The brand new Audi Q7 came to a halt in front of a hotel that looked just as ancient as the rest of the sleepy little town of Sighisoara. The name on the door advertised the same name as the burg, apparently wanting to promote the fact that it was the quintessential place to be. The doors of the car opened at the same time, allowing its two occupants to descend.

Willow stood on the sidewalk waiting for Alia to take the luggage out of the trunk and join her so that they could both walk into the lobby. Her loose clothes were a mix of earth-brown and black and her hair had streaks of white running through it from all the high-power spells she’d done for the Coven and the Slayers over the last few years and the numerous invocations of the Guardians. Tara would have been proud of her.

She took the customary few seconds to breathe, invoke the goddess, and take in the feel of the place, to extend slender magic tendrils to figure out what powers were ebbing and flowing throughout the old town, the location of Eastern Europe’s best preserved medieval citadel. Another second was reverently taken to imagine her long-lost beloved standing right next to her partaking in the same feast of the magical senses.

Knowing just what it was that her lover was doing, Alia gave her the space required. When it seemed that “the joining” was complete, for that is what she called Willow’s powers connecting to the place they were in, added by the memory of a woman Alia herself would have loved to meet, she stepped to the redhead and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Ready?” she asked the slightly smaller woman, the receptacle of so many ancient energies that her Slayer sense always tingled in a very pleasant way whenever they were touching.

The answer was a brilliant smile. “I’m ready whenever you are, sweetie.” And with that, the two powerful women strode into the lobby of the hotel that was to be their home for as long as it would take them to sweep the ancient ruins for the treasure they had come to recover.


After a week of fruitless searching, Willow was more grateful than ever that Alia came from a Romanian background, as the few people that knew anything relevant to their mission spoke no English. And if one was to believe in coincidences, then there were a lot of them they’d come across.

Dracula just happened to be helping the Slayers when a new prophecy about a powerful artifact appeared. He just happened to know that it was related to the Transylvanian town of Sighisoara, a place he’d once considered as a possible headquarter, only to be repelled by the magic housed therein. It just happened that Willow was the most powerful of the witches of the Coven. Another lucky occurrence was her relationship with a Slayer whose parents were born in Romania and who had taught their daughter their native language. It also just happened that all other possible teams that could be sent there at that precise time were busy with random demon resurgences.

Willow did not believe in coincidence. Alia and her were always on high alert, even in the peaceful surroundings they found themselves in. They couldn’t allow themselves to grow lax even if the people were always welcoming and forthcoming with information. True, digging up things related to ancient witches was as difficult as one would assume, but the rest came without a hitch.

Now, a week into their Transylvanian stay, they finally found the thread that could lead them to where they wanted to go. The owner of an remote bar, an elderly fellow with a cheerful attitude and very bad teeth, had heard from his mother, apparently somewhat of a practitioner of the occult arts herself, about a special secret buried in plain sight within the walls of the old city hall.


Another week had passed since Onu (the owner of a bar and one working tooth) had told them about the possibility of their prize being close. Since then they’d frequented his place every day, finding more about him, the history of the town and the numerous events that had shaped the destinies of the people they were living among. For Alia it had been a revelation to connect with roots she’d never particularly missed, yet somehow found to be an integral part of who she was as a person.

For Willow, watching her lover bloom and interact with the people around them was enchanting. Before coming here, Alia had been shy, quiet and studious, making her so much like Tara that sometimes it pained her to be in her presence. Now she was opening up, seeming cheerful and in her element, becoming the kind of woman she’d always envisioned the caring Wicca would have turned into, had she not been cut down by that stray bullet years ago. Surprisingly, that revelation did not hurt, instead bringing her closer to the chestnut-haired beauty.

And tonight the final test would present itself. They’d found out about a secret passageway leading from one of the towers — the Tailor’s Guild Tower — down beneath the hill the citadel was built upon. If something were to happen, it would be the first time Alia would be in combat without being part of a squad of five, the customary way Slayers were deployed these days. Alia joked, saying she could be more like Buffy on this mission, one Slayer on a mission.

Willow ached when she remembered one particular morning and a tower. The ‘big gun’ Buffy had talked about then had become what the same woman now called the ‘one-woman army’, though, and she would let nothing get to her girl.

She shook off any thoughts of failure or traps and steeled herself for the possibilities of what the shadows would bring.


They’d descended through the hatch and had been twisting and turning within the long corridor for what seemed like hours. The small glow-ball Willow had conjured threw eerie and strange shadows along the uneven walls, making the hearts of both women beat faster than normal.

The weapons Alia carried made an occasional noise as they trudged up and down the winding stairs. Despite the fact that only the sword and stake she held in both hands and the bow slung across her back were visible, Willow had watched the Slayer stash about a dozen more stakes, darts and knives throughout her clothing. She was left wondering where exactly they all went, seeing as how the skin-tight clothes left almost nothing to her imagination and yet revealed not one of the concealed weapons. The redhead made a mental note to take her time exploring all her lover’s hideouts, for she just knew it would be very pleasurable.

All of a sudden, the space became larger, the corridor ending in a room as big as a barn, a possible spot for either keeping supplies during a siege or for witches to perform their rituals. The floor was smooth and even, the rock apparently having been carved out to specific designs. Along one of the walls a small stream of water trickled out of the rock and down through a special channel all the way to what was obviously the outer wall. On that side, two man-sized slits had been cut into the stone, fresh air coming through them.

Flaring the glow-ball to shine brighter, the two could discern patterns on every surface, old paintings, writing and even occult drawings having faded into lines and shadows. The strangest thing and that which made both their hearts leap, was what lay in the very center of the opposite wall, across the water stream where they stood now.

Willow felt the power emanating from the evidently ancient artifact, despite the pristine condition it was in. She couldn’t wait to take it home to the Coven and unlock its long-forgotten secrets.

“A broom? Is that it?” Alia gave voice to what they’d both thought at the sight before them. There, in plain view, now that they got closer, was a medieval broom reclining on the wall. It was almost as if somebody had forgotten it long ago while taking a breather from cleaning the premises.

“Well… you know, they didn’t make up all those stories about witches and brooms for nothing, right?” The two exchanged amused looks and headed towards the item in question.

Before Willow could grab onto the broom, its magic calling to her like a siren, a wind came out of nowhere and time seemed to grind to a halt. Like spectators to a strange show in a foreign language, the lovers watched as a black blur bound past them from behind. The blur stopped beside the magic broom before their hearts managed to beat once, revealing a game-faced vampire who grabbed the artifact and leapt towards the closest of the two slits.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye, leaving Willow shocked and Alia amazed that she hadn’t gotten any warning from her Slayer senses even when the vampire had brushed past her. Springing into action, the girl gave chase, only to find that the slits led outside through a series of very sharp turns and out on a cliff-face overlooking a river. The unusual vamp was gone and without any tingles, it would be impossible to track him down in unfamiliar territory at night.

Returning to the chamber, Alia found Willow rooted to the spot, mid-reach for the broom that had been robbed from them. Growing worried, the Slayer touched her lover’s neck, trying to feel for a pulse. With a shudder that startled both women, the witch came back to her senses and, entirely out of character for her, started cursing a blue streak.

When she was done hurling colorful expletives, which made Alia wonder what wharf her lover had frequented to get language tips from, the redhead dropped to her knees in a fit of half-crazed giggles. By the time those subsided as well, the Slayer almost believed that her companion had lost her mind and was preparing to scour the earth for the vampire responsible for somehow bringing down one of the most powerful witches in history.

Willow, her eyes still watering from her laughing and voice still rough from shouting, turned her attention to her lover and asked her, “Buffy’s gonna have a cow when I tell her Spike stole our broom.” and promptly fainted.

“Alia, stop!” Willow shouted, startling her travel companion and lover into hitting the brakes.

“What’s wrong? Is there an attack?” Alia scanned the surrounding area out of instinct and found no threats. Not that she was actually expecting any threats so close to the Slayers' Council Headquarters. Turning to the obviously distraught witch she put her palm on her lover’s shoulder in a show of support. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be right there next to you when you deliver the news.”

“But you don’t get it. You can’t get it ‘cause you didn’t know him, but it was him. And now I have to tell the others he’s back. How do I tell the others he’s back? What if they think I did it? I didn’t do it, honest, I learned my lesson. And I wouldn-” Willow was unable to continue due to a firm, demanding and passionate kiss from the woman that she’d only been involved with for a little over a year, but that had healed most of the leftover wounds from both the loss of Tara and Kennedy's huffy exit from her life.

After a few moments of losing themselves in each other, Alia straightened back in her seat and smiled at the panting redhead. “Sweetie, nobody is going to accuse you of anything. And if they do, I’ll be there to tell them that you didn’t do anything wrong. As for Spike, I didn’t meet him before Sighisoara, true, but you and the others of the Sunnydale crew have told the rest of us so many stories of him that I think I understand what he meant to all of you.” She peered through the windshield where the Slayer Castle was still barely discernible in the distance.

“Yes, but he didn’t…” she sighed in defeat. “Ok, let’s go, but if she gets upset I’m not the one to blame.”

With that said, Alia put the car in motion again, driving them both towards the place they called home.

*****

“Ah, the prodigal daughters return. So, where’s the mojo thing and why didn’t you call in? I would have had an extraction team dispatched,” Xander greeted the two women as they were shown into the main hall of the castle. “Were you two having too much fun and didn’t want it to end?” he asked with a wink, something exceedingly difficult to pull off with an eye-patch. “Should’ve called though, we’ve had no news for two days and I already had a rescue team picked out for you.”

“There’s been a… hitch,” Willow responded trying to avoid looking at her old friend’s eye. “I should really talk to Buffy… and Dracula as well.”

“Just a sec, I’ll call for them.” After pressing a few buttons on a gadget in front of him he got up and started walking towards the stairs. “The Buffster’s in the garden. I’ll go check on our resident bloodsucker now. Oh, and I want details on the town you visited. Maybe I’ll take Dawn there for a weekend or something.” And with that he opened the door towards the cellar and disappeared.

“Dawn?” Willow looked at Alia as if waiting for her to unlock the mysteries of the Universe. “When did that happen?”

“Sweetie, it was pretty obvious that it was a long time coming, to everyone here at least. Didn’t you notice anything back in Sunnydale?”

“Well, yeah, she had a crush on him back then. But… where was I when this happened?”

“You were in the coven. Now stop stalling and let’s tell Buffy what happened,” the young Slayer told her pouting lover with a quick peck to the cheek and a gentle tug on the sleeve. Making their way out towards the garden, the two lovers held hands, preparing themselves for the meeting with one’s best friend and the other one’s mentor.

Buffy was sitting on the bench in front of the fountain, in the middle of a mock-maze on the left side of the flower garden. Alia, just like all the other girls in the Castle, knew their leader spent most of her free time there, watching the water shoot up towards the sky only to tumble in the basin at the base, swirling and frothing.

It was a long running game between the girls to try and decipher the reason for these moments. Some said the water was a metaphor for their lives, shooting up out of mediocrity, striving for the heavens and, in the end, being cut down by some demon or other and joining the pool of Slayer souls. Others said she was waiting for the sun to make the water droplets catch the rays and form a rainbow, the sign of peace between God and humans. But no matter what they thought, Alia and the rest believed Buffy just wanted to be alone and recount all she had lost.

The two tentatively approached the seemingly oblivious Buffy from her right, noticing her blank look as she watched the waters. Without moving one more muscle than she absolutely needed to, the oldest Slayer in recorded history startled them. “So, how was your trip?”

“Been practicing the Spidey-sense?” Willow asked jokingly. Buffy just shrugged and turned towards her, showing signs of emotion for the first time that day.

“Well, it was great. Alia got to practice her Romanian and even I picked up a few words. Did you know that there are vestiges of people living in that area ever since the first of them came to Europe? And we found some really friendly people and their food is a very good mix of Eastern European cuisine that they adopted from all their neighbors, mixed with their own and they obtained some very interesting results. For example-”

“Wills, just tell me how the mission went,” Buffy interrupted the redhead’s rant in a calm but apprehensive voice. She knew her friend of eight years tended to babble when she was trying to hide something and she just wanted to find out what they were going to be facing, the prophecy’s ominous translation still clear in her mind’s eye, The powers within the sixth (?) fort will sweep the (missing piece) and the dead shall rule the living (missing piece) to overturn the order (fragment ends).

“Well…” Willow looked at Alia and received a warm smile of encouragement and a slight squeeze of the hand. “We found the power that sweeps… it was a broom.” At Buffy’s disbelieving look she continued as Alia giggled silently. “Yup, a dusty old broom. I guess the witches there were big on clichés. Anyway, we found it after running all over that town and making some very interesting friends such-”

“Willow, you’re babbling again. Where is the broom, did you bring it with you?” Buffy interrupted her friend once more.

“Well, you see, the thing is…” she took a deep breath and mumbled, “Spikestoleit.” Raising her eyes tentatively to the blonde Slayer she found that she was blinking numbly and then burst out in an almost scary laughter.

“For a second there, Wills,” Buffy got out between dark chuckles, “it sounded like Spike stole it. Imagine that: Spike. Don’t ever joke about that. Ever!” she just about barked at Willow.

“Buff, it really was him. I don’t know how or why, but he was there and he was alive, well technically still dead, just not dead-dead, just undead. Oh, and he stole our broom and then he was gone again… Are you okay?” she worriedly asked the now deathly pale Slayer who had covered her mouth with her hand and was taking shaky steps backwards, her eyes wide and terrified.

“I… I have to… I can’t… NO!” And with that, the most powerful fighter for good in the world ran away to her room.

Willow made as if to go after her, but Alia stopped her by hugging her tight. “Let her get used to the idea, baby. She’s in shock. Imagine if you found out Tara was alive.”

“But that’s not…” Willow turned round eyes towards her lover. “But she just slept with him during that bad year for all of us. She didn’t love him, really, she…” Watching Alia’s gentle smile and knowing nod she covered her mouth in shock. “Oh! She did love him, didn’t she?” At the raised brow directed her way she had to concede and amend, “She loves him. Goddess, I’m an awful friend for not seeing this earlier. She loves Spike. But why didn’t she tell us, her friends, the people that love her?”

“You know why better than me, sweetie.”

“She could have… Oh, not then, she couldn’t. And then he was gone. And now he’s back, only he didn’t come here and ohmyGod I should have been more gentle when I told her-” she was cut off by Xander running into the circular space, panting as if he’d run all the way.

“Where’s Buffy? I have to let her know about Drac.”

“She ran off when I told her Spike’s alive,” Willow said without thinking, her mind still going a mile a minute remembering every time she’d seen Buffy and Spike interact.

“Spike? The William the Bloody Spike is alive?” He dropped on the bench previously occupied by Buffy, slumping almost in defeat. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He came, stole our broom and was gone in the next instant. I only saw him for a few seconds.” Willow got back to herself and noticed the lack of real surprise on Xander’s face. “Did you know?”

“What, that he’s alive? No, but let’s face it, nobody stays dead.” Frowning he amended, “Well, some do, but not them.” Pulling out of the dark thoughts about people that didn’t return, he smiled again and raised his eye to meet his oldest friend’s equally pained gaze. “So, did she go to him?”

“Buffy? Why would you think-?”

“He loved her, she loves him. It’s just that simple sometimes. Or complicated. Depends. Is it a Tuesday?” Xander shrugged it off as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “So, is she going to him?”

“We don’t know where he is, so she just went to her room, I think.” Now it was Willow’s turn to frown. “Wait, how come you’re so cool about this? There was supposed to be freakage. I had freakage, just ask Alia, there was definite freakage. Even Buffy ran away, but you’re all… calm and Bond-like and what?” She turned to her giggling girlfriend and chastised her, “You’re laughing. I told you to stop me from babbling. When I bab-” This time she was interrupted by her lover’s passionate kiss.

“You’re adorable when you babble,” Alia said, then seemed to remember Xander’s presence and glanced at the now smirking man.

“Don’t mind me, ladies, I’ll just get the popcorn.” Xander chuckled at the deep shade of red covering the young Slayer’s face. “As for Spike, well, I guess a part of me always expected him to come back. He always did, even when we didn’t want him to.”

“So what, now you do want Spike back? Where’s the Xander that thought a dusty vampire was the only good vampire?” Willow half-joked and half-asked very seriously, feeling a bit left out of the loop and trying not to feel somewhat hurt that she’d apparently missed all these signs.

“Well, he was kinda gone by the time we went after the First, and then he ended up buried down in that crater, I guess. And it’s not just any vampire we're talking about, it’s Spike. And for Buffy to be happy, I’d put up with worse than the Bleached Menace or even the Souled Wonder…” He frowned then shook his head in denial. “Ok, so maybe not the Souled Wonder. I still have taste.”

“But Buffy and-”

“Don’t act like it’s something you just found out. We all knew she loved him. Come on, it was obvious even to me, and trust me, I didn’t want to see it for a long time. That whole year with the First and all, that’s when it became harder to ignore, but seeing her after… You were off to the coven and you had Kennedy, but I was here and I got to see her shut down and grieve in her own way, how she always did, without allowing anyone to see her weakness. But this time, I dunno, maybe having just one eye I really had to see, not just look. And I saw her hurting after his loss. I guess I knew that it wasn’t the last we’d hear of him.”

“Well, we still don’t know anything about his return. And maybe he’s different somehow. And shit, I just remembered Andrew and Giles. Oh, and Dawn. How-” Willow was off babbling again when Xander raised his voice a little.

“I’ll handle Dawn, don’t worry about it.” At Willow’s look, he backed up on the bench. “What’s with the look?”

“Exactly when did you start handling Dawn, mister? And how come I’m the last to find out? Do you want a hex on your parts? Well, do you?” Willow advanced towards Xander with her accusing finger pointing straight at him.

“This reminds me, Dracula’s gone. We can’t find him anywhere and nobody’s saw him leaving.”

“I knew this wasn’t a coincidence. What about the prophecy?”

“Well, we’re still here, right? So we still have time, I guess. Let’s get back inside and see what’s the what.”

“I guess you're right. After you, baby.” Willow said with a wink at her lover.

Alia leaned in to whisper into the redhead’s ear, “You just love looking at my ass.”

“You know it, baby.” And they both giggled at Xander’s slightly glazed over look. “Snap out of it, capt’n.”

“A-huh. Wait, what? Hey!” Xander shouted behind the two giggling girls, and then also started laughing good-naturedly. In the back of his mind, though, as he headed towards the Castle bustling with supernaturally strong young girls, he prayed that the following period wouldn’t see their group taking too many casualties.

*****

Julie and Kasumi were bored. The Hellmouth was guarded round the clock. The day was divided into three eight-hour shifts, each shift comprised of two Slayers. Since there were fifteen girls, there was a rotation schedule including time off, as each girl only had a shift once every two days. The girls usually played card games or guessing games to pass the time, but if Faith caught them slacking off, they had hell to pay. And she made sure her visits were as numerous as they were random. Tonight Julie had forgotten the cards, so after getting caught up on all the latest gossip and playing “name that rock” for what seemed like an eternity, the two girls were bored out of their minds.

Just as a new bout of sparring was about to begin, there was a loud crashing sound, like giant metal pipes hitting the concrete, and a flash brighter than any either of the girls had ever seen left them without the use of their senses for a few moments, the two entering automatic fighting stances.

When Julie regained her sight she made out three huddled forms on the ground; three bodies dressed in dark colors and seemingly unmoving. As she blinked to clear away the last vestiges of the flash from her sight, she noticed that at least two of them were, in fact, moving slightly: they breathed.

Tentatively approaching the three strangers whose faces were indiscernible as they were all heaped face-down, the two Slayers clutched their stakes tightly in their left hands, swords occupying the right, ready for anything. Their senses were off the chart. The unmoving one was clearly a Master Vampire, but the other two weren’t entirely human either, although it wasn’t clear what they were exactly. They took up position far enough that they couldn’t be surprised and Kasumi kicked the vampire in the shin.

The stranger groaned and rolled over, appraising them in one glance and then closing his eyes warily as his bloodied mouth uttered the words, “Take me to your leader.”

Julie called in, alerting Faith of what had happened and receiving her orders: the three people were to be taken to the Cleveland Contingent Headquarters immediately. A car was on the way. Shrugging, the two girls tied up the men, making sure they removed the many weapons they found on them, and waited for the car to arrive.

Julie looked at the three men, their faces finally visible. The two elder males, one breathing and one not, were as different as light and dark, but the real interest lay, at least for her, in the third. He had lighter hair than the dark-haired breather, but had some features that alluded to some kind of blood tie to him. His face was innocent-looking, although some lines were etched on it that she could see on her own face when she looked in the mirror. They were the lines of worry a warrior gets after fighting for one’s life. She just hoped he was on their side, as it would be a shame to lose such a looker. And if the muscles she felt under his shirt as she tied him up were anything to go by, he was also well built, despite his slender figure.

One more thing she was worried about was the fact that he hadn’t woken up yet, still knocked out cold ever since he’d, well, landed on the Hellmouth. And she could just bet that there were some internal injuries, too. Where is that car?

Kasumi had similar ideas, however her focus was squarely on the dark-haired male. He was unique. Just as she was bent over him to assess his possible injuries his brown eyes opened, enthralling her almost.

“Am I alive?” he asked, sounding incredulous. The girl’s heart almost broke at the thought he could have died getting there from wherever he’d been.

“Yes. You’re alive, but you’re hurt.” Something akin to relief flooded his eyes as they closed in exhaustion.

“Alive.” And his lips curled up in a smile that she felt as if she should kiss. Snapping out of her daze, she took a step back, unsure where these feelings stemmed from. She’d not felt anything like this since being Called and leaving Japan. Maybe he was good. Maybe he’d be good for her. She smiled wistfully and looked at her watch. Where is that car?

*****

The van stopped in front of the CCHQ, the three men being supported out, still bound but having received basic first aid while in the car. It had then been discovered they had a few broken bones and possibly some other internal damage, but that they would pull through and probably be left without lasting problems. The three were taken to the front porch, where Faith was waiting to see who the Hellmouth had spat out this time.

Of the three, the vampire woke up when they stopped, and smirked at the most respected person in the Cleveland Contingent. “So, Rogue, did Wood knock you up or did some other lucky bloke take a poke?”

To the shock of every Slayer present, the six-month pregnant Slayer didn’t seem to take offense at the stranger’s crude words, instead laughing so hard she got teary eyes.

“It was Wood and I guess nobody stays dead anymore, huh? Wait till I tell B what the cat dragged in,” Faith said after she calmed down a little. Then she addressed the stunned Slayers still supporting the three strangers. “Take these three inside now! Come in, Spike, Angel and whoever you are.” Gasps could be heard all around, while Katsumi looked bewildered at the man she supported. So this is the famous Angel. Just my luck.

If he squinted his eyes in just the right way, he could make out each individual wave as it glistened in the sun. If he wanted, he could probably count all the ships they had passed over, or watch the in-flight movie. He didn’t want to do any of those things, though, so he kept his eyes closed. Letting his mind wander over the things he had seen in the past few years, instead.



Out of what Rogue had told him, he had reached a few conclusions and knew what he had to explain about his recent adventures. Apparently, they all knew about the LA battle with Wolfram and Hart. What nobody had known, though, was what had happened afterwards. The parallel universe, the hopeless battles, the friends he had made along the way and the ones he had lost.



Gunn had been a good friend and an even better enemy. Always keeping them on their toes, always coming up with some plan that thwarted all they tried to accomplish. It really paid off to know your enemy. In desperation, they had to resort to immense sacrifices in order to win the war.



What to do regarding Connor had been one of the hardest things to decide upon. The signs had been clear, but Angel would have none of it… at first. Eventually they had to drag the poor boy into their universe and put him to use as the Destroyer again. The kid had done a right good job of it, too.



A lot of their allies, some friendly demons and a few of the remaining humans had died in those two years of hell, but neither side was able to get the upper hand. Gunn, despite the constant influx of WRH cronies at his disposal, couldn’t dislodge the Aurelians or Lorne. They’d needed something pretty powerful to break the stalemate. How ironic that something so important was in the guise of something so tripe. An old broom to sweep away all the vamp dust.



Maybe if it hadn’t been for that broom he wouldn’t be here right now, in this plane, on his way to meet the woman he had tried so hard to forget. However, Red had seen him and the broom had worked as it was intended to and they had won. Gunn was banished and his spirit was replaced by Wesley’s ghost. The now undead former Watcher decided to remain in that world with Illyria, after she decided to make it her domain. The two of them having reached an understanding of sorts as to what each meant for the other. Lorne almost lost everything, too, including one of his horns, but finally remained there as well. And the fans continued to cheer him on.



After they sent the broom on its merry way back to Sighisoara, the two vamps and Connor had taken the leap back to their reality, only to have that reality altering itself around them. Throughout his stay in the other realm, Spike’s demon had changed, though. Both from his own experience and from what the Cleveland Slayers told him, he wasn’t registering on their senses as a Master Vampire, or even a vampire at that. He was different, unique. Right, as if that isn’t what you’ve been your whole unlife, mate? Unique. Just ‘cause I don’t have to snack on people and can stand the sun for hours, they’re willin’ to put up shrines. Like offin’ two slayers and loving another was a walk in the bloody park.



Nevertheless, Angel had been the one who suffered the most drastic change of them all. The bastard had Shanshued and was currently chatting up that Japanese Slayer that had been guarding the Hellmouth when they crashed through. There went any and all thoughts of star-crossed lovers and whatnot. The Poofter, after brooding for a couple of weeks, had been kicked back into living by the little spitfire of a woman. That Kasumi had even managed to get the Captain Forehead to laugh. The first time it happened, it had sent Spike, Connor and Faith into a research frenzy on account of it being a sign of an Apocalypse.



Not that Connor had been idle with the French Slayer. At first, the little bugger had flirted with half the Slayers there, but Julie had managed to get her claws into him and not let go. Now, if Spike’s nose was as reliable as usual, in about nine months, Angel would be a grandpa.



For the month Spike had been the guest of the Cleveland Contingent, as the Slayers there called it, all reports back to the Slayer base in Scotland were censored so that no news of the three of them would leak. It wasn’t the time for questions, recriminations and reunions yet. They used their time making sure the portal between the worlds was safe and checking in with the people they had left on the other side. One more thing they had found themselves responsible for was overtaking every WRH branch in the continental US.



After the LA battle, they had all been weakened, but the recent loss of their power-base in the alternate universe had meant that the once-powerful law firm was up for grabs. Other Slayer Contingents had been sent to deal with the international branches, but Faith’s group was put in overall command of the North America part of the operation. Kennedy was apparently in charge of South America, something Spike didn’t look too kindly on. Now that things were really looking up on all fronts, Angel and Connor had decided to remain with Faith. Spike, despite having made peace with Wood, had other plans, though. What had prompted this trip over the ocean was serious business.



They had sent the broom back to its original hiding spot during the final battle, but reports had come in that other forces had apprehended it. Spike had a gut feeling that it was about to get worse before it all got better again. And that was just the side-note. He was on his way to see Buffy.



Despite the years that had passed and everything that had happened, he had still had strong feelings for her. Strong feelings, he snorted inwardly, be a man and at least admit it, you love the bint. He’d had a few flings over the two years he had spent in the other world, but as the time when they would come back to their own world approached, Buffy’s image was constantly burned into his retina. Seeing Red in Sighisoara didn’t help matters one bit.



And Faith telling him about the decoy-Buffys and what had really been happening since Sunnydale really threw Spike for a loop. Now he didn’t really know how to react when he saw her, but he knew at least one thing. It was time for them to meet again. If only the world didn’t depend on him this time as well.



~~~***~~~



The sound of steps on the marble floor was the only thing that could be heard in the old Istanbul History Museum. The figure responsible for the noise stopped in front of a display with ancient weapons that had been presented to the Sultans as presents a long time ago. His desire was not to plunder, however, so he dismissed all the jewelry-encrusted shields and swords that adorned the display. His sights were firmly set on a more spartan looking weapon, made in rusty iron with just a few gold ornaments and faded writing encrusted on both the handle and the blade itself. All in all, not a really impressive looking thing; however, the fools had no idea of the power it carried inside. With practiced ease, he broke the glass and, ignoring the sirens, picked up the sword.



“Ah, Stefan, it’s time to help my family again, old friend. Your sword will once again bathe in the blood of the pagans,” the stranger said in an East European accented voice that rolled the Rs and stressed the Ss. With an evil grin spreading over his face, Vlad, better known as Dracula, vanished before anyone could even figure out what had happened.


~~~***~~~


Xander closed his cell phone, ending the call. He was frowning and his face had turned stony, his single eye giving it the quality of an old photograph of some battle-hardened soldier contemplating his next assault. The truth was not far from the image. Xander Harris had finally managed to take a few days off, or more accurately, the others had finally managed to trick him into taking a vacation. True to his word, he had grabbed Dawn and flown her to Romania, then driven her to Sighisoara, since both Willow and Alia had talked everyone’s ears off about the place since returning to base.



Now, with just two more days to go, things had to change. Who in their right mind started making mischief on a Friday? Didn’t anybody consider the weekend to be sacred anymore? The more riled up Xander got, the stormier his expression. A gentle hand touched his forearm, but he took no notice of it. The next thing he knew, though, was Dawn biting on his earlobe hard enough to hurt.


“Hey, was that truly necessary?” Xander asked trying to feign being upset, despite the grin that he was fighting back.



“You were off in your own little world and I want to know the scoop. What’s gotten you so worked up as to ignore me?” Dawn asked with a fake pout and a little jiggle of her torso, emphasizing the lack of a bra underneath her blouse.



“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was thinking,” Xander retorted wile ogling the sway of her curves.



“Aah, no wonder I thought I smelt something burning. Now stop avoiding and spill. What’s wrong and how much of our vacation are we going to spend chasing down bad guys?”



Xander lunged towards her and grabbed her by the waist, raising her in the air and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate, yet curt kiss. “Apparently Drac resurfaced in Istanbul, or at least he’s our best bet for a sword that went missing over there recently. We have our people on it, but they’re hard-pressed, what with holding down the fort in the former Wolfram and Hart branch and everything. So since we’re so spread out, the Buffster was wondering if we could pass by there, just to take a quick peek.” While he talked, he continued to hold Dawn aloft and pressed tightly to him, despite her mock squirming that was giving him entirely different ideas about how to spend the next few hours.



“So the wanker decided to come back and bite us in the ass.”



“Well, actually I was planning on being the one doing that. As for wanker, sorry, still sounds weird when you say it.”



“Does not. And you perv!” Getting a mischievous glint in her eye, she continued “So exactly how late can we be?”


~~~***~~~



The water was enchanting that day. Every time Buffy stood in front of the old water fountain, she found something new about it. True, she could probably recite all the cracks and carvings by heart with her eyes closed, but the water itself was always different. Today a breeze coming over the plain gently nudged the spray to make it seem as if the droplets were dancing in the surface.



She always found sitting on the old stone bench to look at the water relaxing, ever since she moved in to the old castle. So whenever her duties as the Head Slayer (and didn’t that just sound plain wrong sometimes?) would allow, she would go to the garden and just watch. Seldom were the days when this did not lead to thinking about Sunnydale and all she had left there.



Now, since Willow’s return with the news that Spike was back somewhere, she had recalled everything they had gone through, from that first meeting behind the Bronze, to that last time, down in the Hellmouth. She felt lucky to have even the handful of truly good memories she had, like watching him sleep after one of their passionate trysts, or him holding her, making her feel safe when nobody else would have her. The wealth of emotion he betrayed when he looked at her was, in retrospection, evident for so long she sometimes felt stupid for not seeing it until it was too late. There were also the bad memories. Like the alley near the police station, the basement of the old high school, her bathroom… She wouldn’t trade any of it, though, for it had brought them to where they had been at the end: two old lovers so comfortable in each other’s presence that words were almost irrelevant. And she loved him, even if he didn’t believe her. No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.



Throughout the years since Sunnydale, Buffy had even tried dating once or twice, but what hope of any relashionship could the leader of all the Slayers and recently, due to Faith’s Intel, chairman of the new Wolfram and Hart. They were considering renaming it as soon as someone came up with a good enough name and they had enough people to effectively run all the subsidiaries.



Now Spike was back and he hadn’t sought her out. Why? All the Slayers had been alerted to be on the lookout for any news about him. So far, nothing conclusive had surfaced, especially with the added pressure going through all the WRH files added. They needed more people, as the Slayer’s Council was stretched to its limits. We sure could use you, Spike. Come back to me so I can kick your ass for leaving.



The water was enchanting.



~~~***~~~


“No, Andrew, you certainly may not tell Buffy about Spike and Angel. It is true, I might have erred on the side of caution when it came to their involvement with Wolfram and Hart, but opening old wounds would be to no avail. If and when we find something conclusive as to their destinies, we shall inform Buffy of everything, but I will not have you filling her mind with doubts and illusions. There is too much at stake for her not to be fully aware of her duties. Do I make myself clear?” Giles barked in the telephone on the top level of the WRH London offices.



“Yes, I understand, but what if he comes back and she finds out we’ve been lying to her all this time? I did find records here about their visit two years ago. Some other files point to what happened in LA. We can’t hold this from her forever. Other branches might have info as well,” Andrew retorted from the offices of Wolfram and Hart in Rome.



“We shall deal with everything as it plays out, but we will not be telling her anything as of yet, do I make myself clear?”



“Yes, Mr. Giles, I understand. But just imagine those two back together, doesn’t it give you goose-bumps?”



“I’m doing a right good job at not imagining that, thank you, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it again. It was hard enough the first time.” And with that, Giles slammed the receiver, ending the discussion with the increasingly unreliable Andrew. If that boy tells Buffy, I will tear him limb from limb.

*Heathrow Airport, London, UK*



“You may now unfasten your seatbelts and welcome to London.”



Spike smirked as he got out of the chair, never having bothered to fasten the bloody seat belt in the first place. London. A long time had passed since his last visit to the land of his youth and turning. Now he had a few house calls to make.



~~~***~~~



*Spire building, WRH offices, London, UK*



Mister Mark Pendelberry waited impatiently to be received by his new boss.



“Mister Giles will see you now,” said the buxom secretary and he gave her a tight-lipped smile as he hurried to open the glass door and step inside the office of Rupert Giles, the same office that had been occupied by the late Mr. Finnegan, a representative of the equally late Senior Partners. This firm is going to the doghouse if we keep this up.



Giles barely raised his eyes from the legal documents and surveillance reports he was perusing, his search for the souled vampire known as Spike well known throughout the firm. “Go ahead, man, I haven’t got all day for your musings.”



“Yes, quite. I am pleased to inform you that we have ascertained our quarry.” Having unleashed the bomb, Mark watched with quite a bit of enjoyment as his new boss threw down the papers he was holding and gave him his full attention. Promotion, here I come!



“Well, what are you waiting for? Spit it out, man!”



“The vampire landed at Heathrow ten minutes ago, on a plane from the US. He apparently boarded in New York after traveling there by car.” At Giles’ impatient hand signals, Mark continued with the report sure to send him on route to a corner office, “We have intercepted him as he was inquiring for flight information for Edinburgh and a car is currently on its way here with him. I trust you will find this satisfactory?” he asked unable to contain a self-satisfied smirk.



“I consider you personally responsible for getting him here with the utmost secrecy. Nobody outside this office must know that we have him, save from the team at the airport. Do you understand?”



Mark felt a knot in his stomach at the tone Giles was using. Apparently, the Ripper part of him was not as far away from the surface as prior intelligence had let on. This will do nicely. “Of course, sir, I will make all the arrangements myself.”



After Mark exited the office, Giles canceled all his appointments for the remainder of the day and walked over to the floor to ceiling windows from where he had a clear view of the Houses of Parliament. So, the bugger is really back. We’ll just see what he wants this time.



~~~***~~~



*Rio de Janeiro, Brazil*



She needed air. Her father had always said she should lead, but she was pretty sure he never thought she would be leading a contingent of Slayers and a law firm. All those pesky people asking her this and that, unable to perform even the simplest duties without her consent. Part of her reveled in the attention and importance, but part of her was simply fed up with all the simpering idiots around her. So what was a Slayer in need of relaxation and without a girlfriend to do? She went out slaying.



The night was silent, the gentle breeze and the background noise from the latest all-night party the only thing disturbing the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. All of a sudden, her tinglies told her her prey was close. Turning around, however, she could only see a team of street sweepers going about their duty. She scanned the area, trying to pinpoint the source of alarm.



Out of the shadows, a man with raven hair appeared, dressed in a business suit and an overcoat that was in stark contrast to the sweltering Brazilian heat. Vampire! Just as she was about to charge and get her quota of violence for the night, though, she recognized the face of the creature – Dracula.



“Good evening, Slayer. Beautiful night, is it not?”



“There are no more orders for your protection anymore, demon, so yes, it is a beautiful night for you to blow away in the wind.”



Spreading his arms in a sign of non-aggression, Dracula stood his ground. “I did not come here to fight you, but I do admire your energy.” Relaxing a bit, he pinned the intrigued Slayer with his dark eyes. “I’ve come because I made a mistake almost six years ago. You were the Slayer I was seeking, not that disappointing girl, Buffy.”



“What do you mean?”



“I mean that I have declared war on all manner of demons and night lurkers. I intend to eliminate their scourge from the Earth and restore it to Christianity. This was my mission more than half a millennia ago and if you look closely, you will find that it isn’t that different from yours.”



“You are nothing like me. I am a Slayer, a warrior of light and you are a demon, a vampire. You are the scourge you’re trying to destroy. Do the world a favor and start with yourself,” Kennedy spat at him, her hand tightening on the stake.



“Oh, but I am. The reason for my downfall all those centuries ago was my attempt to deny the darkness lurking within each of us. Now that I have embraced it, I can once again take my place as the vengeful hand of God, ready to strike down the heathens and bring forth His will. You, Slayer, have that darkness within you even now. I hear it calling to me, whispering in your ear to join me as my Queen while we rid the world of all those that oppose us.” Dracula decided that trying to talk her into anything was proving too time consuming, so he slowly began to use his thrall on her, confident she would accept him in the end, but deciding to cut the discussions short.



“You want me to what?” Kennedy asked with disbelief evident in her voice.



“I want you to join me. Someone as powerful and beautiful as you is destined to do great things. You should be a true leader, not some puppet hidden away in this gaudy country, sweltering in the ungodly heat.” Seeing that both his words and his thrall were beginning to work on Kennedy, Dracula stepped in closer. “Let me show you all that you can be, let me help you fulfill your destiny. You will not only be first among vampires, you will be first among Slayers as well.”



“I kill vampires.” Despite her words, the hand holding the stake had lowered and her grip on the wood had loosened considerably. She had also eased from a fighting stance into a more relaxed pose.



“And you will continue to do so. I told you, I have declared war on everyone. Join me and be all that you can be.” Another step closer.



“I don’t-” Kennedy trailed off and closed her eyes as Dracula trailed his fingers up her hand. She let the stake fall to the ground and roll away. As his hand reached her neck, she felt tension building in her womb. Both his hands framed her face and she felt his cool breath on her neck, eliciting a gasp from the dazed Slayer. All she felt afterwards was rapture as his fangs pierced her neck and she felt the pull of his mouth on the wound. The small part of her brain still able to think clearly through the orgasmic haze concluded: So, this is what Buffy craved. Now I get it. Then, after what felt like seconds and centuries of bliss at the same time, she felt something wet against her lips and greedily savored the rich taste and hint of power. Finally, like a switch being thrown off, it all went dark.



As Kennedy went limp in his arms, Dracula lowered her on the stretcher his minions posing as sweepers had prepared for her. Together they would be on their way to their new home in Romania very soon.



Without warning, his senses were assaulted by a familiar presence and he turned only to stand face to face with the golden eyes of a woman he hadn’t seen for about a century.



~~~***~~~



*Sighisoara, Romania*



Tangled together, sated after a vigorous bout of lovemaking, Xander and Dawn were cuddling before they had to leave for Istambul.



Raising himself off the bed, he gave her an apologetic smile when she pouted for his leaving her side. He fumbled into the pockets of his jacket and took out a small rectangular felt covered box. Getting down on one knee at the edge of the bed, he had to struggle a bit to get the words out. Dawn raised herself on her elbow facing him, uncaring of her nudity.



“I was going to do this later tonight, at dinner, but,” he grinned a bit, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve known you ever since you physically came into our lives and I have memories of you even before that. We haven’t always been on the best of terms, but then again, who has?” They both smiled at that, remembering some of the most taxing moments they had been part of back in Sunnydale. “I’ve lost the woman I loved once and I couldn’t bear it if I ever lost you, so,” he said, holding out the box and opening it to reveal a white gold ring with a large diamond surrounded by a crown of smaller ones. “Dawn Summers, will you be my wife?”



Blinking back tears of joy, Dawn nodded her head furiously and allowed Xander to place the ring on her finger. “Yes. Oh God, yes!” She then tackled him with a squee and they both dissolved in relieved laughter and proceeded to celebrate their engagement properly.



~~~***~~~



*Slayer Headquarters, Scotland, UK*



Buffy strode into the library where Willow was looking over some ancient tomes.



“Hey, Wills, what’s the what with the sword in Istanbul? I heard you pulled Xander and Dawn from their vacation and sent them there. Why?”



“I’m sorry I had to do that, but they were the only ones available. I’m researching this sword and all the others, including Alia, are out hunting for Dracula.”



“What’s so important about this sword? Couldn’t the team we have there handle it? What does it do, open another Acathla?” Buffy asked taking a seat at the table and trying not to take her anger out on Willow. She knew Xander was going to propose, but that was their little secret and she wasn’t happy that anything might put a damper on those plans.



“No, nothing like that. Apparently it’s the sword of Stefan the Great, a ruler of Moldavia and family friend of Dracula.”



“Him again? How much has he been doing right in front of us and we never noticed?” Buffy got up again and started pacing the floor, frustrated that she couldn’t get the time to sit still and figure out more about Spike. He was out there and nobody had found him yet. Damn vampires and their disappearing acts.



“Yeah. Apparently, this guy could cut in half a man and his horse in one swing. Not something we would want ol’ Drac to have his hands on.” Willow frowned trying to figure out all the implications.



“So why now? Why not in the past? Didn’t he have like a thousand years or something to get it?”



“Five hundred years and no, I don’t know why now. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Putting down the book, she looked up at her long time friend as she paced. “Buffy, what’s with the pacing?”



“I’m just worried.” At Willow’s inquisitive look, she sat back down in a huff and elaborated. “I’m worried about Xander and Dawn. I’m worried about the Wolfram and Hart thing. I’m curious about Faith and Wood’s relationship and I want to know where Spike is!” She raised her voice gradually as she spoke. Catching herself, she threw an apologetic look at Willow and shook her head. “Never mind, forget I said anything.”



Grabbing her friend’s hand, Willow tried to find out more from the usually reserved blonde. “Buffy, we’re doing our best, but none of us knew where he was for three years. He’ll come back to you. He always does, even when nobody wants him to. It’s what he does.” As she spoke, Willow realized just how far the two of them had gone from sharing a dorm room years ago. “And why didn’t you tell any of us what you really felt for him? Maybe talking about this will make you feel better.”



Getting up again, Buffy looked torn. “Maybe later, Wills. Now we have other things to worry about. I’ll go check up on the teams.” With one more look, Buffy left, leaving Willow with a frown and an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. I hope I won’t have to go fishing inside her brain to get her back again.



Buffy walked down the halls thinking. Lately it seemed that whatever she did, her thoughts always turned back to Spike. The way Willow put things gave her a chill down her spine. She hoped her friend was right. He had promised so many times that he would be there, both in word and by his actions. Pushing her feelings to the back of her mind for what felt like the millionth time, she started looking over the reports that were coming in from the Slayer teams.



~~~***~~~



*Cleveland Contingent Headquarters, Cleveland, USA*



After a grueling workout, Connor came in the room he was sharing with Julie. Once inside he noticed she was sitting on the bed, staring into nothing. Not wanting to disturb her yet, he took his sweaty shirt off and started looking for a clean one.



Despite all the injuries, both external and internal, he was almost fully healed and had started sparring with the other Slayers, Okay, so mostly with Julie, in order to get his strength and agility back. Throughout his whole life, he’d worked out in one way or another, practiced at least one form of combat, such as judo in his “normal phase”, and generally kept in shape. Now he was almost as good as he’d ever been, thanks to Spike, his dad and to the Slayers. Which brought him back to Julie, the surprising girl he hadn’t been expecting. She had stolen his heart and kicked his ass a few times. My kind of woman.



Sitting on the bed beside her after wiping off the sweat and putting a clean shirt on, he encircled her waist with his hands and put his chin on her shoulder. This finally seemed to pull his favorite Slayer from her daze and she turned in his arms, kissing him with borderline desperation.



“What is it, Jules? What happened?” He asked getting worried by the tears now streaming down the lovely girl’s face.



“Please don’t leave me!” She begged, clinging on to him even tighter.



Startled by her outburst, he whispered in her ear, telling her how much she meant to him, how fortunate he felt for having her in his life, something so precious, so unique, something unlike anything he had ever experienced. “I love you, Julie.”




“I love you, too.” Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes, swallowed and finally told him her secret. “I’m pregnant.”



Connor blinked. In his mind’s eye, he recalled the pictures of himself as a baby, surrounded by the members of the AI team, now mostly dead or… otherwise. He remembered that time with the possessed Cordelia, something that still made him shudder. He remembered a couple of births that had occurred on the other side, while they were fighting. After a couple of seconds had passed in silent contemplation, he gazed deeply into the green-blue eyes of his lover, something about them always reminding him of the sea. The love he felt for her built up inside him, encompassing him in an almost palpable heat. Finally, it was too much to contain and he got off the bead, hands still tightly bound around her waist, and started twirling her around the room letting out a whoop of joy.



Kissing her all over her face and neck, he professed his love for her over and over again, thanking her for her gift. He finally stopped and as she wobbled slightly from the dizziness, he dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach. The door burst open, revealing a disheveled Angel and Kasumi. Turning his face to them, Connor beamed. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”



Kasumi used her index finger to close Angel’s mouth, his muscles clearly unable to do the job as he gaped at his son and his girlfriend. She couldn’t help thinking for a brief moment that until Faith gave birth they had two pregnant Slayers in the same house. The joy!

*Spire Building, WRH offices, London, UK*



Mark waited impatiently for everyone to leave for lunch. He checked his watch every couple of minutes until it was finally time. Making sure the coast was clear and sending the last remaining staffers on various errands, he rushed to the elevator to get the vampire to Giles’ office. Reaching the underground parking lot, he walked briskly to the black car with tinted windows his charge was waiting in. As soon as he got closer, the back door opened and out came the vampire.



He wasn’t as tall as he’d imagined him to be. Slender built, bleached blond hair, black jeans, black leather coat with a red shirt underneath and black combat boots. Overall, just what he was expecting, and yet, somewhat less imposing. His face, though, was a different matter altogether. The sardonic smile, the penetrating blue eyes that seemed to extract your innermost secrets and the scar that attested to his fighting history, all those elements combined to make up one of the most famous vampires in history.



“So, you’re Giles’ new pet, John.”



“My name is Mark Pendelberry, Mr. Spike. I am to show you to Mr. Giles’ office, so if you will follow me?”



“Mark, Spencer, I don’t bloody care what your mum called you, as long as you do the butler gig, you’re John. Now be a good little pup and show ol’ Spike the way to Rupes, will you?”



Mark really didn’t like this guy. Signaling his men, he led Spike to the elevator. As soon as they reached the appropriate floor and neared the door to Giles’ office, though, the vampire apparently got bored and, without pausing to knock or expect to be presented, barged right in.



“’Lo, Rupes, miss me?” Spike asked, spreading his arms wide to each side.



“I’m sorry sir, he just-”




“Thank you, Mark, now leave us alone.” Once the dismissed man left the room, Giles took his time observing the vampire he hadn’t seen for himself for the past three years. Just as he was about to speak, though, something caught his eye. “Good God, what are you?”



Smirking, Spike took a seat in the chair across the desk from Giles and put his feet up on the expensive looking furniture. Lighting up a cigarette like he had no worries in the world, he blew the smoke out first and then answered. “I’ve been to a parallel universe courtesy of this place’s past masters, on a sort of imposed vacation. Some things changed there.”



“And this allowed you to get a tan?” Shaking his head, Giles pinned the strangest vampire he had ever seen with a cold, calculating look. “Why are you back?”



“I missed your charming company?” Chuckling, Spike finished off his cigarette and crumpled it in the crystal ashtray on Giles’ desk. “We were there because we had no choice, Watcher. Now that the battle was finally over, we could come back home.”



“And for this you needed the broom from Sighisoara? Where is it?”



“No bloody clue. From what we know, it was supposed to reset and get back here when we used it. Casper knew all the details.”



“Casper?” Giles asked furrowing his eyebrows.



“Wesley. After he died in LA, he helped us while he was a bloody ghost. When we left, we got him a spankin’ new vamp body to play with.”



Giles took off his glasses and started cleaning them, the hint of Spike’s adventures making him itch for some research. There was no time for that, though. “What are you doing here?”



“Listen, Rupes, I know we never were on good terms, with you being a stuffy ol’ git and all, but Buffy-” Spike stopped then, not really sure himself about Buffy. It had been three years since the last time he saw her, not counting the copy he apparently saw in Rome, and his heart still clenched when he thought of her.



“Buffy thought you died three years ago, the only one that told her different was Willow when she came back from Sighisoara.” It sounded like an accusation coming from the old Watcher.



“You knew. Why didn’t you tell her if it was so bloody important? When the Poofter called you for help, you knew. That git, Andrew, knew and he lied to me about everythin’ back then. Then I spent two years in Hell for some bolloxed up plan the Poofter thought up and now I’m back. Don’t you dare say it’s my bloody fault.”



“I had no reason to trust Angel. He was working with the Senior Partners-”



“We were the ones that killed the buggers. You’re in this office because of what we did, you ungrateful prat.” Spike had taken his feet off the desk and was yelling at this point, his voice having gotten increasingly louder the more upset he became with the former Watcher. Even now, the condescending and distrustful gaze of the elderly Brit made his blood boil. “I burned for all of you back in Sunnyhell and when I needed you to help Fred you were nowhere to be found. Now you sit in the chair I made sure was empty for you and you still sound like I’m the bloody Antichrist.” Shaking his head in defeat, he let out a dark chuckle. “Some things never change, right?”



“You are a demon.” It sounded final. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a statement, simply sounding like a self-evident truth to his ears. Spike saw red, but decided the wanker wasn’t worth it.



“Well, thanks for the chat, `s been fun. Do be a stranger, will you?” Spike got up from the chair and made his way to the office door.



“What are your plans?”



“None of your bloody business. I thought after everything that happened we could bury the hatchet, but you change even less than us demons.” Flipping the two-fingered salute behind his back at the man that had failed to show even the common courtesy of shaking his hand, let alone getting up, Spike strode through the glass doors and out of the office.



As soon as he came out the door, the three men from the airport halted his advance again, but Spike had gone through enough already. With precise movements and a smirk on his face, he punched out the first two and sent the third sprawling with a well-placed kick. Mark raised his arms in surrender and watched as the vampire stalked past him. Once Spike was in the elevator that would take him out of the building, Giles came out of his office and assessed the situation in one glance.



“Mark, I want a team following his every move.” Looking at the sprawled bodies in the corridor, he added, “A different team. The ones that were watching the docks, perhaps?”



“It will be done.” As Giles turned to head back into his office, Mark decided to stir things up a bit. “Isn’t he going to Scotland to the Slayer Castle? I thought the people there were under your command.” He barely contained a smirk as his boss’ shoulders tensed.



“That is none of your business. You have your orders.” Giles disappeared behind the glass doors that only allowed those inside to look outward.



Piece of cake. Mark then proceeded to send out the orders to ensure Spike was being monitored.



~~~***~~~



Spike was feeling peckish, but decided lunch could wait and instead he hurried on his way to visit places he hadn’t seen for decades. Giles was a prat, but a resourceful one at that and another team would be tailing him soon. Until that happened, Spike had to run as many errands as possible and get going towards Scotland and Buffy. He wondered exactly how much the news of his existence had shaken her. For the Wanker to be in such a snit, probably a lot. The thought filled him with warmth, but he decided not to dwell on it. He still had business to attend to.



~~~***~~~



Buffy quickly held the phone away from her ear in a vain attempt to keep her eardrums from bursting due to Dawn’s squeals. After about five minutes of very loud and very piercing high-pitched sounds, Dawn finally managed to calm down enough to tell her sister everything in detail. Okay, so she skipped over the groiny parts, thank God. After ending the conversation, the eldest Slayer in history turned to an excited Willow and Alia with a beaming smile.



“Xander just proposed to Dawn.” Whatever else she might have said was cut off by the hug Willow enveloped her in. Alia clapped a few times in excitement and then both herself and her lover grilled Buffy so she would tell them everything she knew about the whole thing. After being briefed, Willow put on a mock-upset face.



“So you knew and didn’t spill, missy? Doesn’t anybody tell me anything these days?”



“Xander only told me so that I could help him get the perfect ring. And you helped him, you gave him the perfect location.” Willow’s fake frown dissolved at this and she nodded enthusiastically. “Xander was so scared he didn’t want anybody to know. It really bothered me not telling you, Wills, but I promised.”



“I know how you could make it up to me.” Getting a mischievous glint in her eye, Willow signaled Alia and they both linked a hand through each of the older Slayer’s arms, leading her toward the garden. “You could tell us everything about, oh, I dunno, Spike?” She grinned at the deer in headlights look on her friend’s face.



“What? Now? We don’t have time to reminisce, we have work to do,” Buffy said as she half-heartedly tried to disentangle herself from the two lovers.



“No, you don’t! You always use that line and then we find out you’re dating a vampire or the principal or,” Willow paused, watching her friend intently for any reaction to her words, “in love with Spike.” Buffy’s face betrayed her for a brief second before she managed to close off her emotions. “Aha! I knew it. Now spill.”



Sighing deeply, Buffy accepted the fact that she had to share at least part of her inner turmoil with them as she settled on her usual spot on the bench, this time flanked by her best witchy friend and her Slayer lover. “Well, you know what happened that last year in Sunnydale.”



“Nuh-uh, you don’t get off that easy. Alia knows next to nothing and you’ve been keeping me in the dark so much I need a torch to manoeuvre. Start from the beginning.” With her pointer finger, she made a circular motion around her face. “Resolve face, now start over.”



Buffy thought about lying, about cutting the story short and altering some of the events, but something within her yearned to surface. The part of her that snuggled into Spike’s embrace years ago decided she needed to vent, so the words started tumbling out almost without any conscious thought. “He was always hot.” All three women giggled a bit at this. “The first time he sauntered out of that alley and spoke there was a split second I thought I’d drool.” She smiled wrily at the memory. ”Then he opened that big mouth of his all with the ‘I kill you on Saturday’ and the dance began.” Buffy was now gazing into the spray of the fountain with a far-away look and a sad smile.



“We fought and we hated each other, but he always had some annoyingly insightful thing to say that would hit just a bit too close.” Briefly looking at the mesmerized Willow, she spoke over her shoulder. “Like when he got the ring of Amara. He could have killed me then, but he didn’t. Instead he taunted me until he really hit a chord and I was so enraged that I kicked his ass, invincible or not.” Looking back at the fountain, she got the same distant look. “I honestly think he wanted to kill me, consciously, but deep down I think we both liked fighting each other more than we liked to win.”



Not even acknowledging her faux pas, Buffy steamed right ahead as her two companions looked at each other over her head for an instant. “And Drusilla. God, I hated that ho-bag. He loved her so much, more than I felt Angel cared for me. I stopped Spike and his minions from killing a whole club filled with vamp groupies in exchange for Dru’s unlife. Angel would have done the right thing before saving me.” She snorted at this and shook her head a bit. “He even stopped the end of the world for her, that first time. Or at least that’s what he claimed. I’ve always liked to think he did it partially for me, too.” She grinned like a stubborn child that just ate all the candy.



“Then he had the balls to come back and tell Angel and me that we’ll never be friends, that we’ll hate and fight each other, but never be just friends. Makes sense when you think about it. They always say hate and love are two sides of a coin and really, they’re both such passionate emotions you can’t just stop half way.” With a soft, sad smile, she continued, “What neither of us wanted to admit was that it wasn’t true just for me and Angel, it was the same for me and him as well.” Buffy appeared lost in thought for a while, as if trying to mold her own thoughts into shape. Willow and Alia exchanged another meaningful look, trying to figure out if they should interrupt her or no. Willow shook her head slightly, knowing that her friend could very easily clam back up if they did.



“Then he was just there, chipped and all. Always alluding, always calling us out on anything we did and always impossible to ignore. You didn’t help with the engagement spell,” Buffy said while glancing at the now blushing Willow. “And what I hated most about that time was how much I enjoyed it. Even after the whole spell thing ended, I still felt his eyes over my body like in those movies where the superhero has X-ray vision.” She snorted again. “Spike as a superhero. I could never have seen that happening back then, but now...” Buffy blushed a bit thinking about spandex pants and tight-fitting shirts. So, maybe she wouldn’t be sharing every memory with her friends. Shaking out of her naughty thoughts, she looked back at the spray of water.



“Riley was supposed to erase every memory of him, as well as any memory of Angel. He was a normal, run-of-the-mill male human. Okay, so that didn’t quite work as I’d hoped. The whole Initiative thing, then the Faith body switcharoo and that last bit with the vamp-sluts? Not normal guy behavior, let me tell you.” All traces of her smile were gone, her face almost furious and scowling. “And he was always jealous.” A smirk touched her lips. “He was jealous of Spike, of all people. He kept asking me what’s between me and him, always pressing and brooding. All I wanted from Riley was to help me forget Spike and instead he kept thrusting the blond menace in my face. I guess guys aren’t that smart, huh?” The raised eyebrows of the two lesbians beside her caused all three to laugh a bit, easing some of the tension.



When they all regained their composure, Alia decided to prompt Buffy into sharing more. “So what happened with that?”



“Spike stopped really fighting me after the whole thing with the doc that was there for Riley. Once he realized the chip was there to stay, he started really helping. Or so I thought. He told me later that’s when he realized he loved me.” The far-away look was back on her face now. “He led me to Riley’s vamp whores. I hated him for that. I guess I hated him because I couldn’t hate him, really. It wasn’t his fault that Riley betrayed what we had.” Buffy picked up a pebble off the ground and began playing with it. “He told me, you know, before Riley left. He was telling me how he killed Slayers and at the end he almost kissed me, kept telling me how we had always danced and all that.” She flicked her fingers and the pebble landed in the fountain.



“I almost kissed him back, but I stopped myself in the nick of time, said something hurtful and left. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer, though. He told me he loved me and offered Dru as proof. When he almost staked her for me, I was really scared. I had seen firsthand how much he loved her and him telling me he would…” she trailed off, her brows furrowing together. “I asked for the disinvite because I couldn’t deal with him while Glory was there, always looming over me. And what did he do? After I basically told him he had a snowball’s chance in Hell with me, he comforted me when I found out how sick Mom was. After I disinvited him, he got kicked six ways to Sunday by the Hellbitch to protect Dawn. Before the last fight with Glory I invited him back in and he told me I treated him like more than he deserved.” A single tear slid off her cheek. “I almost kissed him again, then.” Shrugging, she turned back to Willow. “I’d already kissed him after the torture, as thanks for keeping Dawn safe.”



All three women knew what was next and they all sat in silence for a few minutes. “He said he’d take care of Dawn ‘til the end of the world and when you brought me back, there he was, keeping his promise.” Willow had learned to accept the things that had happened back then, but Alia still grabbed her hand in a show of support. As the two shared another meaningful look, Buffy started with her tale again. “Then he was the only one I could talk to without hurting. Partly because he wasn’t the one that brought me back and also because he loved me and I knew it, even though I still denied it and he was soulless and evil. So I could hurt him all I wanted.” Tears started flowing down her face, but Buffy seemed to ignore them as Willow watched her in silence.



“Then he realized he could hit me and we brought the house down – literally. That was the first time we…” A crying, blushing Slayer was an unsettling image but neither woman dared touch her for fear of dispelling the magic moment that allowed her to express her loss. “I kept using him and he kept hurting me, but he never abused me. We kinda brought each other down during that time, even though he still loved me. I couldn’t even stop bashing his face in.” Without turning her head to her friend again, she directed her words at her. “Remember when he came to my birthday all beat up? I did that, trying to beat myself through him. And he never even blamed me for it.” She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand while Willow cringed.



“When Riley came back for those eggs I decided I wanted to feel something. I wanted to see how it would be if I let him make love to me, instead of just…” Taking a deep breath, she went on, the tears subsiding for a while. “It was so beautiful, Wills, and my heart almost broke the next day when I broke up with him.”



Unable to keep silent anymore, Alia asked again. “So why did you end it?”



Another sad smile curved Buffy’s lips. “Because it was wrong.” Her voice was filled with self-deprecation. Taking on a softer tone, she continued. “He was soulless and bound to screw up sometimes. I knew that and so did he, but I couldn’t take it then. That wasn’t the real reason, though. The real reason was that I was falling for him and I couldn’t let myself do that. Especially not when we were hurting each other like we were. It felt just like when I sent Angel to Hell, only on a daily basis. So I had to let him go to find myself again.” Willow looked on stunned. She had never listened to their history from Buffy’s point of view, not like this. The knowledge was sobering.



In a weaker voice, Buffy continued her remembrance. “Then there was what happened in my bathroom. As he was trying to force himself on me, I realized he just didn’t know any better. We’d used and abused each other so many times and I had said no so many times meaning yes that a soulless creature couldn’t help it. He saw it too, so he went away for the very first time since he fell for me and got his soul.” Sobs wracked the Slayer’s body and both Willow and Alia enveloped her in their arms. Hiccuping and heaving, Buffy managed to continue. “Then he came back and I couldn’t face him. I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t. What’s worse, I think I loved him even then. That’s why I couldn’t deal with his soul and I left him at the mercy of the First. It was too much for me, again. I failed him again because I couldn’t make time for him.”



Both women witnessing Buffy’s breakdown were now crying themselves, the emotional charge in the air too much to bear. “Then I got him back and got him sane. I tried to fool myself I could do without him and at the same time, I wanted the old Spike back. So I went out with Wood.” Buffy managed a half-giggle through her sobs. “That was a complete crock. Then you all turned against me and he was the only one there… And then he died for all of us.” Nothing more was said for long minutes afterwards, all three of them crying in earnest in bitter remembrance of all that was lost. Alia hadn’t been part of that ordeal, yet the Battle of Sunnydale had become Slayer folklore and each girl felt the consequences on a visceral level.



Getting up, Buffy turned to the still sobbing girls in a whirl. “All you saw was an annoyance and a buffoon, a demon and a reluctant fighter. For me he was a companion and a lover, an equal and a mirror to see my own flaws in, even when I didn’t want to. He was everything to me and I gave him up for the world again and again.” Taking huge gulps of air, Buffy straightened her body and all but shouted at the setting sun. “And now the bastard’s back and I can’t touch him, can’t yell at him for telling me I don’t love him there, at the end when he had all the right to doubt me, but I still needed him to accept it. Cause I love him, damnit, and I think I always will.”



Nothing more to say, Buffy fled to the safety of her room to pour out her heart by crying another night away. Humbled and shaken, Willow and Alia were left behind to huddle to each other for the warmth that would chase away the ice coursing through their veins.



~~~***~~~



In the cargo hold of a transatlantic plane, Dracula lay awake praying. He finished his prayer with the traditional: “In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,” making the sign of the cross and relishing in the pain it brought him. That pain was his cross to bear – literally. More than five hundred years had passed since the boyars and the Turks had ended his rule by using vampire assassins to kill him. What the bastards hadn’t expected was that the vampires would turn him instead.



For more than a century afterwards, he had reveled in the bloodshed, taking revenge on those that had wronged him and on their families. Finally, the witches of the three principalities, on their first meeting in 1600, when Michael finally managed to conquer all the Wallach lands, joined into a single Coven and banished him from his homeland. Without the support of his vampire army, the principalities were conquered by infidels and sacked for more than two and a half centuries. He never forgot what his turning from the face of God cost his people. He finally embraced religion again and saw in every cross the angry curse of God for failing Him.



The plan had been set into motion even then. First, he needed to know everything. He played the vain count with a soft spot for easy women and frilly clothes, used that God-awful accent from his early days to lull everyone into a false sense of security and bid his time. Stoker was a good choice for a pet. Thralling him was easier than he’d initially thought and getting him to write that laughable story was childsplay. At the end, he didn’t even have to turn the idiot.



Everyone had bought the whole Hollywood Dracula, as he referred to his character, and dismissed him as a real threat. So much so, that even when he came for his ultimate weapon, the Slayer, nobody took him seriously. They all thought he was doing it for a fad, instead of his real reason. Four hundred years had passed since his banishment and he was ready to go home and start his Crusade.



He failed because she wasn’t really the one, it wasn’t the right time and William had been there. He had gone back to lurking in the shadows and playing the aristocrat, while building his army back up in the Balkans. The Slayers, after becoming an army themselves, were so easily mislead they even took him into their stronghold. From there, he had directed their attacks with deadly accuracy against the heads of all the major Vampire Clans and many Demon Clans as well, preparing the stage for his Ascension as their rightful King and Master. Now that the last hurdle, Wolfram and Hart, had been eliminated, the onslaught could begin.



Kennedy would be his right hand, the sword of Stefan would be his weapon and Drusilla would wreak her havoc. He smirked thinking of her monastical background. She was perfect, equal to him in so much, including thrall, that he couldn’t contain his glee at her joining him. William, the dolt, had bought the whole harem bit while all the while, he had been whispering his plans to the damned woman. The seeds he had planted so long ago had come to fruition and she had been waiting in Rio for the right time to join him.



Now, with the threat of the witches neutralized by intercepting their precious broom, the focal point of all their power, he was free to sweep away the old rules and make his own. He would start with the vampires, beating and subduing them, making them part of his army. The demons would fall before their might and the humans would finally suffer for their dereliction of the faith. God would be offered the blood he craved. The cross would burn the vampires every day, reminding them of their sacred duty to uphold the Testaments, while the people would bleed for their sins, cleansed for their failings by their suffering. God would smile and return to him. The Kingdom of Heaven would bring salvation to the masses he would oppress and Vlad the Third “Tepes” would finally know peace.

*Spire Building, WRH offices, London, UK, late August, 2006*



Mark was so happy he was humming to himself. Since the troublesome souled vampire had fled in the previous Thursday, Giles had put him in charge of all operations relating to his surveillance. This meant five days of daily reports to the man himself and three cases that were solved by those who he could now safely call his underlings. Yes indeed, Mark Pendelberry had arrived. Under the Senior Partners, he had been more of a second-rate asset for the firm, but since their decapitation, his true potential started blossoming. Fingering the plain looking ring on his right hand, he strode in Giles’ office, something nobody but Mark dared to do anymore.



“What news, Mark?” Giles asked, motioning slightly for the other man to take a seat. As usual, the elderly Watcher was deep into studying the papers left behind by the previous management, as well as having several of the tomes from the downstairs library strewn about the table.



“Well, sir, the vam- Spike has gotten off the train and is heading to the Slayer Castle as we speak.” Mark barely avoided playing with his ring. Whatever happened, the boss wasn’t supposed to think twice about the single employee wearing a wedding band.



“I guess I have to make a call, then. Thank you, Mark, that will be all.” Dismissing Mark from his presence, Giles began dialing the number he knew by heart.



Mark got up from the chair and calmly walked out the door, taking a seat on the couch next to Giles’ secretary, at an angle that almost allowed him to look up her dress. No reason not to be entertained before Giles called for him.



~~~***~~~



*Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*



Buffy’s cell rang, a gloomy organ playing an ominous tune. “Hi, Giles.”



”Hello, Buffy. I trust everything is in order?”



“Yeah, everything’s good. Well, as good as it can be with Kennedy as our latest casualty. I had to send Rona’s team to Rio to search for her.” Buffy wasn’t entirely sure how much the young Slayer’s death was affecting her. On one hand, Kennedy had been one of the members of the Sunnydale Crew, braving the First alongside the rest. She was also the head of the South America Division and had fought bravely there for almost three years. Last, but not least, she had been Willow’s girlfriend for almost two years, until the dark haired woman had pushed the redhead away with her jealousy.



On the other hand, Kennedy had always been a thorn in Buffy’s side, ever since she had arrived as yet another wide-eyed Potential on the run from the First’s minions. She had led the coup that had thrown Buffy out of her own home and she had been constantly challenging her elder’s orders. However you looked at things, Kennedy had always inspired mixed feelings in the longest-living Slayer to date.





”Indeed. Well, I dare say we are all stretched thin right about now.” There was a pregnant pause, neither fully at ease with the other, not after everything that they had gone through over the years. Buffy no longer saw Giles as her superior and he knew and resented that.



“So, how’s the evil law firm managing going? Everything all right?”



”Yes, well, that’s what I actually called you about. I felt you should know that Spike is alive and has recently visited me on his way to, well, to you, really.”



The news hit Buffy like a punch in the gut. She felt a knot in her stomach and her knees threatened to buckle under her. Staggering, she got to the nearest chair and sat down, her vision blurry from her inner turmoil. “Is-” Taking a deep breath, she tried to control the tremor in her voice and hands. “What did he say?”



”Not much, really. He seemed to be in a hurry. I must warn you, though, Buffy, that he has changed.”



Barely managing to keep her mind from jumping to the worst conclusions, Buffy herself was surprised by the strength of her voice as she asked, “Changed, how? Is he… evil?”



”I’m not entirely sure. He ran off after overpowering the building security and he threatened me. It could be that he is soulless again, despite his boasts of still fighting against demons. I would advise you to be careful.”



Her blurry vision cleared a bit when she blinked and the tears pooling in her eyes coursed down her cheeks. Her heart almost broke with the possibility that Spike was something to be staked again. The part of her that had found solace in his arms wouldn’t allow her to give up completely on him, though, despite the larger part that considered all her former lovers capable of betraying her.



“Did he say anything about m—” Catching the sob that threatened to choke her, she amended her question, “—about where he was?”



A brief pause only made her contemplate the worst. ”He said something about a parallel world, a hell of some sort. He claims he was fighting there alongside Angel and some other beings.” Giles’ words brought a sliver of hope to Buffy’s mind. ”He also claimed they were responsible for stealing the Sighisoara artifact, although he denied all knowledge of the current whereabouts of said artifact. He said it was instrumental in their ultimate victory over the Senior Partners.”



“So he’s fighting for our side?” Inside, Buffy was telling herself repeatedly that maybe Spike hadn’t betrayed her.




”Yes, well, it remains to be seen. It is still possible that he only did it to take over Wolfram and Hart for himself. Whatever his reasons or plans, I do believe that you should either stake or contain him upon his arrival, until his allegiances can be verified.”



Giles’ matter-of-fact tone made Buffy see red. She had sworn to herself never again to take orders from anyone regarding her responsibilities. She would be the one to decide what to do, not the man who had forsaken her time and again because of his single-minded ideals. Composing herself and using her coldest tone, Buffy cut Giles off, “Thank you for telling me. I will take care of Spike. Goodbye, Giles. ” Not waiting for anything else the older man had to say, she clicked shut her mobile and let her hands drop to her knees, her fingers lax.



He’s really gonna be here. Please don’t make me stake him. Please!



~~~***~~~



*Sighisoara, Romania*



Dracula climbed the last steps of the old wooden staircase and climbed on the rock wall to take in the view. Behind him, Drusilla was nipping at Kennedy’s neck, the turned Slayer’s hands busy playing with her body in return. They both stopped when the Dark Prince, as he was sometimes called, gave a blood-chilling laugh. Turning to them in his vampiric guise, he licked his lips at their sensual display. Motioning with his extended hand behind him, he began speaking in a low, melodious voice.



“Behold, my Queens, the place of my mortal birth. It is here that I first saw the light of God Almighty and it is from here that I was ousted by those pagan witches of old and their mutts. It is fitting, no, that I start my new campaign from here? In a few months, everyone will bleed, demon and man alike, and we, my dears, will bathe in their blood and sing our praises to our Father.”



“Tell me again why we should care about God when we are evil incarnate?” Kennedy demanded, her fingers coming out from between Dru’s legs covered in her spendings and blood.



In a flash, Dracula had his youngest Childe by the throat, suspended in the air and fighting for air she no longer needed. “We are to earn His forgiveness. We are the whip of God, sent to this wretched Earth to punish the unbelievers. You will never question our holy mission again, or I will be extremely disappointed.” Showing off his elongated fangs in a chilling grin, he added, while releasing the gasping fledgeling. “You would do well not to disappoint me.”



Regaining her composure, the former Slayer showed her own fangs. “I’ll do my job, don’t worry. I’m the best there is.” Shrugging, she added almost flippantly, “I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about.”



“The fuss is that we have started a war that will tear this world to pieces, only to forge it into a place worthy of His grace. Never forget that!”



“Naughty pixies, making the children be bad.” Slapping Kennedy’s ass, Dru scolded her. “Bad children get no tea. Behave and let auntie listen.” She let her eyes drift close, as the other woman bit her breast and began to suck on the wound. “The pixies tell me that the others are moving, we must not be tardy lest we run out of cake.”



Smiling benevolently, Dracula stepped behind the older woman and nuzzled her neck. “You’re right, my darling. We must start now, or risk the consequences of our failings.” With a nod, the other ten vampires that had accompanied them up the stairs retreated, going to carry out the plans he had prepared for the first step in his crusade. By the end of the week, the Balkans would be under his control. The thought of conquest made his lust grow tenfold, so he ordered both Drusilla and Kennedy to bend over while he freed his cock.



~~~***~~~



*Near the Galdhøpiggen mountain, Norway*



A group of twenty women stood on the ground chanting together. They were of all ages, although the majority was over forty. A few paces away, a young woman dressed mostly in white stood firm, receiving updates from the sentries that were posted throughout the area on a walkie-talkie. Her hair was pale blond, she had grey-blue eyes and her entire countenance demanded respect, despite her relatively small stature. One of the eldest women in the circle opened her eyes and stood, walking slowly to the white-clad woman.



“Erika, my dear, we must prepare everyone. The misguided fool has started his crusade and we must be ready for the night when we’ll end him.” Her voice was soft and soothing, a peaceful sound despite the dire warning it carried.



“We are ready, Auntie, as we have been all these centuries.” Erika’s voice sounded almost childish, but the steely glint in her eyes told a different story.



“Contact the others and let them know.” Turning halfway, the old woman seemed to get a new idea. “Call that mate of yours. He knows the chief Slayer, does he not?”



Bowing slightly, Erika maintained her calm. “Yes, he does. Oz used to go to the same high-school as Buffy, the Slayer.”



Narrowing her eyes, the older woman placed a hand on Erika’s shoulder. “Did he not know the witch that’s closest to her?”



“Yes, Willow and he were… romantically involved back then.” Raising her head, Erika’s eyes met the other’s. “Why do you wish to know, Maryun?”



Smiling cryptically, Maryun continued to hold her hand on the other one’s shoulder. “I think it’s time you met your leader.”



Erika seemed outraged and shook her head defiantly. “I am Wolf first, Slayer second. Do you wish me to resign my position and join the Slayer Army? I won’t do it. I am the rightful leader of the Wolf Guard and I won’t take orders from a Slayer, even if she is the longest lived.”



“Don’t worry, child. You won’t have to join the Slayers, you will just be giving them a message on our behalf and acting as liaison.” Turning around, Maryun started walking back to the circle of women. “Go get your mate and return for the message. It is time for the Wolves to make themselves known.”



~~~***~~~



*Near the Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*



It was late evening and the sun was setting behind the hills. The old train station was empty but for five people and of these, just one seemed to belong. Spike was sitting in a dark corner, seemingly asleep. Across from him, three men were doing their best impression of not being together or interested in the blond vampire. They weren’t very good actors.



Just as the sky darkened after the last rays of sun disappeared, a car pulled up in front of the building. Quick as a spring, Spike jumped up from the chair he was sprawled in, grabbed his duffel bag, winked at the baffled goons and dashed out the front door and into the waiting car.



~~~***~~~



*Istanbul Ataturk International Airport, Turkey*



Dawn and Xander were left alone in the airport after they said their goodbyes to the resident Slayers that had accompanied them there. They were on their way back to the Slayer Castle, with a detour through Rome, where the Immortal apparently had some interesting information to share with them. As their flight number was called up, Dawn leaned over and whispered in Xander’s ear. “So, wanna join the Mile High Club?”



Xander’s face broke into a huge grin and he all but skipped to their gate, holding a giggling Dawn by the hand.



~~~***~~~



*Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*



After giving Giles’ men the slip, Spike was driven by a friendly local up the road, closer to the Slayer Castle, where he got out of the car and set off on foot. The terrain wasn’t difficult for him, but he was adamant about not being discovered until he reached Buffy.



After evading a patrol and dodging a few hi-tech security measures, he got into the castle grounds, where he felt the supernatural detection trying to pinpoint him. Luckily, the charm he’d secured in London from one of his contacts allowed him to bypass it without any problems and finally he arrived at the main entrance.



Gambling on the fact that the door wouldn’t be locked, he opened the door and entered without anyone being the wiser. Shoddy work, their security. Thought the Whelp could do a better job at this. Shrugging to himself, he got ready to suss out where Buffy was, when a door opened to what seemed to be a ballroom. There, lit both by the lights in the main hallway and by those behind her, was none other than the Slayer he was searching.



Despite the length of time since the last time they saw each other, his ordeals in the parallel world and everything that had made them drift apart, seeing her stopped him in his tracks better than a brick wall would’ve. She was just as beautiful as always, her hair, longer than the last time he’d seen her, framing her face and cascading down her shoulders. Just the way I like it.



She was wearing fatigues, combat boots and a tight black tee, probably on her way to her workout, he decided from the lacking signs of exertion. Her eyes, vivid as always, were trained on him as they both stood there, like statues of the ancient gods opposite and archway.



Without a word, he let his duffle fall to the ground and straightened up, while she took a couple of steps from the door she’d just come through. They maintained eye contact, save from quick glances to size each other up, memorizing each other’s features and comparing them to that last time.



Spike could almost feel the heat of her touch from long ago, when their hands were clasped for the last time in that bloody cave beneath Sunnydale. He searched her eyes for the same feelings he had seen back then, the feelings he’d denied so that she could live. Perhaps he was deluding himself but just maybe…



So, how do you top that exit? He tried to say something witty, powerful, something that could match what he was feeling, only to come up empty and lose himself again in her gaze.



Unable to form any clear thoughts, his mind went on automatic and he found himself smirking at her. “Hello, cutie!”

*Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK, late August 2006*



Buffy was, once again, face to face with Spike. A Spike who didn't seem crazy, or on the prowl, or dust. Those blue eyes of his were burning deep into her soul. A small part of her brain reminded her of Giles' warning, but she quickly dismissed any other thoughts except for the most important one. He's here! Without wasting another second, she jumped towards him and slapped him.



Or tried to.



Spike grasped her wrist in a powerful yet almost relaxed way, stopping her hand with the minimum amount of force required, and then holding it without putting any pressure on it. The action seemed almost involuntary, startling her and, by all appearances, even him.



His eyes betrayed his hurt, something she was very much used to, yet she'd sworn off causing again. Slowly raising her other hand, she gently traced the contours of his face. Stopping halfway, she scrunched her nose and the crease between her brows deepened. Getting a determined look on her face, one all the people around her knew very well, she moved almost faster than the eye could see and grabbed the man in front of her by the throat.



“Who... or what are you? Answer me or I swear you'll regret ever coming here looking like this.”



His free hand closed in around hers, but he didn't try to dislodge her grip. “What the bloody hell are you on about, you crazy bint?”



“You're not Spike! So who are you?” She emphasized her words by tightening her grip on his throat and struggling to get her other hand free, to no avail. Mentally, she made a note that they should have better defenses and maybe some cameras trained on the entrance.



“Are you completely daft? Of course I'm me; who the bloody hell would I be?” Still, he made no move to free himself, thinking that could only lead to the two of them fighting it off. What he wanted was for the Slayer to get her head out of her ass and really look at him.



“That's bull! Why don't I get the same tinglies then?” She tried to shove him back, but he stood his ground. “Why do you have a tan, huh? Are you even a vamp?”



Shifting into game-face and then quickly back, Spike smirked at her. “Don't worry, baby, I've still got my bite.” Turning more serious, he looked her straight in the eye. “It's me. I've changed, yeah, but I'm still the same guy that burned for you back in the Hellmouth.”



“Prove it.”



Her voice was steely, her gaze showing revulsion and hate, but with just enough hope to make him go on, despite feeling his heart constrict under her glare. And to think he had once almost convinced himself he was over her. Still love's bitch, ey mate? Thinking back to their past, something he had done often, especially during the last few months, he chose one of the memories he treasured. “After the hell-bitch did a number on me, you came to my crypt all bot-like, lookin' for answers. You wanted to know why I didn't tell her about your little sis. After I told you she mustn't find out, you came closer to me and kissed me.” Looking straight into her eyes, he tried to convey all the emotions he had felt back then. “Bloody hurt 'cause of the split lip and all, but it was one of the most tender and memorable kisses in my unlife.”



After a split second of wavering—something not many would have caught on, unless they knew Buffy as well as Spike did—she frowned. “Anyone from the Sunnydale Crew, and most of the people around here, could have told you that. Try again.”



Almost without thinking, he mused out loud, “Faith never said anythin'.” The next thing he knew, she was trying to strangle him, apparently in a murderous rage.



“What did you do to her, you sick bastard? She was pregnant!” They began struggling with each other, each trying to get the upper hand. She attempted to trip him, while he tried to hold her in place. After several tense moments of push and shove, they both landed on the floor, limbs tangled, neither able to break free.



“Will you just bloody listen to me, you infuriatin' bint?” When she stopped moving, he took a deep breath. Looking at the angry expression on her face, he softened his voice in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “It really is me, Kitten.” Getting a roguish smile on his face, he whispered closer to her ear. “Remember how you were bouncing on my lap during Red's spell? I never told anyone about how you said you'd bounce twice as hard on me on our wedding night. Nearly came right then and there.”



Buffy's eyes were wide and a blush was rising up her cheeks. Taking advantage of the moment of distraction the happy memory had caused him, she managed to free her left arm enough to slap him. Hard. “You... you pig!”



Grinning like a schoolboy and looking straight into her eyes, he first let the tip of his tongue caress the right corner of his mouth, to dull the sting, then chuckled. “Oink, oink, baby. Never denied it!”



Once both of them relaxed bit by bit, she hugged him tight and buried her face in his chest, muffled sounds that sounded suspiciously like sniffling filling the silence. After a few moments of just holding each other for the first time in a long while, she raised slightly puffy, reddened eyes at him, and frowned again. “Why the hell didn't you say anything you... you... man, you!”



His heart soaring, he lowered his gaze, feeling somewhat ashamed of what he was going to tell her. “After you left the crater, when I told you to go, that amulet burned me to ashes. Next thing I know, I'm in the middle of one of Angel's little get-togethers with his minions. And by middle, I mean the actual middle.” At her puzzled look, he chuckled darkly. “I was a ghost, not really all there. I kept movin' from floor to floor in the offices of Evil Inc. without actually bein' able to control my poppin' in and out. I'd start a sentence in Wesley's office and finish it in the corridor, next to Lorne.”



“So that is your explanation for not—oh, I dunno—say, calling me to tell me you're back?” She thumped his chest with a fist, nowhere near hurting him.



“First thing I did, I asked for you. They told me you were off to Merry Ol' England to set this up. I told 'em to call you, but none of them wanted to. Angel kept goin' on about how you needed time, how you really didn't want me and all that rot.”



“He did? If he weren't dead I...” Seeing Spike flinch, she sought his eyes. “What do you know about Angel, Spike?”



“Bloody hell, woman, let a bloke tell the story. Stop askin' about the last chapter, will you?” Seeing that her inquisitive look was unrelenting, he decided to hurry things up. “Was hard stayin' there; there was this darkness wantin' to pull me back to...” He frowned, not sure how to explain it himself. “To nothin', I guess. Finally, when I'd almost gotten used to poppin' in on Peaches and seein' him pee his pants—so to speak—this envelope came and made me all solid again.”



“How long?”



“Seventeen days after the fight with the First, I was in LA. A few months after that, I became a real boy.” He was now looking somewhere behind her, unable to meet her eyes.



“Why?” She didn't have to expand. Her tear-laced voice and her accusing tone were enough for even someone that didn't know her to realize what she meant. Spike felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.



“You deserved better. I was no good to you anymore. I'd done the whole hero bit, saved the world, done my duty. And nobody cared.” Finally meeting her eyes, he tried to make sense of it all. “I died for you, Slayer. How could I top that exit? What, was I supposed to just turn up at your doorstep and say, 'lo there, remember me?”



“Yeah, you should have, you stupid vamp! I mourned you. We all did. You could have at least had the decency to let someone know you were back!” She struggled to get up, but his next words stopped her dead in her tracks.



“But I did.” When she turned her burning eyes towards him, he almost felt like shrinking back. “Andrew knew since that barmy Slayer thing that left me with both my arms chopped off.”



“What? Who... Dana?” Buffy couldn't have been more shocked if someone had told her that Jesus was back.



“Yeah, that's her. She got it into her head I was the one that made her mad, so she came after me and sliced me good and proper. Took nearly a month to get my hands attached the right way again. Andrew was there, tellin' us how good you've got it and whatnot.” Seeing her open her mouth, he rushed to finish his explanation. “He said you were happy, so I told him to keep his trap shut. Guess he did better than I expected, huh?”



“I'll kill him! I'll kill him and then I'll kill you. How could Andrew keep a secret? Is nothing sacred anymore?” The pout on Buffy's lips was so adorable Spike had to fight with everything he had against leaning closer and nibbling on her lip.



“Maybe Giles kept him in check.”



His words made her blood run cold and her insides turn to lead. Her heart stopped beating and cold chills enveloped her body. In a small, almost inaudible voice she asked him without even being able to focus on his face anymore, “What did you say?”



“The Watcher knew, is what I'm sayin'. Ol' Angelus called him when Ilyria took over Fred's body. We tried to get Red, or anyone else, to help her. He turned us down flat. Said Wolfram and Hart had corrupted me and Angel and that he wasn't fallin' for any tricks.” His tone turning hard and unyielding, his brows furrowed, and with eyes that seem to have thunderstorms in them, he concluded, “I'll never forgive that blither for what he did then. Never!”



Lost in their own musings, neither was able to speak for a while. Finally, Buffy looked up at Spike, seeing the fire burning beneath the surface. “I'm sorry about Fred.” Feeling more self-conscious, she decided to ask something about what she thought she might have picked up on. “Were you and her...?”



Shaking his head, Spike pulled out of his reverie. “No, she was Oxford's girl. Just that she was the only one that was half decent to me while I did my Casper bit. She was there when I discovered I couldn't leave LA, she helped get rid of the... She was one of a kind, that girl. Bloody shame.” Smiling a bitter smile, he caressed her hair ever so slightly. “Kinda reminded me of Nibblet, somewhat.”



Brightening up a bit, Buffy nodded her acquiescence. “Giles made a lot of bad choices...”



“Well, that one's the worst. It all went downhill from there.” Feeling his arm pressed against the floor, he looked at it, making them both realize they were still entwined. Reluctantly, they drew apart, ending up side by side, sitting with their backs to the wall next to the door she'd initially come through. “Long story short, Angel and I came looking for you in Rome. We met Andrew again there. He told us how you were all cozy with the Immortal.” He thought he saw the corner of her mouth tag upwards at that. “Even saw you dancin' with that pompous git right before he tried to have us both killed,” he added indignantly.



Buffy burst out laughing, doubling over from the sheer stupidity of it. “Mary fooled both of you? She must be a better me than I thought.”



“Yeah, Rogue mentioned somethin' about doubles. Made me feel like a right prick for buyin' it.” Shrugging, he seemed to chuck that down to rotten luck. “Then we met Connor, or at least we thought we'd just met him.” At her puzzled look, he smirked. “Angel's son with Darla?”



“What? When... how... why...?”



“Yeah, took everyone by surprise, that one did. The buggers from Evil Inc. somehow managed to get the old whore back and Wonder-Prick got her preggers. She had to off herself to spawn the lad.”



“And he never told me?” The feeling of betrayal was like bile in her mouth, her whole face contorting in a grimace.



“He made sure nobody knew. Peaches was always good at keepin' secrets when he had to. Some powerful magic took everybody's memories about the sprog away. Anyway, things happened, he grew up fast and he was there when it all went south.” His face darkened again. “Never thought we'd make it, and in some ways we didn't. Ilyria was so weakened she had to walk around lookin' like Fred for a month. Wesley bit it and ended up haunting the rest of us.”



Sensing his sorrow, Buffy placed a comforting hand on his knee, showing her support. The way he talked about Angel's crew showed how close he'd gotten to them; closer than he'd been to anybody in Sunnydale, save Clem and her, maybe. It almost brought tears to her eyes, realizing how alone he must have felt back then.



Unconsciously covering her hand with his, he went on with his tale. “Gunn got himself turned and came after us with a vengeance. Lorne was so shaken, he didn't even talk to us for a while.” Looking contrite, he ducked his head. “I couldn't even use my game-face at first.” Raising his voice to cover the giggling coming from Buffy, Spike scowled at her. “We were all thrown in a parallel universe, these things happen. Oi!”



“Sorry, but you gotta admit, it's funny.” They chuckled together in good humor for a bit, slowly becoming more comfortable with each other again.



“All kinds of things happened there, from battles to being treated like heroes and even gods.” At her disbelieving look, he grinned. “What? I was a good god. Honest.” He winked in a boyish way that brought a gentle smile to her face. He liked that smile, even though he hadn't seen it all that often. “Anyways, we finally found out how to win once and for all against the sorry gits.”



Without even giving it a second thought he rummaged in one of his coat pockets, took out a pack of cigarettes and put a fag between his lips. Before he had the chance to light it, though, Buffy slapped it away and waved a warning finger in front of him. “No smoking in the Castle area, mister! And no pouting. It won't work.” Nodding once for emphasis, she tried to hide the smile curving her lips upwards as well as she could.



“Spoil my fun,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear, but without any malice. “Never mind. So, we finally figure it all out and then I start noticin' things happenin'.”



“Things? Like?” She tilted her head sideways, giving him an inquisitive look.



“Like the cravin' for blood lessenin' and then, at some point, even developin' a...” Looking down, almost ashamed of himself, he fiddled with another unlit cigarette. “I started eatin' food. People food, I mean. And not like the onion rings from the Bronze; I mean actual hunger for pizza and all that.” Glancing up at her lack of response, he took in her shell-shocked look. “That's not all, you see. At one point, by accident, I noticed I could stroll in the bloody sunlight.” Making a sweeping motion in the air over himself, he continued. “That's how I got the tan.”



“So now you're... what? Human?”



“Bloody hell, no! Although, for a while, everyone thought about it.” Getting on his haunches, he faced her. “Ever heard of the Shanshu prophecy?” When she shook her head no, he rubbed his hands together. “There's this thing about a vampire with a soul bein' rewarded with his humanity after he becomes a Champion for the Powers and saves the world a couple of times. There were all these rules and challenges and Angel and I were kinda competin' for it. So, when I started my daytime strolls even I thought I was gettin' it. Pretty logical, seein' as how Angel signed away his right to it before the LA battle.”



“Why'd he do that? Didn't he want to be—you know—human?” She placed her palms on the floor behind her and leaned forward, closer to Spike.



“He had to. It was his right of passage into the Order of the Black Thorn, the ones we took down in LA.” Seeing her frown in puzzlement, he explained, “He had to join, so we could take them from the inside.” Rocking back and forth on the tips of his boots, he smirked. “Captain Forehead nearly went into permanent brood mode when that happened. That's how come I got sent through the portal to retrieve the broom; I had the most chances of gettin' away with it.”



“Speaking of...” Buffy crossed her arms over his knees and placed her chin on them.



“We needed it for the final fight. It really swept away the opposition, specially the vamps. We sent it back to where it came from, soon as we were through with it.”



“So you have no idea where it could be?” Her body had gone rigid, the laid back attitude gone, replaced by the calculating Slayer getting ready for another challenge.



Standing, Spike held out a hand for her to get up. Just as she was reaching for it, a booming voice was heard from behind them. “Scindate!” Spike found himself flying through the air and hitting the wall behind him with enough force to leave him stunned.



Buffy discovered she was pressed against the wall behind her too, but managed to utter, “Wills, quit it.” When the force keeping her glued to the wall disappeared, she rushed over to Spike's side. “Are you okay?”



Groaning, he rubbed his back. “She really packs a punch, doesn't she?” Raising his head, he looked at the young woman now covering her mouth in shock. “'Lo, Red. We gotta stop meetin' like this.”

He was restless.



The words “caged lion” passed through his mind a few times. He should have been resting, getting his strength up for what was sure to be a very taxing day, and yet he couldn’t. She was right there. I can still feel her warmth on my skin where we touched. God, I love her!



The mangled pack of cigarettes lay on the slanted table where he’d thrown it in one of the previous debates on whether to quell his nerves or adhere to her rules. He had chosen the latter, but he still eyed the crumpled paper and its nicotine content every few seconds. He felt so wired, wanted to smash everything in his room. Too bad he’d already done it as soon as he’d been left alone. Actually, this is the bloody Watcher’s room, so it deserves everythin’ it’s got. Wreckin' this place up only improved it. Not like he’ll come from the Ice Tower to redecorate or anythin’, anyway.



Feeling a bit better about his housewarming present to the now-absent Giles, Spike wracked his brain for something else that would keep him busy and away from… To hell with it. Striding to the door with determination, his movements came to a quiet stop once the metal of the knob was in his hand. He opened the door, taking care not to make any noise, then stealthily made his way down the corridor to the door he knew led to Buffy’s bedroom. Up here, in the uppermost floor of the secluded North Wing, where only the most important people were lodged, there would be no danger of anyone discovering him.



Dawn and Xander, who occupied the nearest two bedrooms, were away, while Willow and Alia’s room was too distant for them to hear anything. Still, the door at the very end, the residence of the Lady of the Castle, held the greatest prize Spike had ever wanted, and, as he approached it, he became increasingly nervous.



He stopped inches away from the solid wooden door separating him from the leader of all the Slayers, and held his seldom-needed-breath. Narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brows in concentration, he strained to hear anything that could betray the happenings on the other side. Slowly, ever so, he pressed his ear to the cold surface and closed his eyes, his palms spread out for balance. After mentally sifting through background noise and any other disturbance, he used every bit of his vampiric hearing to make sure that he wasn’t mistaken.



He could swear his heart beat once when he finally caught on to what Buffy was up to, a smirk blossoming on his face. Well, well, well, the Slayer’s beatin’ off. Indeed, even the heavy wooden door was unable to hide the obvious sounds of pleasure that the woman inside was making. The subtle sighs and gasps, even the rhythmic sound of wet friction was enough for his ears to recognize the action he’d made her perform for him on several occasions, the one that had fueled many a sleepless night’s fantasies.



As Spike stood there, a guilty voyeur unable to even see his quarry, his resolve to knock on her door dissolved. Instead, he listened as the woman of many of his dreams climaxed, the final scream that accompanied her throws of passion leaving him at once stunned and ecstatic. Bloody hell, she called my name!.



Unable to form a proper thought, he half-stumbled backwards, his limbs grasped by trembling weakness. Despite the urge to barge in and call her out on what she'd just done—something he might have done, back in the day—he retraced his steps and carefully closed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed. There, he allowed his whirling thoughts and feelings course through him, letting them run their course and attempting to grasp the meaning of it all. At least I know she still wanks off to me.



Despite his best efforts, the hope that there was still a chance for them kept him up the better part of the night, making him think of different ways to get her to open up to him again. Finally, in the moments just before sunrise, he managed to fall asleep, a smile firmly placed on his lips.



~~~***~~~



*Rome Ciampino Airport, Ciampino, Italy*



A jet liner was being hastily refueled for the trip back to Scotland, the two passengers it had been waiting for in the process of boarding. There to greet them was none other than Alia, dressed in fatigues, with a leather jacket, her hair tied in a pony tail. Although nothing was showing, it was clear the Slayer was also armed to the teeth, something that, coupled with the way she was scanning the area for threats and her straight posture belied her normally gentle personality.



After warm, but brief hugs, Alia ushered her charges in, closing the door behind them, in preparation for the approaching departure. The sooner they all got out of the country and back to the relative safety of the Slayer Castle, the better. Finally able to relax a fraction, she admired the ring proudly displayed by a radiant Dawn.



“I'm very happy for you two. I think it's useless to say that most of us Slayers see Dawn as our sister, so,” she said, pinning Xander with a fierce glare she must have practiced in front of the mirror, “if you ever hurt her, there are a lot of people willing to exact revenge on you.” Laughter spoiled the image she was trying so hard to portray, as both women dissolved into giggles at the horror apparent in Xander's eye. “Seems someone forgot there are always strings attached.”



Smiling benevolently, the Tactical Officer of the Slayer Army hugged his fiancée. “I didn't forget, but I'd be willing to take on more than just the Slayers for my girl.”



Alia watched with warmth in her heart as Dawn rewarded her man with a kiss that conveyed more than words ever could, even to an outside observer. Regretfully snapping out of her reverie, the young Slayer sat down and looked at her watch, wishing time to fly a bit faster so she, too, could find herself near her beloved. After a few moments of silent contemplation, she once again trained her sights on the now-seated and subdued couple.



“We should be leaving soon. My car will be waiting for us to get you back to the Castle.” Alia frowned as she looked at the worried expressions of her companions. “What's wrong?”



“That Immortal guy is giving me the creeps, even after all this time.” Xander shuddered once for good measure. “And the things he said...” The words seemed to just drift away, as he gripped Dawn's hand with renewed intensity. “Wait till the Buffster hears about this!”



“Why didn't you call her?” Alia was now in what could only be described as Slayer-mode, rechecking all the possible threats, assessing possibilities and trying to gather as much information as possible. The short-lived happy reunion was now just a distant memory for the three fighters against the forces of evil.



“The same reason why Georgia didn't. Both the Immortal and Buffster number two believe that out communication may be compromised.” Lowering his voice to the lowest possible level and leaning closer to Alia, Xander whispered his worries. “Everything around us may have been compromised.” Straightening in his chair, he pinned the woman in front of him with his one-eyed stare. “That's why we should be extra careful.”



Deciding it was time to break some of the gloom and doom of the situation, Dawn adopted the patented Summers’ Pout and huffed in annoyance. “I just knew something would happen and spoil me telling everyone the big news.” Both Alia and Xander managed to chuckle at her antics, just as the pilot announced the private jet was about to take off. Dawn silently thanked her sister for sending Alia with the plane for them; speed was of the essence now.



~~~***~~~



Mark was woken up by his cell-phone ringing off its proverbial hook. Mumbling a few choice curses, he managed to grab for it and press the appropriate button. “This better be good!”



”Sir, we have news of the target. He's reached the destination sometime within the last eight hours.”



Fully awake now, Mark's brain processed the information almost disbelievingly. In a calm voice that belied his true fury, he tried to assess the extent of the damage. “I distinctly remember telling you to announce me the second that happened. Now give me all the details.”



He listened with growing anger as his operatives described being fooled by the bleached menace, then fumbling around for hours until they were almost caught by a Slayer patrol. Their only redeeming quality was finding the owner of the car Spike had used and shaking him up for information. Apparently the vampire had utilized some very old demon connections and had arranged for his transportation in Scotland before leaving London. Filing away the news that there were still some demon grapevines left unchecked, Mark reprimanded his team and instructed them to return to base. There was no use leaving them there, where they could be discovered by the Slayers in a matter of hours.



Getting out of bed, he put his suit on without a second look at the previous night's companion. She was irrelevant to him, as his mind struggled to figure out a way of explaining the failed mission as a success to his boss.



~~~***~~~



Spike woke up suddenly when he heard a muffled murmur outside his door. Apparently Buffy and Willow were busy discussing something. Clearing out the last remnants of his Slayer-filled dreams, he maneuvered through the rubble of the Watcher's furniture and belongings, and approached the door, intent on listening in.



He stopped dead in his tracks when the door opened, revealing a deliciously rumpled Slayer and a worried-looking witch right behind her. The three just stood there, looking at each other, none sure exactly of what would happen next. The first to move was Buffy, who raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock.



“You're in the sun.” The statement was made by the completely gobsmacked Willow, who was obviously trying to wrap her mind around that seemingly simple fact with little success. Before she could investigate further, however, Buffy stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.



Spike, after having relaxed somewhat, tensed up again when he saw the silent tears running down Buffy's cheeks. Her eyes, always so expressive, especially to him, conveyed a mix of grief and elation that left him confused. “Kitten, what's wrong?” he asked, using the same tone of voice he once had to whisper comforting words in those final months in Sunnyhell. Tentatively extending a hand towards her, he was taken by surprise by the familiarity of her entwining her fingers with his.



In a trembling voice laced with tears, Buffy finally broke her silence. “That last time, down there, you were also bathed in sunlight.” She swallowed, trying to get the courage to keep going. “You burned down there, after I told you...”



She stopped, right when Spike felt like his unbeating heart would burst from the tension. He desperately wanted her to finish her sentence, at the same time terrified that she might. What if he had been right back then? What if she really hadn't meant it? What if she took back the sweetest words he'd ever heard in all his years? Then again, what if she didn't? What if she told him again that she loved him? He loved her, that was obvious as it had always been, but could they actually make it work?



They stood there, bathed in the light of the early morning sun, neither daring to move, neither daring to speak. So many memories had been stirred up with so few words, that they both felt choked up. Her tears were still flowing, but she paid no mind to them.



Before he could stop and really think about it, Spike heard himself start talking. “No God-awful necklace, or Death Ray shooting out of my chest this time, though.” Looking down at their clasped hands, he caressed her knuckles with his thumb. “No flamin' palms, either.” Or you tellin' me you love me. Tell me something, kitten. Tell me!



She felt like choking up, then made to pull back, only to have him tighten his hold on her hand. With a sob that heralded the proverbial breaking of the clouds, Buffy hugged Spike desperately, clinging to him with all she was worth, crying her heartache out.



Spike held her to him, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and telling her that he would never leave her again. In his mind, he pleaded to any and all gods who would listen to not make a liar out of him.



~~~***~~~



It was nearing noon when the car with Alia, Dawn, Xander and Alia's Russian teammate, Yatviga, approached the grounds surrounding the Slayer Castle. Yatviga, being the most well-rested of the group, was the one at the wheel of the white four-by-four. The other three—despite being used to long nights and little sleep—were dead on their feet, the emotional tension of the previous days spent running all over Europe finally catching up with them.



Yatviga was the first to notice that something was amiss. The patrollers were more alert; despite being known by the girls at the castle gate, she was double-checked and the car was searched. Nobody would tell her anything, though, letting her thoughts drift towards the worst possible scenarios, especially taking into account the silence of her companions. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she noticed everyone in the car was on edge, scanning their surroundings, no doubt just as worried about the changes since their departure.



Finally reaching the main building, the four travelers exited the vehicle and started to unload their bags, all the while keeping their eyes peeled for any other clues to the reason for the state of alert. A younger Slayer came to help them get their luggage inside. Soon after, Willow came out to greet them, hugging her lover tightly and kissing her passionately, then hugging Xander and Dawn in turn.



“What's the what, Wills? Are we under attack?” Xander asked once the customary hellos were out of the way.



The redhead's eyes darted from him to Dawn, as she shifted from foot to foot. “Not really.” After obviously trying to put thoughts into words a few times without great success, she huffed and took a deep breath. “Let's go to Buffy by the fountain. You'll get it when we get there.” Without waiting for anyone to acknowledge her words, she took off in the direction of the garden, dragging Alia behind her by the hand. Shrugging, the other three former occupants of the car followed her, leaving the bags for the young Slayer helper to sort out.



Maneuvering through the hedge-maze with practiced ease, they all gathered at the entrance to the middle circle, stunned beyond words by the sight before them. There, next to Buffy in her traditional meditation spot, and unaffected by sunlight, was seated a clearly undusty and smiling Spike. Dawn filed away the information that their hands were entwined before she leaped ahead and tackled the vampire, alternating between hugging him tight and swatting at him, all the while squealing and talking a mile a minute.



Xander, after regaining control of his vocal cords, decided to ask the question on everyone's mind. “What the hell are you doing in the sun, Captain Peroxide?”



Giving the former carpenter the once-over, Spike answered over the shoulder of the still babbling and clinging Dawn. “Long story, that.” Looking over both the familiar and unfamiliar faces, he continued. “I guess since we're all here, I can give you the long version.”



Xander moved closer and took a seat on the bench closest to Buffy, his face betraying his weariness. “If it's long, it'll have to wait.” Looking at the leader of the Slayers, he started delivering his news. “We're gonna have to check everything for bugs and cameras, just like with the Nerd Trio. Drac really did a number on us.”



The benevolent smile that had blossomed on Buffy's face disappeared, as she focused on what Xander had to say. “What happened?”



“Well, we spoke to the Immortal, and he had a lot of things to tell us.” He then proceeded to tell everyone about the news he'd uncovered, everyone but Dawn becoming more and more worried with each sentence.



He told them how the Immortal and the Italian Buffy were in love and had decided to retire after this one last fight. The fight with Dracula for the future of the world. The Immortal, through his network of spies, had uncovered at least part of a plot by which demon armies, led by the Dark Lord, were already on the march, taking over strongholds throughout Eastern Europe and moving further, co-opting their vanquished foes to swell their own numbers.



Dracula must have been planning this move all along, leading the Immortal to conclude that he must have infiltrated the Slayers to gather information and do away with his competitors. The Slayer Castle and any other Chapter could be under surveillance, or even worse, under direct threat of being attacked at any moment. The Athens, Budapest and Istanbul squads were the ones in greatest danger of being overrun within the week, but they had to make sure their communication wasn't being monitored before they could do anything.



~~~***~~~



*Dracula's Headquarters, Sighisoara, Romania*



A minion burst into the chamber shared by Dracula and his two consorts, angering the naked elder vampire. After pinning the intruder to the wall with a strong and steady hand, Vlad spoke to him, showing off his fangs. “You have five seconds to convince me you deserve the mercy of our Lord and Savior.”



Frightened and quivering, the minion struggled to get his words out of his almost crushed throat. “The Slayers. They know of our surveillance and are sweeping their Castle and outposts for microphones and cameras.”



With a chilling smile, Dracula released his captive, grabbing Drusilla by the hair and shoving his still erect cock deep in her mouth. “We knew this would happen. Alert our troops to be on the lookout for Slayer counterattacks. Prioritize Athens and Istanbul and give the word to the Budapest flank to attack immediately.” Keeping his eyes on the sight of Kennedy using a whip to redden Drusilla's ass, he made a dismissive gesture at the minion, who slithered out of the room, thankful for his continued existence.



“I always knew leaving the Immortal for later could prove costly. No matter; he'll fall before the Army of God like the rest, isn't that right, my sweet?” He withdrew from the woman blowing him so that she could answer him.



“We'll paint his skin in lovely shades of purple and black, and then he'll go to meet my Mummy.” Her face betrayed sadness as her eyes drifted to some unfathomable distance. “I miss Mummy.”



Kneeling next to the crazy vampire, Dracula motioned for Kennedy to join him in hugging the distraught woman. “There, there. We'll redeem her soul and you'll be reunited with her in the Kingdom to come.”



The three vampires spent the remainder of the day playing games with each other and celebrating the beginning of their Crusade.



~~~***~~~



*Oslo Airport, Gardermoen, Norway*



Erika and Oz arrived at the airport and checked in. Neither betrayed any emotion as they stood stoically in the waiting area of the gate, the only tell-tale sign they were together being their clasped hands. Despite the outward calm, Erika was worried, both because of the mission she had undertaken, and because of the imminent meeting with a woman that had meant so much for her mate. It wasn't that she was worried she might lose him, but she was worried she could fall short on some level, being compared to a Wiccan even the revered Maryun saw as very powerful.



Displaying the same intuition she'd come to love, Oz squeezed her hand tighter and leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “Mate.” The single word conveyed more from Oz than entire speeches from others. Her heart swelled, her doubts and worries abating under the secure knowledge that they belonged to each other in a way that allowed no room for deception or doubt. She raised his hand with hers and kissed his knuckles, nuzzling the limb with her cheek before lowering it on the armrests of the airport chairs.



Sharing an almost secretive and furtive smile, the two settled to wait for the flight that would take them to the Slayers.

*Anna Cafe, City center, Budapest, Hungary*


Tibor was standing at the bar, nursing a long double espresso extra sweet. He was stroking his graying moustache and beard in what was obviously a nervous tic, every so often checking his watch before taking another sip of his drink. Just as he was getting ready to finish the remainder of his coffee, pay his tab and go about his business something the newscaster on the TV above the bar was saying caught his attention.


“The violent explosion on Gyorgy Dozsa Street completely destroyed one building and severely damaged another two. Firefighters arrived within a few minutes to the scene and are trying desperately to fight the flames, but the official spokesman has declared that no survivors have been found in the rubble of the building where the explosion originated. More information about this…” His ears started whizzing and then the world got muffled as he watched the on-scene footage from the house he was supposed to be heading to. The house that held the Slayer Headquarters in Budapest, his place of employment as driver and guide for the girls, was now gone.


Tibor stumbled out of the café in a daze and started going down Váci Utca. If the Slayers had been wiped out, it could only mean one thing: he was going to die. And he was going to die soon. He finally managed to control his trembling fingers long enough to find the number for emergencies in his phone’s address book, all the while praying his family would be spared.


Just as he was about to press Call, someone bumped hard into him and made him lose his balance and his mobile. When Tibor raised his eyes, the person that had stopped him pressed his long, slender left index finger to his lips and made a shushing sound.


That was the last anyone saw of Tibor Puby.


~~~***~~~


*Castle grounds, Slayer Castle, Scotland*


Dawn and Spike were walking side by side along the line of trees separating the driveway from the training grounds. They were both uneasy about sparking up a conversation. Finally she stopped in her tracks, making him turn back to look at her after taking a couple of solitary steps.


“I’m sorry.” Tears started welling up in Dawn’s eyes. “I’m so very sorry for-” She stopped talking and just shrugged, unable to put what she wanted to say into words.


“You had your reasons.” He scratched the back of his head and then lit a cigarette to quell his nerves.


“I should have listened, though. I was just so upset that you left and then I didn’t know what to think and you weren’t there to talk to and…” She finally paused to take a breath while Spike stayed silent, puffing away at his cigarette.


“After Sunnydale I started talking more about it. I talked with Buffy and she explained things.” That seemed to interest the vampire, but he remained silent. “She told me about your relationship and how badly she treated you.”


“Now, now, that’s not entirely how it was. It takes two to tango and all that rot.”


“Still, I get it that it was more complicated than I thought and that I shouldn’t have treated you like I did that last year.” She stopped speaking and looked deep into his eyes. “I really am sorry, Spike. I missed you.”


“I missed you too, Nibblet. Let’s just leave all that buried with the rest of Sunnyhell and just be, yeah?” Without another word, the two embraced as the last embers from Spike’s discarded cigarette died away.


When they finally parted, Spike kept his hands on Dawn’s shoulders. “Now, why don’t you tell me what possessed you to say ‘Yes’ to the Whelp.”


Amidst laughs and a few tears, she proceeded to tell him her story over the previous three years.


~~~***~~~


*Giles’ office, Spire Building, London, England*


“What do you mean I have no clearance? I’m the bloody Head Watcher, for Goodness’ sake!” Giles brought his fist down strongly on top of his parchment-covered desk in fury. It was the seventh time in the previous half hour that he tried to get in touch with a Slayer Contingent and the result was always the same. They asked for the new password and identification, which he didn’t have because he hadn’t changed them. Even his question as to who had instituted the new system was met with the same infuriating answer. And the Slayer Castle wasn’t picking up.


“I’m sorry, but this conversation is over.” Whoever it was that was picking up telephones in the Beijing Contingent, and had that positively atrocious accent, hung up on Giles after exactly fifty nine seconds of conversation.


The elderly Watcher knew that the answers would be the same whichever Contingent he called throughout the world. The only chance he had of getting some answers was to get a hold of those blighters from the Slayer Castle that had failed to inform him of their plans and shake them until they told him everything. All of a sudden, he had a breakthrough and dialed Andrew’s number in Italy.


”Mister Wells’ office, what can I help you with?”


For a brief moment Giles wondered if every secretary in the world had the same exact voice, no matter what the language they were speaking in. Shaking off his thoughts, he decided to try and get some information. "I wish to speak to Andrew. Now! This is Rupert Giles."


After a second of hesitation, the woman on the other end deigned to answer, ”He is unavailable at this time. He is in a conference call. May I take a message?”


“Tell him to pick up his phone now, I don’t care who he’s talking to!” With each word Giles spoke, the volume of his voice increased so that by the end of the sentence he was outright yelling into the receiver.


After another few seconds of silence, the secretary’s voice was back on the line, ”I’m sorry, sir, but he is unavailable at this time and will not be available for the remainder of the day. He shall return your phone call as soon as he is able to. Have a nice day.” And with that, yet another discussion ended with someone hanging up on Rupert Giles. He all but screamed in anger, especially since he was confident that Spike had something to do with all of this.


All of a sudden, the intercom lit up and his secretary informed him that Mark was there to see him. Taking a moment to recompose himself, Giles allowed him in.


The younger man sat down in the chair opposite his superior and immediately picked up on the subtle signs of tension. “Anything wrong, sir?”


Giles looked hard at his underling. In a very short while, he had become dependent on the man and wished he had the time to properly verify his background, his credentials, and to assess his potential. Some other things were more important, though. “I need you to find out exactly where Spike has been and what he has been doing in the past two years. He told me it was a parallel dimension and that he was fighting with the Senior Partners, but I want you to investigate this thoroughly. I have some problems with certain apparent coincidences. Needless to say I do not believe in coincidences.” When Mark failed to leave immediately, Giles snapped at him. “Was I unclear in any way? You have your duties to attend to. Go attend.”


Mark got up from the chair, gave a short nod and then marched out of the office, all the while cheering inside.


~~~***~~~


*Communication Room, Slayer Castle, Scotland*


Xander closed his cellphone’s cover, ending the phone call. “Done. That’s all the Slayer Chapters and Wolfram & Hart subsidiaries except London.” He turned around towards a stone faced Buffy. “You sure you want to do this?” He looked uncomfortable with the topic. “I mean, I get that you’re pissed at him, but this is Giles we’re talking about.”


“Yeah, I know. But he also screwed me over time and time again. And this time, it wasn’t just me that got hurt.” Turning around to go into her office, she spoke over her shoulder. “He has to pick a side once and for all; I’m done with the whole ’I’m Giles, I know better’ way of thinking.” Straightening her back, she walked thought the door, adding as an afterthought, “This is my Army, not the Council’s.”


Left behind in the Communications Room, Xander shook his head with sadness. He always hated it when there was strife between the Scoobies.


After she closed the door, Buffy all but collapsed in her chair. Gathering her strength, she picked up the receiver of the fixed line—for which Willow had already given the all clear as being bug-free in her sweep of the Castle and grounds—and dialed the number for Giles’ office.


After getting past the secretary and waiting for a short period, she got her former Watcher. ”Hello, Buffy. This is a pleasant surprise.” His tone was as pleasantly detached as always, but she’d known him long enough to detect a slight hostility towards her. He didn’t know the meaning of hostility yet!


“Giles. We have a problem, you and I.” There, getting straight to the point, as it should be.


“Is it Spike? I told you I wasn’t sure he could be trusted. What did he say?”


“No, not Spike. Although what he had to say was very interesting.” The Slayer started tapping her fingers in an attempt to remain calm.


”Oh? So what did he tell you?”


“Spike’s not the problem here, Giles-”


“Of course he is a problem. We have to make sure he is not trying to mislead us and divide our forces. I did notice I was cut off from communication with all our operatives. Care to explain that, Buffy?”


She was feeling her grip on her anger slipping, but tried once more to be civil. “I was just trying to get to that. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with talking about Spike, maybe we would have already covered the real threat we’re facing now.” Ok, so perhaps her grip wasn’t all that strong.


”Do tell. ”


“Dracula. He launched an all-out assault on Eastern Europe. We already lost contact with Budapest and Athens, and Istanbul apparently lost half its Slayers last night. All our Chapters were under surveillance and we believe he’s trying to somehow use the prophecy about the broom to his advantage. The Immortal-”


“Dracula, Spike, The Immortal, what reason do we have to believe any of them? What makes you think they’re not lying to us, or that they’re not all working together somehow? ”


Buffy saw red. Giles was once again jumping to conclusions and blaming Spike, and showing no respect or confidence in her decisions. “What’s the what with you going on and on about lying when you’ve lied to me for almost three years now? Or do you deny that Angel called for your help with Fred, and that both he and then Andrew told you Spike was alive? How could you lie to me? Again?”


”I did what I had to do. I’m only thinking of what’s best-”


The Slayer had had enough. “To Hell with what’s best! You used that card one too many times, Giles! From now on whatever you plan on doing, you run by me first!”


”Buffy-”


“And I’m sending someone over there. I don’t trust you anymore.” For the second time in just as many days, Buffy slammed the phone with Giles’ yelling on the other side. Mentally, she prayed that he wouldn’t do anything stupid until Tina got there to make sure there were no more secrets or “misunderstandings”.


Unknown to her, Mark received an urgent message to report to Giles while he was picking his team to investigate where the best resources of the law firm he worked for had gone to fight a rag-tag group of do-gooders and lost.


~~~***~~~


Shortly after dinner, Willow was talking to Buffy about what some covens from other countries had told her about the energies of the Earth shifting, alluding to terrible events in the future, when Xander knocked on the door.


“What is it, Xand? Please tell me there is no more bad news for today.” Buffy was feeling the strain of the previous twenty four hours. God, had it been only a day since Spike had first appeared in the hallway?


Xander shuffled in looking uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not entirely sure.” The furtive look he gave Willow made the redhead feel apprehensive. “We have more visitors.”


It was then that the two girls noticed that their oldest friend had left the door open behind him. The next thing they noticed was a couple standing in the doorway, the woman partially hidden by the familiar form of a male. “Oz!” Willow jumped to hug the man she hadn’t seen in several years, and clung to him like to a lifeline. They all gave them a moment to reconnect.


When they finally parted, Willow blushed a little and extended her hand to the woman. “Hi, I’m Willow. Want a hug, too?”


With a slight frown, the Scandinavian woman took the proffered hand and gave it a rigid shake.


Oz supplied the introduction. “This is Erika, my mate and leader.”


Everyone in the room took a second look at the woman that had managed to steal the heart of their former friend. To her credit, she didn’t seem intimidated at all, instead stepping forward almost regally to the center of the room and standing right in front of Buffy.


“You are the chief Slayer, are you not?” Her English was almost perfect, despite a slight Scandinavian accent. The tone with which she spoke demanded attention.


“Buffy Summers. At your service. Now what can we help you and Oz with?” Buffy also shook hands with the woman, feeling a bit odd when she did so. If her senses weren’t mistaken, there was a lot more going on with the girl than just being Oz’ mate. Mate, so not just wife. That would make her a werewolf too, right? But still, there’s more there.


“I am Commander Erika, of the Wolf Guard. We are the defenders of the Circle, protectors of the lands from the evil ones and sworn enemies of the Dark Lord. I am a werewolf.” Giving the rest a few seconds to digest her titles, she went on. “I am also the first member of the Guard to be Called as a Slayer.”


The silence that followed her statement was deafening.

*Buffy’s office, Slayer Castle, Scotland*

Spike entered the room and appraised the situation. Buffy was seated at her desk with Willow, Xander, a guy who looked vaguely familiar huddled to the side, and a girl who made his hair stand on end in the middle of the room; she was looking straight at Buffy as though she was challenging her to a duel. A glance at the Slayer’s face, though, had his stomach tightening in knots and made him ignore the strangers. She looked about as weary as she had been the day before they’d taken Glory down or after she’d been thrown out of her house by her “friends.” She looked like someone who’d seen all there was to see, felt all there was to feel, and was left cold and lonely, waiting for the end to come. His Slayer had a death wish, or at least she was close to it. Again.

“Don’t worry about him. That’s Spike—he’s on our side.” Her statement shook him out of his musings and made him notice that everyone was staring at him now, including the feisty one. He didn’t miss the flash of recognition in her eyes before she continued to look at him almost disdainfully.

“He moved our Circle’s Sacred Source and brought the Scourge upon us.” The blonde stranger’s voice was melodic, but with a tinge of coldness that made him think of everlasting snow. Or maybe it was the slight unplaceable accent.

“The Scourge is either gone, souled, or crazy, and I have no idea about any source, sacred or otherwise.” He strode into the room unabashedly and stopped next to Buffy’s desk, resting a hip on the edge. The message was clear: this was his territory, and he wasn’t going to be displaced.

“Not you—you don’t really interest us. I’m referring to the darkness approaching, swallowing up entire countries one by one. It’s what we have been fighting against for centuries and what you allowed to gain access to the Source.” Her words were accusing, but her tone was almost informative. Despite the coldness and a certain degree of uneasiness he couldn’t quite figure out, she didn’t seem outright hostile to him.

“Listen here, I have no bloody clue what you’re on about, but-”

“Stop it, both of you. Why don’t we let Erika explain what she’s doing here and maybe we’ll be able to figure everything out.” Buffy’s tone brooked no argument, so Spike settled for staring at the newcomer with a smirk firmly plastered on his face.

Without missing a beat, Erika refocused on Buffy and seemed to completely ignore the vampire. “As I was saying before, Oz and I were sent here by the Circle to deliver a message and to serve as liaison in order to battle the common threat.”

’So that’s where I knew him from. And here I was, thinking I was done with the mongrels when the Poofter stopped mentioning his Dog-girl. I wonder how much this bint really knows about what’s been goin’ on here.’

~~~***~~~

By the end of the day, Buffy’s head was a whirlwind of memories and ideas. The last thirty-six hours or so had been so full that she felt every cell in her body begging for rest. Spike was back. That thought alone brought a smile to her face and an ache in her heart. Yes, he was back, but they still hadn’t had the talk, so it was still unclear how things would be between them. For that matter, she didn’t have any idea what she wanted there to be between them, anyway. Yes, she loved him, but was she still in love with him?

And what about his feelings for her? Had she not been too scared of the answer, maybe she would have asked him or would have told him or would have thought about it longer or—okay, so that train of thought led nowhere for now. Better let things develop on their own, anyway. I remember how bad it can get if either of us tries to press the matter.

Speaking of unsaid things, Angel was back too, all souled up and in a nice human, happy-inducing body. She felt somewhat betrayed that he came back and didn’t even call her for an entire month, but another part of her kind of understood it. He was back, but he wasn’t back for her. He had let go of her during the past seven years, and she had stopped waiting for him as well. ”So much for having cookies. ” She wasn’t even sure how jealous she was of the slayer he was apparently dating. ”I guess at least we share a taste for Japanese slayers.”

Shaking away naughty thoughts of oil, slayers, and former lovers tangled in a delicious heap—and wouldn’t you know it, Spike just wouldn’t stay out of that picture. Her mind drifted to the next thing that made sleep impossible: Oz, his mate, and the news they had brought. Apparently everything they thought they had known about Dracula had been false. On top of the whole surveillance thing and road to badness the Immortal had warned them about, the whole Stoker bit had been a sham and one that had been going on for centuries, at that. If everything in the message from the witches of the Circle was true, he was possibly the most dangerous foe she had ever faced, surpassing even the First Evil in the scope of his plans.

The incorporeal being and its slayer-hating sidekick had just wanted to open up the Hellmouth and unleash an army of ancient vamps from the bowels of Hell. Dracula—or, more appropriately, Ţepeş—had control of almost all the demons in Eastern Europe and possibly most of the rest of the world as well and was actively working on uniting all of them. ”Something’s definitely wrong with you when you start thinking of a legion of uber-vamps as ‘the simple times,’ and yet here I am thinking it.”

Suddenly, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Giles interrupted her thoughts. Her sources of information these days were Spike, the Immortal, a rogue Circle of witches nobody had heard of until now—she’d had Dana check the library as soon as she’d found out and there had been no mention of them—and a ‘Wolf Guard’ that even sounded ominous. All those stuffy shirts from the old Council would have had multiple strokes if they had found out. She shook it off. Giles was so high on her people-that-pissed-me-off list that she refused to even consider it.

However, the doubts still made her frown from time to time until she finally fell asleep after what felt like hours of tossing and turning.

~~~***~~~

*In the catacombs under the European side, Istanbul, Turkey*

“Stop bickering!” bellowed a furry blue demon with pale grey eyes and sharp black fangs that glistened in the torchlight when he spoke.

The twenty or so heads of clans from the ancient city gathered all around the double sarcophagus they were using as a meeting table suddenly stopped talking. They had assembled to discuss the rising threat in the north that was bound to spill forth into what they considered their territory. The result had mostly been fighting amongst themselves over who controlled which part of what neighborhood, instead of managing to actually discuss anything.

“Graonk is right; we have other things to talk about other than who had the rights to a well three centuries ago.” Szichen, the red leathery demon with white limbs and milky eyes, threw a pointed look at a scaly green lizard-like demon and a goblin-like creature that had been the loudest in their argument. “The half-breeds have banded together, and they’re gaining support amongst demon clans throughout the Balkans. We cannot let this be!”

While the others gave grunts of support and nods of approval, the massive iron doors opened with such force that one of the ornamental statues adorning the five columns holding up the ancient ceiling fell and broke in two. Before anyone else had time to react, Szichen’s body was cut in two, straight down the middle, by Dracula wielding Ştefan’s blade. When Graonk tried to move, another lightning-fast strike sent his head flying and landing with a squelching sound at the base of one of the columns.

In the complete silence that followed, only Dracula’s footsteps sent echoes bouncing off the walls, as he walked slowly around the group and then sat down in the chair from which he had just shoved Graonk’s body. Setting the sword down on the table with a clang, he crossed his arms in front of him. “So, you were discussing me, I see.” Looking once round the table at the various degrees of shock and hostility visible on the other demons’ faces, he chuckled darkly. “It wasn’t nice to fail to invite the one who is most interested in these proceedings, now was it?”

While he talked, two demons of the same races as the recently deceased ones walked in accompanied by a dozen Fyarls. Three of the demons around the table got out of their chairs to support the newcomers in what appeared to be a coming confrontation. No sooner had they done this than the Fyarls ripped their throats out and left them to die on the floor, while three almost identical demons to the newest victims then walked through the doors and took a position with the rest of the replacements. The message to the remainder of the clan leaders was clear: anyone who dared oppose Dracula would be immediately replaced by one of their own kin who had pledged allegiance to him.

All of the Balkan and Istanbul demon clans were soon under Vlad’s complete control.

~~~***~~~

*Spire Building, London, England*

Giles was still fuming over the previous day’s talk with Buffy and, to add insult to injury, he’d just had to welcome his overseer -- a girl barely out of high school. He had felt his relationship with Buffy deteriorate more and more ever since Sunnydale had been destroyed, but this was something so far beyond anything he had considered even remotely possible, that he was almost at a loss to describe, even to himself, how he felt about it.

Deciding that feelings could be dealt with at a later date, he threw himself in his usual work. Picking up one of the ancient scrolls he would have killed to have had access to back when he was still in Sunnydale, he skimmed it, then promptly threw it aside without a second thought, already looking for the next source of information, an ancient tome that had probably been under lock and key for the past several centuries.

Less than an hour later, that too was discarded in favor of yet another ancient text.

~~~***~~~

Mark watched anxiously as the best magicians he could gather on such short notice attempted to create a portal to the dimension currently under Illyria’s control. It seemed as though everything they tried had failed miserably. Finally, after the tenth try in a row, one of the magicians, a tall man with a greying beard and piercing green eyes, approached him on legs so wobbly that his attempts to appear composed were to no avail.

“We’ve done all we can for now.” Shaking his head, the man shuddered once. “It’s like hitting a wall of barbed wire that tries to envelop you before you have a chance to recoil. We need a conduit or some sort of magical key to be able to break through.”

“How is that possible? Until recently our firm had complete access to that dimension. By all the hells, we were the ones that created it!” Mark’s face betrayed no emotion, and he deliberately kept his tone neutral to intimidate the taller man. It was a trick he had picked up from the one who had occupied Giles’ office until a short while earlier.

“We don’t know how or why it happened, but ever since the incident, we’ve been unable to make contact.” They both knew what he was referring to. The incident was the battle that had taken place just before everything had changed, and all the senior members of Wolfram and Hart had mysteriously vanished. What made matters worse was that they had no information as to what had happened, since everyone involved was now gone. Even the magicians he was now using were merely apprentices of the ones that had been used back then.

Grinding his teeth, Mark turned his back on the useless mage and walked out the door of the underground summoning room, while thinking of alternate methods to get what he—and also Mr. Giles—wanted.

~~~***~~~

*Mess hall, Slayer Castle, Scotland*

Oz and Erika walked inside the room holding hands, with him squeezing her hand in support every time he felt her flinch. The former Scooby knew of his mate’s deep-seated hatred of slayers. She had told him about almost killing herself when she found out she had been Called and about how Maryun had talked her through it. The old witch had also been the one to get in touch with the Tibetan monks and ask for Oz to come to them. He would always be thankful to her for allowing him to become part of his new family and making it possible to meet the woman beside him.

It had taken them a whole year to get to know each other, but now they were so much in sync, that he almost felt like growling at the girls making her uneasy. Despite his own experience with Buffy, he could easily understand the reasons for Erika’s fury: centuries of being hunted by the Council and having slayer after slayer kill any werewolf they met without making any distinction on the basis of behavior or moral choices, made even him feel weary. He only hoped that things would go smoothly between his pack and his old friends.

Eventually, the two mates filled their trays with food from the open buffet and chose a table in one of the corners of the hall, trying very hard to ignore the inquisitive stares of some of the less discreet of the slayers gathered there for breakfast.

~~~***~~~

Buffy raised her head from the security documents she was studying when her door cracked open without warning. She was just about to tell off anyone who dared invade her space without asking for permission first, but bit her words back when Spike’s head popped in with an unrepentant grin.

“Wanna spar, or did you give up on the grunt work when you bought that helicopter I saw outside?” The way he wiggled his eyebrows made it impossible for her to keep a straight face, so she jumped over her desk and chased after the vampire, both of them laughing as he led her to the training hall.

Seems Dawn’s tour included info on where he can let some steam off. I gotta remember to thank her.

Since almost everyone was still eating breakfast, there were just five slayers present—a couple cleaning the weapons and three more doing some light exercises in preparation. Needless to say, they all stopped when the two people that were the talk of the castle above all others tore through the heavy wooden doors and stopped in the sunlit center of the room in what were obviously fighting stances, facing each other. Had it not been for the equally large grins the two were sporting, the young slayers might have gotten the wrong idea.

“With or without?” Buffy finished her question by raising her eyebrow and tilting her head slightly to the right, towards the wall filled with weapons.

Using his tongue to lick his upper front teeth, he sized her up and down with his eyes. “Do we really need weapons for this?”

Right hand trailing down her torso from between her breasts all the way down to just above her pelvis, she quipped right back, pouting for good measure, “But they make you feel all manly.”

With a shared shout of joy, the battle began. When one tried to hit high, the other one ducked and then went low, only to be countered and thrown back, and then a counter-attack was launched without a second thought. Indeed, there seemed to be no thinking involved in the deadly dance between the two, only pure instinct guiding every thrust, parry and blow, as it was being observed by an ever increasing number of occupants of the castle. Still, somehow, they seemed to find the energy and presence of spirit to keep taunting one another.

“You still hit like a girl.”

“Oi, Slayer, all man here!”

“Well then, prove it.”

“Knew you liked an audience, pet.”

“And the pig hath spoken”

“Thought I was a girl.”

“So you finally admit it. Is that what you’ve been doing the last two years with Angel?” She combined a spin-kick to the chest with a comical widening of the eyes. “Did you tape it at least?”

“Been thinkin’ about that for a while, have you?”

“That and oil.”

“Nah, just Mountain Dew.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I don’t kiss and tell, Slayer.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Not with you.”

“Shut up.”

On and on they went, their rhythm ever faster, the blows ever more powerful. The assembled audience, now comprising of almost everyone in the castle, recognized the moment when Buffy entered what Xander called ‘Super-girl mode,’ but to the shock of everyone, Spike didn’t even seem to notice. The strength behind one of Buffy’s hits could probably make even a slayer double over in pain, but Spike just shook them off like they were fly swats, giving just as good as he got. Quietly, through taps on elbows and tilting of heads, the people watching started debating on who would eventually win between the two. Even in popularity, they seemed to be evenly matched.

All of a sudden, everything was over. The two combatants stopped dead in their tracks, sprawled on the ground with the vampire on top of the Slayer, his hands around her head, mouth at her throat, but with her designated stake hand firmly planted on his chest, over his heart.

Nobody should look that happy with mutually assured destruction, but these two aren’t just about anybody, thought Xander with a warm smile on his face.

~~~***~~~

*Room 576, secret training facility, undisclosed location in the continental US*

A telephone rang, and the uniformed man behind the desk filled with documents and with a scar running along his right cheek, picked it up. He spoke, allowing for whoever it was on the other end to speak between each sentence.

“This is Rhoades. Yes. I understand. How many? Any survivors? Find out what you can.” He then put the receiver down with a clang. Raising his dark brown eyes to the man in civilian clothes across from him, General Rhoades gave the news he prayed he never would have to. “The Chernobyl dormant Hellmouth started showing signs of activity just before contact with the team there was lost. A retrieval team was sent, but they also disappeared. The Ukrainians have asked us and the Russians to send additional troops.”

Seemingly unperturbed, the man on the other side of the desk gave a curt nod. “I’ll tell the President. You might want to check on the others as well.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.” The General looked grim, his eyes travelling to the map of the world with a hundreds of different colored dots highlighting places such as Hiroshima, Krakatoa, Pompeii and Tunguska.

*Tunnel network under the Red Square, Moscow, Russian Federation*

Ginny was panting hard. For almost three years now she had been impersonating Buffy Summers as a fighter in the underground systems of the world. She had passed through ancient Roman tunnels in Europe, modern underground freeways in the States, and karstic caves in Asia. All the while she had been fighting demons that thought they could spread their evil from beneath the feet of the unsuspecting human population.

She took pride in the fact that she had destroyed numerous clans of vicious creatures and managed to come out of it all almost unscathed. Sure, once every six months or so, a nasty would eventually get close enough to take a big enough chunk out of her flesh to require a trip to the Slayer Castle for a couple of weeks of recuperation, but the rest of the time, she was one of the slayers with the biggest body-count there was: top ten at least.

Right now, however, she didn’t feel like patting her own back at all. She was dirty, tired and had three not-so-shallow gashes down the length of her left arm. Worse than any of that, though, was the fact that her entire team was dead, and she herself was running for her life. She had had casualties before, that much was true. Her dreams, whenever she found the time to actually sleep, were haunted by the faces of the seven girls she had led to their deaths. But this was the worst blow yet.

She had received a tip off that a powerful vampire lord was trying to take control of the Moscow underground, and she had taken all four members of her squad and gone in pursuit. Her team was one of the few that had not been grounded in the wake of Dracula’s deceit. When she’d gotten to the presumed meeting place, however, instead of Dracula, as she’d half-expected, she came face to face with a female vampiress that could only be Drusilla.

Ginny had recognized her by the crazy ramblings and old-fashioned clothes, as well as from her portrait—one of the many she had had to memorize before she was allowed to start her mission as a Buffy impersonator. Before she’d even had a chance to ponder the reason for Drusilla’s presence there posing as a Vampire Lord, her team had been spotted. It had all gone downhill from that point.

For the first time ever, the slayers had been outnumbered and outgunned, with the twenty or so demons under Drusilla’s control all wielding various firearms—something the squad had almost never had to deal with before—including a couple of rocket-propelled grenade launchers. Who takes a fucking RPG underground? You have to be mad to- Oh, wait. Yeah, that explains it.

Her team had been slaughtered within seconds, despite their Kevlar vests and other protective gear, and she had only gotten away by managing to split in half the head of one of the demons that was guarding the entrance. The ugly, scaly beast, with pointy teeth and even pointier claws, had managed to slash at her arm before slumping to the floor in a gurgling mess, but that hadn’t stopped her flight.

Too bad she hadn’t gotten very far before the bastards had tracked her. Now, as she was running as fast as she possibly could, her own sweat getting into her wounds and creating a stinging burn in her arm, her breathing so labored that it sounded like a bellows to her own ears; she knew her pursuers were only a couple of dozen feet behind her. She was forced to make as many twists and turns as she possibly could, risking being cut off, so as not to give the ones behind her a clear shot.

All of a sudden, there was a greater light at the end of the tunnel she was currently careening through. Her mind started going a mile a minute, trying to remember the details of the underground plans she had memorized before she had even gotten to the city. If her memory served her, and as a former pre-med, she had a pretty good feeling about it: up ahead was a junction for several major sewer systems, from where she could possibly be able to baffle the demons and escape. She only had to get to-

One of the most easily recognized weapon sounds in the world is that of the AK-47 on semi-automatic. The five shots that resounded throughout the sewers were followed by complete silence as Ginny’s lifeless body collapsed in a heap, like that of a marionette with its strings cut.

~~~***~~~

*Room 576, Secret Training Facility, Continental US*

General Rhoades’ map was bleeding. Or at least that’s what someone would have thought, had he looked at it out of the corner of their eye. The various highlighted locations on the map—indicating what were believed to have been, at some point in time, active Hellmouths—were turning bright red one by one, as reports came in that team after team of Spec-Ops being sent to investigate them disappeared. Highly trained personnel, from all the countries of the world, were being lost at an incredible rate.

Ever since the Initiative fiasco in Sunnydale, the US military had spent a lot of time and resources to create a network of agencies all over the globe that collected and shared information on HST activity. They had identified numerous locations just like Sunnydale with active portals attracting activity, right up until something or other had destroyed them.

Pompeii had been destroyed in an eruption, Sunnydale’s cover story was a meteorite impact, and Hiroshima had been leveled by an atom bomb that the Allies were going to use anyway, but that the British Government had insisted be deployed on that particular city. Further digging had uncovered that a certain Council of Watchers had been involved, just as with Sunnydale. Now all of these locations were being closely monitored by the members of the International Supernatural Awareness Pact and, one by one, they were being taken over by someone or something.

Rhoades picked up the telephone and barked a couple of orders. Soon, he was in contact with the officer in charge of operations in South and Central America.

“Camp Delta, Major Riley Finn speaking.”

“General Rhoades here—I have a job for you, Major. I need you to get in touch with the Slayers and ask them what the Hell is going on with the Hellmouths. As soon as you know something, I want a full report.”

“Am I permitted to leave my post if the mission requires it, Sir?”

Rhoades could practically hear the snap of Finn’s heels. Ever since he had returned to the Army, his actions had been exemplary, and his knowledge of the HSTs allowed for him to climb the promotion ladder relatively quickly for his age. The aging General liked obedience and lust for authority in a subordinate; such qualities made them useful tools. “Do whatever you have to, Major. Leave Captain Finn in charge there if need be.”

Sure, military code usually meant that fraternization was frowned upon, but the Finns had been given special dispensation, due to the delicate nature of their mission. It was commonplace for his wife to take her husband’s place in command when his duties required him elsewhere. She was particularly well-suited for negotiations with the other agencies with which they had to cooperate in South America. She was better than her husband, actually. As far as the General was concerned, having Riley go on an information gathering trip and leave his wife to organize the defense of the former Hellmouths was a win-win situation. He put the receiver back in the cradle and went back to contemplating his world map and monitoring the growing number of red dots.

~~~***~~~

*Brenner Pass, border between Austria and Italy*

A freight truck marked with the name of some transport company from Eastern Europe was driving on the highway through the Alps connecting Austria with Italy. Shortly after passing the highest elevation on the motorway, two cars maneuvered so that they framed the truck between them. Within seconds, dark shapes detached themselves from the undercarriages of the cars and maneuvered under both the truck and the trailer. A few bangs and crashes that didn’t even register in the driver’s cabin were all that could be heard as the shapes slithered into the back and completed their task.

When the driver arrived at his destination and opened the doors, he blanched at the sight before him. Everything he had been transporting was broken, with blood splattered everywhere, but thankfully no bodies. He tried to make heads or tails of what had happened, but couldn’t wrap his mind around it. After calling his boss, he got a container of fuel, dumped it into the truck, and set his rig on fire. A colleague would soon pick him up and bring him back home, never to speak of anything that he had seen ever again.

~~~***~~~

*Courtyard fountain, Slayer Castle, Scotland*

Buffy was standing in front of the fountain, almost as she had done countless times before, but not quite. This time she was wearing her training clothes instead of a dress; she was standing instead of sitting on the stone bench, and she was wired instead of relaxed. All in all, it was the complete opposite of her usual contemplative mode. And it was all his fault.

Ever since Spike had arrived, her peace in this place had all but evaporated. Where once she could stand there and not focus in on any particular subject, on any particular memory, letting them wash over her in a flood instead, like waves rolling over the pebbles on a beach, now she was feeling restless, ungrounded, as though ants were crawling under her skin. She wanted to go, do, act, and stop thinking for a while. And yet she knew that she needed to think things through. She had gone in without thinking before; they both had, and it had ended so badly, it made her shudder. Still, though, overthinking had also gotten her in trouble.

“Stupid vampire with his stupid hair.”

“Talking to yourself, Slayer? And about poor little ol’ me, no less? Makes me feel all kinds of giddy inside.”

She turned around cursing herself for not being able to sense him. Out of the whole population of the castle, he alone could still sneak up on her, and he was the last one she wanted to have that ability. There he was: strolling towards her, hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, the same ones he’d fought her in, same dark blue shirt, too.

“We need to talk.” There it was: the opening for the coming discussion. This time, she wouldn’t chicken out; this time they would talk about it.

“I know.” He sat down until he was sprawled on the bench, legs spread and looking as carefree as possible. They both knew he wasn’t.

“I have to know—” She decided to sit down beside him, kicking at his legs so he was forced to sit up. Looking him up and down again, she felt she just had to wipe the smirk off his face. “Did you know the tan makes you look older?”

He looked at her with an odd expression and then decided to light up a cigarette. Before he had a chance to, however, the pack was snatched out of his hands. “Oi! First you insult a bloke and then you take away his fags? Now that’s just not playing fair.”

She just grinned and put the crumpled packet in her back pocket. “You’ll live with it.” Giving him a sidelong glance, she set her sights on the fountain again. It was easier to talk if she didn’t see him, especially in the waning light of the day that seemed to make him look even better than normal. “Speaking of which, what are you now, really?”

He exhaled slowly, trailing the fingers of his left hand through his hair. When he spoke, he did so softly, as if afraid that raising his voice would disturb the magic of the moment. “I have no bloody clue. One day I was the same run-of-the-mill souled vampire, and the next, I found myself spread eagle on the ground, in plain view of ol’ sunshine upstairs, and I wasn’t burning. For a while I thought I got the Shanshu, especially when I started eating people-food when I got hungry as often as I needed blood. Sure got that wrong.”

Buffy couldn’t not ask the question that had been rattling around in her mind ever since she had found out about the prophecy. “Why did you want that so much? I get why Angel thought it was the best thing since sliced bread, but you?”

“The Poofter started wanting it back when he thought he could just show up as a full-blooded human and all would be forgotten; you’d jump his overgrown bones, and that would be that. Me, well, initially I just wanted it because he did, and I wanted to piss him off, show him who’s really got the wrinklies and all that.” He looked down in a bashful manner. “Then it just seemed like a good idea. Become something other than the ‘bloodsucking fiend.’” Raising his head with a boyish grin, he added. “I wanted to become a real boy.”

She didn’t smile back, instead locking her eyes with his. “But why? You’re Spike, you like being a vampire more than anyone I know. Why would you do that?”

“For me.” He almost shouted, but then continued in a softer tone. “I wanted it for me, okay?” When he caught on that she obviously didn’t understand, he explained further. “I wrote poetry for a woman; I got turned for another; I got a soul for yet another. I just wanted to do something for myself. I wanted to feel like my destiny was my own for probably the first time in my life.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for, pet. I chose to be love’s bitch, and I’m proud of it. I just wanted to change tracks for once. So I latched on to this idea and hung on for dear life. Only, in the end, it wasn’t me.”

“Why did Angel get it, then?”

“He really wanted it, I guess. As soon as I started… changing, I realized I didn’t want to become human. I like the power and the violence too much to want to return to being a simpering fool of a pulser. I fought it tooth and nail, even though I really like walking around in sunlight. Luckily, when we researched it, it was clear I was evolving into something else, not becoming human.”

Buffy felt a sting in her heart at that. She didn’t really know what Spike was turning into, but to hear him refute humanity that way seemed like a slap in the face for her, somehow.

“When we came through and Angel turned human, it was almost a relief. Should have seen Peaches; he was strutting around like he was the salt of the earth.” He snorted for good measure. “As for me—”

“You can walk in the sun, eat human food, and, most of all, you’re stronger. And I don’t mean worked-out-at-the-gym-stronger, I mean you could have easily knocked out a slayer back there. What happened?” She realized her slip of the tongue too late for him not to catch it and braced herself for his drilling.

“That’s right. I’m stronger. Been getting stronger ever since Sunnyhell. Each day I can feel myself getting sharper, more powerful, faster, but that doesn’t change one thing. You said I could have knocked out a slayer, and you’re probably right. So, Buffy, what are you? ”

He was looking at her so intently that she felt as though he could have seen her down to the bones if he tried, maybe even further still. “I’m what Xander keeps calling a ‘Super Slayer.’ I’ve noticed that I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been, and my senses are getting better and better. Even my spidey-sense can pick up anything and anyone, human or demon, as soon as they get within a hundred feet of me. All, that is, except you.”

He grinned at her again. “Guess they just don’t make them like us anymore, huh?”

Smiling herself, she swatted at his arm. “Yeah, I guess we’re unique.”

*Mark’s office, Spire Building, London, England*

Mark was fast reaching a point where heads would have to roll. Despite his best efforts—such as contacting every single last one of the people he still knew throughout the firm’s worldwide offices, as well as any and all human and demon contacts he could get a hold of—results had yet to appear. Sure, voices in the dark and the ever-present rumor mill were doing their job quite well at providing bits and pieces of information, but nobody anywhere seemed to be willing or able to talk about what exactly had gone on in the pocket-dimension that the Senior Partners had created in order to deal with Angel and his team.

And the picture, fragmented and incomplete as it might have been, was not a pretty one, at least not from where he was standing. Apparently Angel had somehow managed to trick the Order of the Black Thorn into accepting him within their ranks, only for them to be then double-crossed by the souled vampire. That had triggered a retaliatory attack by the Senior Partners themselves, resulting in the creation of the pocket dimension, where the battle had raged for the previous two years, without any clear winner. Then, all of a sudden, something happened and the Aurelians managed to get their hands on that blasted broom everyone seemed to have been in a snit about for the past couple of months or so and everything changed. The Senior Partners appeared to simply have ceased to exist, all of the senior management joining them in oblivion. How exactly was anyone’s guess, but most of the fault seemed to belong to the two souled vampires and the Destroyer, Angel’s son.

Yet despite these broad strokes, the details of the story continued to elude Mark. There were only a few points that could be confirmed. Charles Gunn, former member of Angel Investigations, former employee of WRH during Angel’s tenure with the LA branch, and combatant during the Black Thorn debacle on the side of the Aurelians, had become the leader of the armies of the Senior Partners, following his having been turned into a vampire, and had managed some measure of success against his former allies. More recent reports, however, placed him firmly in command of the dimension on the Aurelian side, joined by a member of the Old Ones named Illyria, who appeared to be his consort. The thought of such a union made Mark scoff, but the very few reliable sources he’d managed to track down that knew anything about that world were willing to swear to it.

The second piece of information was more enticing and had a better potential of being exploited in the future. The slayers stationed in Cleveland were not only hosts to Angel and his son, but they were also the only ones who appeared to still be in contact with the pocket dimension. Unfortunately, no one among the people there was willing to talk to anyone outside their Contingent—not even to those in the Slayer Castle—about anything that was happening on the other side. In fact, few even knew about the return of the Aurelians.

Mark looked over the supposedly detailed report, which he was to present to Giles as soon as possible. He doubted the current state of affairs would satisfy his boss. The only silver lining in what was essentially a failed intelligence-gathering mission on his part, was the chance to further increase the rift between the old Watcher and the Slayers by underlining their continued hidden knowledge, to which not even Giles was privy. With one last deep breath and a glance at the mirror, Mark set off to see whether a partial victory in one secret mission could outweigh an almost complete defeat in another.

~~~***~~~

*Spike’s temporary quarters, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*

His second night inside the Slayer Castle was turning out to be just as restless as his first. Despite having mended some of the burned bridges with the Scoobies, and especially with Buffy, their situation was still as undetermined as ever; perhaps even more so then other times. Of course, he could admit to himself that he was still as in love with Buffy as ever, but telling others—her especially—was proving more complicated. Back in the day, when there had been no soul to keep him in check, he’d still taken months to announce his feelings for her; now it was even more apparent that he couldn’t just walk up to her and say, “I love you!”

And even if he did, what would that accomplish? According to Faith and the others, Buffy hadn’t been idle in the time he’d been dimension-hopping, having even hooked up with another Slayer, among others. Now that’s one show I’d pay good money to see. Especially if I could jump in and give a helping hand or two. True, she was single now, but what type of relationship was she looking for? Did she want to find The One, or was she just interested in flings and short-term relationships, that wouldn’t interfere with her job, while letting her explore herself?

That was what he’d done while fighting alongside Angel. He’d sampled and experimented, all the while knowing on some level that none of those relationships would stand the test of time; knowing deep inside that none of them were his Slayer.

He turned over in his bed and looked at the mostly repaired room bathed in shadows. He would have to find someplace to call his own in this world of hers—somewhere permanent, not this Watcher cast-off—because he knew that leaving was off the table. He tried to lull his mind to sleep with lists of items he wanted or needed, categorized by necessity and difficulty of being obtained, but to no avail. The way she’d let him hold her hand for a while earlier that day was one of the best memories he’d had in his entire unlife, but he couldn’t find the courage to ask her what it all meant.

A battle was coming. One of those all-out, do-or-the-world-ends kinds of battles, and every single time he’d been part of such a battle, his life had changed almost completely. The one with Acathla had led to Dru dumping him after more than a century, starting a chain of events that saw him become a chipped vampire reluctantly working for the Slayer. The Adam fiasco had more or less ended his attempts to go against the Scoobies and was yet another nail in the coffin of his evilness and led to his growing love for the Slayer. Glory had been the reason why Buffy had had to die, only to be brought back a broken shell of the woman he loved, which had led to the whole heartache rollercoaster that had been their non-relationship that year, culminating in his getting his soul.

And then there was the First, marking Spike’s turn at the whole hero bit when he’d sacrificed himself for the world, but mostly for her. It had taken him months to get back to functioning as a normal person and it had also made him want to be his own man for the first time in his existence. Then Angel had started his end-all fight, this time on the right side of the fence, and they’d all been sucked into an alternate dimension. He’d finally grown up there, as well as become a vamp hybrid for yet unknown reasons. In hindsight, maybe he should have gone to Buffy earlier, but for the most part he’d felt sure that they both needed this time apart to understand who they each were, before they could possibly have any chance at a relationship in the future.

He finally drifted off after promising himself that he’d have the talk with her before the battle with Dracula.

~~~***~~~

*Buffy’s private chambers, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*

The Slayer was equally troubled by the thoughts running through her head, making sleep a distant goal. Ever since Spike had shown up, literally on her doorstep, she hadn’t been able to breathe, to take the time to think things through, and sort through her feelings and the information that seemed to just pour on all of them. Barely two days previously the Slayer Council had been working with the most powerful covens in the world, taking over the operations of the now rudderless WRH, and apart from not being able to track down Dracula, doing pretty well all in all.

Now it looked as though the forces at play that had kept quiet until now were so powerful that she gave a silent thanks that she was no longer the only Chosen One; she was pretty sure that had Dracula tried to take over the world using these tactics in the past, he might have succeeded, leaving her powerless to stop him. Still, it had also become clear that, had it not been for their repeated strikes against the most powerful demon lords during the previous three years, the power vacuum Dracula was now working on filling would never have been created. So maybe it’s all my fault, in a way.

Shaking herself free of self-doubts, she tried to take in what the Circle and their Wolf Guard meant for the slayers. From what Oz and Erika had told them, with Willow, Dawn, and Dana doing the cross-referencing that had pretty much proven their story, the Circle had been established at the beginning of the 17th century, with the primary purpose of banishing Dracula from his seat of power. Since then, they had grown in power, but had been themselves forced to relocate due to repeated raids during the many wars that plagued the Balkans, at about the same time that Dracula had been using Stoker to pull the wool over the world’s eyes as to his real power and intentions.

The wolves, although seemingly well-organized and paramilitary in their tactics, were a different matter altogether. They were the spearhead of the Circle’s attacks against Dracula, as well as the defenders of the witches from all manner of foes—such as the Council of Watchers themselves. Apparently a great number of the Wolf Guard had perished in clashes with Slayers, who didn’t look twice at whom they were hunting. The simple fact that they were werewolves had earned them a death sentence, despite the fact that no actual civilian casualties had been attributed to them. Even those few instances in which the wolves had been accused of such attacks were proven to have been primarily orchestrated by none other than Dracula.

And there was the ultimate rub: Buffy could just kick herself for having had that walking parlor-trick within striking distance for so long and not having done anything about it, having falsely believed him to be mostly harmless and more myth than threat. How badly they had all misjudged him. What was even worse, from Buffy’s point of view, was that no less than one hundred and thirty eight slayers had lost their lives in the past two and a half months since Willow’s trip to Sighişoara— Kennedy and Gina chief among them. That number was actually greater than all the Slayers who had died throughout the 20th century, despite its two world wars.

Slowing down her breathing and taking control over her tense muscles, making herself relax in order to fall asleep, Buffy decided everyone was to sit down the next day for a round of good, old-fashioned research and spilling of the beans. So far, every time someone started to make with the explanations, someone else barged in with new information. Hopefully, by the end of the next day, they would have more concrete answers, and they could start working on a plan to take Dracula down, once and for all.

And maybe, just maybe, Spike and she could finally finish that discussion about their past, so that they could maybe possibly think about the future.

~~~***~~~

*President’s office, Cotroceni Castle, Bucharest, Romania*

The President of Romania had barely sat down at his desk when the doors to his office flew open. He didn’t even manage to get halfway up from his seat, when a surreal sight froze him in place. Four people, who seemed to be wearing some type of demon costumes, came in carrying some sort of tent-like thing without a bottom, so that the person walking inside was able to completely avoid the sun. What was even stranger was the fact that the one inside the tent was smirking at him, acting as though he owned the place, despite being an unwanted intruder.

Once the panic button hidden under his desk was safely pressed, the president spoke to the man now standing on the opposite side. “What’s the meaning of this? Do you have any idea where you are? Get out of here now; surrender to the guards, and maybe the justice system will be lenient!” To the President’s shock, his words caused the man to laugh heartily, while his companions just bared their teeth—and what weird-looking teeth they had, indeed!

“You are powerless to do anything against me, puny mortal! I was the ruler of these lands centuries ago, and were it not for me, you yourself wouldn’t be here. Now sit there like the sack full of blood I know you to be, and listen to my terms.” Letting his words sink in a bit, the stranger put his foot on one of the ornate chairs facing the President’s desk and leaned forward slightly, apparently mindful not to let any sunbeams touch his skin, while seeming unconcerned at the same time. “I am Vlad the Third, also known as ‘The Impaler,’ and I have returned to my homeland to take back my birthright and cleanse it from evil, just as the poet prayed for.” He accompanied his last words with a dramatic widening of the eyes, followed by the most evil of smiles.

*

“I don’t know where you come from, but my-” Whatever the president was about to say died on his lips, when Vlad revealed his demonic face, fangs bared and eyes alight with demonic glee.

“I come from the bowels of the Sultan’s dungeons, from the highest mountain peaks, where I built my citadels. I come from Hell on a mission from Heaven, and you will do my bidding or you and your entire family will be slaughtered like lambs. I will do just as the poet wished and throw all of you ‘politicians’ in jail or the insane asylum, before I burn them both to the ground. I’ll hunt down everyone that you hold dear and nail them to the doors of churches, so that the people will know to fear and obey me and God!” As he spoke, Dracula’s gaze seemed to grow in intensity. His speech became more booming and by the end of it, the president was cowering in his seat, his body drenched in sweat and wracked by fear.

In the still silence that descended after Vlad’s words, only the faint sounds of distant screams could be heard, as the last remaining soldiers tasked with defending the palace were drained and turned. Finally, an eerie calm overcame the president, and he smiled a subservient smile, with just a hint of maliciousness. “What is it that you command, my Lord?”

“First of all, I want you to introduce me to the government and to Parliament, and then I want to see your battle plans.”

“Whom are we to fight, Master?” All traces of defiance had been eliminated from the president’s brain, as the combination of fear and shock weakened his mental defenses enough for him to become a complete thrall to Dracula’s power.

Vlad, who had already turned and was being escorted to the door by his demon followers, paused and uttered only one word: “Everyone!” He would once more directly and totally control his country, after he had frightened, beaten, and enthralled the remaining politicians into submission.

______

*Dracula’s words are in reference to the poem “The third letter” (third of a series of five epic poems) by Mihai Eminescu, the Romanian national poet. In the poem, he initially describes the rise of Islam and particularly of the Ottoman Empire through a dream sequence, followed by the meeting between the Sultan Bayezid (also called 'The Lightning') and Mircea the Elder, a Romanian ruler (the grandfather of Vlad the Impaler) before one of the most famous battles between the Ottomans and the Romanians. The battle ended with the former being driven back across the Danube. The epic poem ends with a scathing description of 19th century Romania as being ruled by much lesser men than the titans of old, and includes a prayer for the Impaler to return and clean house by splitting the politicians into two groups, the mad and the treacherous, after which he would set fire to both the madhouse and the prison.

*Council Room, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*
The rectangular room with stone walls and Spartan decorations, consisting solely of a large, oval table and chairs, and an assortment of weapons adorning the walls, was filled with the chatter of the assembled people. Present were the Scoobies in their current form. Buffy, as the Head Slayer, was seated at one end of the table, the Slayer Scythe on the wall behind her. Xander and Dawn sat on her immediate right and Willow on her left. Next to Willow was Andrew, who had flown in overnight from Italy to clarify his allegiance, show his support, bring the latest news from the Immortal’s camp, and beg forgiveness from both Buffy and Spike for his role in keeping Spike’s return a secret. Since he’d first sat at the table, he’d kept his head down, talking only with Willow, Xander, or Dawn and studiously avoiding answering any pertinent questions until the meeting would officially start, and he’d get to have his say.
Spike had chosen to sit on the opposite end of the table from Buffy, so that he could more easily encompass everyone seated in one glance. Erika and Oz were on his right, leaving two empty chairs on his left. Another empty chair was between Andrew and Oz, while opposite the redheaded werewolf and next to Dawn sat Dana, as a representative of the rest of the slayers, as well as being their resident ‘Slayer Researcher.’ Dana, upon first seeing Spike enter, had given him a tight-lipped smile and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Her apology received a nod from the bemused vampire. Alia was not present, due to Buffy’s unwillingness to play favorites, so she was off on guard duty for the day.
As greetings and personal discussions finally died down, Buffy took it upon herself to make sure they kept on topic from then on. “First things first. Andrew, tell us what’s new in Italy.”
The boy had truly grown up. Now sporting a goatee, a better haircut, and a fine business suit, Andrew looked the part of the manager of a law firm, but faced with the vampire he had once worshipped, his eyes betrayed fear and trepidation. Swallowing once to get control of his voice, he set about detailing the Immortal’s information regarding their enemy’s recent moves. “Dracula’s been breeding an army in the Balkans. He also has spies infiltrated everywhere, from the smallest island in the Aegean, to the halls of the UN and the US Congress. The number of his followers is unknown, but is believed to be growing very rapidly.” Meeting Buffy’s eyes for the first time since his arrival, he went on with his report. “Mary says the Immortal will keep Italy clear of Dracula’s influence, but that even so, he doesn’t have enough power to go on the offensive. What’s even more worrisome is that everything demonic east of the Alps, west of the Urals, south of the Karelia and north of the Euphrates is now controlled by Drac and Drac alone. All the other demons, vampires, and even the human demon hunters and witches that were there and were opposing his rule are now gone—either dead or turned.”
“And the slayers there died as well,” Buffy added in a quiet voice, the losses weighing heavily on her.
“Yes. But this is just the beginning.” Andrew went on to tell them about reports of activity on all the continents that were traced back to Dracula, as well as chilling stories about demon/vampire/human death squads roaming the Russian steppes, armed with weapons capable of taking down just about any threat they might encounter, short of an aerial strike.
The more Buffy heard, the stonier her face got, her mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out what their next step could be. By the time Andrew was done presenting his information, she felt that she needed to kill something—preferably slowly. “What about the lawyers? How’s it going on that front?”
Andrew’s face broke out in a proud grin as he praised his staff and how they seemed to be willing to forego their previous employers’ evil ways. He mentioned that similar reports were coming in from all the WRH branches. “By my estimates, we’ll be in full control by the end of the year, at the latest.”
“At least that’s something!” Buffy met Spike’s gaze, signaling his turn to finally tell his story.
“So, after the Poof had fought these blighters ever since he left Sunnyhell, he suddenly decides to up and change tactics, literally making a deal with the Devil. Apparently he just couldn’t bear it if the world remembered his son, so he made it so that everyone forgot everything about Connor, in return for Angel’s becomin’ Evil Inc’s new boss.”
“Whoa, whoa there, Captain Peroxide. Whaddaya mean son?”
“Not my story to tell, Mad-Eye.” Taking a deep breath, he went on. “When I joined the merry band of idiots, Peaches was already working on his master-plan that would strand us in another dimension and cost us an arm and a bloody leg in casualties. I guess it worked in the end, though, so can’t rightly blame the bloke for trying,” he amended scratching the back of his head. “Anyway, after about a year of fighting tooth and nail, I finally managed to convince Angel to bring his son in on our side.” Everyone at the table could feel the severity of those actions, as Spike decided to forego his usual nicknames, his voice getting graver. “We still had it pretty rough out there. By the time another year passed, we were nearing the end of our collective rope, with just enough left to hang ourselves. And hang we did.” And there he was, smirking again, his fingers fidgeting for the need of a smoke.
“Wesley was all Casper-like after the whole mess with the Black Thorn, yeah? So he pops in one day like usual, only this time he tells us he’s got the buggers’ number. And all we have to do is get this old broom from a hole in the ground where nobody would miss it, and presto! No more Senior Partners.”
“Hardly unmissed.” Erika’s gaze was trained on the vampire, but again, it didn’t reflect hostility; instead it showed just acceptance and resolve, something that Spike felt deserved at least some respect. “That broom was nothing but a physical vessel that acted as a catalyst for the Circle’s powers, allowing them to keep in check the influence that Dracula tried to exert. Needless to say, when it was stolen, the connection was severed and this allowed the Dark Lord to return to his seat of power, leading to the current crisis.”
“We did what we bloody well had to, and we’ll deal with the Transylvanian Bat and his bands as well.”
“Do not misunderstand; what you did, you had to do.” Seeing he was still not getting the full meaning of her words, the Wolf Guard leader decided to explain. “By that, I mean that your interference was fated, and we have waited for you to take the Sacred Source for the past hundred years.”
“That’s just priceless, that is. Let me guess: it was prophecy, right? Why can’t you lot leave well enough alone? Oh, I know. Let’s write up some more tripe for our favorite go-to vamp to do. Want me to fetch you the bloody paper while we’re at it?”
“I thought I was fetching the paper, being Dog Boy and all.” Oz’s comment left Spike stopping in the middle of his rant, opening his mouth to curse and yet unable to think of a single reason why he’d want to. The rest of the people around the table, Erika included, were chuckling or outright laughing at the sight.
Just as Buffy was feeling good about finally being able to get somewhere with their meeting, there was knock on the door, followed by the appearance of one of the junior slayers accompanied by none other than a smiling Riley Finn. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Just what we bloody needed: the Hall Monitor come back to haunt us.” With those words from Spike, every bit of levity was gone from Riley’s face, and he and the vampire started glaring at each other.
“I’d really hoped Buffy had gotten her head on straight and dusted your sorry ass a long time ago.”
“Children, please, stop bickering.” Xander had gotten up from his seat and was standing halfway between Spike and Riley, although his posture indicated he sided with the vampire this time. Nobody was more surprised about this than Spike himself, who sprawled back in his seat in a deceptively relaxed pose.
The soldier just shrugged his shoulders and redirected his attention towards Buffy. “I have some official business to discuss with you. Shall we go somewhere more private?”
A bit thrown by the rapid mood changes in the room, Buffy was left agape. “Are you kidding me?” She shook her head a bit to clear her mind and skip all the questions or statements that would probably lead to endless discussions about previous choices, then straightened her shoulders, displaying every bit of authority that came with her position. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of everyone.”
With a slight frown followed by a curt nod, Riley did a round of handshaking, without skipping either the people he hadn’t previously met or Spike, to the latter’s apparent great amusement. To his credit, though, the vampire decided to keep his mouth shut after his initial outburst, focusing instead on looking as at home as possible in the Slayer’s Council Room.
“I’m here on a mission from the International Supernatural Awareness Pact, or ISAP, which is a joint operation between the US Government and specialized agencies around the world. The purpose of the ISAP is to observe and contain supernatural threats against the human population, without doing any experimentation on the side.” He hastened to add the last part when he saw how the Scoobies stiffened at the news. “Look, the Initiative was a disaster, but we’ve gotten much better at this, and the fact that almost all the countries of the world have some sort of involvement in it should ease your mistrust at least a little.” Looking deadly serious and ignoring Spike’s disbelieving snort, Riley accented his words by slapping his palm on the table. “There are no ‘Super-soldier’ programs, chips, or cells. We’re completely on the up-and-up.” Grinning a bit, he amended, “Well, as much as a secret organization created to battle supernatural forces that the general populace is unaware of can be.” He took a deep breath while some of the others snickered at his words.
“That’s all fine and dandy, but what about the whole chasing us like hardened criminals bit from a couple of years back? Lemme guess: mistaken identity? You didn’t know about the one-armed man?” Xander had sat back down after Riley and was now craning his neck to look around Dana with nothing but accusation at the guy he had once looked up to.
“Look, I had nothing to do with that, and my superiors have given me permission to extend their deepest apologies.” He shrugged, his face clearly showing he was uncomfortable with the subject. He immediately squared his shoulders, his features stony and all traces of amusement gone. “I didn’t come here to talk about past mistakes. I came here to tell you that someone is attacking the Hellmouths.” He paused for a second for effect, before piercing Buffy with his most grave look. “All of them.”
“I thought only the ones in Cleveland and Jaweng were active, and we’ve got them covered. So unless your sources come from the bowels of Hell, I think we’re fine, and you can go back to your superiors and leave us to do our job. You remember my job, right? I’m the one who saved the planet over and over while your precious military was doing its darnedest to get in my way.” Buffy was getting fed up with people coming in every five minutes with dire news. She knew it was probably unfair to take it out on Riley, but she didn’t feel like being fair—especially because she still hadn’t really yelled at him since the night she’d found him in the vamp whorehouse. And she’d been completely nice to his wife, while he’d made her blow up her boyf—…that is, her vamp’s home.
“We’ve been keeping tabs on the dormant hellmouths, just to stay on the safe side. Starting about a week ago, we started losing contact with more and more of the locations. To make matters worse, all the teams we sent in to appraise the situation have also been lost.”
Buffy bristled at the tone Riley was using now, as though he were a teacher talking to a naughty child. She could see how maybe he was a tiny bit right. Still, she felt she was owed a bit of leeway for her pettiness. Looking around the table, she decided she had to be the adult once again and leave personal differences for when the next possible apocalypse wasn’t just rearing its ugly head.
“So you’re saying that you soldier-boys finally got your heads out of your collective asses and tried to do something not so half-cocked, only to have some new Big Bad rip you a new one.” Spike actually looked like he felt sorry for Riley, or at least he did for the dead men.
Buffy didn’t remember ever seeing him show so much compassion for someone he hadn’t even met. That last year in Sunnydale he had mostly been out of his mind with grief over his own actions, or tortured by the First, or focused on helping her, so he hadn’t really had the chance to—well—show off his soul. The realization was pretty sobering.
“And I’ll be twice buggered if we won’t find the wretched, old bat mixed up in all of this.” Leaning forward, Spike pinned Riley with an intense stare. “Better tell us where he hit and how badly; no use going off half-arsed, deaf, dumb, and blind for no reason.”Apparently Spike was either better than the Head Slayer at faking adulthood, or he’d done some real growing up in the other dimension. So what exactly were this new Spike’s feelings for plain old Buffy?
~~~***~~~
*Slayer HQ, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil*
The entire group of slayers from the Rio Contingent was gathered for a meeting concerning the prioritizing of targets, when the doors were suddenly blasted open in a hail of debris and shrapnel. Through the now gaping hole, about fifty demons of all breeds and sizes burst in and started fighting the stunned slayers. In less than a minute, all the girls were bound and gagged, while all the rest of the people that were there to help them were soon dead. The girls were spirited away to the lair of the new player in town, while the house behind them became engulfed in flames.
~~~***~~~
“Wolfram and Hart building, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil”
The offices of Wolfram and Hart in Brazil faced their own midnight assault. Fierce skirmishes took place between the few slayers under Rona’s command and wave after wave of vamps and other demons. Not even the help of the security staff and a friendly gang of human demon hunters was enough to turn the tide, as each casualty of the enemy forces was easily replaced, while the defenders had no back-up coming. Unlike the previous assault on the Rio Contingent, the attackers had orders to kill on sight—no prisoners, no mercy. So it was even more amazing that after all was said and done, a lone figure managed to crawl out from under the rubble, severely wounded but still alive and with urgent news for the slayers.
The news was that the leader of the assault had been one of them once…and that Kennedy was on her way to “rape, torture, and kill—maybe not in that order” her former team-mates.

*Cleveland Contingent HQ, Cleveland, USA*
Looking out toward the rising sun, Angel picked up the receiver and prepared to dial the number he’d been afraid to for more than a month. Well, more like three years, if he had to be honest with himself. Why he picked that particular moment to make the call, he would never know, but it just felt right. Maybe it was the fact that Julie was pregnant with his grandson; maybe it was the fact that he had figured out he was in love with Kasumi; maybe it was the three years spent in Spike’s company, the last two in the alternate dimension forcing the two vampires to really talk and get everything out in the open—including a complete account of what had actually been going on in Sunnydale without him; maybe it was that he admitted to himself that he and Buffy weren’t going to get the fairy-tale happy ending they had once dreamed about. Whatever it was, it had gotten him out of his Slayer-filled bed and into Faith’s office with a phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect. After a few moments to get cleared, he stayed quiet as he heard breathing on the other end.
“Go for Buffy!” She sounded tired, apprehensive, and maybe just a bit hostile, making Angel think for a split second that maybe he should just hang up and leave the discussion for another time.
He shook the thought off and gathered his courage. “Hi, Buffy. It’s me.” He paused a second before deciding that maybe he shouldn’t presume so much. “Angel.”
“Yeah, I know; they told me.” She didn’t sound any friendlier or any more at ease.
“Uh, how are you?” He was trying hard, but failing to get over just how wrong the discussion felt.
“I’m busy.”
That sounded very much like a brush-off, and Angel took a second to think that maybe this was the reason why they hadn’t really kept in touch while he was in L.A. Maybe they were just unable to pick up the phone and carry a civilized conversation with one another. In some weird way, the thought brought him some peace, absolving him somehow of his part of the fault, while at the same time making his soul hurt for the ever-widening gap between them. And maybe he should have thought about all of that and about what he actually wanted to say before picking up the bloody phone. Great, now he was even channeling Spike. “Yeah, sorry. Look, if you want, I could maybe call at another time-”
A deep sigh could be heard from the other end. “No, that’s okay, really. I just—There’s a lot piling up with the whole Dracula thing, on top of the Wolfram and Hart thing, on top of the usual running an army of slayers, and now apparently the old hellmouths are being taken over by, we think, Dracula still and—It’s just a bit crazy.” At least her voice had softened some. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” And how exactly was he going to explain what ‘good’ meant these days? Maybe he should have written talking points on some post-its. He shunned that thought away as pathetic. He would just have to man-up and get on with it. “I know you know by now that I’m back. That I have been back for a while now, but I couldn’t really call you because, well, there was the whole alternate dimension bit going on for a while.” He waited for just a split second and, before she could say anything, finally took the proverbial bull by its horns. “I’m sorry.” That left them both speechless for a few seconds.
“What exactly are you sorry for?” There was the hostility and coolness back in her voice.
It hurt him to hear her addressing him like that, but he admitted to himself that he did have it coming. “For not helping you more back in Sunnydale, for not telling you about my plans involving Wolfram and Hart, for not really keeping in touch…for many things.” With each word, he felt his heart lighten and a weird sense of euphoria took hold of him, so before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out his main regret. “And most of all, I’m sorry about Spike.” He was a bit stunned and proud of saying it, late as it was.
“Is that all?”
“Well, I’m also human, but I guessed you found that out already. I know that’s what we wanted at some point, me to become human so that we could be together again, but-“
“But you took the day back.”
The words and the flat tone in which she said them made his blood run cold and his stomach clench. “You know about that, huh?”
“After Sunnydale, there was this thing, and I couldn’t get out of it unless I remembered. And so I remembered everything. Wanna guess what actually surprised me more?”
He almost kept quiet, but as the saying goes, in for a penny—in for a pound. “What?”
“That even after that, it came as news that you’d had a son…with Darla.”
The way she spat out the name made Angel flinch on the other end, but what shook him more was the resignation in her voice. Like she wasn’t that surprised he’d kept those things from her. Like she was expecting him to fail her in some way. And maybe she was, and rightly so. He wondered how it all got so fucked up. “I did what I thought was right at the time, but…I’m sorry, Buffy. I’ve had some time to think things through on the other side, and I’m really, truly sorry about everything.” He sounded weak and pathetic even to his own ears. He didn’t much care.
“I know. I’m sorry too.” All traces of venom were gone from her voice, though the tired resignation was still there. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think we ever really had a chance.” In her voice, he could hear the rueful smile that mirrored his own.
“I guess you’re right.” He felt like laughing and crying at the same time, but just settled on being slightly numb. “I promise that I’ll always be there if you need me, though. Even without any vampire powers, I’m stronger than a normal human. I can still hold my own in a fight, not to mention that I’ve learned a trick or three over the centuries.”
“Thanks. By the way, I really hope you and Kasumi are happy together. And congratulations on becoming a grandfather soon, for real, not just in the vampire grand-sire kind of way. Let me know when the baptism is and, barring any apocalypse…”
There was warmth in her voice for the first time then, and it filled him with a sense of peace as well. “Of course. I think the girls talked, and we’re going to have it in common with Faith’s kid.”
“That’s nice. Say hi to everyone there from me and the gang, and we’ll talk…” She was getting ready to end the call, the nervous trepidation back in her voice.
“Yeah, we will. Bye, Buffy.”
“Bye, Angel.”
“You know I’ll always love you, right?” He held his breath, waiting for her to reply something.
“Yeah, me too.”
And then she hung up, and all he could hear was the dial tone. He stood there, still holding the receiver to his ear for a few moments, until he sensed another presence entering the room from behind him. He felt warmth engulf him, and a bright smile blossomed on his lips as he turned around to look at a still slightly sleep-addled Kasumi. “Hey, lover, what are you doing up so early?”
She crossed the room and snuggled in his waiting arms. “Missed you.”
“Let’s get you back to bed then.”
~~~***~~~
*Later that night, Buffy’s study, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*
After a short knock, Spike opened the door and poked his head in, without waiting for permission from inside. “Hey, Slayer, where can a not-so-vamp looking for a good brawl go around here?”
Buffy seemed to be startled by his words out of a good old-fashioned brood session, but then again he’d gotten used to such happenings with the Great Poof, Master of the Worldwide Brood Association. He made a mental note to call him that the next time they talked and he wanted to rile him up.
“What? Oh, right. Patrol.” She shuffled some papers on her desk willy-nilly, trying to buy some time to think about whatever it was that was bothering her. “I’ll call to see if the chopper is ready to take a team out.”
Spike walked in with an ‘are you kidding me?’ look on his face. “So let me get this straight. I can’t go out hunting unless I take a gaggle of super-charged teenagers with me in a bloody helicopter which I bet scares away everything in a five mile radius? How big is your kill-rate lately? And by your, I mean the whole bloody castle’s, ’cause I now know a thing or two about the slayers down by the hell-hole in Cleveland, and they sure as rain didn’t have air-lifts.” Seeing her narrow her eyes at him brought back memories of countless broken noses at her hands for just such comments. He briefly wondered why exactly he always managed to put his foot in his mouth when it came to her. All that was missing was him mentioning dimpled knees.
“The chopper is one of the super-silent models that you need a hearing aid on a vampire to detect when it’s on top of you, and as for the ‘gaggle,’ the default Slayer Team is made up of five girls that cover an area of about the size of Sunnydale every night, while keeping in touch via walkie-talkies and other such things that some relics from the time of the dinosaurs maybe haven’t heard about.” The glare she was pinning him with would have withered weaker men to the ground. “Our kill-rate is really good, considering we pretty much cleared out most of Scotland’s harmful demons. That is another reason we need a helicopter to reach our hunting grounds: you can’t catch any demons within walking, or even driving distance anymore.”
Properly chastised, Spike lowered his head and put on his most innocent face. “I didn’t mean any harm by it, luv; it’s just that I’m not really used to having so many slayers running around, and it’s making me a mite testy.” Seeing her face lose some of its hardness, he decided to go for broke. “Also, I was actually hoping you’d accompany me. Make it sort of a ‘for old time’s sake’ outing with yours truly.” That managed to get a small smile out of her.
With an overly-dramatic sigh, Buffy picked up the receiver from the landline on her desk and dialed an internal number. “Buffy here. I need to know when the next possible outgoing flight is. I’ll be taking Spike with, so I don’t really need to wait for a team to accompany me.” She listened a bit without looking at Spike, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, while she kept herself busy tidying up her desk. “Okay, we’ll be there.” She looked up at him, a slight twinkle in her eyes. “They can take off in five minutes, so that the pilot is back in time to pick up the regular patrol.” She got up and walked toward him. “We have weapons in the hangar, but if you need anything else…”
He smirked, letting his features turn to his vampire face. “Got this and you alongside me. What more could I possibly need, Slayer?”
She laughed lightly and walked around him and through the door, seemingly confident that he would follow. So follow he did.
*
The area they had been dropped off in was desolate, and Spike wondered what self-respecting demon would possibly roam this type of terrain. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but jagged rocks piled together to make up what obviously passed for hills around here, with grass stubbornly growing along the rounded tops, making the whole area a strange mix between savage and tame. He was loath to ask what they were doing there, since the Slayer had kept quiet on the entire ride over, and was currently busying herself with making sure all the straps were tight and all the weapons she had on her were in place.
After Buffy checked with some GPS monitoring device, they took off northwards. Everything she did was a far cry from the simpler days of patrolling the Hellmouth, even with its thirteen cemeteries, darkened alleys, and abandoned warehouses. Spike shook off the thoughts of what was, in essence, a past life for both of them. Instead he half-focused on searching out any demon activity, while the rest of his attention was directed at taking in the sight of Buffy on the hunt.
She was still magnificent. Despite the gadgets and Kevlar and other such things that had been added, the main part of her, the Slayer part, was still as graceful and as breathtaking as ever. She moved with confidence, her body silent as a shadow’s, but prepared to strike at a moment’s notice. In the end, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You’re not as vocal as you used to be.” His mind shouted a warning at him about possible misunderstandings, so he decided to explain. “I mean on patrol. You used to always make some sort of noise while you were patrolling, especially running that mouth of yours.”
“Are you saying I was some sort of elephant that stomped around?” The quirked lips let him know she wasn’t really offended.
“Not at all, just more ‘Here I am; come and get me.’ Why the change?”
“Now there’s an army of us, so it’s only the dumbest demons on the planet that willingly attack Slayers anymore. They got the message that where one of us is, another is not that far, ready to take out anything that just one Slayer might not be able to handle.” She frowned a bit, her mouth pursing slightly in annoyance. “Of course, that just makes it harder for us to hunt the bad ones down, but on the upside, it also means that they’re less likely to actually do evil in the first place. I guess it’s a bit of a compromise.”
They walked in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. After a few more minutes, they could finally sense a demon nearby. When they got closer, they could see it was a huge thing, with what looked like thick, scaly skin covering its massive body, and sharp spikes jutting out from its collar bone and shoulders. This should be a bloody blast!
Despite Spike’s earlier bravado, they’d taken their swords with them. They drew them, grinning at each other, and charged forward. Working together came easy, even surprisingly so. Despite not having fought together for more than three years, they managed to move like a well oiled machine, their muscle memory allowing them to fall back into what both had thought were long forgotten patterns. Spike went high, while she went low, left and right, then switch and repeat, and then again, for good measure. Swipe, punch, parry, and kick, then roll and do it again. In the end, the demon lay dead, two of its spikes broken in the fight, and a number of holes oozing dark blood from where the swords had made contact.
The slayer and vampire stopped moving, their gazes locked, their bodies trying to recover from the exertion by panting. He could feel the high from the adrenaline, his demon roaring in delight from the fight, and even his soul was elated at being alive. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, seemingly frozen in time, smelling the way the rush was also affecting Buffy, until he took one step toward her. She responded by jumping in his arms, and then his mind short-circuited as their lips finally met.

*About 80 miles north of the Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK, first week of September*
Spike’s ability to think restarted at probably the most unlikely moment: when Buffy had already managed to undo the belt on his camouflage trousers and reached inside to cup his hardness in her right palm. With a start, he tried to pull back from the full assault of her kisses, while at the same time fighting his own body’s unquenchable thirst for hers. Despite it being a mostly losing battle, he managed to put enough distance between their mouths to yell, “Stop, Buffy, please”!
While he consciously knew why he wanted her to stop, when faced with the shock and betrayal written across her features, the logic of it all seemed to escape him for a heartbeat. By the time he’d gathered his wits, Buffy was already two steps away, readjusting her clothes, and studiously glaring at him. He knew her well enough to know that he was treading on extremely thin ice and was probably just a wrong word away from possibly being stranded here, in the middle of nowhere.
“We need to flesh this out before anything happens. I was actually planning on talking to you about this—us—sometime soon, maybe in that plush study of yours, but I guess this place will do in a pinch.” He was relieved when she didn’t say anything but kept watching him through narrowed eyes, without stomping away, flaring nostrils aside. “Look, there’s only one way to say what I’m about to say, and it might sound bad at points, but please hear me out.” He took a deep breath and decided to go all in, right from the start. “I love you. Never doubt that.”
Her face softened at his admission, and she pointed at some nearby rocks. “Maybe we should be sitting for this, huh?”
He gave her a reassuring smile and joined her on the somewhat flat surface of a large nearby bolder. He took her right hand in his left while he gathered up the courage to get through the beginning.
“I don’t—I can’t let us start this like this. Not again.” He gestured with his right hand at the surrounding lands. “I mean look at this place. Not exactly a run-down building, but the main part is the same: it’s not what I want our first time together to be. Not what we deserve it to be.” She frowned slightly and looked like she was about to object to something, so he hurried to add. “Not that doing it spontaneously on patrol isn’t fun and all, but I’d really like us to actually make it to the bed.” They both smiled at the memories this elicited, but her smile turned into another frown easily enough.
“So it isn’t that you don’t want me anymore? It isn’t that—”
“God, no!” He turned slightly so that he was facing her completely, his legs on either side of the rock. “I want you just as badly as I ever did, but when I say that, I mean I want it all, Slayer. I want us to be out in the open, both in it the same way. As it should be…” ‘As it was always supposed to be’ was left unsaid. He saw her flinch a bit and realized she must have guessed his thoughts. It gave him a sick feeling of satisfaction mingled with guilt and longing. And that was exactly why they needed to had that talk. But that she still wasn’t saying anything, maybe waiting for him to tell her ‘it’s okay,’ now he’d finished putting his cards on the table and it was her turn to bet or fold. “So this is how it is, Buffy. It’s either us together in a relationship or nothing at all; I can’t have this adrenaline fueled, destructive, hateful thing we used to have.”
She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head, and for just a millisecond there, he almost raised his hand to check if it was so. “Is that—You think…” She closed her eyes, as if she were in physical pain, and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again, she was calm and her lips twitched with the traces of a smile. “You’re an idiot.”
That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. It was probably among the last things on the list of what he’d expected her to say, and yet there she was, having said it and looking at him as if she expected him to understand the answer to all his questions from that single statement. “What?”
Her face broke out in a brilliant smile then, the image of it almost making him ache. He wasn’t even sure if she’d ever smiled at him like that, at least not without some spell involved. Before he could manage to sift through all the memories he had of her, she’d taken her hand out of his and cupped his cheek. “So you’re saying that you stopped me—stopped us—from taking the next step because you think I’d keep you as my dirty little secret? Again?” He was too stunned to say anything, so he just nodded, which caused Buffy to chuckle again, although it sounded more self-deprecating this time around. “We’re both idiots, then.”
She took another deep breath and sighed. “I listened to you, so now you listen to me, buster. I’m sorry.” The last sentence was said softly, almost like a caress.
Combined with the actual caress on his cheek, it made him think that maybe she wasn’t apologizing for not wanting to start something, but for something else. Something more. He really hoped it was more, but he just had to make sure. “What for, pet?”
“Where to start?” She lowered her palm, but he didn’t get to miss it for long before she took his hand in her own again. “I’m sorry for how I treated you back in Sunnydale; for not telling anyone about us; for denying what you felt, as well as what I felt… But most of all, I’m sorry for not telling you that I loved you until it was too late. And I did love you! For a long time before I told you, I could feel it growing inside me, but I was stupid and selfish and scared and I didn’t tell you.” Silent tears were coursing down her cheeks. He felt like wiping them off but was frozen in place instead, while she went on. “I loved you back then and I still love you now. And everyone in the castle already knows about us, so there will be no more secrets.”
They were kissing again. He wasn’t sure which one had moved, but it didn’t matter anymore. They were kissing each other with wanton abandonment, lips demanding and desperate, shallow breaths through open mouths because of stuffy noses, tears falling unheeded from both of their eyes; it was perfect.
After a long while, the frantic pace of their make-out session died down, leaving them both breathless, but content. They had moved at some point to a kneeling position on top of the rock they’d been sitting on. Their hands were no longer clasped together; instead, they were banded around each other, palms splayed on each other’s back. And they were both smiling.
“So this means we give it the good old Oxford try?”
She slapped at his arm with the back of her hand. “Of course, you doofus. We’re all with the togetherness having.” They were both grinning widely at her use of the language patterns she’d mostly outgrown since Sunnydale.
“And there goes the Slayer, mangling the language as usual.”
“It’s not my fault. Kissage with the hot, undead boyfriend fried my brain.” Giving him a coy look, she leaned closer to his ear. “Now, is there anything I could do to get you to go back to making with the happy?”
He felt a shiver of pleasure go up his spine. “I’d love to, Buffy, but there’s a few things that stop me.” He started kissing her from above the turtleneck she was wearing, all the way to her ear. “First of all, I want to do right by you and lick and kiss and bite and suck every inch of your delicious flesh.” He demonstrated what each meant on her pulse-point, eliciting strangled gasps from her. “And I don’t plan on you getting a cold in this nature’s freezer while I do it.” Even for a vamp, the plunge in temperature was obvious—all the more so with Spike’s increasingly human constitution. “Secondly, I seem to remember that castle of yours being furnished with nice comfy beds, and it would be a real crime not to take advantage of that fact.” He sucked her earlobe in his mouth and bit it lightly. “Thirdly, this isn’t exactly familiar territory for me, and I’d hate to have to stop in the middle of things just because some idiot could smell or hear us from a mile away and decided to crash the party.” The way she was clawing at his back was almost painful, despite the layers of material from his shirt and leather jacket. “And lastly, you seem to have forgotten about the most important thing.”
Spike stopped doing anything to her then, content to just hold her in his arms. He had to wait a few seconds until she opened lust-filled eyes at him. “Wh—What?”
Using two fingers, he took hold of her chin and directed her face to his left. “The helicopter is coming to pick us up.” She groaned in frustration when she finally managed to focus enough to see the distant lights that heralded their return flight. “Now, let’s get going so that we can break in that bed of yours.”
~~~***~~~
*Buffy’s room, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK*


The slayer and her vampire burst through the door giggling like teenagers. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Buffy jumped on Spike, her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. They kissed each other as if their lives depended on it. And, considering how turned on she’d been since they’d had their talk, it sure seemed as though she’d die of frustration soon. On the helicopter ride back, she’d tried to touch him in all the naughty places, the fact that the pilots might have seen them only turning her on even more. Then had come the race through the ancient hallways to reach her room, uncaring about who saw them and what anybody would think. It felt so liberating; it almost made her cry with joy.


They were finally touching, grabbing, feeling, and kissing each other. It can’t get any better. Well, there could be fewer clothes. Being the take-charge slayer she was, she started unbuttoning. She didn’t really mind if it was her clothes or his that held the buttons that were coming undone. She wasn’t anywhere near her goal, when Spike took hold of her hands and stilled them.


“No fair. I wasn’t done with your shirt.” She widened her eyes and jutted out her lower lip in a mock-innocent pleading manner, knowing very well how he usually responded to that. Spike groaned, but still held her in place.


“Let me take you to the bed and worship you like I promised.” The lust and fire burning in his eyes and the gruff voice he spoke in sent another flood of pleasure coursing through her veins. The only problem with that plan was that she knew exactly what he was thinking of doing, and she also knew what it would feel like to let him, but she just couldn’t imagine having to wait that long to have him inside her again.


“Fuck the foreplay and just fuck me! We can do slow and tender after, but I just…I need you now.” He grinned like the cat that ate the canary. And he still didn’t move or let her go, so she could tear their clothes off. He just stood there, looking at her and panting for a few seconds.


Then, all of a sudden, the room was spinning, and then it was bouncing, and then she was on the bed, with an obviously aroused vampire shedding clothes as fast as it was…well vampire-ly possible. Her mind blanked of everything except the one thought: must get clothes off now. She frantically started pulling and pushing at her own clothing, cursing silently because of the laces on her combat boots.


Finally, she was naked, and just as she was about to search for her lover, he was right there, hovering above her, glistening and naked as well.


She banded her arms and legs around him, and he wiggled a bit until he was fully inside her, and nothing else mattered. After the first few moments when they both remained still, her body adjusting to his after so long, he started moving in long, hard strokes, ever faster, while she rubbed herself into a frenzy. They both came soon afterwards, with him trailing her by only a few thrusts, prolonging her own release.


Then he made good on his earlier promise of driving her mad with his mouth, only to later drive her into the mattress again, until her mind almost blacked out with pleasure. Once she recovered, she repaid him in kind, taking the time to trace his every inch, before letting him take her hard from behind.


They fell asleep holding each other, and she woke him up a couple of hours later by bouncing on top of him until he came, his mind still half-asleep. She dozed off, but he woke her some time later by slipping into her from behind, rocking slowly back and forth until they both came again, in a slow, lazy orgasm.


When they woke up the next day, they were sore, sated, and together. It made her so happy, she giggled almost through the entire time he “ate his breakfast” from between her legs.


And then they shared a shower.

*Underground of the Temple Mount, Jerusalem, Israel, early September*
The rank, hot, and dimly lit maze of tunnels under one of the most known holy places in the world was filled with blood and gore. Screams rang out so loudly, it was really fortunate that the temporary containment spell didn’t allow any noise to be heard by the pathetic humans swarming around up above, believing themselves to be the rightful owners of this place.
Dracula knew better.
This place, this Temple Mount, as well as the entire city that surrounded it, was God’s. Now, His most faithful servant had finally arrived to claim it in His name, once and for all. As was his custom, first would come the demons and other assorted supernatural beings, followed by the witch covens, slayers, evil lawyers, and the like, all of them facing the same choice: join or die! The battle raging all around him was just that—all those who would have dared oppose him had been tricked in believing he would be on a solitary pilgrimage to the hidden chamber underneath layers of rubble that had once held the Ark of the Covenant. The idiots had come running. Wave after wave of attackers, clans of demons who had fought for control of one square meter or another, were united against him, in a move unprecedented since the arrival of Christ Himself.
Vlad crushed them all. Holding Stefan’s sword in one hand, the Circle’s broom in the other, he was a whirling dervish of death and destruction, all the while his serene smile never leaving his face—like the eye of a storm. By the end of the night, his armies would count another victory in their holy crusade, and all the demons in the holiest city on Earth would be his to command.
Then it would be time for the humans.
His teams of raiders were already prepared to unleash the greatest terror-bombing campaign that Israel would ever know. All the pockets of resistance to his rule would be blown up, culminating with what would be his erstwhile crowning achievement: the destruction of the Dome of the Rock. Blowing up one of Islam’s most important mosques would undoubtedly lead to another world war, this one fueled by righteous religious reasons. He would unite the demons while the humans slaughtered each other, and then he would finally unleash the full wrath of the underworld on the hapless mortals. As the book of Apocalypse foretold, he would assume the role of the Antichrist in order to ensure the coming of the Kingdom of God. The dead heart within his chest almost ached with joy at having been chosen to undertake the task of cleansing humankind of its evils.
~~~***~~~
*Buffy’s study, Slayer Castle, Scotland, UK, later that week*
After a few seconds, the waiting screen finally went away, and the video connection was established. Spike leaned forward in the chair, his hand twitching for the millionth time since his arrival at the castle, in a way that Buffy identified as ‘I wish I could light up’. “Hey there, Captain Cardboard!” Despite the demeaning nickname, his voice was completely devoid of malice.
Riley nodded in greeting. “Hi, Buffy! Hello, Captain Peroxide.” Both men smiled—something that Buffy still wasn’t fully used to yet. And she probably never would get used to it.
Her idea of locking her vampire boyfriend—and that was something that she still wasn’t used to calling Spike—up in a room with her previously completely prejudiced ex and her best male friend, who had been equally prejudiced in the past, had worked out like a charm. The rules were simple: no killing or maiming. By Xander’s report, the other two had initially tried to beat each other senseless. Spike had won that round, but not without any bruises. Then they had yelled at one another, calling each other all the names they could think of. Again, Spike had emerged as the victor, although the margin was much smaller than Xander had predicted—apparently one of Riley’s favorite past-times in the jungle had been learning to curse in as many human and demon languages as possible.
Then they had apparently started boasting about their successes as demon hunters, which had devolved into talking about weapons, cars, sports and every other ‘manly’ endeavor they could think of, while avoiding the subject of women as best as possible. After about half a day, lots of bruises, and a fair amount of alcohol, they had finally hashed out the subject of ‘Buffy.’ Although none of them was willing to say what exactly had been said, or what had happened afterwards, they had shocked everyone except Dawn when they’d finally stumbled out of the room—drunk, holding each other up, and singing bar songs like three good friends. Buffy’s sister had apparently expected nothing less.
Now, Spike and Riley couldn’t exactly be called ‘friends,’ but neither were they behaving like enemies anymore. There was a grudging respect obvious between them, and they even had a few inside jokes, that left everyone—including Xander—on the outside looking in sometimes. Buffy couldn’t have asked for more from either of them. In fact, it had been none other than the vampire himself who had volunteered to keep in touch with Riley, while the latter was off to Washington to report to his superiors at the Pentagon.
It warmed Buffy’s heart to see the two of them on such civil terms, still sniping at each other, but with all the anger and hurt drained away from their interaction. As soon as the call ended, she left the folders she’d supposedly been looking over, to lower herself in Spike’s lap, kissing him for all she was worth.
“Not that I mind, love, but if my talking with Soldier-boy gets you this hot, I just might have to call Peaches right up and hang back while you shag me senseless in front of the camera.”
She swatted his arm playfully but decided to otherwise just ignore his words. “I love you!” His eyes lit up at her words, just like they always did when she confessed her love for him. He lifted her, spread her on the desk, and began undressing her, all the while professing his love for her.
She managed to think that the door was unlocked before he started to eat her out, and it became irrelevant.
~~~***~~~
*Outside Giles’ office, Spire Building, London, UK*
Mark was waiting patiently for Giles to end his daily ‘discussion’ with his slayer overseer. He knew perfectly well that not one of their talks had gone by without copious numbers of veiled threats, lies, and subterfuge. The girl, Tania, was young and full of ideals, while the watcher was old and full of disappointment, so whenever they met one could feel the temperature plummet. This, of course, did nothing but please Mark to no end.
An added reason for him to avoid the fiery purple-haired slayer was the immediate and clear distaste they had for each other. To complicate matters even further, they were both among Giles’ closest advisers, with Mark as leader of covert operations and Tania as head of security, both vying for many of the same missions. The fact that the girl was seen by many, including Giles, as an interloper and a spy for the Slayer Council gave Mark a clear advantage. A competing claim was the fact that Tania had access to all the files and supposed overview of all operations, as per Buffy Summers’ orders. Then again, the more they could all keep her in the dark, the better.
Thinking about Tania’s influence on Giles’ actions brought Pendelberry’s eyes to the former watcher’s secretary. Ever since the young slayer had shown up, old Rupert had become increasingly irate with his lot in life, finally finding a somewhat cliché, but perfectly delicious escape valve for all his feelings of worthlessness and rage: his secretary. The buxom blonde—and that was her natural hair color, a fact that Mark could personally attest to—was currently doubling as Giles’ personal plaything, their carnal relations growing more and more extreme and more demeaning for the woman with each passing encounter. Of course, this led to Mark’s current mind game, called ‘What S/M paraphernalia is the secretary/sub wearing under her clothes today?’ His personal choice for today would be nipple clamps, randomly vibrating panties and a remote-controlled inflatable butt-plug. Of course, he would find out for sure come morning, when the woman would send her personal report to him, concerning Giles’ actions.
~~~***~~~
*Somewhere on the slopes of the Galdhøpiggen, Norway, mid-September*
The silent monotony of the small mountain village was disturbed when two cars rolled in. Once they stopped in front of the town hall, the occupants filed out quietly. The two groups of three passengers were quickly ushered inside by the two guards outside the old building, while the cars were driven off.
Oz and Erika were leading the group, followed by Willow and Dawn, with Alia and Yatviga hanging a step back from the rest. The representatives of the Slayer Council were there to finally meet with the Circle for the first time face to face, after the two groups had steadily gained each other’s trust over the previous weeks. Willow was particularly anxious to meet the mysterious witches, especially since she’d felt a certain pull from the moment she had stepped off the plane on her way there. With each step she took, the lure of power became greater, in a way that at the same tame set her on edge as well as soothed her. Luckily, Alia’s presence just behind her lent her the necessary focus to keep herself in check.
The group reached the main hall, and Willow took in her surroundings. The space must have also doubled as a dance hall, since it was large enough to have tables for twenty on either end, while the empty center could fit at least ten dancing couples, by the looks of it. The walls were covered in various multicolored woven tapestries, which probably doubled as insulation for the thick wooden walls during winter. On the wall opposite the entrance, there was a great fireplace that housed a small fire despite the early date. All in all, it reminded the young witch of some of the places she’d visited back in Sighişoara, or some of their neighboring villages back in Scotland. Across from her, stood a single elderly woman, dressed in simple clothes, but with the countenance of someone deserving of great respect from others. By the feel of the power radiating from her, Willow guessed that she had to be one of the leaders of the Circle.


The old woman stepped forward and greeted the newcomers. “Welcome back, my children!” She placed her right hand first on Erica’s cheek, then on her mate’s. “I’ve missed having you two around, but it couldn’t be helped.” Giving the rest of the group a once-over, she smiled. “I see you’ve brought back some powerful friends to talk to us. You’re all welcome to our humble village. I am Maryun, of the Circle. Be warned that everyone here is a witch, a wolf, or a human helper, so please refrain from harming anyone, for whatever reason. We have our own laws, and we abide by them.”


It had been decided that Willow was leading this expedition, so she took it upon herself to respond. “As long as nobody tries to harm us, we have peaceful intentions, and we won’t interfere with your laws and customs.” The stiff language reminded her of UN proceedings, and for a second she thought that, for their supernatural-infused world, this was probably as close as they would get to diplomatic talks. “I am also charged with extending the Slayer Council’s regret over the actions of the Slayers previously affiliated to the Watcher Council and to promise you that our forces won’t harm you or yours from now on ever again.” She waited a bit but felt compelled to add. “As long as you don’t harm innocents, that is—otherwise, all bets are off.” The words were accompanied by a narrowing of the eyes and a sideways hand gesture to stress their finality.


The benevolent smile never wavered from Maryun’s face. “Don’t worry, child; I understand perfectly. I promise you, though, that you will never be in the position to make good on that threat.” The statement and the tone of the old woman’s voice made Willow turn slightly red with embarrassment. It was almost like listening to her grandma talking, and having just threatened her seemed just wrong. “Now, tell me about yourself, Witch of the Hellmouth.”


“Witch of the what, now?”


The old woman laughed softly. “We have lots to talk about, my dears. Why don’t we all take a seat, have some dinner, and talk about the magic that is life?”


They all readily agreed.


~~~***~~~


*Later that night, guest house, Circle’s village*


Willow couldn’t sleep. She had her eyes closed, her breathing was slowed, her muscles were relaxed, and the bed was very comfortable, but her mind was in turmoil. Maryun had shaken her belief in who and what she was deep down, as well as made her take another look at some of the happiest and also some of the worst moments of her life, filtering everything through the lens of the new knowledge. Her fist reaction had been to get angry. Using every single technique she knew to try to allow the rage to flow through her without taking her over, or harming anyone, including herself, she let the rest of the feelings surge through. By the end of the exercises and of the evening, Willow had felt like she was sleepwalking, but despite the weariness, sleep still wouldn’t come. So many questions and ideas were jumbled around inside her head that she realized she would never be able to sleep until she took another deep breath and put her thoughts in order.


She was the Witch of the Hellmouth. That title that had previously meant nothing to her was now molding itself to encompass everything that made up the person she’d thought she was, twisting and turning her into something that she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to become. Maryun had explained that, just as a Slayer was called in each generation, so it was that once a Witch of the Hellmouth died, another was born, on the site of the Hellmouth that her powers would be connected to. The one that had held the title before Willow had been a really chaotic person, siding with whomever she pleased, crossing a lot of people and demons alike, until one of her previous associates—after being back-stabbed by the volatile witch—finally killed her in a rather gruesome way. The events leading up to and including that witch’s death made it virtually impossible for the Circle, or any other coven, to detect Willow as the new incarnation of the Hellmouth.


The thought made a shudder crawl up the redhead’s spine. To think that the immense power Willow was able to call up, even when she was an inexperienced teenager, had actually been a part of the energy of the Hellmouth itself was chilling. This did explain some of her problems with control, as well as her eventual stint as a super-villain bent on opening the same thing that provided her with power, and ending the world in the process. She had to admit that the thing she hated the most about the revelation was her lack of choice in the matter. She’d been chosen since birth to bear a supernatural burden she wasn’t even aware of until someone informed her, in a very motherly way, that she never even had a chance at a normal life. Under normal circumstances, the Witches of the Hellmouth were so corrupted by the powers inside them that seldom made it past their twenties. She’d never felt closer to understanding Buffy in her life and the ting that hurt was realizing just how callous she’d been with the blonde woman’s calling. Now that she shared such a similar fate, despite the peace she’d fought so hard to obtain and maintain within herself, her initial instinct was to try and find a way out of it.


There was no way out of it, just like she’d known there wouldn’t be as soon as she’d started to understand what it all meant. What Slayers were for the run of the mill demon hunters, Witches of the Hellmouth were for practitioners of the magic arts. Alia stirred behind her, shifting her hand over her lover’s body so that her palm was now on the redhead’s hip. Buffy has thousands of Slayers to help her now, thanks to me and I have dozens, if not hundreds of wiccans, warlocks and witches that can, have, and will help me, too. The last bit of information on being a WotH came back to her. The power should have died with the rest of Sunnydale when Spike destroyed the Hellmouth. The fact that Willow was stronger than ever was not only an anomaly—it was unprecedented. Maryun’s opinion was that it probably had to do with the spell to awaken the Slayers, as well as the way in which the whole battle with the First ended. All the other Hellmouths before had been either depleted, closed by the use of very powerful containment spells, or simply blocked when something was unsuccessful in passing through in a cataclysmic way. In fact, the medallion Spike wore was probably the same one that had been used on two separate occasions before, both times worn by Slayers. So it was probable that the addition of Spike’s soul, demon, and dead human body, coupled with the proximity of the Scythe, and the ‘Slayer wake-up spell’—Dawn’s pet name for it—had done something to Willow herself that shouldn’t have been possible.


Her thoughts turned once more to Buffy and Spike. Both of them had said that they’d been changing ever since the day Sunnydale fell, resulting in Spike’s ability to walk in the sun, Buffy’s super-Slayer-strength, and so on. Willow thought back on how her own power had spiked since then, sometimes allowing her to do things that only a few trusted members of her coven were aware of—time manipulation, dimensional teleportation, building levitation, and so on. She had to wonder: had the three of them been caught up in the same web of prophecy and danger? What were they all becoming? What, exactly, were the two supercharged blondes really capable of, since they had to have been holding some of the information back? Suddenly exhausted, she snuggled closer to her slumbering lover and finally drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep.