We have arrived at the scene where Dawn requires rescuing."

"We'll be right with you," Xander said, digging in his bag for a stake.

"No," she said, stopping him. "Go for help. Get Angel."

Xander nodded and grabbed Willow. Together they ran down the road. Andrew stood blankly watching her, then said, "I'll wait here, in case Dawn comes back."

Buffy shrugged and ran off. Smog made the night dark here, and there were no street lamps to guide her. She felt blind, and a part of her wanted to call Spike, to let the scent of blood guide them. No, he was dead; she wanted to call Angel. She ran.

"Buffy!"

That was Dawn, closer now. Buffy spun around and started off into the woods. It was darker here and uneven. She tripped and fell, and as she was getting up, and heavy foot collided with her spine and stole her breath. Her face pressed into the dirt. The vampire -- it was a vampire, Buffy was sure -- grabbed her hair and pulled her up, threw her against a tree. She glimpsed Dawn from the corner of her eye before she crashed into the wood. Another vamp held her, watching, laughing.

Her head spun, and the first vampire descended on her before she could gather herself. "Well, well," he said, "Two for one, huh Frank?" He pushed her against the tree and bared his fangs. Buffy kneed him in the groin and ran for Dawn, but the vampire recovered too quickly and grabbed her arm, wrenching it behind her back. Dawn screamed again while the vampire closed in on Buffy's neck and bit.

Suddenly, a loud crash, and the vampire pulled away before he could draw blood. Buffy turned quickly to see Andrew holding a suitcase dangerously. There was a stunned silence, and Buffy took the opportunity to snap a tree branch with one hand, grab the vamp with the other, and pull him onto her makeshift stake.

The vampire pulled apart to dust. Andrew drew back and sneezed.

Buffy looked back at Dawn, who was quivering. The other vampire had fled during the fight. Dawn ran to Buffy, and threw her arms around her sister. Andrew wheezed. Buffy looked up, scratched and beat up, her face covered in mud, and said, "Not a word."

"I know," Andrew said. "I get it. Like, I shouldn't say anything about how you're off your game and I had to save you and your sister. Right?"

Dawn's body stiffened, and she pulled away from Buffy to glare at Andrew. "Don't you dare talk about my sister like that. Not ever."

Andrew backed off, cowed, and Buffy smiled at her sister appreciatively. Dawn smiled back. Deep down, though, they both knew. She was off her game. Just because there were hundreds of new slayers in the world didn't mean she could stop fighting. Somehow she had thought she would never see another vampire again; but there was no rest for the wicked, she realized.

"Let's just find Angel," she said, and they trudged back to the hotel.

The place looked old and dirty from the street, and Buffy took a deep breath. She hoped they had running water. Vampires might not sweat, but she was pretty sure Cordelia did. The rest of the gang had already arrived. She hoped it was where they were supposed to be.

She jumped out of the bus and walked to the door. The others followed her carefully. Everything was so quiet. She knocked on the door but there was no answer. Behind her, Dawn sighed and sat down by the fountain, which seemed to have gone dry.

A thin, pretty girl with long dark hair walked daintily up behind them, clutching a pile of books. "He's not home," she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Are you clients?"

"No," Willow said. "We're friends."

The girl turned around and smiled at Willow. "You should have called, Willow," the girl said. "He hasn't even gotten back yet. Did something happen?"

"Well, the world didn't end," Willow said, "for a start."

"You guys know each other?" Buffy asked, blinking.

"Oh, of course, we met when Willow came to reinsoul Angel," the girl said, nodding. Buffy stared back at her, mouth open. Willow signaled cryptically to Fred, who suddenly looked embarrassed. "Oh, I guess I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Yes. Hi, I'm Fred. You must be Buffy. I imagined you... cleaner."

The girl with the boyish name seemed to laugh at a private joke, then reached out to try and shake Buffy's hand. But Buffy was frozen, her heart pounding. "I can't believe Angel lost his soul again," she said, shaking her head. Her hands were shaking. She looked at Willow and frowned. "And I can't believe you didn't tell me." She glared back at Fred. "When? How? Did he... do I even want to know?"

Fred shook her head, then began to chew on her lower lip and mumble. "It's complicated. But Willow fixed it pretty fast, and he didn't do... much damage." She scanned the group quickly, ready to change the subject. "You must be Dawn?"

Buffy's sister nodded, eager to oblige, and stepped forward to shake Fred's hand. "And are you... Xander?" she said to Andrew. Andrew stepped back and pointed to Xander, standing beside Dawn. "Oh," Fred said, startled. She pointed at his covered eye. "Willow didn't mention the patch thingy."

"It's new," Xander said.

Fred nodded and looked at the other two people blankly. "Andrew," Buffy said, pointing. "And Kennedy. And I'm Buffy. I guess it's nice to meet you." The girl offered Buffy a delicate hand. This time Buffy noticed, but she frowned at Willow before reluctantly shaking it.

"But everything is alright?" Fred asked, after a moment. "Angel is alive? He hasn't called. Not that it's unusual, but we were worried, what with it being the final battle and all that."

"He was fine, the last I saw him," Buffy said. She smiled at the thought of him, before frowning again. "But that was hours ago. Maybe he's lost his soul again. It's not like I would know." Buffy turned and glared again at Willow.

"Oh, I don't think that's possible," Fred said quickly. "Anyway, he keeps to himself a lot. He's been upset about Cordelia and Connor, you know. He might not be back for days. You should have called."

"Told you," Kennedy chimed in, before even Willow glared at her, and she retreated.

"Too late now," Fred said, shrugging. "You probably want to get washed up, after whatever you were doing. Come on inside. Not that I have to invite you, seeing as you're alive and all... nevermind."

Buffy couldn't help but notice how Willow-like this girl Fred was. Well, how Willow was two years ago, anyway. She was bookish, easily flustered, and very cute in an irritating sort of way. They followed her inside.

"Ooh," Fred said, cooing, "Message."

She went to the answering machine, which was blinking, and pressed the button. Angel's smooth monotone played back, even and cool. Buffy felt herself melt a little at the sound of it. "Hey, guys. I'm going to be late coming home, but everything is okay. If anybody is looking for me, I'll be in Cleveland. Take care." Click.

"Cleveland?" Buffy said.

"They do have a Hellmouth there," Fred and Willow said in unison. They looked at each other and giggled. Kennedy glared stonily, and the giggling stopped.

"But, can we still stay in L.A. and shop?" Dawn asked weakly. "I mean, we don't have to go to Cleveland, right?"

Everyone looked expectantly at Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. "I... don't know."

"He didn't say he needed any help," Xander suggested. "And it is an awful long way. Even if he did need help, Faith is there. And I am so, so tired of that schoolbus. Who's with me?"

The gang agreed, and looked to Buffy again. She nodded, even though she felt herself dying inside. There was a gaping hole inside of her now, Spike-sized, and she needed Angel more than ever.

"You can stay here, of course," Fred said. "Wesley will be back later. He's at the office."

Buffy nodded. She was strong; she could wait. After all, there was no hurry. Not for anything, not anymore.

* * *

Stupid apocalypse, thought Amy Madison, as she curled her hair around her finger. It was blond now, and straight; she considered casting a curling spell. But there didn't seem to be any point. The almost-apocalypse had ruined everything. Now Sunnydale was gone, and she had had to move to Cleveland to get her dose of Hellmouth energy. The town was terribly dull and her apartment was wretched. To make matters worse, there were super-powered pre-teens running around everywhere, ready to foil any minor mayhem that she might cook up. There was no more fun in this life for her. And to top it all off, it had been Willow's fault. Willow, with all her powers and smarts and important friends. Amy couldn't hate her enough.

Amy reclined in her new blue velvet chair, which she had supernaturally fashioned from a metal barstool the week before. And next week it might be a chaise lounge. Amy was not above using magicks for trivial ends, unlike her sometime sister Willow, who had once run wild with her power but now restrained herself only to clever apocalypse-stopping spells and other annoyances. Amy squinted angrily and spontaneously conjured a chocolate fudge sundae. She had earned a little pouting time.

She was about to dig into the chocolate indulgence, when a strange harmonic noise caught her ear. She went to the window and listened. It was someone singing, absently, in an accent she didn't quite recognize. At first she could not understand, but then the words came to her, familiar.

"Round and round the mulberry bush," the strange voice sang; Amy decided it was a female, "the monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it all in good fun..."

The voice trailed off, and Amy could not see the woman. She ran to the door and threw it open. A tall woman, pale and oddly beautiful, stood darkly in the doorway. She was wearing a blood-red gown and holding a small bag in front of her.

"Pop," she said, "goes the weasel."

Amy looked her up and down and then rolled her eyes. "Vampire," she said. The woman, who definitely seemed crazy, bit her lip and nodded. Amy was about to close the door before she did a double take. "Vampire? But it's two o'clock. Direct sunlight... you should be a pile of dust!"

The vampire began to grin and nod giddily. "Oh, yes, it does make me feel all warm. It seems that some of your old friends have let me play with their toys."

She then began to clap and grin some more. Amy glowered at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about or why you are here. I could kill you where you stand, right now. Go away."

The vampire wagged an elegant finger at Amy. "If you don't play nice," she scolded, "you won't be getting any supper. And we could make beautiful music, dear wiccan."

Amy put her hands on her hips. "So you know who I am?"

"There is much that I know that you do not know," the vampire said. "Your name has been swimming in my head these past days. I am Drusilla. We could share a cup of tea, and talk, but it just won't do with me out here and you all snug inside..."

"You want me to invite you in?" Amy asked, laughing. "I've heard of you, Drusilla. How do I know you won't bite me?"

The vampire shrugged. "You can't. But I plan to give you an army if you give me what I want, and you'll fancy the things that I want. Our destiny's have mingled in the dark."

"Alright," Amy said. "Come in, Drusilla. But I'm watching you."

Drusilla stepped inside, and instantly her face changed into her viper-like game face. Amy frowned and held up a cross she had ready, but Drusilla batted it away without blinking. "Oh, darling, you can watch me as much as you like. But I cannot be stopped." She grabbed Amy by the jaw, and the witch gasped as the vampire's fangs dug into her veins. "Don't worry; I won't take it all," Drusilla assured, and Amy whimpered. Drusilla smiled and said, "Amy? How do you feel about eternal life? It's pretty."

Amy was already unconscious. Drusilla made the choice for her, and granted it.

* * *

Drusilla licked the blood off her fingers. It was going to be a while before Amy woke up again, so Drusilla had stepped out for a snack. It was so much easier to hunt in the daylight. She could see everything so clearly, and no one was on their guard. She picked them like tomatoes, fresh off the vine. It took some of the fun out of it... but she could hardly complain.

Amy began to stir and moan. "Damn," she said. "I have never been so hungry in my entire life."

"It burns like fire, does it, my pet?" Drusilla asked. She grabbed hold of a rope, at the other end of which a girl was tied, and threw it at Amy. Amy pulled on the rope, discovering her new vampire strength, and fed on the girl. When she was done, she threw the girl away and glared at Drusilla. "You bit me," she accused.

"Mommy doesn't trust mortals," Drusilla explained. "Do you mind?"

Amy flexed and considered, then replied, "No, this will do. What's the plan?"

"You are going to help me find the new slayers," Drusilla said. "You will magic our way to them, and then I will use my fantastic new strength to overpower and eat them. Yum. Then we will make them like us, and the world will be overrun with darkness. We shall dance under the stars in the blood of centuries. It will be a lark."

Amy reflected on her new situation. She was much stronger now, and more focused, and when she thought about it, she could feel that her hatred of Willow and Buffy had only grown stronger. They thought they had found the perfect solution, turning all the world's potentials into full slayers. Well, Amy and this crazy vampire were going to teach her a thing or two about perfection.

"Yes," Amy agreed. "It does sound fun. But I'll need a few things for the--"

"Oh, I almost forgot," Dru interrupted, smiling. She opened up the bag she had come with and said, "I've brought candy and treats for everyone."

It was filled with various oddities and nasty magical objects. "Supplies," Amy said, nodding. It looked like enough; Drusilla had done her homework. She looked back at Drusilla, her lovely dam. The woman was out of her mind, but she did have style. Amy took a moment to admire her before standing up and brushing off.

"Well, let's go," she said, smiling at Drusilla. "It's never too late to end the world."

* * *

Spike enters a bright room that sings softly to itself. He is filled with calm, even knowing he is about to conference with a Power That Is. It is coming back to him slowly, memories from the last time he was here, back when he was William. The order of things defied description, he recalled. It is force and light and goodness, and it rules the universe. And he is about to meet with it.

A door opens in time, and a woman enters. Spike's eyes pop. "Drusilla!" he gasps.

She blinks at him, surprised, before she replies. "How do you know my name?" she asks at last.

"Oh," he says, remembering. This is Drusilla's soul, pure and good, with no memory of her vampire self. Just as he had been, a year ago. "I know you as a demon, Drusilla. My name is Spike. We were vampires together... we were lovers."

She sighs and looks away. "So you really are William, the one they call Spike," she says, her profile a mask. "I will have you know, I am not the Drusilla you know. I am not crazy and I am not evil." She pauses, then says, "No one thought you would make it back. To inhabit such a vessel is a dangerous thing."

"I was lucky," he says. "There was a girl... she believed in me. It's not a big thing. I did what anyone would do. Anyway, are you here to talk to God, too, or whatever? Because I'll have you know, I was here first."

"You are very gracious, to say it is no big thing," she says, "but it was a great thing you did. There is great poetry in your love for the slayer, Spike, because your sacrifice was as great as hers."

This is startling for Spike, and he loses his train of thought. "How do you know so much about me?" he asks curiously.

"It is of small consequence," she says. "I must tell you, though, that this is not heaven. Not yet. We will not play games with you, the way the witch played games with her."

"Is this why I feel unfinished?" Spike asks.

Drusilla nods. "You are offered a choice. You are the vampire with a soul, prophesized for centuries to save the world. You may proceed onward, to heaven, and exist in bliss as a hero. Or, you may sanshu, and return to earth, to live out your mortal life. You are a champion, and it is your choice."

Spike stares open-mouthed. "I can san-what?"

"Do you want to go back, Spike?"

Spike swallows hard. It is no easy choice. In truth, what man would give up paradise? But he is filled with a nagging sense of incompleteness. And in spite of everything, he worries about her, and misses her presence, and even though she does not love him he wants to be near her. But to return mortal? Is that what he wants? It is a strange choice. But he knows there is only one answer he can give. "Yes," he says.

She spreads her arms. "Then back you go," she says.

He feels his body being pulled in all directions. "But Dru!" he cries. "Where's the Big Cheese? I thought I was supposed to meet with him!"

Everything goes gray and dark and the air begins to rush by him. He hears her voice whispering to him before the glimpse of heaven fades away. Her voice fades, and then he hears only laughter, and then silence.

* * *

"Spike has got to get out of my dreams," Buffy said, waking. She rolled out of bed and grabbed a robe. It was dark purple and feminine, and Buffy supposed it belonged to Cordelia.

"Was it a slayer dream?" Fred asked.

Buffy jumped. She had not noticed that the slender girl had slipped into her room. "Don't you knock?" she demanded. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"I'm sorry," Fred squeaked, backing away. "But you cried out, and everyone else was asleep, so I came in to check on you. I brought you some water."

Fred offered Buffy a glass, which Buffy took and drank quickly. It felt good, and she realized she had been sweating. "I guess it was a nightmare," she said. Her pulse was racing, and she felt uneasy all over.

"You don't remember?"

Buffy shook her head. "There was something about a choice, and death..." but that was all that she rememberred.

"And Spike was in it?"

Buffy glared at her. "How do you know about Spike?"

"You said his name when you woke up," Fred said, shrugging. "I've been reading about him. That's why I was up, actually. Angel called and asked me to do some research on Drusilla. He says she's planning something."

"And you're the research slave?"

Fred smiled. "That's me. I couldn't sleep, anyway. This Spike, though, he was a nasty vamp. Not as nasty as Drusilla, of course, but he killed two slayers. Even Angel didn't do that."

Buffy looked down at her bare feet on the floor.

"I guess that's why you had a nightmare about him, huh?"

"No," Buffy said, looking back at Fred. "He wasn't like that anymore. I guess your books aren't up to date." Fred waited for her to explain, so Buffy took a deep breath and continued. "See, there was this government project and they put a chip in his head, and then... anyway, he went to Africa and asked for his soul back because, um, he loved me. He's been on our side for a while... and a week ago he died, to save the world. And I have been having nightmares about him ever since."

"Oh dear," Fred said. "You and souled vampires, hmm?"

Buffy glared at her. "You don't know me," she said. "And I just told you, he had a thing for me, not the other way around. It's not like he was some kind of great guy, like Angel is. One time, he tried to rape me, you know."

"That was pre-soul, though, I'm guessing?"

Buffy took a deep breath.

Fred shrugged. "It's not my business," she said. "Like you said, I don't know you. It might be nice to start, though. Come downstairs and eat with me. We have eggs?"

Buffy smiled. "Eggs are good," she said.

* * *

"The thing I hate most about them," Amy said, looking up from her spellbook, "is that they have so much power, especially Willow, but they refuse to use it for anything except for 'the good fight.'" For this last, Amy made air quotes. "I mean, what does that mean, anyway? Who are they to judge right and wrong?"

Drusilla looked up from the small plaid loveseat she was sitting on, and stared at Amy miserably. It had been a leather sofa earlier, but Amy had switched it on a whim. Drusilla considered ripping it to shreds. "How comes the spell?" she asked. "Are they getting closer? The slayers?"

"Oh, almost," Amy replied. "It turns out that the slayers are naturally drawn to the Hellmouth, and all we have to do is amplify their attraction. Before long, Willow and Buffy will wish they had never been born."

That second name unlatched Drusilla from reality. She stared off into space and began to think about Spike, as she did often lately. It was hard not to smile, remembering how tough he tried to be, and how soft he was inside. For a hundred years, they had been a team, ravaging the streets by night and each other by day. He was hers, to tickle and to torture for eternity, but she had lost him without warning to that wretched girl. True, Dru had left him for Angel, and then a chaos demon, but she never meant to let anyone else have him, least of all Buffy the vampire slayer. Buffy had stolen him without flourish, and that was that. And now he was dead. She knew because she had felt it in her marrow, like a chill on the breeze. "Kisses to you, my heart," she said softly.

"What?

"None of your concern," Drusilla hissed. She gapped the curtains and peered out through the window at an innocent couple walking by on the sidewalk, then looked back at Amy to smile cruelly as rays of sunlight poured into the room. "I'm getting peckish," she said.

"Hey, can you close that window already? I'm sizzling," Amy said, pulling back. For all her malice, she was naive, this one. The small amount of sunlight that had touched her arm had left several blisters. "Some of us are still allergic to sunlight, remember?"

Drusilla rolled her eyes and stretched out on the awful couch-- it smelled faintly of cat piss. Drusilla looked up at the ceiling and began to count the ways she could kill Amy.

"There," Amy said, putting down her book. She grabbed a handful of herbs and various organs from the bag Drusilla had brought, and dropped them in the pentagram she had drawn on the floor. "I need you here with me, Drusilla, to complete the circle."

Drusilla smiled very convincing and joined Amy at the pentagram. "It has been a long time since I touched the dark arts," she admitted. "I feel quite tingly."

"Now grab my hand," Amy instructed. Drusilla obliged. Amy took a moment to admire how cold and elegant Drusilla's hands were before she began to chant. "Diana," she said, "Goddess of the hunt and the moon, I beseech you. By the powers of good and the powers of evil, bring the hunters to the battle and let my will be done. Blessed be, the battle has begun."

A brilliant glow rose up from the pentagram, shattered, and burst away in every direction. There was a great boom, and then it was done. Drusilla looked suspiciously at Amy. "Is that all there is?" she asked. "Because it repulsed me. It sounded like church music."

"Oh, it is," she admitted. "It's a call for help. But it will bring the Slayers here... all of them."

"So many little girls," Drusilla said absently. "All untrained, and ripe for the picking. And so very strong. I will rule this Hellmouth, Amy, and its power will be mine."

"Excuse me?" Amy said, standing up. "Yours?"

"Oh, right," Drusilla said. She stood up and smoothed her skirts, then looked back to Amy, her face in vamp. "We've come to the part where I kill you. Be a sport and say cheers."

Amy's blood boiled. "You crazy bitch!" she shouted, before gathering herself. "Goddess Hecate I beseech you..." she began to chant, her best spell, but Drusilla was too fast. She grabbed Amy's mouth and began to pull her towards the door. The raised vampire was unbelievably strong, and Amy struggled, but she could not break free or even open her mouth.

"One of us forgot their parasol," Drusilla said, humming lightly, and she reached out to open the door.

Amy would be dust in moments. She managed to wriggle her head free now that Dru's left hand was on the door. "Wait," she cried. "You need me."

Dru looked at her, waiting, eyes wide.

"The slayers are on their way here," Amy explained. If her heart could beat, it would be pounding. "My spell worked. But without me, how will you recognize them? You need me to cast a locator spell, because you need to find them quickly, before Buffy or Willow does. They'll be here too, you know."

"Wicked child!" Dru said, throwing Amy back into the apartment. She began to shake with rage. "How dare you call that horrible girl here? This is my day, and I have no use for a real slayer."

"They are all real slayers, now," Amy said, cowering. She was not out of danger yet, as Dru looked ready to spit venom. "It's just that... Buffy is... well, there is no distinction between them, magically, anymore. That's all. If I call any, I call them all."

Drusilla threw up her hands. "Very well," she said. "I suppose you are needed, because we will have to move quickly. Please forgive me; I won't try to kill you again." Amy nodded nervously. Her dam's rage faded, and Dru began to smile almost lovingly, humming again. "Oh, and you will love slayer blood, my little princess. I remember it from China; it's power sustained me for weeks... we will have such parties, and the blood will run like wine."

Amy stood up straight and stepped towards Drusilla. This was a dangerous path she walked, but if she survived even for a little while it would all be worth it. "And once we have an invincible army," she said, "then we can kill the slayer and her friends?"

Drusilla looked menacingly at Amy. Poor Spike had died like a dog, docile and housebroken, but she would avenge him soon. "Buffy's friends are yours, child," she said darkly, "but the slayer is mine. She took something precious from me that can never be returned, and I will have vengeance."

Amy nodded, rubbing her hands together. When the slayer came, she would bring her friends. She would bring Willow; Amy could taste her blood already. And when Amy fed, she would take it all.

* * *

Fred might be nosy, but she cooked a mean egg. Buffy dug into a second poached masterpiece, scooping up the gooey insides with a perfect piece of toast. How long has it been since she had eaten decent food? Fred stood at the stove, making pancakes for the rest of the gang, who were still asleep. The pan sizzled, and Buffy would have been excited about them if Fred weren't being so quiet.

"I miss Angel," Buffy said suddenly, trying to make conversation between bites. "I was really hoping he would be here."

Coughing, Fred turned from the stove and looked at Buffy. "He does as he will, coming and going as he pleases." Fred coughed again. "If you don't mind me saying so, though... This guy, Spike. He loved you, and died for you, and you're dreaming about him because, what? You miss Angel?"

"Now, hold it right there," Buffy snapped back, and frowned. "This is hardly your concern... and I am not dreaming about him. I am having slayer-style prophecy-slash-nightmares about him." Fred waited, a gentler expression on her face. After staring at her for a moment, Buffy looked down at her hands and took a deep breath.

It was true that when Buffy allowed herself, she had pleasant memories of Spike. She remembered how tender he had been their last night together, just lying next to her, so gracious even though he deserved to be jealous. She had never expected him to be so caring and supportive after knowing him as passionate and destructive. When she was alone, sometimes, she even allowed herself to enjoy the memory their secret nights together. Their sex had been wild and consuming, a drug for her, loveless but powerful, and even after a year the memory could still make her blood run hot. Closing her eyes, Buffy took a deep breath and savored that feeling.

Willow and Xander probably assumed that she had started up with him again when they began sharing a bed again, but she had not. They had shared no more than emotional intimacy. No doubt they had wanted more; it had been a long time for both of them, and when he spoke so kindly to her she almost believed she loved him. In the end, though, Buffy had been unable to reconcile the man he had been with the man he was, and she had kept her distance. Now he was gone, and she knew it was the right choice. It had to be.

She opened her eyes and realized Fred was waiting for her, staring. "I think the dream meant something important," Buffy said quickly, and sighed. Fred blinked and decided to let it go. "I can't remember enough of it to make sense, though."

"Nothing specific?"

Buffy shook her head. "Some power I have."

Fred shrugged. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail for the third time, and after a roll of her eyes she tied it back again. "They still sound nicer than Cordy's visions," she said. "Those hurt like a bitch."

"Wow, Cordelia has visions now?" Buffy said, perking up. She could always talk about old friends, or whatever Cordelia was to her. "That Cordelia. I haven't talked to her in eons. How is she?"

Fred paused for a moment, and bit her lip. "Comatose," she said finally. "It's awful. There have been some nasty suprises for you this visit. She was possessed by a demon, and she may never wake up. I'm so sorry."

"Oh." Buffy looked away, then looked back at Fred. "This is... confusing."

A scuffling noise behind her made Buffy turn, and she saw Willow step into the kitchen, wearing pajamas. "Cordelia gave birth to some sort of demon goddess that briefly controlled California. We didn't hear about it because we were so involved with the First." Buffy stared at Willow, then back at Fred, who shrugged. Willow shook her head. "You don't really need to understand. It's over."

"Ah," Buffy said, brushing it off. "Well, good morning, Willow. Did you sleep well?"

"Let's not get into that," Willow suggested, sitting down. That meant she had slept very poorly. "Did you have slayer nightmares last night?"

Buffy glowered. "Why, were you watching me sleep, too?"

"No," Willow said, glowering back. "Because I was watching Kennedy sleep. Due to the fact that I couldn't sleep, with her tossing and turning, slayer style."

"Does she remember any of it?" Fred asked.

"Just that it was scary," she said, frowning. "Apocalyptic."

Buffy looked down at her eggs and hunched her shoulders. It was as she had feared. "I don't suppose that there's any chance it was a late dream... I mean, she couldn't be dreaming about the apocalypse we just stopped... could she?"

"No, I think it was a brand new apocalypse," the witch replied sadly.

"Not really an apocalypse," Kennedy chimed in, entering the kitchen. She was wearing short boxers and a spaghetti strap top, and she pranced in front of Willow and kissed her before sitting down beside her. Understanding spread quickly across Fred's face. "More like a war."

"Actually, an apocalypse can be a... a war," Fred explained, flustered, gesturing with her spatula. She must not have known that Willow and Kennedy were lovers, and she began to stammer again. "You know... with the four horsemen, and that stuff."

Kennedy paused before nodding. She hadn't known. Fred turned back to the stove, flipped the pancakes onto a plate and carried them to the table. Before Buffy could grab one, Kennedy had taken three. Willow looked at Buffy warningly, and Buffy let it pass.

"So, your dream?" Buffy said. "It didn't, by any chance, involve... Spike?"

Kennedy sat up in her chair, so that she could look down at Buffy before replying. "No, hon," she said archly, "my dreams are strictly girl-on-girl."

Buffy threw up her hands. "It wasn't that kind of dream!" she said. "It was about power and death and... do you... does anyone else feel that?"

A sudden stab of power had taken hold of Buffy, and she looked around the room. Willow shook her head, as did Fred, but Kennedy blinked before replying. "Yes," she said, her hand on her chest. She nodded vigorously. "I feel it. I've never felt anything so powerful. It's like a siren turned on in my stomach. Is it a portent?"

Buffy shrugged and looked at Willow.

"What do you feel?" Willow asked, looking at Kennedy.

Kennedy gulped down the pancake in her mouth before replying. She looked at Buffy and said, "We have to go. Now. We are needed."

"I don't know," Buffy said. "I feel it pulling at me, too, but I don't know what it means."

"It means we're slayers," Kennedy snapped. "We are needed. We have to go to Cleveland, now. Don't pussy out on me, Buffy. You feel it, too. We have to go, now."

"Cleveland?" Willow asked, confused.

"Just like Angel," Fred said.

Buffy looked at Fred, who turned back to the stove and waited. "You are right," she said. "We need to go. But won't it wait? We just got here, and Fred's made us breakfast. I want some pancakes."

"No!" Kennedy shouted, rising out of her chair. She began to pace. "We need to leave now. The forces of darkness won't wait. We have to go. I feel it! Now! We have to go."

"Kennedy, calm down," Willow said, frowning, tugging on her girlfriend's arm.

Buffy looked at Fred, who was holding a bowl full of batter. As much as she wanted to stay, Buffy felt it too, tugging at her heart, begging her to leave. She could not explain how she knew they had to go to Cleveland, or why, but she did know they had to leave soon, somehow. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Fred smiled kindly and said, "If you have to go, you have to go. Oh, and take care of Angel. He gets over his head sometimes."

Buffy nodded. There was a plus side; they would soon see Angel. It might be a minor apocalypse, and afterwards, maybe smoochies. Her summer might not be a total wash. "Xander's the best driver, so I'll go get him," she said, sounding cheery, "but Dawn and Andrew should stay here." The others agreed. Then, looking at Kennedy, Buffy added, "Back to the grind. How's about we kick some apocalyptic ass?"

Kennedy nodded, and within an hour the four of them were back on the bus and on the road. Dawn and Andrew would be upset when they woke up, but it was for the best. The road ahead was dangerous, and Buffy, Xander, Willow and Kennedy knew they would face death. They had no what force had called for them, but still they went, blindly following a cause.

"Oh, yes," whispered Drusilla, on the wind, into the dark. She clapped her hands. "And they fall for it, every time."

His vision was flooded with tiny white flecks, like television static, rushing by and hissing as they went. He could not smell anything or feel anything. He could not hear himself speak. He began to think of himself as an overgrown amoeba, streching his senseless way through primordial ooze. He had a silent laugh. Perhaps none of this had actually happened. Perhaps he had died almost three hundred years ago and this whole bit about him being a vampire and saving the world had been the fanciful dreaming of his death throes. What would he dream next?

Then, all of a sudden, Spike was alive.

He slammed to the earth without feeling it. Everything was still stark white, so he might not have known anything had changed except that he had developed a throbbing headache. Bollocks, but he thought he was free of headaches. He rubbed his forehead fiercely and, after clearing his throat, said, "Ouch."

A smooth dark face came seemingly out of nowhere and crowded his vision, scrutinizing him. "Well," said the face, turning away, "he can talk now."

"Fantastic," said another voice, further away, and British. "Maybe now he can tell us how he got here." He began to enunciate to clearly. "Sir? Can you hear me? My name is--"

"I can hear you just fine," Spike said, his head clearing. He looked around and found the source of the voice, a man standing solidly within himself, looking every inch the watcher-cum-demon-hunter he had always fancied himself. Spike winced; his head was throbbing. He also noticed that he was naked. "And I know your name already. Wesley Wyndam-some-such. I've seen your... you were her watcher. Where the bloody hell am I?"

The black man and Wesley exchanged a glance. "Your reputation preceeds you," the black man said to Wesley, shrugging.

"Oh, I remember you, too," Spike said, nodding at the black man. "You used to run an anti-vampire vigilate gang in downtown Los Angeles. Dru kept tabs on you. Some very masculine sort of name..."

"Gunn," the man said gruffly, glaring now.

"Well, that's very nice. Very street." Spike found his balance and stood up. "Now, is one of you blokes going to tell me where I am?"

"There will be no demands," Wesley said. He did not blink, and while his voice was calm, it had a threatening edge. Spike's mouth snapped shut. "We will tell you what you want to know if we decide to let you know it. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Spike crossed his arms and breathed -- yes, breathed -- deeply. "My name is William. I am known by many names but most people called me Spike. In 1877 I was killed and then sired by Drusilla, a vampire in the line of Aurelius. Many years of mayhem followed," and Gunn looked ready to attack, so Spike added quickly, "for which I am profoundly sorry. During my exploits, I met a girl about yay high, carries a stake, name of Buffy, and for reasons known only to her and me, I fell in love with her." He took another deep breath. "Yada yada yada, I went to Africa to regain my soul, hoping to win her love... but while I did get my soul, I was still an insufferable git and Buffy could never love me. Meanwhile, Sunndale was suffering from a slight case of apocalypse, so I did what I had to do. That is to say, I died saving the world, and so the PTB comes to me and says I can san-something, which is a fancy word that means come back to earth as human. Redemption, et cetera. So here I am... ah... the end. What do you think?"

Gunn and Wesley stood frozen, absolutely silent.

"C'mon, admit it... it's a good story."

Gunn turned to Wesley and said softly, "Angel isn't going to like this."

Spike drew back and rolled his eyes. "For once, could this be about me? I mean, I died, I saved the world, and I got the sanshu. Not Angel."

"We noticed," Gunn snarled. Wesley nodded. "Angel has been working towards Sanshu for four years, you know. It doesn't seem right that you just happened to be in the right place at the right time and you manage to stumble into something that he's been working at for so long, does it?"

Spike sniffed at this. He had been about to ask for a cigarette, but he reconsidered.

"Now, let's wait just a moment," Wesley said. "We can't just take this on faith. All we know is that this fellow popped into our offices out of--"

"So that's where I am, then?" Spike asked eagerly.

"--and he claims to be a rather infamous vampire, now human," Wesley continued blithely, "but we can't be sure he is. He is human, we know that. But as for being William the Bloody... well, I never met Spike, but I saw sketches, and frankly, you don't look anything like him."

"That probably on account of my hair," Spike said, grinning. "You see, platinum blonde was not my natural color. Believe it or not. What color is it now? Brown?"

"Actually," Wesley said carefully, "it's orange. Carrot orange. And... you have freckles." Wesley searched his pockets for a mirror, which he kept around for vampire hunting. He offered it to Spike, who snatched it.

Spike stared into the mirror for a long time, brow furrowed, before he spoke. This was a strange turn of events. The face looking back at him was Irish, fair skinned, carrot-topped, and wide-eyed. "Well," he said finally. "It has been a pretty long time since I've looked at my reflection, but I can still say with reasonable certainty that this is not me."

He tossed the mirror back to Wesley, who caught it and stowed it. "You understand our position, then?" the watcher asked.

After a deep shaky breath, Spike took a moment to consider this new development. He had been looking forward to being human, but he had not expected to return to earth looking like a Weasley. Although, in the abstract, he was not a bad looking red-head, and the freckles were alright. But there were no rockstars with freckles, and he had always fancied himself something of a rockstar. Oh well. He looked down at his feet and realized that he was taller, and also, he was glad to see, fairly well endowed. By the feeling of the skin around his eyes, he also was several years younger.

And then it dawned on him, the opportunity this presented. This was a new beginning. He smiled. It had been impossible for her to forget who he was. Now she wouldn't even recognize him. Maybe... He looked at Wesley, then at Gunn. "I think I'll call myself Malachi," he said. He laughed. "Don't I look like a Malachi?"

Unsure of how to respond, the pair of them continued to stare at him.

Laughter shook him; his new body was so weak. What would he do? Should he go to her now? She wouldn't be too hard to find, he thought. He could throw himself at her feet, a fresh new worshipper at her mercy... but there was something he had learned about her that he couldn't shake. Something he had told that Finn boy. And this time he was only a man.

He strode towards the exit before Wesley or Gunn could stop him. "If you'll give me some clothes, then, I'll be off. And if anyone's looking for me," he said over his shoulder, "I'll be in Africa."

Wesley and Gunn didn't know how to respond. Gunn shrugged, and looked at Wesley, who shrugged back. "He's a regular guy now," Wesley said. Gunn nodded. "We have no right to stop him." They let it go.

* * *

The slayers Buffy and Kennedy were eager to go, and Xander was eager to please, so the school bus was making excellent time. They were already in Omaha and would reach Cleveland within a day. Famished, Willow had insisted that they stop at the first place they saw, which happened to be a small American-style eatery called Rick's Cafe Boatyard, apparently the only eatery on the Omaha River.

Xander had taken so long deciding what to order that Buffy had been close to hitting him, but he had wised up and was now eating his food quickly, if fearfully. Buffy didn't mean to be so impatient, but the call within her was too poweful to wait. She was jumping to be off.

Kennedy was bouncing her leg and looking around anxiously. She was more impatient than Buffy was. Meanwhile, Willow was going crazy because Kennedy was even snippier than usual. Willow could never understand how slayers felt. She looked alone and irritated, staring off across the river, eating her food slowly. Buffy had to hold herself from slapping her.

After wolfing down her food, Buffy took a moment to look around the cafe. Immediately she recognized a girl sitting alone at the counter, a soft skinny creature with red-brown hair, as one of the potentials who used to live at her house. The girl tossed money across the counter and scurried out the door.

Buffy caught up to her and, unable to remember her name, yelled, "Hey!" and the girl turned around. "Where are you going? Why are you here? Wait, stop!"

She girl shook her head and jumped into her car. Buffy caught the words "can't wait" and "Cleveland" before she skittered away. Which was exactly what Buffy was feeling on the inside.

Buffy watched, mouth open, as the girl's car peeled out of the parking lot and zipped off at a dangerous speed. After a moment, Buffy closed her mouth and considered this incident. Willow would want to know, of course, but she wouldn't understand. Buffy decided that it didn't matter. There had been plenty of weirdos in that bunch of potentials, anyway, and they would meet up again soon enough. Buffy would keep this strange encounter a secret.

She stormed back into the diner. "Alright," she shouted, drawing stares, "time's up, everybody out!"

Xander swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and grumbled, "But Ma... " before getting up. Kennedy popped out of her chair eagerly, slapping Xander on the back of the head. Meanwhile, Willow was holding her tongue, but she couldn't hide her irritation. She glared at Buffy, then at Kennedy, before standing up.

Buffy ignored them. There was no time to waste with pep talks. The world she had worked so hard to save might end at any moment. She just knew it.

"Can't talk, can't wait," she mumbled, her heart tugging at her. "Must get to Cleveland."

* * *

The whole city smelled like Drusilla; Angel could sense her immediately. Every day on the news there was another murder in her style. What Angel couldn't figure was that most of these killings were taking place in broad daylight. And what was worse, Angel could tell she was just biding her time.

One would think that the people of Cleveland would be scared, and while many were leaving, he had noticed a strange trend. For the past few days, busloads of young girls had been travelling to Cleveland. Every day dozens more starry-eyed girls had been coming to Cleveland with purpose in their eyes. It reminded him of Hollywood. He had asked a bus driver about it, but the man couldn't explain it. He said he had never seen anything like it.

Somehow, Angel suspected, it was Drusilla's doing.

He followed a lead to the east bank of the Flats, where a few of the murders had taken place. Everything was unfamiliar and he realized how comfortable he had become in Los Angeles. It was a bare city, and he couldn't make sense of it. He stopped in front of a place called the Harbor Inn and considered asking directions.

"Excuse me, sir?" said a small voice behind him. He turned and saw a girl with long black hair and bright eyes, pretty and confident, like a young Cordelia. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "There's something about you I can't explain"

"I get that a lot. Do you know how to get to Clifton Boulevard from here?"

She shook her head and took a step closer. "I feel like you might know something about what I am, and why I'm here," she said. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Angel blinked. "No, actually."

"I know it sounds crazy," she said, laughing, "but I saw you standing here in the shadows, and I was drawn to you. My life has been really confusing lately. Something has happened to me that shouldn't be possible. For some reason, I thought you could explain it, maybe."

Angel shifted. "Why me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. An instinct."

"Well," he said. "Start off by telling me why you weren't afraid to approach a large man lurking in the shadows? I'm new to Cleveland, but I'm told that's never wise."

She smiled, grabbed both of his arms, and pulled them effortlessly behind his back. She then nonchalantly pinned him to the wall. Even with his vampire strength, he struggled for several moments before wiggling free. "You see," she said, "I've become suddenly strong for my size. That's the weird thing that's happened to me. One day I woke up and I was really, really strong. That's one of the things I was hoping you could explain." He had wheeled to face her, and she considered him. "You're stronger than I expected," she added.

"That's because I'm a vampire," he snapped, flexing his sore arms. "What are you?"

She jumped, then shrugged.

"Well, when did this... start?"

"About a week ago," she said. "I just woke up feeling, like, I don't know... like a superhero, I guess."

And then Angel's heart dropped. He looked into this young face, a face about as old as Buffy had been when she had been called, and he told her, "You're the Slayer."

"The... what?"

Angel didn't answer her. His mind was racing. The world had not ended, but here he was, face to face with the new chosen one. Could it be? Had Buffy died? Or, maybe Faith? Neither thought warmed his heart.

The girl was waiting for him to explain it to her. He said, "The Watcher's Council will contact you shortly and explain everything. What's left of them, anyway. It's too complicated for me to explain now, but... ah... I need some time..." and he started to walk away. His world spun; Buffy was dead.

"Will the Watcher's Council explain why we've all been drawn to Cleveland?"

He stopped. "We?"

"Yeah," she said. "Two days ago I jumped out of bed and got on a bus to Cleveland. I don't know why, but I knew I had to come here. The bus was full of other girls, and they were all strong like me, and they all had the same feeling. Will the Watcher's Council explain all of this?"

This was getting stranger by the minute. Angel no longer suspected that Buffy was dead, but he still knew something was wrong. Somehow he knew that Sunnydale was at the heart of all this. And in the back of his mind, he thought Drusilla was important as well. He still couldn't figure how or why.

"No," he said at last. "This is too much for the Watcher's Council. It's too much for me, too, but I know someone. Give me your name and I'll contact you when I get in touch with her."

"My name is Lori Prior," she said carefully, "but how will you find me?"

Angel smiled and walked away.

* * *

Cleveland looked like a hellmouth, dark and boring and dirty, but as soon as Buffy arrived, she felt immediately calm. The world had not ended, and her inner need had faded. She felt satisfied. Kennedy also looked cooler, as though she had finally eaten after two days of hunger.

Then Buffy knew something was wrong.

"Willow," she said, "do you think this could have been a trap?"

Willow looked at her, her face tired and long-suffering. She sighed and said, "Yes."

"But who would want to trap hundreds of slayers?" Kennedy asked. "It seems like covering yourself with blood and swimming with sharks."

"Maybe," Willow said.

They called around and found rooms at a Hostelling International in a cheap part of town. The outside reminded Buffy of Faith's old digs, and she half-expected to bump into the dark slayer in the lobby. She did not expect to meet who she did.

"Angel!"

He had been waiting for them, she was sure. He must have called home to find out what had happened to them. She dropped her bags and ran to him, a familiar brooding figure in a long black coat, and jumped into his arms. "What a surprise!"

He was not rude, but he did not return her embrace. She had forgotten how cold he felt. Ever so gently he pushed her away. And there was something more, something unsaid, like a barrier between them. She let out a long breath.

He looked at them so icily that none of them dared speak. Then, arching a brow at Kennedy and the others, he asked, "What happened with the First?"

"Oh, it was totally chill," Kennedy said, suddenly bubbly. "Willow cast some mojo and turned all of us potentials into full slayers. Then we kicked the First's butt."

"I think that's being generous," Buffy said quickly. "We were facing heavy casualties until Spike used your amulet, Angel."

Angel tried not to wince at the sound of Spike's name, and he made sure Buffy didn't notice. Jealousy was a petty concern next to this, the thing he had feared most all day. He turned to face Willow, smoldering. "How could you do something so... dangerous?" he said, quiet but accusing. "I thought you were past your reckless phase."

She swallowed but stood her ground. "The world was ending," Willow said. "Everything was dangerous. And now we have thousands of slayers. We all decided, where one is good, hundreds are better."

"Thousands of slayers," he repeated. "Hundreds of super-powered teenagers with no Watchers and no idea what to do with their new strength. Brilliant. And you thought Faith was dangerous."

Willow caught her breath. They all stared at each other silently for a moment, and for the first time they saw the thing for what it was. Buffy felt ill.

Angel stared at them sternly, letting it all sink in, because he spoke again. "Tell me," he said, "why are you in Cleveland?"

This made them all look even more uncomfortable, and Buffy thought she just might throw up. Of course it was a trap. Buffy said, "I had a... a feeling."

Angel did not react, but said only, "That's what Lori said, too."

Buffy suppressed the urge to ask who Lori was, and said only, "We are thinking now that it might have been a trap."

He said, "I'm inclined to agree." She looked like she was going to melt, and he softened. "Alright, there's no point in pointing fingers now. We need to figure out who has led you here and why. I don't know why, but I have a good idea about who."

They all looked at him expectantly, but his eyes were only on Buffy.

"Drusilla," he said.

This revelation was too unexpected for them to digest at first. Buffy returned his gaze without blinking before looking at Willow and Xander. Willow shrugged. Xander grimaced and said. "Drusilla? I keep forgetting we haven't killed her yet."

"Who's Drusilla?" Kennedy asked.

"And while we're at it," Angel said, "Who are you?"

"Oh, Angel, this is Kennedy," Willow said, smiling back. "My girlfriend; she's a slayer." Angel tried not to stare, and he kept his mouth firmly shut. But Angel never thought Willow would swing that way. She took his gawking in stride and continued. "Kennedy, Drusilla's a cooky and perennial nemesis of ours."

"A vampire. Also, Spike's sire and sometime girlfriend," chimed Xander.

"One of my brood," Angel added. At this, everyone fell silent and looked to him. "I don't know what she's planning," he said, "but I think we can rule out a night watch. Remember the last time we all rubbed elbows, she tried to end the world."

Willow nodded and looked sympathetically at Buffy, who shrugged.

"We need more information," Angel said. "I'm going to check this out, ask around at the local demon haunts, see if anyone knows anything. Meanwhile, I'll send Lori and any other new slayers I meet over here."

"And what are we supposed to do while you're out on the town?" Kennedy demanded.

Angel ignored her and again stared meaningfully at Buffy. "Stay here," he said, and with that he swept out of the Hostelling International lobby.

Buffy waited, silent and still, until he was gone. Then she rolled her eyes and motioned to the Scoobies, who were waiting to follow her. Angel didn't seem to know her anymore. She had no intention of "staying here." She was the original slayer, and she did not take orders.

* * *

"They have arrived," Amy said, opening her eyes, catlike in the dark. Drusilla barely responded. She had been distracted today, listless in her hunting and joyless in her feeding. Something faraway had changed but only Drusilla could feel it. Amy hoped she would get over it soon.

Drusilla nodded and continued to stare vacantly, humming softly. "They're all returning to me," she said, and then reclined on the couch. She had been languishing all day, saying nonsense like "my pet has returned" and some such.

"So, are we going to kill them now or what?" Amy whined. Drusilla did not respond at first, and Amy huffed. There were moments when she loved and admired her sire; this was not one of those moments.

Drusilla suddenly sat up. "Not yet," she said. "They may know we are here by now -- the puppy will have told them -- but they won't know what we're up to. We can bide our time while our army becomes..."

At that Drusilla nodded at the bodies of four young girls lying prone on the floor. They appeared dead at the moment, but in a few hours they would all wake up as raised vampires, young and biddable. Amy's eyes lit up as she recalled her own kill, an insipid yuppy thing named Lori Prior. Her blood had been warmer and sweeter than anything she had ever imagined, and its supernatural power still flowed through her veins, heightening her senses and amplifying her own powers. She could hardly wait for more.

Drusilla smiled. "I can see what you're thinking," she said excitedly.

"Oh yes?" Amy said, smiling back.

"Yes indeed," she said. "And I approve. Good girl. Back to the hunt."

Amy nodded and without wasting a moment, she lit another fire in her cauldron. A blue flame jumped out of the pot and into the air. Drusilla winked at Amy and then skittered after the blue light, which was already wheeling out the door. Amy, more sedately, followed.

It was almost nighttime, dark enough for Amy to walk outside without bursting into flames but light enough to make her itch. She wondered, if she drank enough slayer blood, would it make her invincible like Dru? Perhaps, but it was unlikely that the Dru would let her drink that much; so far Amy had been given only the scraps. Lori had been the exception because Amy had caught her alone, in the early morning, while Dru had been moping.

"It's slowing down," Dru said, clapping. "Does it fancy someone local, you suppose?"

Amy nodded, stalking silently. At any moment, a superhero might jump out and attack them, and that made her a little more nervous than it made Dru. The first girl they had found had known what they were on sight and had almost staked Amy before Dru bit her, and Amy had taken that lesson to heart.

They found the slayer, lost and alone, waiting in line at a Jack in the Box. When Amy and Drusilla slipped into vamp face, the other patrons ran, but not the new slayer. She had brand new powers and she wasn't afraid. She fought bravely as Drusilla and Amy herded her carefully out of the restaurant and into a dark alley. All things considered she put up a good fight. She landed a fair number of slayer-like kicks and punches, even knocked Drusilla to the ground once, before Amy swooped in from behind and sunk her teeth into her neck. Dru winked and then bit into the other side of her neck. They drank deeply, then let her collapse to the ground.

There was a clatter of metal, and Drusilla spun around, catching the smell of human fear. Whoever it was had run off, but Drusilla seemed calm. "I know that smell," she said, licking her bloody fingers. "He was the one without any powers."

Amy tested the air and nodded. She recognized it too. "Xander," she said. "He knows now. We could catch him, and kill him?"

Drusilla shook her head. "This one makes five," she said. She cut her finger and let the blood fall into the dead slayer's mouth. Spike hadn't let her turn his slayers because he was afraid of their power, but she knew about the bond between sire and brood. That bond could never be broken; it was something she still felt with Angel, despite her best efforts. Therefore she insisted that all of the slayers drink her own blood, even the ones that Amy killed herself. "When these ones wake up, it will be enough. He will warn Buffy, but we will overpower her. Let him go."

Amy was a loyal young vampire, and she accepted this. Slinging the dead slayer over her shoulder, she followed her sire home.

* * *

"I've been waiting for you."

Buffy spun around, stake first, and saw Angel standing behind her. She had been patrolling the area, getting the lay of the land and considering her options. He had caught her unprepared in the dark; her senses were finer than they had been four years ago, but he had grown stealthier, and he could still sneak up on her. She put down her stake.

"You knew I wasn't planning on staying put," she said.

"Counted on it," he said, grinning. "I needed to talk to you alone. That Kennedy girl... she's Willow's girlfriend, huh?"

"A lot's changed in four years, Angel. Do you have news?"

He shook his head. "It's not that kind of talk. Just, last time we talked, you were a little busy... "

"I'm always busy."

"Yes, but... some things have... well, I noticed you didn't bring... Spike... on this mission?"

She nodded. "He's dead."

He blinked. "But I thought..."

"That amulet was a death wish," she explained. "It saved the world and all, but Spike's dust. Wait, don't tell me you're sorry. It's a relief, really, now drop it. What's up?"

"Easy, Buffy," he said. "The thing is, I've got emotions to let out."

"I'm not an easy person."

He looked very sweet and vulnerable all of a sudden, and she was sorry for saying it. She found she instantly forgave him for criticizing her so harshly about the slayers. She also found she wanted to grab him and squeeze him really hard. He looked almost exactly as she remembered.

"I'm out of practice, you know, what with the curse. You need to be patient with me.... I've been thinking about you a lot this week, and it's crushing me. I left you because I thought it was best for you, and I still think that, but I wanted you to have something that maybe you can't have..."

"That's a lot of words all at once, Angel," she said gently.

"You shouldn't have come," he said, "but I'm glad to see you.

He reached out and touched her. She stared at his hand. Something wasn't right, and she felt strangely uncomfortable. This conversation was playing out before her, like someone else's dream, and she was outside it. It was happening so fast.

He continued. "I think I was over you. There was so much going on, with Darla and Cordelia and everything else, and I thought I'd left you behind, until I saw you again. Now you're all I can think about, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I'm better for you than Spike is... was. Do you know what I mean? If you're not going to have the life that I wanted you to have anyway then maybe there's no point in denying you, that is, me... are you listening to me?"

She nodded. Life was weird.

He took a deep breath. "I love you," he said.

"No you don't," she said suddenly, "but thanks for saying it."

Buffy eyes widened, and she shook her head. Angel had said exactly what she had wanted to hear, well, mostly, but Spike's words had jumped out of her mouth? They left a sour taste. "I didn't love him," she said to herself. "He knew I didn't love him. I couldn't."

Angel waited.

Buffy looked into his dark eyes. "I love you," she said. "I know I do. I've been thinking about you all week, hoping you would say something like this."

"You're over me?" Angel suggested.

"No," she insisted. "I've missed you every day, even when I was with Riley, and that never stops. I'm empty and miserable and alone. But..."

"I know," Angel sighed. "Cookie dough?"

Buffy knew that was bullshit, but it was easier than explaining what she really felt. She leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his cold lips. He kissed her back, so soft and caring and perfect. But she felt nothing.

"What's happened to us?" he asked.

"Are we are still the same people that we were four years ago?" she asked him. "I think I want to be that person. Are you still the same?"

It took him a long time to respond, but when he did, he said, "No."

She shook her head. "Me, neither."

Silence.

"Hell," he said eventually. "Willow's gay. We can't have changed that much."

Buffy looked at him dubiously. She said, "I hear you have a son."

"Not really," he replied sadly. "Not anymore."

She looked at him with big wet eyes. "I still love you. But it's the you I knew four years ago."

"Maybe if we just..."

"But is it worth it?" she said. "We still can't... I mean, we can spend lots of time together again and grow to love each other again but then what? It's the same thing. Except this time, we can walk away. You know it's true."

"Is that what you want to do?"

Buffy took a moment, and then shrugged. She felt her eyes watering, the tears spilling over her cheeks, but it was more disappointment than anything else. Angel was not the answer. She wasn't in high school any more.

He was crying too, a little, but Buffy could tell he was relieved. He did love her, but more than that, he had wanted to love her because it made sense, and because so much in his life had vanished. First Doyle, then Cordelia, and now Connor. He didn't want to believe that their passion, so seemingly eternal, had vanished too.

But it had.

"Do you need me this time?" Angel asked, as she was about to leave. "Drusilla can be tricky."

"Maybe, but I've got a new slayer sidekick and the good witch Glinda on my side," Buffy replied. "Please, go home."

That was it. He let her go.

Buffy ran back to the hostel as fast as she could, letting the wind on her face dry her eyes. It's over, she kept saying to herself. I can't believe it's over. It was as though the last four years were finally sinking in. Her love with Angel was gone. It has disappeared with the seasons and with new love and with time. She didn't know whether to feel sad or relieved. And there was still a hole inside her.

The four of them had gotten a room on the first floor, and the other three were waiting for her there with long faces. "Buffy," Xander said when she entered, "I know what Drusilla is doing."

Willow looked at her face and asked, "Have you been crying?"

Buffy ignored her and looked at Xander. "Tell me."

"So, what do you get when you cross a crazy vampire, a hellmouth, a power-hungry witch, and a boatload of fresh slayers?" he asked.

Willow responded. "A whole bunch of slayer-vamps and a brand-new apocalypse?"

Xander nodded. "Or a WB sitcom."

"Speak in laymen's terms," Buffy said.

"Drusilla has teamed up with Amy, that witch we knew in high school," Willow explained. "They seem to be calling all the new slayers here and turning them into vampires. We don't know for sure, but we figure they're planning on using them as an army."

"Did it say anywhere in the rulebook that slayers make extra-powerful vampires?" Xander asked. "Which reminds me, Drusilla looked a little extra-powerful herself. Which suggests--"

"--that Drusilla was a potential." Even after Buffy said this, it took a while for it to sink in. The world was closing in, and every moment that passed made their decision to raise the potentials seem like a worse one. She turned to Willow. "Can you undo the spell?" she asked.

"The slayer spell?" Willow asked, confused. "Well, yes, but..."

"No way," Kennedy said. "Just because one potential turned out to be a vampire doesn't mean we have to undo the spell. Those magicks did a lot of good!"

"Sound like someone is afraid of losing her powers," Xander said.

"This from the guy who doesn't have any!"

"People, please," Buffy said, and their was quiet. "I just want to know if it can be done. Willow, do you think you could undo the spell?"

Before Willow could answer, a bolt of lightning crashed into the room. Kennedy flew across the room as though she had been shot out of a cannon. She slammed against the far wall, sizzling like a piece of steak on a barbecue. She screamed once, and then died.

It happened so fast. The three of them wheeled around to face the danger, and Willow didn't make a sound. Her mouth fell open but nothing came out, and she began to shake. Buffy more than half expected Willow to become a ball of fire and swallow the world. But her eyes remained clear. There was a long moment, before Willow cried out in frustration, "I'm cut off!"

Seven pale figures stormed in through the whole in the wall, long coats swirling everywhere. They were surrounded. "It's clever isn't it?" said a familair voice, and Amy emerged, glaring at Willow. "Even though I'm not half as powerful as you, I can still shield you from the source of your magicks, leaving you powerless. It's a nifty trick I learned. Impressed?"

Two of the vampires moved in on Willow, grabbing her. She struggled but could barely move. "You can't cut me off," Buffy said, and she jump kicked the first vampire in the head as hard as she could. The girl flinched, then came at her, punching her awkwardly in the chest but still sending her flying across the room. Buffy rolled out of it, but before she could get to her feet, another vampire had grabbed her by the leg and flung her against the wall.

Two more vampires rushed in from behind her and began kicking her in the soft part of her back before she could recover. Xander rushed over, yelling, "Leave her alone," but they dropped him to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and he was out cold.

Meanwhile, Willow had wriggled free from her captor and was trying to help, but Amy caught her in a binding spell. "Not so fast," she said, "you're mine." Willow hung in the air, helpless. Amy motioned to one of the vamps, who walked over to the witch and open-handedly knocked her out.

In moments, five vampires surrounded Buffy, who had not managed to get up. They were even faster and stronger than the uber-vamps, and she couldn't even get her wits together long enough to fight back. Before she knew what was happening, one of them was about to bite her, and she felt the sting of fangs on her neck.

"Not this one!" she heard that familiar voice yell, the lilting accent carrying the order over the chaos. She clapped her hands, and the vamps withdrew. Drusilla appeared, gazing down at Buffy with a seeming scientific interest. "This one is my own."

No longer held down, Buffy popped up onto her feet and assumed a battle stance. She was badly beaten, but she had felt worse.

Drusilla laughed. "Oh, did you want to go again?" she asked. "Because you think that maybe I will be easier to beat than my poorly trained monkeys. Not so, slayer. Best to come quietly so that you can entertain hopes of escape for the next twelve hours while I torture you to death. Come?"

"I don't give up easily," Buffy snarled. She punched Drusilla fast and hard in the nose, throwing her back, and then kicked her in the stomach. Drusilla groaned and stepped back, the other vampires watching. Buffy then grabbed the back of Drusilla's neck in an attempt to throw her down and disable her, but at the point Drusilla stiffened and Buffy could not budge her. Startled, she did not notice that Drusilla had moved to trip her, and she fell suddenly to the ground.

"Good night, poppet," she heard Drusilla say. Then she felt her skull shatter, and everything went dark.

"You're a cherry sucker, you are," Drusilla said. Her eyes were glowing with pleasure and she couldn't stop grinning. "So sweet between the teeth. I've waited so long to have you, and you thought I'd never catch you. But I've got you now, I do. Crunch." At this, she snapped her jaws.

Buffy was quite tired of it and pretty much hoped that the crazy vampire would go ahead and kill her already. They had been at it several hours now. Drusilla seemed to have some grudge against her regarding Spike, and she wanted to settle it by scalding portions of Buffy body, cutting off slices of her skin, and otherwise torturing her. She had started sticking skewers into her, which didn't look very good. The one in her leg would probably kill her if it were removed, so Buffy pretty much figured it was the end.

She should never have come to Cleveland, especially not without consulting Giles or someone more reasonable. She also should have told Angel not to leave, even if things were over between them. And she shouldn't have raised all those potentials to full slayerhood, because otherwise she could have drubbed Drusilla easily.

On the other hand, Giles probably wouldn't have returned her calls, and Angel was making things awkward, and who knew that the amulet would kill all the uber-vamps anyway? The one thing she never should have done was steal Spike. Because as Drusilla kept telling her, if she hadn't stolen Spike, she wouldn't be hanging there half-naked with skewers sticking out of her, about to die.

"He was mine for a hundred years," she said again, her voice shaking. "He was a perfect evil thing before you stole him," and with that she poured hot oil on Buffy's left breast, "but you couldn't just leave him be. You had to have it all. It wasn't enough you had to ruin Angel. No, you had to take Spike, my firstborn. You nasty little girl..."

It had been going on like that for eons, Buffy was sure. She felt herself losing touch. There were black spots all over her vision, and she couldn't tell what was real and what was not. For example, for all she knew that red-haired hallucination was actually there. She was actually being rescued by a tall, good-looking redhead who had appeared out of nowhere to get her.

"You've come home," Drusilla said to the hallucination. "What have you done to your hair?"

"I can't let you do this, Dru," the hallucination replied sternly. "I haven't come all the way back to earth to be with a shish kabob."

"She'll never love you," Dru said. "Not like I did."

"Right then," he said. "She'll never run off with a chaos demon. I can deal with that."

Drusilla lunged at the redhead, who dodged with superhuman speed and then returned with a thundering right hook. Drusilla took it in stride, sliding into vamp face. "You're weaker than I remember." To which he replied, "Yeah, well, you've gotten thicker."

They tussled for a while, but even though Drusilla was stronger than he was, he seemed to know her weaknesses and he stayed one step ahead of her. It was also clear that Drusilla was pulling her punches. At the opportune moment, he grabbed a log of wood out of the fire and wolloped her over the head with it. She fell flat on her back and lay still.

"Quickly, then," he said, turning to Buffy. "She won't be out long."

"No sir. I know what you are," she said, her voice cracking. "You're a hopeless dream of escape concocted by my imagination."

"We don't have time for this, Buffy," he said, carefully untying her. "Can you walk?"

For a hallucination, his hands were soft and reassuring. She looked at him with watery eyes and said, "No."

He sighed, and then grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her gently over his shoulder. It hurt, but Buffy couldn't scream any more. "Dru's out cold," he said, "but there are six other vampires in this joint, and they all seem pretty deadly. Stay quiet."

Luckily her hallucination knew the way out, which was interesting because Buffy herself didn't remember any of it. It was dark and wet and terrifying. Buffy began to cry. Loudly.

"Shhh, Buffy. For Christ's sake..."

But it was too late. Buffy heard them coming before she saw them, their footsteps echoing on the cold stone. Three of Dru's vampires appeared, growling and eager to recapture them.

"Any bright ideas?"

"No," Buffy sobbed. "This is the worst hallucination ever."

Her rescuer was about to put her down and fight them all himself when a ball of white fire snaked out of the darkness and turned all three of them to ash. In seconds Willow ran up to them triumphantly.

"Willow!" Buffy cried. "I thought you lost your powers."

"Oh, I was shielded, but not stilled," Willow explained. "That little hack couldn't hold me forever. Do you know the way out?"

Buffy's rescuer nodded and said, "This way." They began to move quickly, and Buffy's whole body ached with every step. She blacked out. When she woke up, she was in a bright room, and she smelled bleach. Hospital, she thought.

"What happened?" she asked nobody in particular.

"Don't draw attention to yourself," the red-haired man from her dream said. He was standing at her bedside, looking around nervously. "Soon they're going to start asking questions about why your skull was busted and you had skewers stuck in you, and I don't really want to have to answer those questions."

Buffy looked down at her leg, and saw that the skewer was gone. "Am I still dreaming?" she asked.

"No, it's all real," said another voice. Willow had entered the room. She looked tired and drawn, but otherwise no worse for the wear. No skewer wounds.

"I guess Amy wasn't as cruel as Dru, huh?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. "She tortured me in other ways," she said quietly.

Then Buffy remembered. "Oh, God, Will," she said, "is it... is she... ?"

"Dead?" Willow asked. "Yes, yes, she killed her. Kennedy's dead. I... I don't know, Buffy, this is really bad. I don't know where Xander is. Maybe we should have looked for him."

"They didn't take him," the red-haired man said. "I looked but he wasn't there. I guess they had no quarrel with him."

Buffy looked at him closely. After some inspection, she was sure she had never seen him before. "Who are you?" she asked. "I'm thankful, and everything, but how do you know us all, and why are you helping us?"

He smiled. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that," he said. "Consider me your guardian angel."

"Angel...?" Buffy murmured.

"Do you have a name?" Willow asked.

"A name?" he said, smiling broader. "Of course. Everyone has a name."

"And what is yours?"

"My name," he said, "is Malachi."

* * *

Angel walked around Cleveland for a while, taking in the gloom. It was a miserable city, as far as he could tell, and it was honest with him about how miserable it was. It was not his misery, but it had not been the answer he was looking for. He had wanted Buffy to be the answer. There was a hole inside him where Cordelia had been, where Connor had been, and he could not put anything inside it.

He would be alright. He had suffered for a hundred years, and even more in Hell. He was stronger than the pain. It didn't matter. He would go on.

He got in his car. The leather felt good against him back as he sat down, and he looked forward to the drive home. There would be plenty of time for brooding when he got back, but for now, he would drive fast and play the music loud.

He put the key in the ignition, and turned it. Nothing. He waited a moment, then turned it again. The engine hummed and then died.

What were the chances? This brand new caddy that purred like a kitten was dead in the water. He turned the key again. Still nothing. He would have to look at the engine. He got out of the car and lifted the hood. It was a mess of wires and pipes he didn't understand.

He sighed, and then realized something. Maybe this was a sign. With Cordelia gone, maybe the Powers were talking to him in other ways. He dropped the hood. Angel was no mechanic; he decided to stay.

* * *

Buffy, Willow, and their new friend Malachi had stolen out of the hospital as soon as Buffy could move. It was clear that Drusilla would keep coming for them, and they couldn't afford to waste time healing. Malachi had supported her as they slipped out into the night, one arm gently around her shoulders. She didn't know where he had come from but she was grateful.

Once they were clear of the hospital, Willow turned to them. "Buffy, this has all happened so fast." Buffy nodded. Willow's eyes flashed black. She closed them, tears falling slowly. "Oh, God, I... need to be alone." She opened her eyes. They were normal again, and sad. "Can you manage with Malachi for a little while?"

"We'll be fine," Malachi said, almost too quickly.

Buffy shook her head firmly. "I don't think so, Will. We barely know this guy, no offense."

Malachi smiled, and shrugged. Willow regarded him, and her eyes flashed black again. "I think he can be trusted as much as any of us," she said.

"Wait, Will... I want to be with you," Buffy said. "I can't let you deal with this on your own. I can help. I've lost someone, too."

Willow's eyes widened, and Malachi caught his breath. "You're finally admitting that you lost Spike?" Willow gasped.

"What? No, of course not," Buffy said quickly, laughing. "I meant, like, Angel, my mom, you know, everyone I've lost in my life. I know about loss, Willow, I can help."

"Thanks, Buffy, but I need to come to terms with this on my own," she said. "There are forces in me that no one understands." Willow looked very small and alone, but she stood stiff and separate. Buffy sighed and agreed, and with that, a pillar of light surrounded Willow, and in an instant she was gone.

Buffy stared, sad-eyed, at the place where Willow had been.

"She used to trust me," Buffy said weakly.

Malachi shook his head. "I don't think it's like that, Buffy. I don't think she trusts herself."

This earned him a hard look. He coughed. Eventually she sighed, and nodded. They stood there silently.

"So..." Malachi said.

"We need to get into hiding," Buffy said quickly. "Do you know your way around Cleveland at all?"

"Um... no."

First, Buffy went into a Gap and bought new clothes, so that people would stop staring at her bloody mess of rags. She picked a red baby tee and a short khaki skirt, refusing to acknowledge Malachi's suggestion that it wasn't fighting attire. She also bought some makeup to cover her bruises, and Malachi was shocked by how much healthier she looked. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

Buffy then went around asking where the sunnyest place in Cleveland was, until Malachi informed her that Drusilla was no longer vulnerable to sunlight. Sighing, she tried to find the most out-of-the-way part of Cleveland, but it turned out all of Cleveland was out-of-the-way. Resignedly, they settled in to hide in a large park on the west bank of the Flats, which seemed pretty deserted. They found a large rock and camped out under it.

"At least here we can see them coming," Buffy said.

"Unless that witch puts an invisibility hex on them," Malachi said, shivering.

"You're mister sunshine, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "It's a sunny day. Lovely. See?"

They sat next to each other, silent and still. The day turned into afternoon.

"So you said in the hospital that you're some sort of guardian angel," Buffy said. "Can you elaborate?"

"I'd rather not," he said. "So please don't push it. I was sent to earth.... recently... and I'm on your side."

"So you're from, what, Heaven? Is that where you get your strength from? Or your powers? What are they, exactly?"

"The powers I got myself. I don't know exactly what all they do... it all happened so fast," he said, then added, beaming, "Do you like them? I got them in Africa."

She laughed. "Those crazy African demons are just giving everything away. Souls, superpowers, what's next?"

"Oh, they'll throw in a free webcam if you ask," he said lightly.

She smiled and relaxed against the rock, wincing a little as she moved. "What are those powers, exactly?"

"I don't really know...

"First of all," he said, "what I have doesn't even compare to slayer powers. That much I do know. It's like your power is cream, and I've got skim milk. And I think you know why. You're always pretending like you hate your powers but you'd never have it any other way. You can do so much good with what you have. I just wanted to be a part of it."

"In case you haven't heard, I started all this mess. It was my idea to raise the potentials, and that's why Drusilla's so strong."

He looked at her, his eyes bright and alive. "You made the right decision. You can't second guess yourself just because it didn't work out, you know that. There's nothing to regret."

"Still, all we needed was the amulet. That's what stopped the First, not all the slayers."

"Maybe," he said. "But maybe if there hadn't been all the slayers protecting the amulet, you never could have used it. You can't know. The problem now is not you, it's Drusilla."

"How can you be so sure?"

He grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. He looked like he was going to burst open, and she could feel the blood pulsing in his thumb. "Because I know you. You do what's right. That's your thing."

His words tugged at her, but she didn't know why. He started to drop his hand, but she decided not to let him. "I'd forgotten what it feels like to feel warm flesh," she said. "Are you human?"

He nodded.

"I've been involved with vampires, one way or another, for seven years," she said. "The past few weeks I was sharing a bed with one. Not sex I mean... just holding him, you know, for security I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't know what I wanted," she said. "I needed to be held, I think. But he's gone now. And I just kissed another one..."

"Did you?" he said. It seemed as though his voice tightened.

"...but it was just like I said. Cold. And now you feel..."

"Warm?" he suggested. He came a little closer to her.

"Alive."

He closed his eyes. "You don't know me," he said, "but I think I know something about you. Your life is what you make it. And when you needed to be with a vampire, that vampire felt warm enough to you. But your life has changed now."

She looked away.

He touched her cheek. "Tell me what you feel."

"I didn't love him," she said. "He's gone now, but that's alright because I didn't love him. But I do miss him. I don't tell people I miss him because that just makes it worse. When I fall asleep at night, I ache all over, wishing he were near me. He would have done anything for me. I want that again. Except, I want to have someone that I would do anything for, too. Two people who would do anything for each other. I miss that."

"Did you have it once?"

"Yes," she said, and she felt the tears welling up again. "I would have done anything for Angel, and he would have done anything for me. But now, when I kiss him... it's cold. My heart has been emptied out, Malachi. I have... nobody."

She felt him closer to him, the smell of him so warm and sweet her head began to swim. She caught his eyes, shining and tender.

"You have me," he said.

It sounded so corny that she almost laughed, except when she looked at him she realized it was true. Her body was still sore from her ordeal, but he reached out and found a place to caress her, under her right breast, so that her head felt light. She lay back on the grass and he came over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He felt so warm. Supporting himself on one hand, hovering over her, he brushed her hair back from her face. As he did, he touched a bruise hidden by makeup, making her flinch.

He drew back. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You're injured. I don't want to..."

"You're right," she said. They paused. Cautiously she reached out to touch him, caressing his stomach, his hips. Everything about him was familiar. She slid her hands down and started to undo his pants. He trembled, half pleasure but half nerves. He wasn't breathing. She stopped, sat up, asked, "What's wrong?"

He laughed. "Nothing, love, it's just...." She waited. "This is crazy. Please don't be offended Buffy, because God knows there have been times when I would have done anything to be with you. But don't you think this is a little fast?"

She frowned. Her blood was racing. "Maybe," she said. "But to be honest, it's been a really long time for me. Like, the closest thing I've had to play all year was when I jumped a guy wearing a magic jacket." She shrugged. "I feel like I know you. I trust you." She paused, then said, "You saved my life."

"And you probably don't remember much about that, do you?"

This startled Buffy. "Now that you mention it... no, I don't," she said.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Malachi said, his voice ragged, "but I want to take it slow. Buffy, there are things about me you don't know."

"If I knew those things, would I still like you?"

"I don't know."

"You could try telling me."

Malachi shook his head. "I'm not ready, Buffy. Like I said, I need to take it slow."

She took a deep breath. "You know how to tease a girl," she pouted.

"Or maybe I just respect you, as a person, and I don't want to take advantage of you," he said. She was still pouting. He sighed and put his hand gently on her leg. Then, closing his eyes, he reached up her skirt and touched her, firmly, the way she liked to be touched. She gasped.

He opened his eyes and looked into hers. He still remembered every night they had spent together. It was a terrible thing to admit, but he never stopped missing that passion and abandon. He slid his fingers under her underwear. She didn't pull away. It had been more than a year, but he still remembered what she wanted. It was still easy for him, and she came almost too quickly, breathless and... effulgent.

When he drew back she pounced on him, eyes on fire. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Give me time," he said quietly.

She nodded and closed her eyes. She was smiling so serenely. When she opened them, she looked dreamy. "Can ask you for something?"

"Anything."

She moved closer to him, so that their noses were almost touching, and said, "I'm tired. Do you think you could... hold me, while I sleep?"

He smiled. "I do that," he said.

She looked absolutely content, and his heart swelled. She lay down next to him, in the shadow of the rock, and snuggled into his arms. It had been a long day for her, and she fell asleep almost instantly.

Malachi watched her, still and silent. He could hardly believe this was happening. He did not sleep himself, because he had to keep watch. And as he lay there, staring into the twilight, his heart filled with dread. She felt right in his arms. What would she do when she found out he was Spike?

* * *

Xander had woken up, abandoned and aching, in their empty hostel room. He looked around, but even Kennedy's body was gone. Why had they left him?

He got up slowly, even inch of him screaming, and as he got to his feet he heard a voice, softly. "Do you know when this happened?"

Xander almost collapsed back onto the floor because his legs turned to jelly with fear. "Who's there?" he called, voice cracking.

Angel stepped into the room, looking grim as usual.

"How did you get in?" Xander demanded.

"It's a hotel. The manager invited me." He looked around the room, and said, "Drusilla was here. Did she take Buffy?"

Xander closed his eyes. "I think so," he said, "but as you can see, I was out cold when it happened. They took Willow, and they killed Kennedy."

"We don't have much time," Angel said. "It's a good thing I stayed."

"You were thinking of bailing?" Xander asked.

He shrugged. "Buffy told me to leave," he said.

"And you listened to her?"

He shrugged again.

"We've got to find Drusilla hideout," Xander said. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, and I checked it," he said. "They aren't there."

"Maybe they've escaped," Xander suggested.

"I don't think they could have," Angel said sadly. "Not without our help. Xander, I think we have to consider the possibility that they're dead."

At this, Xander could hardly breath. He could not lose them, not now. They had been so hard to live with this past year, but ever since he had broken up with Anya, they had been his family, his closest friends and best supporters.

Suddenly, Willow appeared in a pillar of light.

"Wow," Xander said. "Good timing."

Willow looked around the room anxiously, hardly noticing them. Her eyes were wet. Her breath came quick and raspy. "Where is she?" she asked frantically. "Where's Kennedy?"

Xander said, "I don't know."

"Maybe she didn't die," Willow said hopefully, meeting his eyes. "Maybe they just knocked her out and she looked dead. She was really strong. Maybe she got up and left."

"I don't think so, Will," Xander said. "I think they took her body."

Willow collapsed to the floor, her fists clenched. "I can't believe this has happened to me, again!" she cried.

Xander knelt in front of her. "Please don't be offended, Will, but I need to ask you something," he said carefully. He put his hand on her back. "Are you going to rip anyone's skin off?"

She laughed through her tears and said, "No, Xander. I'm a stronger person now... and besides, Kennedy is different. Tara was my life partner, but Kennedy and I were just starting. And Kennedy knew what she was getting into. I'm better, but I just feel like... God! Why can't anything go right, for any of us? What is the deal?"

"Willow," Angel said quietly, "where's Buffy?"

Looking up, she seemed to notice Angel for the first time. She fairly glared at him. "Safe," she snapped, harsher than she meant. Angel took it in stride. He coughed and said, "I was just leaving... going to get Faith. She's staying with a guy named Wood and some of his friends. They can help us."

Angel left hurriedly. Willow looked back to Xander. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Just sore," he said. "Some bruises. Do you want to talk?"

"I left Buffy with a man who helped us escape, Malachi. I told her I wanted to be alone," she explained. "I guess that isn't true. I wanted to be alone with Kennedy, to say good-bye... but her body... it's gone."

Xander put his arms around Willow and pulled her against his chest. Her face felt wet through his shirt. "You can pretend she's still here," he said. "It might feel the same. This is where she died."

"Okay," Willow said, clearing her throat. Her voice sounded raspy. "I think I loved you, Kennedy." She paused, and Xander stroked her hair, urging her with his eyes to continue. "You were one difficult chick, but I loved you. You picked me up when I had fallen, and you held me when I was afraid. You had to have everything your way, but you wanted the best for all of us. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you when you needed me. I won't ever forget you." She broke down, sobs wracking her body and she pushed into his chest, her nails digging into his arms. "Please forgive me!" she bawled.

"Shh, shh," Xander said softly. "It's not your fault, Will. It's okay..."

They stayed that way for a long time, kneeling on the floor, her head against his chest. The sun was going down, but Willow didn't want to move, because if she broke the stillness the pain might start again. They were sitting in a well of pain, unable to move for fear of drowning. There were no worries here, only loss, and the silence.

"I can't believe she's gone," Xander said softly.

Willow rubbed her wet face on his shirt and looked sad-eyed at Xander. "I didn't think you liked Kennedy that much."

"Oh, not Kennedy," he said, looking away. "Anya."

Willow caught her breath. She didn't think she had room in her heart for more pain, but she said, "Do you want to talk about it."

"No, but..." and he looked back at her. "I never meant to let her go, Willow. I loved her. We were going to get married. And now she's dead."

"Do you think you were going to get back together?"

"No," he said. "We tried, but our feelings were gone. It's not that. It's just what I said -- I can't believe she's gone."


"I know," Willow said.

Willow sat up, and as she did, Angel, Faith, and Wood entered the room. "We think we know where Buffy is," Angel said. "If you're all ready, I think we should go now, before Drusilla finds her. I don't want to leave her alone."

"I left her with Malachi," Willow said.

"I don't think that will be enough," Wood said grimly. "Drusilla's army keeps getting bigger. I think she has at least ten slayer-vamps now. We have to hurry."

Faith stepped forward, beside Wood, and looked at Willow. "Red," she said, "Drusilla is using Amy to find the slayers. Can you help me find them first?"

Willow looked anxiously at Xander. "We need to help Buffy," she said.

Angel shook his head. "This is more important," he said. Wood nodded agreement. Willow looked at Xander again before getting up and joining Faith.

"Can I help?" Xander asked.

Angel was about to say no before Willow said, "Buffy's injured, Xander. Go with Angel. If trouble starts, get her out of the way."

Angel turned on Willow. "Buffy's injured, and you left her alone?" he demanded.

Willow shrunk. "I left her with Malachi," she said. She took a trinket out of her pocket, whispered to it, and handed it to Xander. "If you need to get away, hold onto Buffy and pinch this. Say my name. You'll be safe."

"You left her with Malachi," Angel grumbled, glaring at Willow. "Whoever that is."

"Enough," Faith said. "Willow, whip out the magicks."

Willow nodded. She conjured a red light, which hovered over her hands and then whipped out of the room. After a look at Faith, she hurried after it.

"We're out," she said, and she pinched Wood on the cheek. "Catch you later." Faith ran out of the room. Wood, Angel and Xander exchanged a glance, then headed out as well.

* * *

Buffy woke up in Malachi's arms in exactly the same position she had fallen asleep. She felt calm, and turned around to kiss him.

"You're awake," he said.

She planted the kiss. "So are you."

"Couldn't sleep, love," he said. "Had to watch over you."

"Well, we seem to have survived," she said. "Anything I should know about?"

"Nothing," he said. "Oh, there were some vampires attacking young maidens right there a few hours ago. And, I took advantage of you while you were sleeping."

"Somehow I doubt that," she said, smiling. She paused. "You were kidding about the vampires, weren't you?"

"Yes."

Buffy heard something, like footsteps on leaves. She jumped to her feet. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

"No," he said, "but I don't have slayer senses. What is it?"

"Footsteps," she said. "Get up."

He stood, and assumed a fighting stance next to her. "Do you think it's Drusilla?"

"I don't know."

The footsteps turned to running, and she heard Xander's voice. "Guys, I found them! Over here!" She saw Xander running towards them in the night, and she ran to meet him. She threw her arms around him. "Buffy! You are a sight for sore eyes. Oh, and back... careful, there."

She saw Angel and Wood approaching, more slowly. "You could have been a little louder, Xander," Wood said, growling. "I don't think they heard us in Cambodia."

"Principal Wood!" Buffy said, startled. "What are you doing here?" She looked over the Angel. "And I thought I told you to leave," she said.

"It looked like you could use some help," Wood said, and Angel nodded. "Although it's ruining my reputation, this working with vampires."

"I'll keep it close to the chest," Angel said.

Malachi was approaching them cautiously. Xander let go of Buffy and gestured at Malachi. "Who's your friend, Buff?" he asked.

Buffy smiled and stepped towards Malachi, who was looking warily at Wood and Angel. "Oh, guys, I almost forgot. This is -- "

"Spike?" Angel said, eyes wide.

Buffy was about to laugh, but when she looked back at Malachi, he was no longer tall and red-haired. His hair turned bleach-blonde, he shrunk a few inches, and his face bore the familiar scar and scowl that haunted her dreams. Buffy couldn't help it. She screamed.

Spike's mouth opened, and he looked around. Everyone was staring at him. He buried his face in his hands. "Bloody hell," he said.

"What is going on here?" Wood demanded.

"I don't think you're the only one who wants to know," Xander said, looking at Buffy.

Spike looked at Angel. "How did you know?"

"Oh, come on. I've known you two hundred years." He looked Spike up and down. "Are those my clothes?"

The question was unanswered. Spike looked at his hands. His fingernails were painted black. "I guess the jig is up, then," he said, shrugging. "I didn't think it was a spell to be broken."

"It wasn't a spell," Angel said. "It was just truth, waiting to be recognized."

"But Dru knew who I was the second I saw her..."

"She wasn't the one who needed to recognize it," Angel said, and with that, he nodded at Buffy.

Spike swallowed hard. He dropped his hands to his side and looked at Buffy, who had stopped screaming. She was staring at him blankly. "I don't... understand," she said. "How could you ...? And why ...?"

Spike bit his lip. "I was in Heaven," he said frankly. "The Powers That Be came to me and they offered me a second chance. They said I could... sanshu, or some such," and at this, Angel looked ready rip his head off, "but they didn't tell me I would come back as someone else. When I did, well, it seemed like a sign. I had to come to you, Buffy. I had to be..."

Xander looked at Angel, then Wood. "Does anyone else feel really awkward right now?" he asked. Angel nodded emphatically. Wood rolled his eyes, mumbled, "This is pathetic."

"I said there were things about me you didn't know," Spike added.

"I thought you meant, like, that you were an only child!" Buffy screamed, running up to him and smacking him. "I trusted you for so long... I forgot how stupid you can be! Did you really think this would work? Did you think you would trick me into loving you?" At that, she hit him too hard, like old times, and he fell to the ground.

"Easy, pet, I'm only human now!" he yelled.

"Well, I'm human too!" she yelled back, and she kicked him in the ribs. He yelped, and Xander ran up to her, pulling her back. She realized what she was doing, and yielded. "I can't believe you let me think... God, you never change, do you?"

He picked himself up, looking wounded in every way. "You didn't used to think so," he grumbled, eyes dark.

Buffy didn't respond.

"I didn't lie to you," he said, looking earnest. "You have to remember that. I just didn't want to tell you, right away. I was given a second chance, and I wanted to start fresh."

"You took advantage of me," she snapped.

"I did not!" he said. He cast a glance at the others, who were doing their best not to listen, and hissed, "If you recall, I was on my best behavior. And I think you need to open your eyes, Slayer. I never hid who I was. You saw what you wanted to see."

She had to admit he was right. He had said things to her that only Spike would have said, and she knew in her heart that it was why she had wanted him so quickly. He had known her too well, and he had called instinctively to the empty parts of her. If she had wanted to see, she would have.

She relaxed, and he looked relieved. "This doesn't mean I forgive you," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

Xander stood next to Buffy. "Well, now that embarrassing moment has passed. Not that I was aware of it at all." Buffy laughed at him, and he looked at Spike. "Not at all surprised to see you, by the way. Buffy's boyfriends never really die."

"He wasn't my boyfriend," Buffy said.

"Whatever, Buff," Xander said, and he clapped Spike on the back. "By the way, thanks for saving the world. You know I don't like you, but I gotta respect that."

"We don't need to be friends," Spike said.

"Okay then," Xander said, removing his hand.

"This is all very touching," Wood said, barely hiding his disgust, "but I think we can save the reunion for later. There's an army of slayer-vamps out there, searching for us."

"The search is over, Scoobies."

They all turned around and saw Amy the witch, a mob of vampires behind her. A red flame danced above her hands.

"I used a locator spell to find you," she said. "You should have been expecting it, since you already know I can do it. Where's Willow?"

"You'll never get her, Amy!" Buffy shouted. "You'll have to go through me first."

Drusilla stepped gracefully out of them mob. At the sight of her, Amy stepped back. "Oh, you've guessed our plan," she said. Her eyes caught Spike. "This looks is much better. She'll never think so. Has she torn apart your insides yet? I warned you, I did."

Buffy watched Spike, who didn't flinch. "I won't let you hurt her," he said.

Drusilla laughed. "He talks big, but it's all talk," she said, and with a flick of her wrist, the horde of slayer-vamps charged. Buffy readied herself and was about to limp to battle when Xander grabbed her. Angel grabbed Wood and Spike and pulled them into a huddle with Xander and Buffy.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked. "We have to fight."

Xander shook his head. He locked hands with Wood, and Wood grabbed Angel, who grabbed Buffy, and Buffy grabbed Spike. When they were all in a line, the vamps just a second away, Xander pinched a little trinket and said, "Willow."

* * *

Before she could even blink, Buffy was out of the park and standing in front of Willow, on a brightly lit sidewalk in front of a fancy hotel. Faith was standing beside Willow, and behind them three girls, two of whom she recognized as former potential-slayers-slash-houseguests.

"You found her," Willow said, smiling. "We've been rounding up slayers, to help us. You remember Sarah and Annette?"

Buffy blinked at the two she totally didn't recognize, and said, "Yeah... um, sure."

Willow turned, about to say something to Xander, when her eyes fell on Spike. "Holy shitballs!" she said. "Where did you come from?!"

"What a dirty mouth you have, Red," Spike said, smirking.

Willow turned to Buffy, mouth open.

Buffy took a deep breath and said, "You remember Malachi?"

Willow looked at Spike, then back to Buffy, then back to Spike, and considered. "No way..." she murmured, shaking her head. "I can't believe... although, come to think... yeah. But color me fooled. I'm a witch and I didn't even see it. Tara would have."

"It was really strong magic," Spike assured. He shrugged. "From Heaven and all. Like I said before, I didn't even know it was a spell to be broken."

"This is all very... well, weird... but I think we need to keep moving," said Sarah. Or Annette; Buffy didn't know which was which. "There are a few more of us here, I've seen Karen around too."

Buffy definitely didn't know who Karen was, but she nodded, and Willow cast another locator spell. They followed her quietly, and after a few hours they had gathered together three more slayers, one Buffy recognized and whom she decided was Karen. Willow was stronger than Amy, and the slayers were more eager to be guided than attacked, so they were able to work faster than Drusilla. Still, they all knew in the back of their minds that if they could gather slayers this quickly, they needed to stop Drusilla soon, before she captured any more.

By the time they found eight, it was dawn and they were all exhausted. Xander suggested they return to the hostel.

"We can't go there," Angel said. "Drusilla knows about it."

"They can find us with a locator spell wherever we go," Buffy said. "Does it matter where we sleep?"

"I can block Amy's spell," Willow assured.

"There's always the bus," Xander suggested. He gestured romantically and said, "It goes anywhere the road goes."

"Hmm, I was hoping I'd seen the last of that bus," Karen said. Sarah and Annette, or Annette and Sarah, nodded in agreement.

"Wood, will you friends take in a few more?" Faith asked. Wood looked at the group, and nodded. They trudged wearily back across the river and camped out in the living room of Wood's friends, who turned out to be a crack team of demon hunters he had met when he was a teenager. They also promised to help them in the battle, but Buffy demurred. She wasn't taking any volunteers.

"Okay, team," she said. "I've already slept, so I'll stand watch. Everyone try to get comfortable. I'll wake you in four hours."

They grumbled, but complied. Spike was looking at her, but she avoided his eyes. Sighing, he found a corner by himself to curl up in, and fell asleep. One by one, the slayers fell asleep on the floor. Faith and Wood left the room, apologizing, to sleep together in their bed. Willow resisted the temptation to conjure herself a pillow and rolled up her jacket to sleep on. The sound of slow breathing filled the room, and Buffy sat in a chair, watching them.

"If you want to talk about it, I'll listen," she heard Angel say.

He had crept up behind her, as usual, silent as a shadow. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she said, turning to face him.

"I'm a vampire," he said. "Sleep is secondary. I have this feeling you need to talk."

"I'm glad you're here," she told him, honestly, "but I meant what I said before. It hurts more to talk about it, and I don't have anything more to say to you."

"I know," he said. "Our time has passed. I meant, do you want to talk about him?" and he shrugged at Spike, who was sleeping restlessly.

Buffy laughed; she had never expected this from him. She shook her head. "There's nothing to say. Even if there was, why would I say it to you?"

Angel ran his hand through his hair anxiously. He wore it the same was he had in high school, standing straight up. How did he get it to do that? She waited. He said, "I still know you, Buffy. Better than you think. And it kills me." He paused. "He's not just in your heart. He fills it."

"Excuse me?"

"You're in love with him."

She laughed. "I think not," she said.

"It's much simpler than you think," he said. She rolled her eyes, but that didn't stop him. "Love is not what it was in high school," he said. "It's not about fire and craziness any more; it's about respect and caring. He's done so much for you, and I know, deep down, you're impressed. He suffers your tantrums. Don't pretend, Buffy... you know you're a handful. But he's there for you, and you love him for it. He died saving you. He came back from Heaven for you."

"You came back from Hell for me," she whispered.

"I didn't want to be there in the first place."

She smiled. "You're right," she admitted. "I don't know why anyone would give up Heaven."

"I think you do."

"Okay, okay," she said. "I admit, I am impressed. But I'm also betrayed and confused. It doesn't mean I'm in love with him."

"No," he agreed. "But then, why do you let him keep coming back? Why do keep him around despite all advice to the contrary? When he lied to you today, why did you forgive him?"

She didn't answer.

"I don't want to pry into your life," he said. "It's not my place anymore."

"Then why are you?" she asked. "Why would you say these things to me? I don't want to hear it. Not from anyone, and certainly not from you."

"You're right. Forget it." He leaned over her and kissed her, brother-like, on the cheek. "Good night."

She watched Angel lie down, still as death, on the floor, and fall asleep. There was no sound in the room except for the rhythm of breathing. The floor was alive with sleeping bodies. Everyone asleep except for her; she was awake but not alone.

Angel was always alone. She had loved him because he was alone in the world, like her. They had been wrapped together by destiny, but now the world was full of slayers and her destiny had changed.

She looked over at Spike, still tossing restlessly in his corner. He was separated from the others, and somehow he called to her, the space beside him waiting for her. She tried to recall her anger, but it seemed perfectly natural now that he had been Malachi, and somehow it didn't bothered her anymore.

She walked over to him and watched him more closely. He didn't hear her, and she watched his chest rise and fall as he slept. Breathe; he was human. He rolled over suddenly, mumbling. She knelt beside him. He didn't stir. Looking around the room once more, making sure everyone was asleep, she lay down beside him. She put her arms around him. He stopped mumbling, and she felt him calm in her arms. She listened to him breathing.

She did not sleep; she had to stand watch. But for four hours she lay with him, and held him, and watched him sleep. She stroked his arm, and his cheek, and held him by the waist. After four hours, she had adjusted to the fact that he was human, and that he was back, and she accepted, finally, that she loved him. At least a little bit.

* * *

Spike woke up alone, but he felt like she had been with him. The space beside him was warm. He saw her, talking to three of the other slayers, and she looked at him blankly. She didn't smile, but she didn't scowl either. He expected worse.

Buffy, Angel, and Xander gathered together in the corner, armed with knives and a pile of wood. They were making stakes. The rest of the girls were dressing and preparing themselves. The girls who had been at Buffy's house were teaching the others about how to fight.

He got up, his shoulders aching from the rough bed, and he frowned. It was as comfortable as his crypt had been, but he was human now, and humans needed beds and pillows and things. "Bollocks," he cursed, flexing.

"What's your story?" one of the slayers he had never seen before asked him, when she noticed he was awake. She was older than the others, perhaps twenty, with short brown curls and green-brown eyes.

"I don't think we have time," he assured her.

She continued to eye him curiously, which was unnerving.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, and she ran her tongue over her upper lip, wetting it. For a slayer, she was very girly. She batted her eyelashes. She said, "I'm Jessica. I didn't catch your name?"

He stared at her, dumbstruck. He hadn't expected this. "My name is ah, that is..." He glanced at Buffy, who was turned the other way.

"Leave him alone, newbie," he heard Faith say, from over his shoulder, "he's with the blonde."

Faith walked up behind him, arms crossed, and the younger slayer retreated, nodding curtly. Faith looked down at him and grinned. "We're not really a couple," he told her.

She laughed. "Yeah, whatever," she said, and walked away.

Buffy clapped her hands for attention. Her slayer healing powers had left her feeling almost new again, and she felt ready to face the battle. She stood on tiptoes and cupped her hands over her mouth, shouting, "Saddle up, girls. It's go time."

Willow had worked out a spell so that they could find Amy without her knowing they were coming. There were no flecks of light to follow, just a sense of where to go. They set out slowly. As they walked, Willow gestured to Faith and Buffy and pulled them apart from the others.

"We have a tough choice to make," Willow told them.

"Boxers, for sure."

"I like briefs," Faith admitted.

"I could care less," Willow said. She sighed. "I've worked out a way to reverse the spell. I can take away all their power without affecting either of yours. It will take a couple of days, and I'll need the axe again, but it should work."

Buffy's heart sank. She walked silently, head down. Faith chewed her lip and said nothing.


"I know it sounds good, having hundreds of slayers all the time," Willow said, "but look what it's come to? All sorts of super girls, with no one to guide them, with so much power just waiting to be corrupted. Faith, back me up here. This isn't going to work."

"The call of the dark side is powerful," Faith agreed. "Especially without Watchers."

"We'll talk about this later," Buffy said. "Right now, I have an army of super vampires to stop."

She broke ranks with them, and settled back with Spike. She didn't look at him, just walked beside him, arms crossed. Willow looked at Faith. "What do you think?" she asked.

"You know what I think," Faith said, looking away from Buffy and back at Willow. "This isn't going to work. But let's just get through this, and see what she comes up with. Are we there yet?"

"You'll know."

After almost an hour, they came to an apartment building in a low-rent part of town, and they camped out across the street. Buffy opened up her bag and pulled out a fistful of stakes. She handed them out to the former potentials. "Most of you know the drill," she said. "It's pretty simple: you put this through their heart. It's daytime, and hopefully most of them will be asleep. Stake as many as you can before we start. We don't want a fair fight. We want to live."

Buffy pulled the red battleaxe out of her bag for herself. She fingered it, remembering its weight and feel, before swinging it over her shoulder and settling. She then nodded at Xander, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a pile of cheap cross pendants. He must have made an emergency run to Claire's Accessories. He gave one to each of the slayers, skipping Angel and Spike. Buffy nodded at Spike, and Xander gave him one. "Sorry," he said, "I forgot."

"Me, too," he said, holding the cross incredulously. He put it around his neck; it felt cold.

"Alright," Buffy said, tensing, "now!"

They all ran across the street. Angel busted the door down, and the crew stormed in. A few vampires were asleep, and the girls dusted them, but most of them were awake. The girls fought gamely, but half of them were overwhelmed to meet such power in their first fight. Buffy glanced around, and saw that Jessica was already dead.

"You let the foxes in," she heard Drusilla say. Buffy had to keep her mind on the game, as she parried with a super vampire, but she could tell that Amy and Drusilla were fighting. The vampire she was fighting was fast but unskilled. Buffy faked her out, and then snuck in from below with a stake. The vampire faded to dust. Buffy looked around for Drusilla, and saw her just in time to see her dust Amy. Buffy blinked and tried not to dwell on it.

Two vampires had ganged up on Faith, who was struggling in a corner. Buffy came up from behind and swung her axe wide, decapitating both of them with one swing. "Thanks B," Faith said, panting. She pointed over Buffy's shoulder. "They're outgunned," she said, nodding.

Buffy looked around. The vampires seemed to have sense that Xander, Wood, and Spike were the weakest in the bunch, and they had cut them out of the herd. Each one was pinned against the wall, looking very battered.

"I'll get Wood," Faith said, and she bounded across the room.

"Willow!" Buffy yelled, and when she had got her attention, she pointed at Xander. Willow's eyes were black, and it was clear she was having trouble controlling her power. At the sight of Xander in trouble, though, she focused, and a bolt of fire shot out of her hands and incinerated the vampire.

Buffy was already tackling the vampire that had cornered Spike. She grabbed it under the armpits and rolled it over her head, assuming a fighting stance as she landed. The vampire was one of her girls, well-trained and experienced in battle. She blocked both of Buffy's kicks and then punched her in the face. Buffy's nose bled. "I'm not you pupil any more," the vampire said, spitting. "I'm stronger than you and I'm faster than you."

"We'll see about that."

They circled for a minute, and Buffy feigned nervousness. When the vampire charged, she pretended to run away, then doubled back and stabbed the vampire with the sharp end of her axe. When the vampire recoiled, Buffy swung around the other way and cut of her head. It rolled on the floor before it exploded to dust.

"I had that," Spike said, looking from the rolling head to Buffy's bloody face. "You don't have to protect me."

She smiled. "Yeah, whatever."

The room was clear now except for Drusilla, and a vampire waiting in the shadows. Angel had amassed a large pile of dust in a circle around him, and Buffy could see that his years in Los Angeles had made him stronger. Drusilla laughed. "Just like old times, Spike," she said, looking from the powdery room to him. "She's always beating us, and killing us, like the nasty thing that she is."

"In case you hadn't noticed," he said, "I'm on her side now, pet."

"You can't hide from her," Drusilla said, cocking her head. "She'll never stop fighting us."

Willow walked up beside Buffy, fists clenched, eyes black. "Can we kill her now?"

The vampire in the shadows began to walk forward. "You'll have to go through me first," she said angrily. The vampire was new, and hungry. Light fell on her pale face. It was Kennedy.

Everyone stopped. Kennedy laughed. "You thought I was dead, didn't you? They threw me against the wall, and you all abandoned me. But I guess I had enough life left to be brought back. Drusilla wanted me even though you didn't."

Kennedy looked at Willow, her eyes softening. "I know you didn't mean to leave me," she said gently. "I'm willing to take you back, if you'll let me turn you." She slipped into vamp face. "Do you still love me?"

Willow's eyes turned human again. She wilted, and said weakly, "Why me?"

Buffy hefted her axe and decided to use this moment to kill Drusilla. But when she looked, Drusilla was gone. She had slipped out when they were staring at Kennedy. Buffy looked around, and she saw that Spike was gone, too. Buffy nodded at Faith, who stepped forward to face Kennedy, and she motioned to Angel, who followed her.

"I didn't see her go," Angel said weakly.

"You can smell her, right?"

He nodded and they ran out of the apartment together. "Which way?" Buffy demanded. Angel pointed, and she broke into a run. He settled in behind her. "Which way now?" she shouted. He pointed again, straining.

She turned her head back to look at him. "Can't you run any faster?"

"I'm not a slayer," he said. "Aren't you injured?"

She shook her head firmly. If she let herself feel pain, he might die. "Catch up to me!" she hollered, and left him behind.

After a few minutes she stumbled upon them in a shady alley between two walk-ups. Running full out, Buffy skidded to a stop, her breath coming hard, her body numb with adrenaline. Drusilla stood there in the sunlight, bent over Spike as if to kiss him. Her teeth were on his throat, she realized. Buffy lept into a spin kick, smashing Drusilla in the jaw and knocking Spike to the ground. She held her fists in the air, panting, waiting.

Drusilla turned on her, her yellow vampire eyes flooded with hate. "You've ruined everything," she snarled, "again! You took away all my darling girls, and now you suppose you'll be having him back, too." This last she whimpered, and nodded at Spike.

"Something like that," Buffy growled, staring at Drusilla.

"Here's a story for you, then," Drusilla snapped back. "It's very stupid; you'll like it. It's about a hound cut free from the pack."

"I suppose I'm the hound," Buffy said. "What are you? The moose?"

"The bear," she snarled. "You can't take me alone."

Buffy's limbs ached, and she felt her blood freezing. Scared stiff, Buffy was about to snip something witty and get back in the fray. She could barely move, barely think, but she would save him. She lifted her hands and made fists. She would press on to the end. Drusilla coiled like a snake. Oh, God, she was going to get thrashed.

Suddenly, Drusilla roared and exploded into dust. All of a sudden, it was over. She was gone. Buffy blinked. Spike stood in front of her, still as death, holding a stake. "She's not alone," he said quietly, letting the stake fall to the ground. He fell softly to his knees.

Buffy dropped her fists and stared at the pile of dust. "I can't believe you just did that," she said.

Spike shrugged. "I know," he said weakly. He seemed very melancholy. He ran his fingers through the pile of dust at his knees. "She was my dam. I loved her for a hundred and fifty years. Eh. I was over her, really."

"I know..." she said, eyeing him, "but that's not what I meant. I just can't believe she's finally dead. After all this time, I was beginning to think we weren't allowed to kill her."

Spike laughed, then moaned. Buffy rushed over to him and knelt beside him. "You're bleeding," she said, holding him.

He kissed her on the lips as hard as he could. She waited a moment before kissing him back. He lingered on her lips, tasting her, before pulling away. They stared at each other quietly.

"It occurred to me that I had never kissed you," he said.

She considered this. "Yes, you did," she said. "That night, when Xander called the musical demon, after all the singing and dancing."

He shook his head. "You kissed me."

She had; the memory was clear in her mind. She had felt so alone, and she had reached out to him because he had been there. Did she still regret it? She had once. "I'm still angry with you," she said. "You lied to me."

"Technically, as I said before, you never asked me outright if I was Spike, come back from the grave," he said, with the tiniest of smiles, "but I'm sorry. And I think it's pretty far down on the list of horrible things I've done to you. Do you forgive me?"

"Pretty much," she admitted. "You know, you're leaking an awful lot of blood. Do your new powers come with a mutant healing factor, or should we get you to a hospital?"

"I think I can hack it," he said. "I may not be a vampire anymore, but my new powers are alright."

"You didn't need to get them," she said, looking down at the ground. "I don't know why you think it's so important to me. Like I can't date normal humans, or something."

"Of course you can't," he said. "What would they offer you? Honestly, you know I never would have gotten near you if I wasn't what I was, what I am. Plus, you'd be dead, or full of holes right now, if I wasn't there to save you. You need someone on your level. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't need a monster."

"I know." He reached out and grabbed her hands. "I'm just a man."

Her tongue caught in her throat, unsure of what to say. He returned her gaze calmly. She did love him, didn't she? What was she waiting for? Before she could say anything, Angel caught up to them.

He ran in, panting, and his eyes traveled from her to Spike, and back again. "You found him," he said, frowning. "Where's Drusilla?"

"Right there," Buffy said, pointing at the pile of dust on the pavement. "Spike killed his own sire. Very Freudian."

"I feel kind of bad about it, actually," Spike admitted.

"I remember the feeling," Angel agreed. He cleared his throat, and Buffy realized she was still holding Spike's hands. She dropped them. They waited in silence, avoiding each others eyes.

"So, I walked in on a private moment, didn't I?" he asked awkwardly.

Buffy blushed and looked at the ground. Spike cocked a brow, and then nodded.

"Well, that explains the mind-shattering discomfort I'm feeling," Angel said, looking cross. "Can I just say something, Spike? I should have killed you when I had the chance. Honestly, do you think I left her in Sunnydale just so some other vampire could take my place?"

"I'm not a vampire, peaches."

"A technicality," Angel said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Angel," Buffy said, rising from the ground. She walked over to him and lowered her voice, said. "This doesn't change anything. No one will ever take your place. I'll always love you."

He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "I know," he said, "I love you too. I'm just giving you a hard time. It's just... Spike? Come on. And I loved Cordelia, you know... and she gone. I'm bitter."

"It would be alright if you never mentioned loving Cordelia ever again," Buffy said. She flashed a smile and pulled away.

Spike walked up beside her. He looked Angel up and down. The two of them stared at each other, stern as death, before Spike turned away and leaned into Buffy's ear. Smirking, he said, "So, can we be a couple now?"

"Watch it, Spike," Buffy said, "you're still on the shit list."

Angel rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that for me, are you?"

Buffy laughed. She looked at Spike, digesting him. "Either way, Malachi was right about one thing. We need to take it slow."

* * *

When they got back to the lair, Kennedy was dust. Willow was crouched in the corner, crying in Xander's arms. Faith, covered in blood and bruises, was leaning on Wood's shoulder, looking damaged. Kennedy had been the strongest of the potentials, and she had not gone easily, but at least now she was gone.

Buffy walked up to Faith and looked her in the eyes. "I think I was better off in prison," she mumbled. Buffy smiled, and patted her gently on the shoulder. She said, "I'm really glad you were here."

There was still a reckoning to be made, and Buffy knew it was hers to make. She had created the slayers, and now she must decide what to do with them. She would probably have to undo their powers, and it killed her. If there was any way around it, she would find it, but she didn't see how.

Seeking quiet, she found herself back in the yellow schoolbus, lying lengthwise on a seat in the back. It seemed like decades had past since she had first jumped onto this bus. It was only a few weeks. It had only taken that long for everything to go wrong. Her perfect solution had become a perfect nightmare in less than a month. For every reaction, there is an equal and opposite reaction; she knew that now. So much for backpacking through Europe. She was slayer-bound, forever more.

"Is this seat taken?"

Propping herself up on her elbows, she saw Spike standing over her, looking concerned. "Only in the sense that you should leave me alone when I'm moping," she said, "but sure, sit down."

He rolled his eyes, and sat.

"How did you find me, anyway?"

"Followed you," he replied. "Human-like. Hey, what do you think about us skipping the chatter? I'll summarize. This is the part where you ask me what I'm doing here. Then I ask you what's wrong. Then you tell me that I wouldn't understand. I insist. Then you tell me. Alright? Fess up."

"Sure," she said, laying back again. "Willow has found a way to reverse the spell, making all the new slayers just potentials like they were before. It would keep anything like this from ever happening again. I would be singing the slayer solo again; well, Faith and I would be the only slayers. Very simple."

"But you don't want to do it," he finished, "because you kinda like the company."

"My thoughts in a nutshell," she agreed.

"I know what the old poof would say," Spike said. "He's all for the big sacrifice. He would say reverse the spell, because no cost is too great to save a life. But it occurs to me that your life could be saved, too."

"I'm not about to die," she said.

"No," he agreed, "but you aren't ever getting a vacation, either."

She sighed and sat up. "What am I going to do, then? I can't let these girls run free, without guidance or training. And the Watcher's Council can't help them, they're almost wiped out after that bombing."

"The Watcher's Council sucked, anyway," he said, shrugging. "Make a new one."

This struck her. What she wouldn't have done to change the Watcher's Council if she'd had the chance. Was it in her now?

She must have looked like she was considering it, because Spike said, "Huh. I guess it is a good idea at that."

Buffy nodded. "It's perfect," she murmured. "We'll make a school. Giles can come back from England and help. Oh, and Willow's a great teacher... she can teach magic. We'll have to find some way to locate the slayers..." Her eyes lit up, and she was smiling again. Spike smiled back at her, for the hell of it. She jumped out of her seat and pounced on him, knocking him flat on his back. "I can go to Europe!" At the same moment, they were both aware that she was on top of him. She remembered the last time she was pressed against him like this, back when she was using him as a practice dummy for the potentials. She remembered feeling it back then, a moment like this, but there was something different now. "Your heart is beating," she said.

"And rightly so."

He looked vulnerable, even scared. She bent her head down to his and kissed him on the lips, gently at first, then coaxing his mouth open and wrapping her tongue around his. His breath was warm. She let her hands crawl down his sides and then slid them under his shirt, feeling his skin. He shivered at her touch, and she drew back, looking at him.

"Are we taking it slow?" he asked.

She sat back, straddling him, her hands still under his shirt. "What do you want?" she asked.

He closed his eyes. "Do you think we have a chance? Honestly? Because if we don't, it doesn't matter; but if we do, I don't want to screw things up. Not when I've been given this chance. I want to get it right this time."

"I'm feeling very fond of you right now," she said. "Do you have to ruin it by thinking too much?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, well maybe... who knows?" She pulled her hands out from under his shirt and rested them on his belt. "Can't we just experience this, for a little while? You've saved my life three times this week. Can't we just have some fun?"

"We've had plenty of fun, Buffy. I'm human now. I want the real thing, the full package, you know?"

She smiled and said, "I love you."

He laughed, opening his eyes. "Maybe you do."

She nodded and lay down on him again, her breath warm against his face. "Okay, then," she said. "Can we have sex now?"

He sighed. "Buffy. Are you taking me seriously?"

"Oh, please, nobody takes you seriously."

He allowed that. She unbuttoned his pants, and he let her. She slid her hand inside and touched him, just so, making his heart jump. She had not forgotten what he liked, either. "Make love to me?" she said.

"Buffy..."

"Please?"

There are only so many times a man can say no. He grabbed her by the shoulders, kissing her, pushing her back onto the opposite seat. She was still wearing that little skirt. He slipped it out of the way and, fingers trembling, pulled her underwear down her legs. He had wanted to wait; he wanted to get this right. He withdrew an inch, but she pulled him down on top of her, undressing him before he could protest.

To hell with it. Her eyes called him, and he knew he would make it right. Gently. She wrapped her legs around him, watching him, mouth open, eyes half-shut. It had been so long. She was so strong, he had forgotten how soft she was, and how needy. She felt right; he gave way to her soft cries and his inner need. It would be okay, and he would be with her, after all.

Her fingers grasped his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he dissolved into her. Warmth, and sweat, and breath. They came together like an avalanche, each one bringing the other, until it was over. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, and all he wanted to do was lie beside her, forever.

It lasted a few moments. Then once she caught her breath, she kissed him and sat up. She sighed. Gracefully, she pulled up her skirt, sat up, and kissed him again. Then she laughed.

"What?" Spike snapped, sitting up. He pulled up his pants hastily. "I just can't... what's wrong?"

Her face grew serious. "Nothing, it's just..." she said, paused, then, "I have this feeling that maybe everything's okay. That maybe I'm going to be happy now."

"Okay. So?"

"I never get to be happy!" she said. "Something is about to go wrong. I can't believe it's going to be this easy." She looked at him sternly. "You aren't going to leave me, are you? Or sell your blood to a vamp junkie?"

He sighed and kissed her. "Probably not. Just don't laugh at me after sex. Ever again."

She nodded and lay down on the seat, smiling, and he cuddled beside her. "I think we might be okay," she said. He agreed. They lay there together, and she remembered why she had needed him so much. He held her like she was the whole world. She would have to give him something in return. His head was nestled on her breasts, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. And she realized that for him, this was enough.

She wanted to call Giles right away, so she fished out her cell phone and dialed. Giles was answered after the third try, sounding tired. It was probably the middle of the night in England; Buffy could never keep it straight. "Who is this?" he mumbled.

"It's Buffy," she said. "I've got an idea I think you'd be interested in."

"Can this wait, Buffy? I'm otherwise engaged, at the moment."

Buffy heard a female voice in the background saying something like, 'Rupert, I'm cold.' She wrinkled her nose and said, "Giles, are you horizontal?"

"It's no business of yours, but, yes I am."

Buffy sighed and shook her head. "Giles, why do you do this to me? It's very damaging for me to call you up in the middle of the night and hear things like that. You are my father figure, and you are also very, very old."

"Hardly old enough for you, though."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, nothing, just ribbing you for dating the undead," he said.

"Speaking of which, Spike is human now. We're dating. Thought you should know."

"Figures," he mumbled. "What was this idea?"

She told him about the slayer school. He listened patiently, and waited a long time before answering. She thought he might have fallen asleep. Finally, he said, "Alright."

"Really?"

"I'm not crazy about the whole thing," he admitted. "As you so often remind me, I am getting very old and I'm not eager to start training another slayer, let alone hundreds. But you're right, the girls need guidance. I'm in."

Willow was on board, too. Wood laughed and promised to be principal. Faith couldn't commit to anything, since she was supposed to go back to prison, but she promised to help where she could.

They would have to pick a location; Wood said Cleveland was the hellmouth, so they should stay there, but Buffy hated the idea of life in Ohio. They would work it out. No matter what, things would be better than they ever had been for her. They had to be.

"I suppose my powers will come in handy," Spike said. "I assume I'll be the punching bag again?"

She smiled at him. Where were they going? Could they really date? She still couldn't imagine calling him her boyfriend, but there was something about him she couldn't deny. He knew her. He could reach her in ways no one else could. And she knew him. It had taken both of their deaths and pain all around, but she knew what he was about. She loved him. It might just be enough.

"I don't know," she said. "We'll see."


The End