Chapter One - Feigning Normalcy

Fighting was of the good. Fighting helped her keep her mind off other not-so-good things.

Riley.

Glory.

Her mom.

She didn’t want to think about those things right now. She wanted to concentrate on beating the living crap out of the scaly demon on the ground in front of her.

It was easier to concentrate on blocking its kicks, returning its punches and eventually taking its head off than to think about how very bad her life was at the moment.

And it was certainly easier to concentrate on the foul smelling pile of goo that the demon dissolved into once it had been decapitated.

“This shirt’s dry-clean only!” she pouted, and glared at the puddle the demon had left behind.

“Well, if you will wear fancy little tops when patrolling…” an oh-so-familiar voice drawled from somewhere behind her.

Spike. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She so didn’t want to deal with him right now.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice resigned.

“Just out for a stroll. Can’t help it if you make my cemetery your playground.” His voice was lightly mocking, and she knew that if she turned around, she’d see an annoying smirk plastered on his face.

“Whatever. I’m going home.” She walked off, hoping that she wasn’t going to get a round of Spike-the-stalker tonight.

The footsteps from behind her let her know that this was not to be the case.

“Slayer, you dropped your…thingy…”

She frowned. She was pretty sure she’d not dropped anything, let alone her…thingy…

“That’s not mine,” she said, when she saw what Spike was holding. It was a cuff of some sort, made of dark brown and red leather. There were words carved into the underside, in a language that Buffy didn’t understand, and something smooth and white was pressed into the top, surrounded by two blood-red gems.

“Must’ve dropped from that nasty you were fightin’,” Spike shrugged, and made to slip it in his pocket. “Finders keepers an’ all that.”

“I think not,” Buffy said, and swiped it from him before he’d managed to hide it away.

“Hey! Reckon that’d fetch a pretty penny. I know a few demons who’re interested in doohickies like that.”

“Which is why I’m taking it to Giles. A demon had it, ergo it could be dangerous.”

“You’re no fun anymore, Slayer,” Spike grinned, “the Buffy I knew would’ve had a barbed insult cleverly disguised as a pun to throw in my face.”

“Yeah, well, I have other things on my mind at the moment,” she sighed, “can we just leave this for another day? I need to get home.”

She began walking in the direction of the cemetery gates, half-expecting Spike to follow.

When she glanced over her shoulder to check, he was gone.

*

“I found this on patrol last night,” Buffy said, placing the leather cuff on the table in the Magic Box. “A scaly demon melted all over my new shirt and left this behind.”

“Melted?” Giles asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“Yup. Meltdown of giant marshmallow man proportions. Kinda. Anyway, this got left behind.”

Giles picked up the cuff, peering at it intently through his glasses.

“It’s certainly an interesting artefact,” he said, “though it looks to be no more than a…a decorative item.”

He turned the cuff over to read the words etched into the leather.

“Vectis…Interimo…Lamia…well now that’s interesting…and a long way from home,” Giles frowned and turned the cuff back over, once more examining the top. “Ah…now I see…”

“Giles, cut the cryptic and let a girl know what you’re mumbling about.”

“Interimo is the Latin for slayer or killer. Lamia means vampire…and Vectis, well, that’s the name the Romans gave to a small corner of England that is now known as the Isle of Wight.” He held the cuff out towards Buffy and pointed to the smooth white piece-of-something nestled between the gems. “What do you think this is?”

“You’re knowledge-guy,” Buffy shrugged, “but I thought it looked like…a shark tooth or something.” Even as she said the words, she realised what the small white object was. “A fang?”

“Quite.” Giles was turning the cuff over and over, worrying the leather and occasionally running the pads of his fingers over the vampire fang.

“So – and I’m drawing the logical conclusion here, which for me is usually pretty close to the not-so-logical – this belonged to a Slayer who lived in Ilovewhite?”

“That is what I would presume,” Giles nodded, “we can research it properly, if you wish. I’d be interested to know why your melted demon had it.”

“Bleh. Research.” Buffy made a face. “Really not feeling that right now. Maybe after all this Glory stuff is out of the way…” She trailed off, the reality of the situation with the crazy she-bitch and Dawn sinking in once again.

“Right, yes,” Giles agreed. “It is imperative that we focus on Glory and the impending council visit for the moment. Anything else can be put on the, er, metaphorical backburner.”

“Gotcha.”

*

A god.

Glory was a god.

Buffy longed for the days when all she had to worry about were bat-faced Aurelian’s, giant snakes and Franken-demons.

How in hell – and that would be hell in the literal sense – was she meant to defeat a god? She felt as though everything was piling up, and had been for a long while. Riley’s betrayal and abrupt departure, her mom’s illness, finding out about Dawn… and now this? Would it never end?

She sighed, and ran her fingers over the worn leather of the cuff she’d found a week ago. Despite his words to the contrary, Giles had done a bit of digging in the council records, but had found no mention of a Slayer from that area of England at all.

Still, she’d taken to wearing the cuff. The contrast in the suppleness of the leather and the smoothness of the vampire fang comforted her somehow, and hey, Vogue said that cuffs were in.

Patrol was dead. She’d just decided that she may as well head home – she didn’t like leaving her mom and Dawn alone for very long anymore – when she heard the familiar sound of a cigarette being lit.

“Spike.”

“Slayer,” Spike nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

“What do you want?” Buffy sighed, “my patience has been worn thin enough tonight.”

“Just wondered if you needed a hand patrollin’.” Spike threw his finished cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot.

“There’s nothing out here tonight,” Buffy replied, “I was about to go home.”

Spike looked like he was about to reply, when there was a high-pitched scream from somewhere in the direction of the trees.

“Famous last words, eh, Slayer?” Spike grinned, and took off, Buffy close behind him.

They soon encountered the source of the scream: a teenaged couple in the midst of a gang of vampires. The vamps were circling the girl and boy, snarling and flashing fang.

She shot a glance at Spike and he nodded, taking a stake from his pocket and squaring his shoulders.

“Hey guys!” Buffy called chirpily. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?”

The fight began in earnest, and Buffy revelled in it. Fighting meant not thinking.

She staked two of the vampires in quick succession, stepping through the dust they left behind to get to the frightened couple, who were staring wide-eyed as Spike whaled on the remaining vamps.

“Get out of here,” she told them, “and for future reference, it’s probably not a great idea to wander around a graveyard after dark.”

They shot her a last alarmed glance and then took her advice, running in the direction of the road.

She and Spike made short work of the rest of the vampires, until there was only one left. He was smaller, wirier than the others, but Buffy’s spidey-sense told her that he was a lot older. This was the Sire; the others had been his fledglings.

And he had Spike in a stranglehold.

“A… little help… Slayer…”

“What, can’t handle the big bad vampire by yourself, Spikey?” Buffy quipped, but she stepped forwards with her stake raised nevertheless.

Spike clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes at her comment, and continued to try and free himself.

Buffy punched Wiry-the-Sirey in the nose, then grabbed his other arm – the one not currently choking Spike – and twisted it up his back, before sweeping her leg around and knocking his feet out from under him.

Wiry growled and released Spike as he tried to get back on his feet. Somehow, all three of them had become tangled together – limbs flailing and smashing together as they tried to stand up.

Buffy had just managed to push herself up off the ground when Wiry knocked her back.

There was a muffled groan, a loud crack and a bolt of pain from her wrist. She looked up to see Wiry legging it, before the edges of her vision clouded over and everything went fuzzy.

“Bollocks!”

And that was the last thing she heard before succumbing to the darkness.

*

In coming around from unconsciousness, Spike realised three things simultaneously.

One: he had an armful of very unconscious Slayer; two: at some point in the little fracas with the vampires, they’d been transported to someplace that was decidedly not Sunnyhell; and three: they were surrounded by an angry-looking, crossbow-wielding mob.

“Bloody hell.”

Spike watched warily from his position on the ground, as a stocky man stepped forwards, the crossbow aimed directly at his heart.

“Name?” the man barked, his flinty eyes hard and unforgiving, his accent unmistakably English.

“How ‘bout you tell me who you are?” Spike replied, his eyes darting around for the nearest escape route as he tried to gently rouse Buffy.

“Rhys must have sent them,” came another voice, female and seductively low, “we should take them back to base and make them talk.”

“Name?” said the first man again, and he took another step forwards.

Spike felt Buffy shift slightly in his arms, and he ignored the man’s command, bending instead over her awakening form.

“Slayer? You all right, pet?”

Buffy moaned lightly, and her eyes flickered. “Spike?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and before he could say anything else, she was struggling to stand up. He reluctantly relinquished his hold on her and helped her to her feet. Once upright, she immediately dropped into a defensive stance.

“Who are you?” she asked of the group, positioning herself so that she stood to Spike’s right.

Now that Spike knew Buffy was all right, he let himself focus on the people surrounding them. They were a mixture of male and female, dressed in leather and wool outfits that wouldn’t have looked out of place during his childhood. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his senses guide him, and realised that the group was made up of both humans and vampires.

No one in the group had answered Buffy’s question; instead they were muttering to each other in voices too low for him to hear, even with his vampire hearing.

“What’s going on?” Buffy whispered. “Last thing I remember was that vampire stamping on my wrist and running off like a yellow-belly.”

“Damned if I know,” Spike replied, “I tell you, Slayer, hangin’ out with you and yours is a health hazard.”

“Why do you call her Slayer?” the group had stopped their mutterings and the brawny man spoke again.

“’Cos it’s what she is,” Spike replied, shrugging.

“Oh, gee, thanks Spike. Do the words ‘secret’ and ‘identity’ mean nothing to you?”

“It’s not possible that she is a Slayer,” the man replied, then turned to the woman – who Spike now knew to be a vampire – at his side. “They can’t have been sent by Rhys. This is something else.”

“Look, we’re talkin’ round in circles,” Spike said, impatience overruling sense, “you want names? I’m Spike, this is Buffy, and we’re out of here.”

He grabbed Buffy by the wrist, and flinched when a searing pain shot through his head as the chip fired.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

“Ow, Spike! Potentially broken wrist-gal here!”

“Wait!” The man strode forwards, and seized Buffy’s wrist, looking at the cuff she wore there, “Where did you get this?”

“What is this, grab-a-Buffy day?” she complained, and pulled her hand from the man’s grasp. “I found it, okay? Who are you people?”

“My name is Roman,” the man said, “and I am a Vampire Slayer.”

*

Chapter Two – Cave

Buffy kept her eyes trained on the loping gait of the man in front of her. If she concentrated on that one thing, then she wouldn’t have to think about the mess she was in.

And it was a big, big mess.

She figured that being avoidy was probably the best way of dealing with everything – for the moment anyway.

Spike was walking beside her, and she could see from the corner of her eye that he was itching to say something. He didn’t, and for that she was grateful. The tentative truce that they’d made with each other and with Roman probably wouldn’t withstand any of the bleached vamp’s comments.

She had no idea where they were going. After his big revelation – and wasn’t that a kicker? – Roman had suggested that they ‘move the conversation back to base’.

They’d been walking for quite some time already, and Buffy wondered when they would reach wherever it was they were going to. The surrounding darkness didn’t give any clues away – she could barely see five feet in front of her, but soon enough she heard the telltale swishing noise of waves breaking on a beach.

“Mind your step,” the man whose feet she’d been watching for the past fifteen minutes turned around suddenly. “The path goes very steep very quick.”

He wasn’t wrong, and Buffy concentrated even more intently on his feet.

The sound of the sea drew them in, and there was a short walk across soft sand before they arrived at the mouth of a cave, set into a sheer cliff.

One-by-one the procession of vampires and humans disappeared into the cave, and Buffy shot Spike a bewildered look before following.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, when she saw the next leg of the journey. A narrow ravine in the rock at the back of the cave curved gently upwards, and she had a glimpse of feet-man’s backside as he crawled inelegantly up it.

“After you, pet,” Spike smirked, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

Buffy scowled at him, but slid into the narrow gap and began to edge forwards, wincing when she put pressure on her sore wrist.

“Love the view!” Spike called from behind her.

“Bite me,” she replied.

“Probably not the best thing to say in a tunnel full of vamps, love,” Spike laughed, “some of us might take you up on the offer.”

*

Whatever she’d been expecting after the humiliating crawl through the tunnel, it hadn’t been this.

The ravine had opened out into a huge cave, the floor and walls worn smooth, but the ceiling jagged with rocks.

There were people – men and women, humans and vampires – milling about, some dressed similarly to Roman’s group, and some in a more normal – yet slightly old-fashioned - state of dress.

At one end of the cave was a long table with benches at either side – presumably a dining area if the half-empty plates of food were any indication. Other areas were divided into partitions, with desks and chairs scattered about and the whirring and clicking of outdated electronic equipment littering the tables.

A sudden movement drew Buffy’s eye to one corner of the cave. It was scattered with dry sand, and a man was sparring with a female vampire; his only weapon a quarterstaff, her only weapon her fangs.

“What is this place?” she asked, curiously.

“Our base,” Roman replied, stepping forward. The others who had been in the group had scattered, all except a black-haired woman, who now stood at Roman’s side.

“And who exactly are you?” Spike asked, dragging his eyes away from the fight in the corner.

“We’re Slayers,” Roman said, “we train here and then we fight demons. It’s our duty, our calling.”

“You give away our secrets so readily, Roman,” purred the dark-haired woman, “and yet we know nothing of our new friends. They could be working for Rhys.”

“How can you all be Slayers? And if you’re Slayers, how come there are like, a million vamps in here? Oh, and we’re not working for Rhys. Whoever he is.”

Roman motioned them over to a corner of the cave that was half-hidden with a curtain, where they sat down at a table. Moments later, a heavy-lidded woman set a tray with four glasses and a plate of sandwiches down in front of them.

Buffy reached for one of the glasses, but Spike grabbed her hand before she could pick it up.

“Think that one’s for me, pet,” he said.

“Oh. Blood. Right.”

“There’s cider for you and I,” Roman said, indicating the remaining cups.

“Thanks,” Buffy replied, and sipped her drink gratefully. She set the glass down on the table, and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she tapped her heels together three times and thought of home, this bizarre nightmare would be over.

No such luck.

“I’m having a really difficult time understanding what’s going on,” she said, a few moments later. “I patrolled. Spike showed up. We fought a group of vampires. One of them nearly broke my wrist, and then the next thing I know we’re not in Kansas anymore. What’s going on?”

“You’ve got one of our cuffs,” Roman pointed at the leather she wore around her wrist, “and one of the gems is broken. They act as a failsafe device…our mage worked a spell so that if any Slayer should be lost or captured, crushing a gem would bring them back to our base.”

“And where is that exactly?” Spike put in, and then turned to look at Buffy, “something ‘bout the air’s not right. Smells like we’ve skipped dimensions, Slayer.”

“Yes,” Roman said, “Kali – our mage - has recently begun investigating the worlds that lie alongside ours. It is possible that the failsafe in the cuff was strong enough to pull you across.”

“As for where you are,” the woman smiled, “we are on Vectis, the island home to a Hellmouth of epic proportions. And I am Josie.”

“Great. Another Hellmouth,” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Can your mage send us back? I really need to get home. Things to do, vamps to slay, evil Hell God’s to kill and all that.”

“I’d think so,” Roman said, “but first you must tell us about yourselves. A female slayer is unheard of here.”

“Right back atcha,” Buffy said, “except not with the female. No men are Slayers in our world.”

“None are men? That is difficult to imagine,” Roman frowned, and gestured at the room, “we make up only a small fraction of all the slayers in the world, and all are men.”

“All? I did think you said… so there’s more than one slayer at a time? I mean, yeah, I have Faith – kinda - but that was due to the whole me drowning thing. Usually there’s just one. One girl in the whole world.”

“There are hundreds of Slayers. What use would one Slayer be when we live in a world overrun with demons?” Josie seemed amused at the prospect.

“Shyeah, I’ve been asking myself that for years,” Buffy smiled wryly.

“If you don’t mind me askin’,” Spike said, drinking the last of his blood, “why’re slayers keeping company with a bunch of vamps?”

“We help,” Josie shrugged, “not all demons want to see death and destruction in the world. Some of us like it as it is.”

Buffy shot Spike a wry glance, remembering his impassioned speech before the fight with Angelus. Though she couldn’t help but find Josie’s words perplexing. Spike was an anomaly back home, an exception to the rule. Most demons did want death and destruction, and the idea of vampires working alongside Slayers so peacefully was jarring.

“Each Slayer has a vampire consort,” Josie continued, “we train together, and then find…other…ways of releasing tension.”

There was a pause, and then Buffy’s eyebrows shot up, as she realised just exactly what Josie meant. She made the mistake of glancing at Spike, who was gazing at her with a curious expression in his eyes.

She flushed, and focused her gaze on the worn wood of the tabletop. Unbidden, a series of images flashed through her mind, and the blush on her cheeks deepened.

Spike, as her consort, sparring with her. Spike, kissing her breathless then putting his tongue to work elsewhere…

She pushed the pictures from her mind with a firm hand. Thinking about the sexy vampire at her side was not something she needed to do right now.

Or ever.

“Tell us about your world,” Roman asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Spike jumped in with a story from the Sunnydale Hellmouth, and Buffy took the opportunity to study the leader of this group of underground slayers.

He was short and stocky, but his boyish face was all sharp angles and harsh lines. He looked to be around twenty, but her guess could go a couple of years either way. He was good-looking, but there was something in his grey eyes that put Buffy on edge. They were eyes that had seen too much, older than his years.

She supposed that she would see the same in her own eyes if she looked closely.

“You’re probably tired,” she heard Roman say, “I’ll have someone show you to a room. Ruby!”

A redheaded woman crossed the cave, and Buffy’s slayer sense let her know that she was a vampire.

Buffy glanced around the room and soon realised that all the women were vampires, and all the men slayers. Although with Josie’s revelation in mind, she supposed that it was only to be expected.

“Show our guests to a room, Rubes,” Roman said, and then he turned to address Buffy and Spike. “I’ll speak to Kali first thing in the morning. Hopefully she’ll be able to send you home without a problem.”

“I hope so,” Buffy smiled, “um, do you have any bandages? I think I need to strap up my wrist.”

Ruby smiled, and placed a cool hand on her shoulder, drawing her forwards. “Of course. Both of you, follow me, and I’ll get you settled.”

Roman stood up from the table, capturing Josie’s hand and pulling her towards the sandy training area, turning as he went to smile at Buffy and Spike.

“Until tomorrow!”

*

Chapter Three – First Night

Spike grinned at the sight of the petite blonde huddled to one corner of the mattress. Every few minutes she sent him a glare that only made his smile wider.

“It’s so unfair that they’re making us share,” Buffy suddenly burst out.

“It’s just what they’re used to,” Spike replied, shrugging. “Besides, Ruby said it was the only room free anyway.”

“I suppose,” Buffy grumbled, pouting slightly, and damn if that didn’t make Spike think things he shouldn’t.

“It’s not so bad though, is it, Slayer?” he asked, “The bed’s plenty big enough. No need to worry ‘bout offending those sensibilities of yours.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t reply.

Spike sighed, and leant his head back against the hard rock wall. As was beginning to be a pattern in this place, the room they’d been given went against all his expectations. It was little more than a large hole hewn into the chalky rock. A wooden cot with a lumpy double mattress filled most of the room, and several cubbyholes lined the walls.

Squeezed into the narrow passage that ran alongside the mattress was a rickety desk and wooden chair, and an ancient-looking radio sat atop the table.

“I don’t get this place,” Buffy said, breaking the tense silence. “When I first saw Roman and the others, I thought… I dunno, that we’d gone back in time or something. But they have radios and machines and stuff…”

She trailed off, and looked at Spike pointedly, as though expecting an explanation.

“Don’t look at me, love,” he said, “I’m as confused by all this as you are. Could be they’ve just developed in a different way to back home. Gone ahead with the technology but kept some old fashioned ways.”

They slipped back into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Spike tapping his fingers on his leg.

“God, what is your problem?” Buffy spat, moments later.

“What?”

“You! With the tapping! Cut it out!”

“Oh,” Spike hadn’t realised what he’d been doing until she’d pointed it out. “Sorry. Badly need a fag.”

“Well don’t even think about lighting up in here,” Buffy retorted, “you may like smelling like you’ve bathed in eau de stinky, but I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pet. Besides I‘ve only got one left. Don’t want to waste it ‘til I can get some more.”

“Why do you even smoke them anyway?” Buffy said, a few moments later. “They’ll kill you, you know.”

Spike didn’t say anything, simply raising his eyebrow.

“Oh…right. You’re already with the…the deadness.” She fell silent again.

Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. He hated sitting still, not doing anything, and he wished that the Slayer would get off her high horse for five minutes and let herself have a conversation with him.

“You must be loving this whole situation,” Buffy spoke again a few moments later.

“What’s that, pet?” Spike inwardly winced, wondering if she’d somehow discovered his secret fantasy of the two of them trapped in a strange place together. Of course, that particular fantasy usually involved a lot less clothing and a much more pleasant Buffy.

“This,” she gestured around them, “the way they do things around here. Vampires not being treated like they are back home.”

“Can’t say as I’ve thought on it all that much,” Spike replied, shrugging. In truth, he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t dwelled on the fact that some vampires seemed to be treated as equals in this world.

He hadn’t even considered… well, apart from that one moment when his mind’s eye had cast an image of what it would be like to live in Vectis, with Buffy as a Slayer and he as her consort. But he had shoved that notion away as soon as it had come, storing it alongside all his other ‘Buffy+Spike4eva’ fantasies.

Buffy made a non-committal noise, but didn’t speak again.

A few minutes later, the weak light from the single bulb strung from the top of the cave went out, pitching them into darkness.

“Guess that’s our cue to go to sleep,” Buffy said, and shuffled down slightly, pulling the thin blanket up over her legs. “Keep to your own side of the bed.”

“As you wish, Slayer.”

Spike stretched out on the mattress, propping his head up on his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles. There was no clock in the room, but his vampire senses told him it was nearing dawn.

He knew that he should sleep, but his mind was racing and his body tense. He contented himself with listening to Buffy’s breathing as it evened out, wondering what the morning would bring.

-

White moonlight danced on the waves, illuminating the wide beach. Buffy, dressed in a sheer white dress, waded through the surf, her toes sinking into the soft sand.

“Well?” she said, raising an eyebrow, “Aren’t you going to join me?”

He stepped forwards, his feet splashing in the water, and slipped an arm around her waist.

“Buffy…”

She moved closer into the circle of his arms, pressing her body fully against his, her tongue darting out to taste the column of his neck.

“Buffy…”

-

Spike jerked awake suddenly, and groaned, trying to hold on to the threads of the dream. A stifled sob caught his attention, and he sat up, peering into the darkness towards Buffy. All thoughts of the dream were instantly banished when he saw that she was sitting up, her knees drawn into her chest and her head in her hands.

“Slayer?”

Buffy didn’t answer, but he could hear muffled sniffing and he could smell the salt of her tears in the air.

“Buffy?” He shuffled closer, wanting to help, offer comfort, something. “Pet? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Buffy snorted, and looked up with watery eyes. “Where do I start? For one, I’m stuck in Bizarro Land where Slayers and Vampires get snuggly, and I’m here with you of all people. And then there’s the whole Glory thing, and god, how am I supposed to protect my family from here? Glory could have got to Dawn for all I know…and my mom, she…” She broke off with a sob. “I just…I feel so helpless. I’m the Slayer, I’m supposed to be the strong one, but now we’re stuck here and…” her voice fell. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Spike was at a loss. He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder, and patted her back awkwardly. He’d done this before, sat beside her and tried to comfort her. He didn’t know why she let him.

“Come on, pet,” he said, “it’s not all that bad. Your friends will look after little sis and your mum.”

“It is that bad, Spike,” she shrugged his hand away. “You don’t understand. There are things…things you don’t know about Glory.”

“That she’s a god,” Spike said.

Buffy looked up in surprise. “How did you know that? I only found out – god, was it only last night?”

Spike shrugged. “I lurk.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Buffy smiled slightly, but then her face fell again. “That’s not all of it. She…she wants to hurt Dawn. And if I’m not there to protect her…”

“She’ll be all right,” Spike said, laying his hand on her shoulder once more, “she’s tough, your little sister. And she’s got your Watcher and your Scooby gang looking out for her as well.”

“I guess so,” Buffy sighed.

“I know so, and I’m a big, strong, all-knowing vampire,” Spike winked, “an’ you can’t argue with that, so don’ even try.”

Buffy laughed quietly. “Why are you being so nice to me? You hate me. Mortal enemies and all that.”

“Don’t hate you, pet,” he smiled, “think we’re long past being mortal enemies as well.”

“Yeah,” Buffy smiled weakly, “I guess you’re more like my mortal annoyance nowadays.”

“Hey!”

“You love it,” Buffy was grinning now, the only evidence of her breakdown the drying tear-tracks on her face.

Spike looked away, his next words nothing more than a whisper.

“Yeah…”

-

Chapter Four – Exploration

“I’ll need something from each of you,” the mage said, “something small, inconsequential. As long as it is something that has come from your world.”

Buffy frowned, then put her hands to her ears, feeling the cool metal of her hoop earrings.

“Will these do?” she asked, pulling the earrings out and holding them towards Kali.

“Perfect,” Kali replied, her eyes wide and smiling.

Buffy had liked the mage immediately. She wasn’t fully human, but she wasn’t a vampire like all the other women in the cave. Something about her warm smile and cheerful demeanour put Buffy instantly at ease, and she felt a little more hopeful that they would be home soon.

She watched as Spike rifled through the pockets of his duster, eventually pulling out his silver Zippo lighter.

“Don’t lose it,” he said gruffly, “prized possession is that.”

“I’ll take good care of it,” Kali grinned, and placed both the earrings and the lighter in a stone basin. “It will take some time. Hours, days perhaps. But I am confident that once I have located your dimension, a simple spell will be enough to send you back.”

“Thank you.” Buffy said. “Um… so what do we do until you’re done?”

“Head back into the main cave,” Kali replied, “I’m sure Roman will have someone show you around properly.”

-

“Wow,” Buffy said, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun, “it’s beautiful.”

She was standing on the headland of a cliff, looking out towards the sea. After they had seen Kali, Roman had suggested a tour of the area, and had singled out a tall, thin slayer by the name of Jack to show Buffy around.

“It’s deceptive,” said Jack, “beautiful by day, yes, but the night hides all manner of beasties.”

“I can imagine,” Buffy said, “I have first hand experience of how hellishly hellmouthy a Hellmouth can be.”

“Yes, Roman told us a little about you and your world,” he shook his head disbelievingly. “It’s a little hard to believe you’re a slayer.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Likewise.”

“I have to say though,” Jack said, a twinkle in his eye, “you’re certainly the best looking slayer I’ve ever met.”

“All your slayers are men!” Buffy replied, slightly startled by his comment. When Roman had cornered him earlier, Jack had seemed reluctant to take on the task of showing Buffy the island.

They began to walk down a narrow path, lined on either side by tall trees. Apart from the sound of their footsteps, the soft swish of waves on the beach below and the murmur of nature, it was quiet and still.

“Where are we headed to now?” Buffy asked, a few moments later.

“I thought you might like to see the village,” Jack replied, “it’s not far.”

“Okay,” Buffy nodded.

Jack led the way, winding through the small copse, his feet sure on the uneven ground. It was obvious that he had made the journey countless times before.

They came to a stop by a run-down barn, bales of hay piled high outside, and a rusting tractor in the yard.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Jack said, as he disappeared around one side of the barn. Buffy sat down on a bale of hay, again wondering about the strange mish-mash of old and new in this world.

Jack returned a few moments later, leading a dappled grey horse behind him. He beckoned Buffy over.

“Hang on to his reins for a moment, would you?” he said, and went back around the side of the barn.

Buffy eyed the horse doubtfully. “Good horsey?”

-

“Cosy set-up you have here,” Spike said, as he dealt out the cards.

“It suits me,” Ruby smiled up at him, gathering her hand and shuffling the cards together. “Roman and the others are good to us.”

“How’d it happen?” Spike asked, “how did slayers and vampires start working together?”

“It’s been like this for almost as long as there have been slayers,” Ruby replied. “I’m not the best person to talk to about history, but from the stories I’ve heard… there was a slayer, many hundreds of years ago in Russia, who fell in love with a vampire. The vampire had sired many loyal kin, and when there was threat of an apocalypse, they joined together with the other Russian slayers of the time to prevent it.” She shrugged. “Since then, we vampires who don’t want to see the destruction of the world seek out the groups of slayers and pledge to help them.”

Spike frowned, wondering how something so small, so simple as a slayer and a vampire falling in love, could have started an alliance that lasted through the centuries.

“An’ I gather there are certain other… benefits to the arrangement?”

“Not all of us are like that,” Ruby said, after a moment. “Oh! Snap!”

“Bollocks,” Spike pushed the cards towards her.

“I like this game,” Ruby grinned, “I like winning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your turn to start.”

She threw an ace of hearts onto the table. “Anyway, not all of us take advantage of the ‘benefits’ you mentioned. My partner – Jack – he and I are nothing more than good friends. We train together, I help him patrol, we talk and share secrets as friends do. But nothing more. Some… use each other for sex, it is true, and others – like Roman and Josie – share true affection for each other. But most of us,” she shrugged, “most of us are just good friends.”

“Do you…” Spike began, “what do you do for blood?”

“Ah, what you are really asking is if we kill,” Ruby’s eyes sparkled, “I didn’t take you for one who shies away from uncomfortable questions.”

“I’m not, usually,” Spike said, “dunno what’s come over me.”

“It’s this place,” Ruby sighed, “there’s something about it… but you had a question. No, we do not kill. Animal blood is enough to sustain us… and some slayers choose to share their blood with their consort.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “If I wasn’t a bloke, I’d consider stopping here.”

“Not all of the vampires who help the slayers are female,” Ruby said.

“But all your slayers are men,” Spike replied, with a wry grin, “sorry love, don’t swing that way.”

“No, I rather think not,” Ruby grinned, “it’s only this base where there are no male vampires, you know. So if you did want to stay, there are options. We have several more hideouts all over the island – some hidden in the cliffs like this one, some in old houses, warehouses and the like. Vampires who decide they wish to help us live in them. When a new slayer arrives, they start their training at one of the other bases, and try to find a vampire who matches them.”

“And it’s like this all over the world?” Spike asked.

“Yes,” Ruby said, “the council – the Council of Mages, that is – organise everything. Vectis, well, we’re not a very big island. But because we have a Hellmouth, there’s an unusually large concentration of Slayers sent here.”

Spike nodded, absorbing the information. At some point during the conversation, their card game had been forgotten, and he set about gathering the cards into a pile.

“And your slayer?” Ruby asked, eyebrow raised. “Roman assumed on seeing a vampire and a slayer together, that you had a similar set-up in your world. But your line of questioning tells me that it is not the case. Am I right?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing like that in my world,” Spike said, then snorted. “And there’s nothing between the Slayer and me.”

“But you’d like there to be.”

Spike didn’t answer, and nothing was said for a long moment.

“So!” Ruby finally broke the silence. “You’ve heard about our world. Tell me about yours.”

-

Travelling by horse and trap was fast becoming Buffy’s least favourite method of transport. Every bump in the road rattled up through the hard wooden seat, jolting her this way and that. Jack found her discomfort amusing, chuckling lowly to himself as they rode towards the nearby village of Freshwater.

“How much further?” Buffy asked.

“Five minutes or so,” Jack replied, the horse’s reins held loosely in his hand. “So, how long have you been a slayer?”

“Six years,” Buffy replied, “and it’s the Slayer. As in, the only.”

“Yeah, Roman mentioned that you fight alone,” he shook his head, “I don’t know how you do it. I rely on Ruby and the other slayers to watch my back.”

“I’m not really alone,” Buffy said, “I have my friends, and Giles – he’s my Watcher. Hey, do you have Watchers here?”

“Watchers?”

“Yeah, he’s like, my teacher. But for the slayage.”

Jack considered. “There’s the Council of Mages. They research demons and prophecies, and work on magic that might help us fight. But it’s the older slayers who teach and train us.”

“How’s that work, exactly?” Buffy asked, “When there’s so many of you, how do you find new slayers? At home, when one Slayer dies, another is called.”

“That’s how it is here,” Jack nodded, “but on a larger scale. A mage finds us when we are young, and we’re sent to train with some of the older slayers. At some point in our lives, our slayer powers are activated.”

“When another slayer dies.”

“Yeah,” Jack frowned, “it’s kind of morbid.”

“It really is.”

-

Buffy leapt from the trap, happy to have finally arrived. The village was little more than a small cluster of shops and cottages overlooking a wide, sweeping bay. Like most of what Buffy had already encountered in this world, the strange mix of old and new was present here as well: Jack had pulled the horse and trap up alongside an ancient looking moped, and moored in the bay were one or two boats with electric motors.

“It’s so quaint,” Buffy commented, looking around at the thatched houses as Jack led the way through the centre of the village.

“Quaint?” Jack raised his eyebrow, and gestured towards a black and white building nestled at the foot of the white cliff. “You should see that place on a Saturday.”

“Let me guess, demon bar?”

“No,” Jack grinned, “karaoke night.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “So, is there a store around here? I could do with getting a few things.”

“Yeah, this way,” Jack gestured, “they don’t stock much, though. What did you want to buy?”

“Um, just some toiletries, toothpaste that sort of thing, but – oh-” her face fell suddenly, “I don’t have any money.”

“Not a problem,” Jack said, “Roman coughed up, said to let you get whatever you needed.”

“That was nice of him,” Buffy said, then looked down at herself, wrinkling her nose, “I don’t suppose the store sells clothes?”

“No,” Jack replied, smiling, “but I’m sure one of the girls will have something you can borrow. We can ask around when we get back to base.”

Buffy nodded, and smiled to herself as Jack went into Orchards Stores, holding the door open for her to walk through. The shop was small inside, and the shelves were densely packed. She quickly found a toothbrush and some toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner and a couple of other things she thought she might need.

The man behind the counter was elderly, and had a large moustache.

“Aater, Jack,” he nodded, and began to ring up the items, “who’s your young lady?”

“Afternoon, Bert. This is Buffy,” Jack said, “she’s visiting our lovely island.”

“Hi,” Buffy smiled.

“Ah, it’s always nice to see an Overner taking an interest in Vectis,” Bert said, then leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, “we don’t get too many visitors nowadays see, they’re all too afeared of what we keep hidden in the dark.” He straightened up. “But if you’re stopping with Roman and his group of buffle headed slayers, you’ll be right.”

Buffy looked towards Jack in surprise. “Is it not a secret?”

“Oh, it is,” Jack chuckled, “but Bert here’s a special case.”

“I was a Slayer,” Bert said.

“But you’re old!” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Er…I mean…”

“I am at that,” Bert smiled, “but I’m a slayer – retired, mind - nevertheless. Vectis Caulkhead born and bred, too.”

The more Buffy learned about this strange world, the more she thought that she had the short end of the stick back home. Here, the burden of being a slayer was shared between hundreds, and Bert was living proof that the slayer lifespan wasn’t always twenty-five and under.

“Ready to go?”

Buffy was pulled from her thoughts by Jack’s voice, and she mentally shook herself. “Sure.”

They were almost out of the store when a display next to the counter caught Buffy’s eye.

“Wait,” she said, and moved towards the display, “I need to get something else.”

“Okay,” Jack nodded, and passed her a five pound note.

Moments later, she said goodbye to Bert, and slipped the packet of cigarettes into her pocket.

-

Spike eyed the sparring couple with interest. The vampire and slayer circled each other, both holding a sword outstretched in front of them. They were dressed in leather and wool, and moved with an ease and grace that said they’d done this a hundred times before.

“Fancy it?” Ruby said suddenly, “It looks like you’re itching for a go.”

“Sounds good,” Spike grinned, “fist and fangs or d’you need a weapon to hide behind?”

“No weapons,” Ruby said, “I think you’d pref-”

She stopped suddenly, as a shrill wailing noise filled the cave.

“What’s that?” Spike asked, his head turning from side to side as he took in the flurry of movement and sound. The slayers were gathering around Roman at the back of the cave, weapons in their hands and stony looks on their faces.

“Where’s the breach?” A voice shouted, then, “Is it Rhys?”

“Silence!” The room fell quiet. “Brian, Steve, take your group out onto the beach. Alisdair and Mike, you go with your group and check all the exits. Matt, Chris and Jonah, you head-”

“Roman!” Josie’s voice was high and panicked as she ran into the room, red dress whirling behind her.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s Kali. She’s gone.”

-

Chapter Five - Dreams

Buffy glanced up at the sky, bright and resplendent in the moonlight. Foamy waves lapped at her bare feet, and she shivered. She was wearing very little: a simple white dress, which fell asymmetrically to her knees.

This wasn’t real, she was sure of it, but it didn’t feel like a normal dream either. A Slayer dream, then.

The landscape shifted. The dark black of the ocean at night lightened to a murky green. The imposing cliffs that hid the caves receded, and the ground began to rock under her feet. A boat.

A couple, leaning over the railings, caught her attention. She knew somehow that they were what she had been brought to observe.

They looked happy, this nameless couple, as they pointed out the approaching land mass and laughed together.

The scene changed again, the sunny day fading into the cosy gloominess of a village pub.

Again, she found herself near to the couple from the boat. Why was she being shown this? What did the Powers that Be want her to know?

The man and the woman were talking. Buffy slipped into the booth opposite, and listened to their conversation.

“He said we’d be met here at nine,” the man glanced at his watch, “and it’s ten after, now.”

“Don’t panic,” the girl teased, sipping at a glass of wine, “he’ll have a reason for running late, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” he let out a rush of air from bloated cheeks. “It’s just – I’m nervous, you know? It’s not every day you go from being Rhys Morgan, aspiring miner from Merthyr to being Rhys the Vampire Slayer.”

“I still can’t believe it,” his companion replied, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I can’t get my head around the fact that vampires and bogey monsters are real.”

Buffy smiled to herself, remembering her first thoughts when Merrick revealed the world of vampires and demons to her, all those years ago.

There was a sudden cold draft, and Buffy turned to see Roman striding into the pub. He greeted the man and the woman, and was brought a pint of beer from the landlady.

A strange subsidence, and Buffy found herself thrown to the ground, the smooth wood of the bench in the pub disappearing, the scene changing.

The room was large and brightly lit, a stark white light that reflected on the metal framework in the ceiling. It was a factory, or warehouse of some sort.

Lined up in rows were around fifty young men, weapons strapped to their backs, moving in formation through a series of combative moves.

Buffy supposed that it was a slayer training session. She could see Roman, looking a little younger than in the present, and an older man with a greying beard, standing on a small dais at the front of the room, calling out orders to the assembled slayers.

Buffy watched it all with interest. She had long since surpassed Giles when it came to training. She would have liked someone at her own level to train with, and there had been no one like that since before Faith had gone to the dark side.

She was able to pick out the face of the man from the previous parts of this dream. He was four rows back, and keeping in perfect time with the rest of the group.

Why am I being given the magical mystery tour of this man’s arrival on Vectis?

“Rhys, James and Steve – stay behind afterwards,” Roman’s voice rang out loud and clear over the shuffling of feet as the slayers left the room.

Buffy walked up on to the dais, stopping just to the side of Roman as the three men he’d called forward approached.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing serious,” Roman said, “I just wanted to let you know that a house has become available, near Ventnor, if you want to move out of your base.”

“Ace,” said one of the men, a wide grin on his face. “I can’t wait to tell Lisa, she hates the factory.”

“Isabelle will be happy about it, that’s for sure,” said Rhys - the man who she had been following. Buffy guessed that Isabelle was the woman she’d seen him with.

“When can we move in?” the third man asked.

“As soon as,” Roman said, “the house is ready and waiting, all you need to do is move your things over.”

Buffy felt her hold on the dream slipping, and the scene shifted. It was now night, and she was following Rhys and Isabelle down a steep road. She could smell the salt of the sea on the air, and could hear the faint swishing of waves on the shore.

The slayer and his partner were chatting loudly, their words mingled with laughter and smiles.

“Not long now,” Rhys said, his voice carried by the wind. “Excited about becoming Mrs Morgan?”

“Oh God,” Isabelle replied, “call me that and I’ll think you’re talking to your mother!”

Buffy smiled as she listened in on their conversation, this was a couple clearly very much in love. She followed them along the road as it wound towards the sea, and soon they were standing on a beach, a sweeping sandy cove with a stone-walled harbour at one end and a steep hill at the other.

Buffy could hear the gentle clanking of boats rocking on the waves, and the faint sound of music coming from the pub that was nestled at the bottom of the hill. As she looked out across the ocean, she felt an immeasurable wave of peace suffuse her being, only to have it immediately replaced by a harsh prickle of fear.

There was a scream, followed by a panicked shout and the growls of a hungry vampire. She turned to see Rhys and Isabelle being set upon by a group of five or six vampires, their fangs glinting in the moonlight as they stalked towards their prey.

Buffy watched as Rhys pulled a stake from his pocket, and handed it to Isabelle. The young woman looked terrified as she brandished the stake in front of her, and Buffy’s heart sank. Isabelle clearly had no idea what she was doing.

Rhys meanwhile had dispatched one of the vampires, tearing its head from its body with an angry yell. He began to fight another, all the while calling out to Isabelle to stay back, to aim for the heart, to - oh God - stay safe.

The fight went on for an immeasurable amount of time, and Buffy couldn’t look away. She wanted to help – so badly wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do. This was the past, a dream, something she was being shown for who-knew what reason.

Buffy could only watch in horror as two of the vampires advanced on Isabelle, backing her up against the sea wall. Isabelle pressed the stake forwards, and for a moment it looked like she had found the heart, but the vampire didn’t dust, it simply grinned and grabbed Isabelle’s wrist, snapping it backwards and forcing her to drop her stake.

Rhys was still fighting the other two vampires, not making much headway as he was without a weapon. He kept trying to manoeuvre the fight closer to where Isabelle was trapped, but the vampires he was fighting were determined to stop him.

There was a piercing cry as both vampires sank their teeth into Isabelle’s neck, one on either side, and Buffy watched, helpless, as the young woman was drained and killed in front of her fiancé.

Buffy felt sick, and the last thing she saw before the scene began to change was a group of Slayers running down the hill.

She was back in the factory, but this time it was empty of Slayers. There was a harsh clang of metal on metal as the door was slammed open, and Rhys strode through, the look on his face one of pure fury. He was followed into the room by a sombre-looking Roman, heavy shadows beneath his eyes.

“For god’s sake, man!” Rhys shouted, as he began to pace up and down in front of the dais. “How can you stand to have them near us? You know what they did to Isabelle, yet you still let them in! How long until someone else has their throat torn out?”

“You know it’s not like that,” Roman responded, scrubbing a hand across his face. “The vampires who attacked Isabelle had nothing to do with us. They’re the evil ones, the ones we’re trained to kill. Those who help us have no interest in hurting anyone.”

“You think I care about that?” Rhys laughed. “They’re all the same! Stupid, bloodthirsty animals and you! YOU let them into our home, into your bed and you expect me to be okay with it? I can’t do this anymore, Roman. I won’t. And I know there are others who feel the same.”

“This is the way things have been done for hundreds of years. If you can’t accept that… you’ll have to leave.”

“Then I’ll leave,” Rhys sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Roman. You’ve been a good friend… but…”

Roman swallowed. “I’m sorry, too.”

Buffy watched as Rhys left the room, and Roman sank to his knees, his head in his hands. And then the dream dissolved.