Keystone

Though the favorites of the Gods die young,
they also live eternally in the company of Gods.
-Frederich Nietzche

Prologue
Watcher’s Council
London, England

The intercom buzzed insistently.

Quentin Travers frowned at the unwelcome intrusion. He set the gold Cross pen down adjacent to the pile of papers spread across his desk and pressed a key. “Yes? What is it?”

“Sir, the time is 10:15.” His secretary’s well modulated voice sounded slightly tinny floating from the depths of the intercom. “You wished to be reminded of the portal opening.”

“Thank you Emma.” Stacking the various reports into a neat pile, he slid the papers into a top desk drawer and locked it, dropping the small silver key into a vest pocket. He picked up the suit jacket draped across the back of his leather chair, shrugged into it and walked to a door concealed within the dark cherry wainscoting on the other side of the expansive office.

Pressing his hand against an unobtrusive indentation, he waited impatiently for the door to open. Once inside the private elevator he stabbed the button for the sub-basement. As the elevator began its silent descent, he glanced at the thin, elegant Swiss timepiece strapped to his wrist and scowled at the unwelcome intrusion in his normal morning routine.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and the door slid open to display a narrow, stone hallway. Pausing briefly, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the lower light level and realized he was the only person in the empty corridor. Everyone else must have already arrived. Blowing out an irritated breath, he stepped up the pace, the Kenneth Cole loafers making a hollow tap-tap sound on the worn pavers as he navigated the twists and turns of the ancient building. Rounding the final corner he stopped at two modern metal doors and hurriedly punched the correct code into a small keypad attached to the wall. The locking mechanism released with a click that echoed loudly in the silence.

Striding into a large room he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Bright white light shimmered and pulsed rhythmically against plaster walls and bare concrete floor. The portal had begun to open. He worked his way through the crowd, the knot of waiting Council members parting to allow him access.

Arriving at the forefront, he stopped beside a blonde woman staring intently into the portal. One hand shaded her eyes while the second cradled a clipboard. She dipped her head, acknowledging his presence. At his questioning glance, she tried to make herself heard over the loud humming noise.

“It began four minutes ago.”

“How many?”

“Five. Three men from Security accompanied Harker, with Philips as assistant.”

The humming noise rose in pitch and volume, forcing some of the observers to wince and clap their hands over their ears.

With one final burst of sound and light the portal closed, leaving behind a chilling sight–two men sprawled unmoving on the cold concrete floor.

The blonde sucked in a breath.

Ignoring her unprofessional response, he dispassionately observed the scene, trying to make sense of the macabre tableau.

The first man, attired in a wrinkled and dirty suit, was obviously dead; his neck nearly severed from his shoulders. Blank eyes stared unseeing into the void while dark blood still pooling beneath him indicated the death blow was dealt as the portal opened. Travers recognized him– Philips, the man sent to assist Ian Harker, leader of the mission.

The second man was unknown, although his attire identified him as one of the security team. Still alive, he groaned and shifted restlessly, drawing attention to a small box clutched protectively within his arms.

A second, deeper groan galvanized the observers, several rushing forward to assist the unconscious man while the remainder– Travers and the blonde among them– watched from the edge of the circle.

Without removing his eyes from the scene playing out, he urged in a low voice, “The box, Lydia.”

Gingerly avoiding the blood, the blonde kneeled on the floor next to the security officer and pried the box from his grasp. Carefully cradling the small box, she stepped aside to allow the medical staff access.

They lifted the unconscious man onto a stretcher, his head lolling to one side with the sudden movement, revealing two jagged puncture wounds. A thin line of blood still trickled from the injury. In the harsh fluorescent light, it appeared nearly black against the pallor of his throat.

After carefully arranging his limbs on the gurney, the medical team rushed the survivor from the room. Attention shifted from the circle as the deceased man was also removed. The remaining Watchers shifted, murmuring among themselves and sending occasional furtive looks at Travers.

Intellectually he understood their growing concerns although he would not deign to address them at the moment. They’d obviously lost several men, including Philips and Harker. It was unfortunate, but everyone– including golden boy Ian Harker– had understood the mission’s importance.

Lydia gently placed the box in his hands, cutting short his thoughts. Ignoring the ornate carvings– there would be time for study later–he ran his fingers lightly along the top and sides until locating the hidden latch. He gave the unknown manufacturer a brief nod, impressed. The box was well constructed, the latch cleverly concealed.

He ignored the others silently jockeying for better vantage points until they stood arrayed closely around him–their eyes intent, breaths held in anticipation.

His own concentration focused solely on the box, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he held, and gently pressed the latch.

Making a slight noise, the lid sprung easily, revealing an unknown woven material layered within and two deep depressions that marked the fabric.

The box was empty.

He glanced at the blonde staring openmouthed at the empty box. Her look of dismay echoed across the surrounding faces.

Expression hardening, he snapped the lid closed. “Lydia, how long before the portal reopens?”

Slightly startled, she frowned in concentration before meeting his eyes. “I’d have to double check to be absolutely certain, but somewhere between twenty and thirty hours. I assume we will make a second attempt.”

“Of course. However this time we shall try a different method of retrieval.” Tamping down his abject annoyance at how the morning’s events had played out, he spoke smoothly into a small phone. “Emma, ring Rupert Giles immediately.”

Chapter 1

12 hours later
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean


“Gin.”

Frowning, Spike stared at the cards triumphantly slapped down on the tray table in front of him and then back at the smug expression on Buffy’s face.

She caught his look and grinned. For maximum effect, she counted really loud. “Twenty one—no two, for a grand total of five hundred thirty-six. I win. Again.”

Resigned, he laid his own cards down and Buffy’s grin widened at all the face cards. Spike always held queens, kings and jacks to the bitter end. Every single time. No wonder he had trouble winning poker hands at home without cheating.

She liked to fancy it was her boyfriend’s optimistic nature, but knew it was probably just an ingrained bad habit. One she had no problem exploiting. After all it had taken him several hours of steadily winning earlier before he’d reluctantly explained about her “tells.” They might be dating now, but that certainly didn’t keep either of them from being competitive. In fact it made it that much more fun.

Buffy still had trouble believing that the hottie sprawled in the airplane seat next to her scowling in disbelief as he counted his point laden hand was her boyfriend of three entire weeks–ever since they’d returned from an assignment for the Watcher’s Council.

Now here they were a couple hours out of Heathrow responding to an urgent summons from Quentin Travers and the Council. For someone who had spent the last several years of her life in Sunnydale with only the occasional weekend trip to L.A. for dad-time, it was almost unbelievable–two trips back to back, this one to a foreign country no less.

Buffy Summers– jet setting Slayer. It had a nice ring. She idly wondered if it might be possible to do a side trip to Ireland. She’d always wanted to beat up leprechauns. They gave her the wiggins. You just knew there had to be some serious demony mojo workin’ in those creepy wee people with their bowler hats.

Spike finally finished counting his points, deducting them from the running total in his head and shook that same blond head in wry amusement. The Slayer had trounced him again. Even as he’d been explaining “tells” to her earlier, the little voice inside his head had insisted it was a bad idea to explain how she twisted her hair around her fingers every time she was dealt a rotten hand, winding it tighter the worse it appeared.

But in over a hundred years he’d never learned to keep his mouth shut and besides she’d looked so discouraged after losing several games in a row that he’d found himself spilling everything, just to make her smile again. Women.

Exhaling needlessly, he gathered the cards together, long, thin fingers sliding them into a pile and stacking them neatly. He was about to ask if she was ready to start another game–after all a bloke shouldn’t give up too damn easily, tells or not– when he noticed her expression. Buffy was worlds away. He paused and allowed his eyes to sweep across her face and body, using the unguarded moment just to look at her. She was so beautiful– even wrinkled and tired from travel–no one else could compare to his Slayer. Buffy was his goddess and he happily worshipped at her altar every chance possible and in his mind that meant serious ogling was allowed, even encouraged.

Spike snorted lightly. As if he needed encouragement. He wasn’t completely clear on how their relationship had happened, but he certainly wasn’t going to look too closely at the whys and hows. It was enough to know they were together and had been ever since the last night during a mission onboard a demonic cruise ship. He’d given her a strand of obscenely expensive pearls and mustered up the courage to confess that his feelings of friendship had blossomed into a whole lot more.

She’d shocked and delighted him by revealing that those feelings were definitely mutual. They’d spent the remainder of that night wrapped arm in arm on the ship’s deck under the moon, staring out at the dark water and talking about everything and nothing. It had been the best night of his undead life. So far. Although with Buffy at his side, he knew it would only get better and better.

He shuffled the cards and his eyes narrowed. Provided the Council never learned of the real relationship between their Slayer and a Master Vampire. Giles had been bad enough, initially throwing a tantrum that would have done a two year old proud, he’d finally grown weary of arguing with his stubborn Slayer and out of love and respect for her, had grudgingly thrown up his hands and withdrawn from the field of battle.

But Spike knew if Travers and the Council heard or saw even the smallest impropriety between the pair during this trip, they would make things so incredibly ugly that they’d all be begging for an apocalypse just to lighten the atmosphere.

Even Giles– in his cups one night a couple weeks ago– had admitted that Travers was the most ruthless, cold-blooded Council Head he’d ever had the displeasure to serve; the man consistently upheld the merciless position that a Slayer was merely a tool in his arsenal against evil, a means to an end. Travers held no personal regard at all for Buffy nor her welfare and would remove her permanently from the game without even batting an eye if he thought she could no longer achieve his goals.

On a lighter note, Spike knew he absolutely loathed William the Bloody. Quentin Travers considered all vampires –even the Souled Git himself–to be walking abominations upon the earth, and would eagerly, no, gleefully stake him for the tiniest infraction, no matter how much good he’d done this past year in service to the Council. Travers held tightly to the opinion that it was an absolute impossibility for a vampire to turn over a new leaf– tigers don’t change their stripes. And Spike didn’t dare give Travers a reason–like, oh say, true love for instance– to explain his firmly held commitment to the Slayer and white hat status.

This black and white world view made the Head Watcher–at least in Spike’s opinion–more than stupid, it also made him dangerous. He knew he’d never been much of a deep thinker, but he’d been around for over a century and some things a bloke learned simply from observation of the human race, not to mention a checkered past that included associations with others who were exactly like Travers.

Spike knew you just can’t trust people like Quentin Travers and the Council in the clinch, they go down mouthing platitudes and taking everyone else down with them. Every single evening when Spike woke up he vowed the diabolical old lion and his weak-willed cubs would never get the chance to harm anyone he cared about– especially Buffy–and yet ludicrous as it had once sounded, they were all about to beard the lion’s personal den and at his request yet. This trip was a cosmic joke, and Spike feared the brunt of the laughing would be at his expense. He was absolutely petrified it would be at Buffy’s.

“Earth to Spike.”

Buffy waited patiently, watching several tiny frown lines disappear as Spike returned from whatever dark place he’d been seeing within his mind’s eye. She was used to catching him like this occasionally, recognizing that there would be times when he might become overwhelmed with memories that she didn’t even want to consider, although he’d been working diligently for several months now– since they’d first become true friends in fact– to take control of his darker nature. For the most part he’d been successful.

The chip that the soldier boys had implanted had begun a transformation in his character that he’d completed on his own and happily, without losing any of his sense of self or affable but smart ass personality. With his activities–his very way of life up to that point–suddenly curtailed beyond anything he could have ever imagined, Spike could easily have become a morose, brooding sort of guy– not unlike a certain ex boyfriend–or even a mean drunk.

Buffy knew that his abiding deep love for her, his easy friendship with the others and his amusingly slavish, tender care of Empress had all played their part in his impetus to rise above both the situation he’d found himself in and his original nature to ultimately join the Scoobies as a full partner.

She was justifiably proud of him and everything he’d accomplished, and without even a soul. It was an impressive feat, and she loved him all the more for it. And although a white hat, he still retained a wicked sense of humor and a twinkle in his eye. He’d also retained an ability to get into scrapes, mainly when drinking, but a guy had to have some outlet and minor public disturbances were easily forgiven, especially when he’d show up at her door with that aforementioned twinkle and reach for her…….

“Sorry, luv, guess I was wool gathering.”

Spike’s voice broke the silence, wrenching Buffy back to the present– she’d nearly been caught daydreaming herself! She quickly gathered her wits together and smiled at him.

Spike sheepishly raked his free hand through his hair, leaving behind a swath of the blond curls she loved so much.

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Welcome back from planet Completely Oblivious.”

Pushing the dark thoughts to the farthest recesses of his mind, Spike returned the smile and drawled, “Look at who’s talkin’. You were holdin’ a ticket for that same destination and standin’ first in the queue.”

“Yeah, well, even with all the gathering of wool– and I wonder how that expression came about, I mean is it an insult aimed at sheep shearers?– anyway, I was obviously paying attention at some point; I still managed to beat your undead butt again. You know that’s three games in a row.”

“That situation can be remedied in a heartbeat.”

“Then it’s too bad you don’t have one.”

Spike snorted at her quip and she grinned. He was so much fun to tease.

Poised to deal again, he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Let’s take a break for awhile.” Squirming on the hard cushion, she tried to find at least one spot somewhere that didn’t ache from sitting so long. Unfortunately there wasn’t one. “How much longer do you think until we land? I think I’m permanently molded in an L shape, like some kid’s Playdough that went through the extractor and then got left out of the can. ”

Trying to stretch her legs out in front of her, she accidentally kicked the bottom of the seat in front of her and popped the dozing passenger six inches in the air. Spike muffled a bark of laughter with fake coughing.

Darn Slayer strength. “Wow, that was some serious air turbulence, huh?” She smiled brightly at the furious man who had spun around in the seat to glare at her.

Her smile faded. “Um, I’m sorry?” The passenger refused to respond to her apology, instead vindictively adjusting his seat down and back as far as possible, until she was mashed against her own seat in an effort to avoid touching him.

Rolling her eyes, she scrunched closer to Spike and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’d think the Council could have sprung for first class, since they’re making us travel all this way.”

Spike put his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “You know how bloody cheap they are. I’m just glad the twits didn’t insist on putting me in the cargo hold with Empress.”

She met his gaze and they both grimaced, picturing their Grundy unhappily stuck in a metal cage for the entire length of the trip. To say Empress would not be pleasant to be around for awhile after this was like saying that sometimes it snowed at the Artic circle during winter. Not only did Empress think of herself as a first class kind of girl, she had sulking down to a fine art. That, combined with the memory of a matriarchal elephant, made the Grundy a formidable force of nature along the lines of a category five hurricane.

Spike briefly savored the thought of Empress meeting Travers for the first time after her confinement.

Banishing that particularly enjoyable bloodbath, he needlessly cleared his throat and prepared to bring up the conversation he knew they had to have. It sucked beyond telling when he had to be the adult.

At her questioning look, he played his opening gambit. “I still can’t believe Travers requested both Empress and me to accompany you. What do you suppose he needs us both for?” And how can I keep the wanker from realizing we’re together?

Buffy heard the rarely admitted anxiety in Spike’s voice that he couldn’t quell, and realized this subject was the black pit that he’d been swimming in off and on all day.

She knew he was beyond worried– for that matter so was she. The thought of Spike and Travers in the same room working together was giving her a serious wiggins– nearly a complete meltdown in truth– especially since every time she pictured it she was firmly stuck in the middle between them, usually pushing a very large, very wooden stake away from the center of Spike’s heart by breaking Travers’ arm in several places. Not the most pleasant scenario.

It wasn’t just the playing nice part either, but the entire working-in-England for Travers sitch. Whatever the Council Head wanted to plant squarely on her shoulders, she knew it was going to be beyond difficult. But that was all part and parcel of the Slayer gig and she could deal when she had to– no matter how overprotective Spike was being right now– so she took a deep breath, jamming her own anxiety away in its compartment before trying to find some way to relieve his.

She put her hand on top of his and squeezed. “You and I both know that Giles doesn’t know anything so he couldn’t tell us more. We both know it’s serious, but nothing we can’t handle. We always do.” Staring in his eyes, she saw the worry reflected there and added gently, “You know that Giles got Travers’ solemn oath as Head of the Council that this wasn’t some sort of twisted way to get you staked or anything like that after leaving the plane.”

“’Cause Rupert could bloody well stop them.” Spike knew if something did happen to him, no matter what had been promised, Buffy’s Watcher would be the first to sign up for the parade. But he wasn’t important. She was. And if a time came, he would gladly die to save her and prayed nightly that in doing so it would be enough. But right now all he wanted was reassurance from someone he could trust that any attempt on her life wouldn’t be at the hands of one of their own. Because of him. But there was no one.

Buffy’s mouth thinned. “It’s true that Giles can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, but I can. You know I’m not going to let anything happen to anyone at the hands of the Council— not Willow, not Empress and especially not you. If Travers or any one of his ass kissers so much as looks at you cross eyed, you’ve got my permission to bite their heads off. Or better still, I’ll help you do it, humans or not. They need to stay far, far away from you.”

Spike grimaced. Buffy didn’t understand it was that very attitude that would get them both killed. But then what did he expect? Neither one of them had ever been any good at being covert. They’d done a crappy job on the cruise ship when they weren’t supposed to let the baddies know the Slayer was onboard. It was only luck that it ultimately hadn’t mattered.

Besides, Spike knew for an absolute fact that his own unguarded expression these days was of a man completely besotted. Just yesterday Clem had teasingly joked that Spike must have morphed from a vampire into a werewolf because he was so moonstruck.

And every single time Spike caught Buffy unaware she was wearing that private, enigmatic little smile. Hell, he’d even coined her Buffy Lisa in his head.

No doubt about it, they were utterly and completely doomed, just by being in the same room together. Willow termed it “serious sparkage” and had even pulled Spike away before the trip to warn him. He knew that she’d done the same with Buffy. For what it was worth.

He rubbed the spot between his eyes that throbbed every time he considered having this conversation. “Buffy, Sweetling, you’ve got to watch your back every single minute around them. Don’t look at me too often, don’t smile at me ever, and no matter what Travers says about me, don’t let him see you get angry. Better yet, let Rupert do most of the talking if I’m the subject. Stay focused on being completely uninvolved.”

At the mention of her Watcher, Buffy’s eyes automatically glanced up the aisle at Giles and Willow. Heads together, they were still staring at the laptop screen, engrossed in some obscure language that made her head hurt just to look at it.

“Fine. I’ll play nice and pretend that I’m uninvolved with the sexiness that is you.” She grinned at him wolfishly. “I also promise to try very hard– and it will take some serious concentration on my part–not to stare at your nicely muscled body when any of the suits are around.” She ran a finger lightly down his bare arm. “Now, can we stop talking about them?”

He capitulated easily–after all she’d promised that she’d try–and besides Buffy had just leered at him. Growling softly, he pulled her across the seat and into his lap. Placing a hand gently under her chin, he tipped her head, guiding her mouth toward his. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he murmured into her mouth “I love you so much Buffy.”

Relaxing completely, she melted into his embrace as he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss.

“Good evening, this is your captain speaking. We’ll begin our descent into Heathrow shortly. Please place your tray tables in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts…..”

They reluctantly separated and she slid back into her own seat. “Well, at least we don’t have too much longer to wait until we find out exactly what they want.”

Spike pitched his voice lower than the chattering passengers. “A request from the Council for their Slayer, her Watcher, a powerful witch, a vampire and a Grundy to fly all the way across the pond is such an everyday occurrence that I’d willingly wait a couple of decades to find out what they want.” He reached for his seatbelt and added grimly, “Unfortunately all we’ve got is a couple more hours.”

Chapter 2

Buffy sat down in the middle of the long mahogany conference table directly across from Giles and Willow and quietly contemplated the Head of the Watcher’s Council.

Quentin Travers sat relaxed at the head of the table– where else?–and surveyed the assembled group.

The thought crossed Buffy’s mind that his satisfied expression exactly mirrored Spike’s during a card game when he’d finally assembled all of his face cards. Although Travers, the emotionless bastard, would no doubt play his hand much more efficiently.

But no matter how she felt about him, Buffy refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her nervousness, so she repressed her unease with a Slayer technique, mentally relaxing her body and projecting a calm expression. Two could play the game.

Only an hour ago the Scoobies had been standing around the luggage carrousel retrieving their bags and one seriously hacked off Grundy when an older gentleman from the Council had arrived.

He’d waved something in front of an airport official and they’d immediately been whisked through the airport on small, very efficient electric carts, completely bypassing Customs and Security– Buffy didn’t even want to think about the kind of power that had enabled that little trick–and then swiftly loaded into a long black limousine belligerently idling at the curb in a no parking zone.

The liveried driver ferried the group to Council Headquarters, an imposing multi- storied edifice with no distinguishing characteristics or noticeable address on the façade, within the heart of metropolitan London. They’d been politely asked to wait in the main lobby, a cavernous space with a vaulted ceiling and more marble than Buffy had ever seen outside of a cemetery. Finally, they’ve been ushered to a third floor conference room by two very large, silent men whose shoulder holsters barely created any bulge at all in the lines of their expensively tailored suits.

They had walked into the conference room and discovered Travers and several Watchers seated around a long conference table. Buffy pegged a trio of nearly identical blond men near the middle of the table as young, very Junior Watchers– their suits were hardly broken in yet. She immediately dubbed them Huey, Dewey and Louie.

At the other end sat a middle aged blonde woman who looked sort of familiar and an older man with receding gray hair that, along with three others, were all too much at ease in their nearly matching suits to be anything other than Senior Watchers. No one in the group bothered to introduce themselves. Giles nodded at them and Travers as he chose a seat, pointedly ignoring the young men, who didn’t seem to expect any better treatment. Travers returned his nod briefly before looking away to survey the room.

The Slayer decided to ignore everyone in the hope that they would all go away. Unfortunately, no one felt compelled to do so.

A slim, dark haired woman smiling brightly–Buffy immediately pegged her as a secretary– stood next to a silver tea service on a long table against the far wall.

Travers signaled for the brunette to serve and Buffy started to demand blood for Spike just to tweak Travers, but one look at the vampire and she changed her mind. Spike was slouched deep in his seat, arms crossed, a studied nonchalance betrayed by the tightly coiled muscles. Eyes glittering, he unabashedly studied Travers from beneath his dark lashes, looking very much like a barely controlled junk yard dog salivating for someone to break through the perimeter fence.

She thought it was a good look for Spike–after all he was her junk yard dog– and Travers’ minions obviously agreed. The Juniors had taken one collective look at the Master Vampire striding into the conference room with the black duster flapping around his Doc Martens, and scrambled over each other to reseat themselves at the far end of the table. She bit back a grin when she glimpsed the gleam of satisfaction deep within Spike’s eyes as he dropped into the chair next to her.

The Senior Watchers ignored both the game of musical chairs and the powerful vampire who had caused it, restricting themselves to swift, calculating looks at Giles and the Slayer before returning to studied indifference.

It took mere moments that seemed like hours for the brunette to efficiently serve tea, the only audible conversation her polite inquiries concerning sugar, lemon or milk. Finally completing her task, she departed the room, firmly closing the door behind her.

Whether due to a cubed sugar rush or the sudden realization that it was finally just them in the room, Travers leaned forward and nodded to one of the trio. Either Huey, Dewey or Louie– Buffy couldn’t for the life of her tell them apart, not that she cared– stood up, skirted widely around Spike, and placed a carved wooden box on the table in front of Giles before walking the long way around again to his seat.

Buffy glanced over at Spike, saw the amusement in his eyes and swallowed the giggle that threatened to erupt. Feeling far more at ease now, she turned confidently toward Travers.

The Head of the Council finally deigned to speak from on high. “This was brought through the portal early yesterday morning.”

Giles turned the wooden box over in his hands. Willow, seated beside Giles, leaned over to get a better look at the glyphs carved on the top. Her lips moved as she sounded out the unfamiliar words and her eyes widened.

Easily locating the latch, Giles surveyed the inside of the empty box briefly before closing it again. “I’d like to speak with the man who found this.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Philips is dead, killed during the retrieval.” Travers waved his hand in the air rendering Philips’ death inconsequential. “However a security officer survived and I’ve made arraignments for you to speak with him after the meeting.”

Buffy’s nerves were strung tight as thin gauge wire but curiosity was starting to get the best of her and damn it, she was the Slayer, so she leaned forward and shot a flinty look at Travers.Enough game playing already.

His demeanor never changed although his eyes narrowed slightly.

She lifted her chin and said, “So Travers, we flew all the way here– in coach–to look at an old box? Couldn’t you have just given us the password to your photo bucket account?”

Ignoring Buffy’s opening salvo, Travers spoke to the blonde woman at the end of the table. “Lydia? You were in charge of this operation, perhaps you would care to explain?”

“I’d be happy to.” She stood up and flashed a quick smile at Giles. “Hello Rupert. It’s good to see you again.”

Buffy’s Watcher replied, “Lydia. It’s good to see you, too.”

Spike snorted.

As Lydia gathered her thoughts and stood up, Empress scooted away from beneath Spike’s chair, crawling quietly toward the long table that held the Royal Chelsea tea service. She was extremely angry at the human that had forced her to live in a metal cage for many, many uncomfortable, very boring hours within some enormous noisy conveyance that continuously vibrated.

The Grundy hated conveyances of any kind –cars, boats and the newest addition to her list, jet airplanes. At the airport she’d listened to the litany of complaints and learned that her companions had been forced to travel uncomfortably for all that time, too. Within this large room which oddly held no scents at all, she’d bided her time, waiting patiently next to Spike to learn which bloody git was Travers– the human in charge of all that forced misery.

Having discovered that the git was here within this very room, she planned to make him pay, but cunningly of course. Empress prided herself on both her cunning and her stealth. She waited until the blonde female stood up and began speaking, using the woman’s loud, strident voice to cover her creep to the far table.

Lydia cleared her throat and threw an apologetic look at the group. “I suppose I should begin with a quick historical synopsis. Recently a portal opened in a region of Serbia. The portal, within a large underground cave system, appeared to be stable, so the Council sent a survey and information gathering team through to the other dimension…..”

Bored with the elementary school lessons already, Buffy glanced around the table. Giles was half listening– she figured he’d already read the prologue– while his finger idly traced one of the glyphs on the box. Willow listened raptly– she probably thought they’d be tested on the material later. Slouched even farther down in his seat, Spike appeared to be bored witless, his eyes staring blankly at the far wall. Buffy immediately realized he was listening to something no one else could hear. Idly, she wondered what it was.

Sliding down in her own seat she stretched her legs all the way out, trying to ease her calf muscles still tight from the cramped plane ride. When her feet met no resistance, she realized Empress was no longer underneath the conference table.

Where the hell was their Grundy? Buffy started to turn her head to search, when beneath the table she felt Spike’s hand rest briefly on her thigh and squeeze gently. She glanced around the table again; everyone’s attention was focused on Lydia, so she cut her eyes to Spike. He caught her look and winked, shaking his head imperceptivity as he reached for his tea cup. She turned her attention back to Lydia.

“…..The portal opened into a dimension somewhat like our own, so the team chose to remain for four days. At that time they returned with astounding news. The denizens of this dimension have the ability to open and close portals at will, and always with the ability to control the location. They had written information on this very ability that we somehow procured……”

Procured huh? Translate that as “stole.” Buffy was becoming interested in spite of herself. It would be seriously cool to be able to pop open a hell dimension, throw a few baddies in, and seal it up again. No more having to bury dead demons either. Maybe the Council would spring for a weekly garbage run, sorta like that cart in The Holy Grail. Chanting “bring out your dead” under her breath she gave Lydia her full attention.

“….The written information, once translated, turned out to contain information concerning two magical objects, which we’ve since learned are in the form of golden idols, and the source for this unique ability. Our magicks department was able to conjecture the location of the dimension for our use.…..”

It took all of four seconds before she was once again bored with the pedantic woman. Her eyes had glazed over when she heard a distinct, although extremely slight sound. She continued to stare at Lydia while she strained her ears, trying to catch the noise again. Finally another whisper floated through the air, so slight only a vampire or possibly a Slayer with exceptional hearing would notice.

The Grundy was quietly and methodically chewing the legs of the long table against the wall, like a lumberjack preparing to fell a mighty oak. Buffy figured Travers was lucky if all he got for his miserly treatment was a splintered table and broken china. Empress could have easily chosen to turn the entire building into the towering inferno. She repressed laughter that threatened to bubble up and forced her face to remain blank while she tuned back into the lecture, which thank God, was finally winding down.

“….We set up another foray into the dimension using a temporary portal right here within the building and put together a team of five men. Their objective was to ascertain the exact location of the magical objects and if at all possible, secretly obtain them. We gave the team a timeframe of twenty-four hours, at which point we would reopen the portal for their use. The result of that foray is the box that you see in front of you.”

She quirked an eyebrow in Lydia’s direction. “Let me get this straight. Your team, in only twenty-four hours, was able to grab these icon thingies? That would be really impressive if they’d come home with anything but an empty box.”

“They didn’t all come home,” Lydia murmured.

Buffy caught the troubled expression behind Lydia’s glasses and felt a spurt of sympathy. She knew what it was like to lose people and could tell these losses bothered the Watcher more than she was letting on. Although Travers was the original iceman, it appeared Lydia could still thaw on occasion. Her voice softened. “Lydia, what happened to the rest of your team?”

Lydia stared at the table for a moment. When she looked up again she was once more in control, although her voice sounded tired. “When the portal reopened we discovered Philips deceased and Adams, a junior security officer, severely injured. They’re the only two of the five who came through. We’ve since questioned Adams at the hospital, but he has no idea of the current whereabouts or status of everyone else.” She hesitated briefly and then added, “But there are other, more important factors to consider.”

“Lydia, you are overstepping the boundaries of this meeting.” Travers warned. “Thank you for your concise although surprisingly maudlin report.”

Giles frowned at Lydia. “What, precisely, are the other factors?”

Travers waved Lydia back to her seat and answered the question himself. “Rupert, as you’ve obviously surmised, we would like your Slayer and her companions to retrieve the objects for us. We’d also like Ms. Summers to search for Harker. He is a premier specialist in magical objects and important to the Council.”

He didn’t even mention the missing security officers. Buffy crossed her arms and stared at Travers in disgust. “Why does this sound like it’s only half of some lame B movie plot? What’s missing from the script? Because I’m not taking my people through any portal unless you tell me everything.”

“Vampires.” Lydia blurted from her seat. “The owners of the objects are vampires. Philips died when his carotid artery was severed and Adams barely survived a very draining bite. The leadership within the dimension are reported to be very powerful vampires, origin unknown. But that’s not the worst of it.”

Travers shifted in his seat and started to open his mouth but Lydia’s voice was determined. “Sir, everyone at Senior level feels you need to tell Rupert and the Slayer what we learned earlier today. It changes the parameters of the mission.”

He considered her words. “Very well. I had planned to wait until later today when we could confirm the reports, however to expedite matters and in the spirit of complete disclosure, I will make an exception.”

Ignoring Spike, Travers glanced around the room at the others before his eyes came to rest on the Slayer. “Please remember this is very preliminary. We received information earlier today from a Serbian Watcher that after our original group returned, a raiding party consisting of a dozen vampires came through that same portal. They were staked by our Watcher and his associates but unfortunately not before four of them escaped back through the portal, which immediately closed.

However they managed to capture one of the vampires who willingly imparted–boasted I believe was the term they used– information before being staked. It seems that the portal within the cave system was only one of many that are opened on a routine basis within various dimensions by the vampires themselves.”

Buffy’s mouth hardened. “The portal was a set-up?”

Travers nodded grimly. “A fishing expedition as it were. The vampires open portals with the intention of waiting to see what comes through, if anything, from the other end. If it turns out to be humanoid in nature they track it. They willingly allowed the survey team to come and go, and now unfortunately the vampires are aware that our dimension is teeming with humans.”

Millions of happy meals on legs.

“What utter and complete gits you people are.” Spike muttered under his breath.

Buffy was shocked but not surprised. The Council had screwed up more than royally, and obviously Travers knew it, although the pompous windbag refused to admit any fault lay with the Council. She wondered how long before Lydia and her allies ended up working somewhere in Outer Mongolia.

But she wasn’t interested in playing politics. This was far too important. They needed to steal those two idols in the worst way as quickly as possible and if they couldn’t pull off their own equivalent of a brinks robbery, then no matter how much Travers was salivating, they’d have to settle for plan B. She’d have to figure out a way to obliterate them.

There was no way she’d allow a bunch of vampires drive-through privileges on her watch.

Placing her palms flat on the table, she leaned forward and stared at Travers. “How soon do we leave?”

Chapter 3

After the Council’s disclosure and since there were only a few more hours until the portal would open, the meeting was adjourned. Giles left with Lydia to check on the status of the portal while Travers returned to his office to see if any other information had arrived from Serbia.

The older gentleman, who had sat quietly throughout the meeting, walked up and introduced himself as Professor Simms–a Council consultant on mystical objects brought in by Lydia to fill in for the missing Harker.

She’d requested earlier that he accompany Willow and Spike to the suite prepared for them by the Council and help with preparations for the trip and the handling of the idols. He offered to have their driver drop Buffy at the hospital on the way so she could speak with Adams. She accepted and together with Willow, they walked out into the hall.

Spike stretched, glancing down at the space beside his chair. He reached for a chain leash which had miraculously appeared in its original location along with its nonchalant owner. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that disappearin’ act, Empress. I’m not as oblivious as the wankers and neither is Buffy.”

The Grundy offered him her best wide eyed innocent expression.

Shrugging, he stood up. “You’re just lucky the Slayer and I can’t stand the lot of ‘em either.”

He headed for the hall with a sedate Grundy at his heels and joined the others waiting for the elevator to make its way ponderously up to the third floor.

Which is really the fourth floor. Buffy was idly contemplating the British way of naming floors– did this mean the sub-basement was the basement or the sub-sub-basement?– while she listened to Willow and Professor Simms make small talk.

One of the Juniors–crowded together as far from Spike as possible in the small corridor– raised his head and sniffed. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”

Spike shot a quick look at Empress and she met his gaze with a definite smirk. So it was a much more involved plan for vengenence. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, he settled back against the wall and crossed his arms; he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

Buffy caught his look and rolled her eyes. She turned to watch, too.

After deciding among themselves that something was definitely wrong, Huey, Dewey and Louie rushed back into the conference room, propping the door open and allowing a slightly acrid smell to waft into the hall.

A moment later, an excited voice spoke loudly– Buffy decided it was Huey; he seemed to be the leader– the sound of his voice easily carrying through the open doorway into the hall. “There is a fire! I’m going to call the fire department!”

A second voice–Dewey?– calmer than the first, replied, “No need to make a fuss, somehow a few papers in the trashcan caught on fire. It’s very minor.”

“Use the rest of the water in that large teapot to douse it,” added the third.

A moment later there was a terrific crash accompanied by the sound of breaking china and several voices babbling excitedly, the cacophony nearly drowned out by the sound of a fire alarm.

Spike shot an amused look at Buffy and mouthed the word “timber.” She collapsed against the wall, shaking with silent laughter.

Willow surveyed the couple and raised an eyebrow.

Wiping her eyes, Buffy pointed at the Grundy.

Empress winked at Willow.

She turned away to hide a grin.

“My Goodness, what do you suppose caused all of that noise?” Simms asked, still staring at the conference room door. The fire alarm was still going off, but everything else was eerily quiet. “Do you suppose they could have been overcome by the fire? Perhaps we should go and check on them.”

The elevator arrived and the door slid open.

“Oh, I think they’ll be able to take care of whatever happened. After all they’re Watchers—trained for every contingency.” Buffy said airily, stepping into the elevator.

“They can handle anything,” Willow added, taking the professor by the arm.

“Except for a Grundy with a grudge,” muttered Spike under his breath. He followed the others into the elevator, Empress bouncing along happily at his side.

******

“We had no idea how bad it was going to get when we grabbed those idols.” Cyrus Adams, an overly large muscular man, was lying in the Council’s ward, propped up with several pillows, an IV still attached to his arm. He touched the gauze taped to his neck and added wryly, “I guess I do now.”

“How did you end up giving the idols back to them and survive?” Buffy asked.

He looked perplexed for a moment before his expression cleared. “The Council didn’t explain any of what was in my report, did they? You see I never touched the idols, only the box. I was acting as decoy.”

At Buffy’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “I’ll start at the beginning. Professor Harker was in charge— it was his show. He had Philips, his lab assistant from the Magical Objects Department along with him. Then there was Grange, my superior in the security department, Walters and me.

“Once we’d done some recon and saw what we were up against, we all tried to convince Harker to wait until everyone was asleep to steal the idols. They sleep during the day just like here.

“But he was worried that we’d run out of time and the portal would close before we could escape and we’d all become trapped, so we went in way too early. A couple of the vamps acting as guards were still awake and all hell broke loose. Grange and I managed to kill them— we still had the advantage of surprise at that point.”

He leaned forward to stare into Buffy’s eyes. “Between you and me, I don’t think the vamps expected anyone to ever try for those idols—no one in that dimension ever challenges them. They had the idols in an obvious spot right out in the open and there were only the two guards anywhere near them. I’d say you’re going to have a much harder go of it this time around.”

Nodding thoughtfully, she gestured for him to continue. He lay back against the pillows once again, took a deep breath and continued the story.

“So Harker grabbed the box with the idols, and we shot out the door and down the road, but then the rest woke up and came after us. We were still far enough ahead to stop for a breather and to figure out what to do. That’s when Grange came up with the idea to split up.

“Harker would keep the idols–he was the only one who knew how to keep them inert– and with Grange along for protection, they’d use this rocky path high up on the ridge. We figured it wouldn’t be as easy to track anyone through there. Walters and I would take the empty box and stay on the lower main road, and we’d all meet up at the portal. Philips, poor bastard, volunteered to go with us so it would seem more on the up and up, since we weren’t sure if they knew how many of us there really were.” Adams grimaced. “He probably figured he was safer with the two of us.”

Buffy gently laid her hand on his arm. “What happened then?”

He shook his head and winced at the pain that shot through his neck. “Damned if I know. The three of us made it safely to the portal before it opened, but Harker and Grange never showed up. We waited and then got jumped five minutes before the portal opened. Walters and I held them off– we were doing pretty well, too, although we sure could have used you there.

“Then Walters went down. The portal was beginning to open by then, and I had one on top of me. I could barely see Philips anymore. I remember somehow finally throwing the vamp off and reaching for Philips’ arm. I staggered into the portal, dragging Philips behind me. I couldn’t see anything the light was so bright. He stared down at his hands and murmured, “I didn’t even realize Philips was already dead.”

“Things happen fast during a fight. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re right.” Adams’ eyes hardened. “It was Ian Harker’s fault completely. If we’d waited like Grange and the rest of us wanted, we would have had a much better chance of success and keeping everybody alive.”

“Is there any possibility Harker and Grange escaped, but just couldn’t reach the portal in time?”

He stared up at the white ceiling. “I’ve been asking myself that same question. Anything’s possible of course; there are a lot of caves in that area—I scouted around there myself. But unless they’ve found food and water somewhere, they’ll die of starvation pretty soon.

“The time is different there. One of our twenty- four hour days appears to be a full week there. Their days are shorter, too. They’ve only got four hours of real sun, with maybe two hours of dusk and ten hours of full-on dark. It’s a pre-industrial society without oil or electricity– think medieval Europe or even more primitive. I personally believe that’s why the vamps are so powerful– they can run around safely a whole lot longer than ours, so they’ve gotten stronger through the years. They’re a little different in other ways, too.”

“What do you mean–different?”

“Well, for one thing they cast a reflection. I saw that myself. They seemed faster, too. I’ve been fighting vampires for the last ten years–six of them for the Council– and when they jumped us I had a hard time staking them.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe I was just off my game. It was a pretty chaotic situation.”

“Would you tell me anything you can remember about the caves and the surrounding terrain?”

“I can do the Slayer one better. Find me a pencil and paper and I’ll draw the entire layout for you.”

*****

“These are the caves here. And over this way is their stronghold. They’re about three hours walking distance apart.” Buffy watched Spike lean over Adams’ sketches spread across the table in the Council’s suite to see where she was pointing. He still held the mug of blood that he’d been drinking when she’d returned from the hospital. “So what do you think?”

Spike followed the line with his finger. “About what?”

Buffy nodded at the drawings. “I’m thinking we try to use this trail from the caves. Adams said they didn’t patrol there.”

“Wouldn’t you start a patrol if you’d had an attempt to steal somethin’ valuable and the thieves used that route for their escape?”

Giles walked into the kitchen in time to hear Spike’s comment. “I agree. I don’t think that will work twice. What about a spy on the inside? I’ve figured out that’s what Travers had in mind when he requested Spike– and I can’t believe I’m saying this– but it’s a fairly good idea.”

Buffy placed her hand over Spike’s. It was his call. “How do you feel about joining the baddies long enough to check things out?”

Spike nodded thoughtfully. “While I’m playin’ 007– you lot can look for the Watcher in the caves.”

Wagging a finger, Buffy playfully pushed Spike. “Just don’t be falling for any cute vampire bond girls while you’re in there– that kind of 007 playing is strictly off limits.”

Eyes twinkling, he pulled her close and said, “Never. Besides no bond girl, alive or dead, holds a candle to you. Well, except for maybe Jill St. John. No wait, Maud Adams. Oh, I forgot about Carole Bouquet. I think she was even better with a crossbow than you, too.”

Grinning, he ducked the playful slap.

In the living area of the suite, Willow rubbed her temples. She and Giles had read everything provided by the Council on the flight over and she still didn’t feel really ready for this. The containment spell fell to her and it was exceedingly tough. It didn’t help that any tiny mistake and the entire spell would fail. Focusing her tired eyes, she tried to translate the symbols scribbled on the paper in front of her for the third time.

Professor Simms smiled at her kindly. “Jet lag’s a bugger, isn’t it? I remember”– He abruptly stopped talking.

She looked up and followed his gaze. Spike and Buffy were standing together in the kitchen, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders while he nuzzled her neck tenderly.

When Buffy whispered something in Spike’s ear that made him smile, Willow swore under her breath. She turned back to the elderly man. “We’d greatly appreciate if you didn’t say anything to the Council about this, Professor. Obviously, it would create all sorts of problems and the Slayer has more than enough to worry about right now.”

His eyes still on the couple, he murmured, “Extraordinary, isn’t it? The Council’s Slayer and one of the most notorious vampires in history, obviously very much in love with each other.” He met Willow’s eyes. “Don’t worry Ms. Rosenberg, I’m a romantic and your secret is safe. You have my word as a gentleman.”

He looked at the couple briefly once more and added, “You’ll think me melodramatic I’m sure, but everything about this situation reminds me of Romeo and Juliet.”

Willow smiled, relieved. “Thank you professor Simms. We’re all very much in your debt.”

Willow had already escorted the older man to the hall and closed the door behind him before his words sunk in. She remembered the tragedy that ultimately befell the star-crossed lovers and a shiver ran down her spine.

Chapter 4


“Well, I bet Fodor won’t be adding this dimension to a guide book anytime soon— the plant life’s way too hard on clothes.” Buffy rubbed at some kind of pulpy bluish-green slime smeared on her favorite red leather pants and glared at the offending plant. “You don’t suppose the Council sent us through a cheaper version of the portal do you? Maybe they wanted to make a point that there are worse things than missing out on first class airline tickets.”

Spike responded wryly. “Yes, because they would much rather hear you complain about ruinin’ your clothes; it’s so much more personal.” He looked around at the barren desert terrain and snorted. “Doesn’t look like Rupes is missin’ much.”

“Yeah. I guess it was a good idea of his to stay and monitor the sitch from London.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Is it only me or does the air smell like rotten eggs?”

“I think he wanted to monitor the Council and Travers more than the situation, which in my mind is a very good idea” Willow looked around and crinkled her own nose. “It does stink. I think its sulfur.”

“We’ve got brimstone and three devils, all we need is fire,” Spike muttered, glancing darkly at the three Council security men checking their supplies.

Willow glanced at the three and lowered her own voice. “Why do you suppose Travers sent those guys with us?”

Buffy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter; I’m in charge, so they do as I say. Besides, it’s three more warm bodies with weapons, which hopefully they know how to use.”

“If they don’t they’ll become cold bodies fairly fast.” Spike drawled. He stared up at the rapidly darkening sky. It was amazing just how quickly this world could change from day to night. “I think we need to locate one of those caves Adams told you about pet. It’s nearly showtime for the locals.”

“One step ahead of you.” Buffy looked up from her homemade map. “We’re close: the first set of caves are about twenty five feet over that ridge, at the edge of this portion of desert.” Motioning to the soldiers, the Slayer picked up her backpack and started walking. Willow fell in beside her while Spike and Empress followed them with the three security men bringing up the rear.

*****

“This soup is delicious, thank you Kalin.” Ian Harker smiled at the young freckle-faced teen handing him a second bowl of soup made with roots that tasted a lot like the small red potatoes at home. A little shy around people, she still returned his smile brightly. Kalin and her family had been a godsend to him. In fact all the villagers had helped the weakened stranger who’d stumbled into the center of their village in any way they could.

Ascertaining that he was alone, they’d immediately offered a small hut for his use. The village ate every meal communally, so they’d shared their food with him, too, sending Kalin in with a bowl twice a day until he had his strength back. Now he routinely ate with everyone else at the circle.

He’d quickly discovered that his arrival had sparked no curiosity or untoward interest within the friendly village of roughly one hundred souls. The Treen, as they called themselves, were totally nonplussed about people coming and going at any time from the desert and also some of the most kindhearted and giving people Ian had ever met in his life.

He counted himself damn lucky to be alive. He remembered being shoved into a cave by Grange and stumbling on an aboveground root or something. He’d awakened hours later with a splitting headache from a lump the size of a guinea with both the icons and Grange missing.

Nervous about being left behind at this point he’d made another bad decision in a string of bad decisions and headed into the desert to try to locate either someone from their group or the portal site itself.

Unfortunately, all of the terrain looked identical and he’d become hopelessly lost, roaming through the desert for three days, most of his time split between trying to locate something to slake his thirst during the short, intensely hot days and utter, witless fright that one of them would find him in the seemingly endless, pitch black nights.

Ian was a scientist, not a soldier, and despite Council training, he very much doubted he could fend off even one, very weak vampire. Then the morning of the fourth day when he’d been ready to give up completely, he’d noticed smoke from a campfire rising into the air from the other side of a small rise. The last thing he remembered was striking out for it. Thank God he’d found the Treen and not something much worse.

He finished the second helping of soup–it really was delicious–and handed back the empty bowl with a wink that garnered another shy smile from Kalin and a return wink. She was such a sweet child and a favorite among the other villagers. Ian wondered which of the village boys would end up with her as his mate. They seemed to mate here as many primitive tribal groups did. But whoever it turned out to be, Ian thought the kid would be the luckiest of the bunch— Kalin had both brains and a good sense of humor.

Uncrossing his already stiffening legs, he stood up and bowed to the elders sitting in the center of the circle –a societal gesture of respect he’d picked up–and started toward his little hut. After the evening meal was complete and everything prepared for the morning, all of the Treen immediately went to bed. It appeared he wasn’t the only one who disliked being awake at night.

The normal sounds he’d already grown accustomed to hearing each evening had ceased and someone had begun to beat a drum slowly. The hollow rhythmic sound, akin to a deep steady heartbeat, sounded throughout the tiny village.

Ian had reached his small thatched hut by this time– there were only a few dozen and they were all within steps of each other – and crossed the threshold. He immediately peered curiously through a slit in the hanging cloth that he used as a door.

In the few moments it had taken him to walk away, tall tiki torches had been lit at the edge of the sacred circle. Pressed deeply into the sand they brightened the entire area, pushing the black night back toward the desert. He could hear lots of rustling noises and villagers talking excitedly among themselves as they moved around the huts.

Feeling a little like someone from a National Geographic crew, he settled against the wall and parted the curtain wider to observe the festivities.

Several villagers began a rhythmic chant, walking arm in arm until they reached the edge of the circle where they broke apart, bowing to the elders already standing within the circle, their faces appearing strangely alien beneath homemade masks made from some variety of hollow gourd stained white.

A few moments later most of the village had made their way to the circle and the elders motioned for the drumming to cease, leaving only slight murmured chanting.

Ian was still trying to figure out the exact nature of the ceremony when he saw two dozen figures with pale, ridged foreheads appear, striding into the center of the sacred circle.

Their eyes gleamed golden in the flickering torch light as they raised their arms, palms open, above their heads in perfect synchronicity– the motions polished– as if they’d done so many, many times before.

Eyes wide, he sucked in a shocked breath. Vampires.

The chanting rose in adulation until it sounded messianic to Ian’s ears. The villagers swayed, waving their arms and stomping their feet as the chanting grew louder and the drums beat faster.

Ian felt the first surge of fear as it combined with a healthy dose of revulsion while he tried to wrap his head around the bizarre idea of vampires being worshipped as deities.

One of the vampires–very tall, dark and powerfully built– strode to the forefront and stood beside the village elders that were exhorting the crowd to chant louder.

Ian immediately pegged the dark vampire as the leader; he had an aura about him that spoke of incredible power and strength.

He added charisma to the list of attributes as well when the crowd roared their excitement at their first sight of the demon.

Staring intently at the crowd with those utterly alien golden eyes, the vampire’s powerful shoulder muscles rippled as he raised his arms toward the sky. The chanting villagers mimicked the action as the remainder of the vampires arrayed behind him roared loudly.

The villagers roared in response. The single drum, now joined by others, pounded a steady beat while frenzied villagers gyrated wildly around the outside of the circle.

Ian uneasily shifted farther to the side of the hut, shying away from the doorway. A movement at the edge of the circle caught his eye and he strained to see through the flickering torchlight. Running his eyes across the crowd he saw some village families–Kalin’s included– standing quietly amid the increasing noise and activity at the circle’s perimeter. They carried painted gourds tied to tall sticks, swaying above their heads.

Carrying the stick in one hand, Kalin’s father escorted his daughter away from the rest of the family and together they joined a procession to the circle. When they reached the center of the circle, her father bowed deeply to the elders and then to the cadre of vampires. Horrified Ian watched as he handed Kalin over to the vampire leader.

The vampire dipped his head slightly and gently took the girl’s hand, steering her to a place at his side as the crowd roared their approval.

Two other men followed suit, handing their daughters over to the vampires before stepping out of the circle to rejoin their families chanting along with the frenzied crowd.

Inside the circle, the girls stood quietly– hands clasped, chins held high– while the vampires slowly gathered around them in a semi circle, their choreographed moves precise. The drums beat louder.

Gliding to the forefront beside their leader, three of the vampires smiled for the crowd, their extended fangs gleaming in the flickering torchlight. On cue, they simultaneously sunk their fangs deeply into the delicate flesh on the side of each girl’s neck, easily breaking open the skin like overripe tomatoes.

They began to feed and the crowd roared its approval.

Recoiling, Ian’s stomach lurched at the sight.

Obviously drugged, the girls stood placid and unmoving in the face of incredible pain.

Much too quickly to have drunk more than a token amount, the three vampires– with a benevolent hand wave from their leader– passed the sluggish teens to the next three in line and the nightmarish scene replayed. The girls were passed from vampire to vampire, becoming progressively weaker from the blood loss until finally carried back to the forefront. Held out in front of their leader, he drained the remaining blood. Lifting his red rimmed mouth, he smiled at the crowd.

Reeling at the sight, Ian shivered uncontrollably.

The drumming stopped, leaving only the sound of the chanting crowd. The girls’ pale, slumped bodies– gaping neck wounds dripping slightly– were thrust into the waiting arms of the elders, who reverently laid the bodies on the soft sand at the side of the circle, arranging their limbs carefully and dropping wildflowers from a basket along the length of the prone bodies.

The vampires pumped their clenched fists into the air high above their heads and the chanting rose to a fanatical roar again.

Lowering their arms, they continued to stare out into the crowd for a few more moments as the drumming started up again, this time with a much slower tempo.

Their leader motioned and the other demons fell in step behind him. Leaving the circle, they vanished into the desert.

The chanting slowed to a slight murmur and finally stopped altogether. The elders called out an exhortation to the heavens that ended the ceremony as the exhausted villagers walked trancelike in twos and threes away from the circle.

The detached scientific observer inside of Ian glanced down at his wristwatch, noting that the entire ceremony– including the sacrificial exsanguinations of three healthy young women by a cadre of messianic vampires– had taken little more than three hours total.

As the torches were extinguished, several villagers lifted the bodies of Kalin and the other two dead girls, but Ian couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Exhausted, he rubbed a hand across his blurry eyes and realized he was silently crying, the tears sliding down his cheeks.

Stumbling backward from the doorway, his heels came in contact with the thin pallet along the back wall. Collapsing to his knees, he vomited; the soup Kalin had served him stained the mattress crimson.

*****

“I think I miss Orion’s belt the most.” Buffy stared into the strange night sky awash with unfamiliar constellations and leaned against Spike’s side. He immediately tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

They’d walked outside the cave to say a private goodbye, lingering to look up at the bright stars, vivid against the utter blackness surrounding them.

“Do you remember that last night on board the demon boat?” Spike’s voice sounded husky the words pitched low for her ears alone.

“How could I ever forget?” she replied softly.

She strived for some semblance of normalcy, and he heard the light teasing tone. “After all, how often is a girl given a strand of Mikimoto pearls?”

Once his answering chuckle died, her voice grew serious. “The stars were brilliant, but the real reason was us.”

“And they always will be.” His gaze met hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

In one swift movement he reached for her, catching his lips with hers. She gasped, tangling her hands tightly in his hair. He slanted his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss as she clung tightly to him.

They stayed that way, each holding the other, until finally, reluctantly, he pulled his hands away, murmuring, “If I don’t leave right now, Slayer, I’m not goin’ to leave at all and your well crafted plan will go pear shaped.”

Face flushed, she took a deep breath and dropped her own hands, taking a deliberate step back to force space and reality between them. “You’re right. Besides those Council guys think I’m out here giving you last minute instructions. So, I guess I’ll see you in two days.”

He stared into her eyes as he reached out, trapping her smaller hand in his. Pulling it to his lips, he kissed the palm. “Two days.”

“Spike? Watch your back.”

He nodded and started walking down the ridge.

She stood and watched until she couldn’t distinguish him from the surrounding landscape anymore.

Empress padded out of the cave. Lifting her nose into the air, she scented in the direction Spike had taken.

Buffy looked down into the Grundy’s expressive face. “Empress, why do I feel like this? God knows, we’ve both been in dangerous situations before; so many times I’ve lost count even. Yet deep inside I feel like I’m missing something here, as if someone forgot to tell me some vital piece of the puzzle, and it’s going to come back to haunt us.”

The Grundy snuffled, pushing her nose into Buffy’s leg, coaxing the worried Slayer back into the cave and the circle of firelight.

Chapter 5


Grange angrily paced back and forth in the cave. He was starving, absolutely famished, craving food so badly that he could hardly stand it. He’d had some problems initially catching anything in this hellish dimension, and it was just his luck that the one thing he’d managed to trap yesterday was small and hadn’t even made a dent in the gnawing hunger.

He could feel his body weakening. Frustrated beyond belief, he hurled a fist sized rock against the far wall. The noise it produced sounded a little like the report from the semi-automatic he kept beside his bed at home. It was oddly comforting.

He hated this dimension with its vast desert and barren caves with a passion he hadn’t known he possessed– after all, he’d been a career soldier before joining the Council to become head of security, and he’d been on countless missions through the years in terrain much like this– but being here in this hellhole seemed much, much worse somehow.

He’d always prided himself on his ability to be completely calm and detached during any unusual situation, but the damn sun was sapping him in ways he hadn’t expected and coupled with the no food situation, he was really starting to lose his grip. If he didn’t eat soon, he feared for his sanity. On the other hand, sanity could be overrated….

Shaking his head over even making a joke like that, he tried to pull his mind away from his raging hunger and the current situation by thinking about other things. He replayed movies he’d seen in his head, television shows he’d enjoyed recently, and then London and the bustling nightlife captured his thoughts.

Thinking about the city reminded him of food again. There were all kinds of food on every corner in a large bustling city like London. At home he could eat as much as he wanted, wash it down with a few pints at a pub, and then go out and get dessert.

Stretching out on the rocky floor to conserve his strength, he put his hands behind his head and thought about what kind of food he’d have first when he returned home. A pretty young blonde maybe, or better yet, a buxom redhead. He’d always had a special fondness for ginger women. Maybe he’d let her run first-strictly for entertainment of course- he was in the best physical shape he’d ever been in. He smirked. Dinner and a show. How very metropolitan.

Anger finally abated, his golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Too bad he didn’t have those damn icons any longer; he could leave right now and be home in time for tea. He briefly wondered how blood and Lemon Zinger would taste together and decided it might be a delicious combination since they were both so tangy.

He really had to find something larger than a two year old this time. If only he could have caught the female too, but he’d been unsure of his abilities at first. Not like now.

After his meal, he’d track and recapture the icons so he could go home. He’d been diverted from his directive— he laughed at what the Council would think about the reason— but a soldier always completes his mission, and Grange was nothing if not a soldier. And now with the light finally waning, it was time to move out.

Still laughing, he saluted the empty cave.

*****

There was a light knock and Lydia looked up from her paperwork as Giles poked his head in the door of her small office. “Lydia, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Rupert. Please come in.”

He dropped into the leather chair in front of her desk and held up a manila folder. “We just saw each other at the portal opening an hour ago, but I felt it might be best to speak to you about this in private. Have you read the report from Professor Simms concerning his personal investigation into the icon box?”

She frowned at him curiously. “No, I haven’t. May I ask how you managed to receive a copy?” She leaned back and sighed. “I’m sorry, Rupert, that was rude of me. You needn’t answer that.”

“The Professor gave a copy to Willow at our suite earlier and she passed it to me. I understood the Council had already received it.” He supplied the answer easily, before arching an eyebrow. The woman looked decidedly unhappy. “But this isn’t about my having the report, is it?”

Lydia shook her head. “I’m being removed from the project. It seems Quentin is more than a little unhappy with my work lately, including the hiring of Professor Simms to fill in for Harker. I believe our group meeting earlier was the proverbial last straw.”

“Can you fight the decision?”

“You’ve been in the field awhile, but I daresay you remember how the game is played.”

Watching his thoughtful nod, she shrugged. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I knew this could be a possibility when I spoke up, although honestly, I didn’t think Quentin would go this far. But the direction the Council has taken in various affairs lately has bothered me and others among the senior staff. As for this particular situation with the portal and the vampires, only a select few, even among the highest level, are aware of the inherent danger here. Need I say I dislike secrets of this magnitude?”

He frowned. “He’s setting up a sacrificial lamb in case this can not be easily contained.”

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “And I am to be the one to be bloodied upon the altar.” She tapped the desk with her fingernails. “After all, I am but one small cog in a tightly run machine constructed by Quentin and his—.”

“Bloody twits” Giles interrupted and was rewarded with a flash of amusement in Lydia’s eyes.

Her mouth quirked. “I was going to say inner circle.”

“They are one and the same.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs. Pointing at the pile of papers spread across the desk, he spoke slowly “How long do you have? I assume you will be given ample time to either complete or hand off your current assignments.”

Her lips pursed. “I’m not sure yet. You see, I have made the effort to cultivate a close friendship with Emma, Quentin’s personal secretary, although I’m sure he’s completely unaware of it.”

“Keep friends close and enemies closer…”he murmured and was rewarded with another flash of amusement.

“Quite. So I haven’t been officially notified yet, although papers have been typed that will reassign me to the field, possibly to work with one of the potentials, although that is certainly not within my true area of expertise.”

Giles watched Lydia set her shoulders firmly and raise her chin. He’d always admired her indomitable spirit and her humanity, both in short supply around here. He fixed his attention on her solemn expression as she continued to speak. “But today I am still in charge of this project, so would you mind explaining what it is that Professor Simms has discovered?”

Endeavoring not to embarrass her further, he slid the folder across the desk and replied matter-of-factly. “Professor Simms has discovered that the box is losing dimensional cohesion– slipping on a molecular level– away from our dimension and possibly back to its own.”

Lydia looked startled. “How can that be?” Leafing through the report, her eyes narrowed. “This report is dated prior to the Slayer’s trip earlier today into the portal.”

He nodded in the affirmative. “If the icons can’t remain permanently within this dimension and Quentin was already aware of this, what purpose would be served by sending Buffy to retrieve them? It appears that we should be finding other ways to stop the raids.”

She answered wryly. “About the Slayer’s current trip, there were only two things of which I was certain. One, it would not be a humanitarian effort to retrieve my team, and two, the Council badly wants those icons.”

Her expression grew thoughtful. “Now, I am certain of only the first, although I do have my suspicions concerning the second. Come on, Rupert, I think we would both like to hear more about what Professor Simms has to say, and then there is someone else we need to speak with.”

*****

Spike decided that he’d never complain about Southern California again, or at least not nearly as much. At least in Sunnyhell he didn’t have gritty sand mucking about in his boots because of the lack of decent concrete sidewalks or the constant stink of sulfur in his nose. Yeah, he could stop breathing– no problem there– but then he’d have to give up inhaling his Marlboros and there was no bloody way he’d walk all night over hill and dale without a nicotine fix. That wasn’t even an option.

Factor in the circuitous route he’d had to take around some little Podunk village that was not only having some sort of loud party but wasn’t even shown on Adams’ sketch–which meant even longer slogging in the sand and you had a dimension rated high on the shite meter. He figured about an 8.5 of extreme suckage as Buffy would say.

Scowling, he dug a pebble out of his Doc Marten before setting off to climb to the top of the tall hill that was the end point on soldier boy’s map. It had taken him four hours of steady walking and complaining to finally arrive here and it would soon be daylight. He needed to do his little recon and then find someplace to wait out this dimension’s short day.

He hiked to the top and finally stood on the crest, peering through the nearly breaking dawn into the deep valley below. His mouth dropped open as the litany of complaints inside his head vanished.

Running a hand through his hair, he swore softly. He’d been wrong. This dimension was definitely a solid ten–solid gold Olympic medal material in fact– with lots of additional bonus points for one very minor detail the soldier boy had neglected to mention to the Slayer about the vampire’s stronghold.

It was a castle.

He took in the details of the enormous, looming stone structure sitting solidly in the middle of a surprisingly verdant valley filled with trees and other lush landscape and sitting right in the middle of all that scenic greenery was the stone edifice.

Although much smaller than a conventional castle, it was still at least four stories high and completely surrounded– as far as he could tell from this angle– by one very solid thick stone wall.

Incredulous, he rubbed his tired eyes and looked again. No mirage, it was still there and still every bit a castle. Hell, he was English— he knew a castle when he saw one. He could even see the top third of an actual keep showing above the wall. The only thing missing was a gaily colored flag perched on the top. And oh, mustn’t forget that real cranking drawbridge spanning a moat full of brackish, yellow water– although having any kind of a water-filled moat in the middle of a desert was actually pretty inventive, and now that he thought about it, where in the hell had they found enough stone to quarry to build a bloody castle?

Feeling incredibly vulnerable since he’d forgotten to pack his siege tower, Spike realized he was standing on the crest of the hill gaping down at the castle’s front facade like some gobsmacked berk, and now that he’d started paying attention to his surroundings, he also realized there were several vampires– he and Rupes had been right, they were obviously guarding the door– standing at the large, barred entrance to the bloody thing, and who might at any moment, look up at the top of said hill. And right at him.

Swearing again, he dropped to the ground and slid a little way back down behind the crest. He leaned back against the hill, carefully sitting on his coat to avoid the gritty sand, and tried to think of a brilliant plan to gain entrance into a castle in any way except as a prisoner. After all, being incarcerated somewhere inside that monstrosity would cramp his reconnaissance style a wee bit and piss off the Slayer when she discovered she had to storm a castle to save him. Especially since he knew she hadn’t packed her siege tower either.

When he couldn’t immediately think of a brilliant plan that didn’t include chain mail and hollow coconuts, he lowered his sights a little and tried to think of any plan. Maybe he should leave and report back to Buffy, although he couldn’t think what good that would do. Then they’d all be sitting here staring, instead of only him. He needed to get inside– if only to figure out the layout and how many vampires were in there– although reason dictated way, way too many if they could build that.

Nothing for it. Grimacing, he hoped something would come to him and changed into game face to look pretty for the locals. Standing up again, he laced his fingers behind his neck in the universal gesture for surrender. At least he hoped a universal gesture meant the same thing in other universes, after all wasn’t that what universal meant? Already wishing he’d given himself more time to think up a plan or at least the chance to locate some chain mail and possibly even a couple of coconuts to hollow out, he took a determined step forward.

Chapter 6


“Well, that was a fat waste of time.” Buffy exited the last cave, scowling.

Willow wiped her sweaty face with the bottom of her tee shirt and agreed with the Slayer’s exasperation. It had taken the group hours to search every cave along the ridge and they’d come up with a big fat goose egg. No sign of missing scientists, soldiers or icons, or even a vamp to dust that would make the complaining Slayer happier.

“Buffy, do you want to set up camp around here?”

“Might as well.” She called to Anderson, the leader of the Council minions as she thought of the soldiers. “Go ahead and set up camp inside that last cave.”

As the men carried their supplies inside, Buffy pulled Willow away from the entrance. “Empress found something in that last cave; I think a vamp or something else spent some time in there. We must have just missed it. She and I are going to follow the trail while it’s fresh, try to get a bead on where it’s headed.”

Willow glanced in the cave and lowered her voice. “Are you sure you don’t want them to go along with?”

“I’m positive. Those guys are about as quiet as a Fourth of July parade. They’ll scare off whatever it is before I can get a good look at it.” Buffy shifted. “Besides, Will, I think you’d be safer if they stayed behind. I won’t be gone too long.” She grinned. “And while I’m gone, they’re your minions. Treat ‘em nice, but not too nice. I’m thinking they should do food detail.” She lifted her sword and looked down at the Grundy. “Let’s go, Empress.”

The Grundy lifted her head, sniffing before starting down the ridge. Willow watched the Slayer follow the little demon and called out, “Be careful.” Buffy raised a hand in farewell. Willow shook her head and muttered, “Only going to follow it, huh? Uh huh. Neither one of them can wait to kill something.”

*****

“Professor, it’s not important that I understand what led you to test the box or even what tests you performed.” Lydia shot a look of exasperation at Giles before tapping impatiently on the report she’d placed in front of the rambling man nearly fifteen minutes ago. “All I’m asking for are your conclusions. Is the box leaving this dimension, or not?”

The professor nodded emphatically. “Oh yes, and as I’ve explained, it is doing so at a measurably steady rate.”

“How is that possible?” Giles asked, frowning. It was unheard of for an inanimate object to move through dimensions independently without either going through a portal or something else triggering the movement, such as an incantation. And even more audacious was the idea that it could bleed through slowly, molecule by molecule.

Professor Simms shrugged. “This is unusual. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.” He stood up. “Here, let me show you.”

They watched as he spun the combination on a large, oddly colored box covered in sigils. “This is the magical equivalent of a faraday cage. When an object is placed inside, it is no longer in contact with anything from any dimension. I placed the box inside when I first discovered disparities in the tests. It was the only way the object could be stabilized.”

Giles watched the professor pull out the familiar wooden box, placing it in his outstretched hands. He turned it over. The box appeared much lighter in color, washed out, as though it had been bleached. He also remembered it being much heavier. Now it felt almost as if he was holding nothing at all. Buffy would say it had gone all ghosty.

“Remarkable,” he murmured and passed it over to Lydia.

The Professor nodded. “Isn’t it? Notice how the integrity of its shape has still been retained so far. It’s most amazing.”

Lydia ran a finger across the top. It felt smooth now, the glyphs having faded away. “Professor, have you come up with any theories yet on what could cause this? I realize it is unprecedented, but I’ll like to hear any ideas you’ve entertained, no matter how unusual.”

He shook his head, placing the box back inside and spinning the combination. “I’m sorry, but I have absolutely no idea. I’d love to run more tests, but to do so I would have to remove the box from its safe haven. It’s a paradox. I can tell you that left alone the box would disappear completely in less than three hours.”

Lydia stood up. “Thank you for your time, Professor. If you come up with anything, please let me know.”

Following Lydia into the hall, Giles closed the professor’s office door firmly before turning to her. “What do you think? Do you believe him?”

“Yes, I believe him. After all, we both saw the box.” She glanced around the empty hall and lowered her voice. “I think its time to hear the rest of the story concerning the first trip.”

“What do you have in mind?”

She headed for the elevator. “I think it’s time we talked to Adams ourselves. There must be something he hasn’t said.”

Giles laid a hand on her shoulder. “Lydia, do you really expect Adams to tell you anything that Travers has ordered him to keep secret?”

“He’ll tell me anything I want to know.” She pushed the elevator button. “You can trust me on that.”

****

Spike took another step forward. One more and he’d be at the crest of the hill again and in full view of the guards below. He started to pick up his foot when a voice spoke behind him.

“There’s a back way in, you know. You don’t have to serve yourself up like a side of Daggon on a platter.” The inflection was wry, the timbre low but obviously female.

“Maybe we should allow him to march down there. It would be amusing, and after all he is one of them.” A second scornful female voice added. Spike decided he liked the first voice a whole lot more. Curious, he started to turn around.

“No, stay right like you are.” The second voice spoke again, this time more forcefully and accompanied by the familiar sound of at least one arrow, possibly more, nocked within a bow.

“But why would he pose as a captive?” The first voice sounded intrigued. “I do not believe he is with them.”

“However I am still not convinced. Perhaps we should destroy him just in case.”

What the hell? “Now wait a minute! I’m not with them! ” Spike decided right then and there that he needed– no, very much wanted– to face any voices about to plug him with arrows. Despite the second voice’s admonishment not to move he wheeled around and his mouth dropped.

Somehow several dozen men and women– all armed – had managed to sneak up behind him. They’re certainly very, very, good. Grudgingly he realized he’d have to play this a whole lot smarter than he’d first thought, so he unclenched his fists and slipped out of game face.

Several of the warriors gasped, gripping their weapons tighter.

Confused at why an armed group living in close quarters to vampires would be shocked at seeing his face change, Spike pushed aside the question momentarily and grimly turned his attention to a much more pressing problem–the two voices and their distinct lack of interest in his ongoing health.

Standing in the forefront of the warrior group and only a couple of feet from him, two Xena wannabes stared at him suspiciously. The women– one tall blonde and one short brunette– wore chain mail and held bows loaded with wooden arrows aimed straight at his heart. Noting their stance and the deference accorded them by the others, Spike pegged them as the group’s leaders. He needed to win them both over or he was dust.

Intently watching the women for any sign they planned to loose the arrows, he slowly lowered his hands, palms open.

Both sets of eyes narrowed.

He cleared his throat. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m not plannin’ on hurtin’ anyone here, only tryin’ to get a look see inside the wankers’ fortress. Name’s Spike.” He paused briefly before adding, “Didn’t I hear one of you lovely ladies mention another, more private way inside or do I need to clean the bloody sand out of my ears?”

Ignoring his question, the two women continued to stare at him for one very long moment before the brunette shifted and announced, “He doesn’t sound like them either.”

Spike recognized her as voice number one. That meant the owner of the second voice was the blonde with the cold eyes….

Tightening her hold on the bow, the blonde shook her head, still unconvinced. “Possibly a trick. He definitely had a God’s visage. We all saw it.”

The brunette stared thoughtfully at Spike. “So, are you a God?”

“Women have on occasion been known to call me that, but no, just a run of the mill vampire here,” He drawled, lips curving upward.

The brunette shot him a slow, approving grin and lowered her weapon.

Obviously not overly impressed, the blonde tightened her finger on the trigger. Spike hurriedly added, “And I’m definitely against the other blokes.”

“See Cris, I told you he wasn’t one of them. He’s something called a vampire.”

The blonde– Cris?–continued to star at him while Spike gave her his best and brightest smile. She conceded grudgingly. “He could possibly be some sort of half breed. Perhaps the Gods mated with a human.”

She lowered her bow and the rest of the group followed suit. “I will not kill you for the moment.”

“Much appreciated,” he muttered.

“I’m Lyre.” A curious note sounded in the brunette’s voice. “So what exactly is a vampire? And why were you going to the God’s domain in the guise of a prisoner?”

“I don’t mind explainin’, but do you mind if we do this somewhere besides on top of this hill? It’s nearly mornin’ and the sun and I don’t get along all that well.”

The blonde snorted.

Lyre nodded. “We know of a place.”

Spike walked past Cris while she pointed at two of her men. Glancing at Spike, she purposely spoke loud enough for him to hear. “Follow behind this vampire and keep him within range at all times.”

She and the brunette started back down the hill and Spike fell in step behind them with the two warriors close behind him. They were definitely a suspicious lot, although he understood their feelings. He didn’t get all that prattle about Gods but he was a vampire and they were right to be cautious. He’d play twenty questions and maybe the brunette would show him a less obvious way inside the castle. In the meantime, he’d try very hard not to upset the blonde. She reminded him way too much of Darla.

The sun was already peeking over the horizon, so he hoped where ever they were headed it was close. Before he could ask about their destination, the group stopped at a sand dune a few yards past the hill. One of the warriors bent down and swept the piled sand away, uncovering a small wooden trap door. Pulling it open, the brunette grinned at Spike, motioning him inside.

Ten minutes later he was lighting a cigarette inside a large underground cavern that had several connecting tunnels. Lyre assured him the Gods in the castle knew nothing about their current location and Spike was impressed. Not only had the group caught him completely unaware on the hill, they evidently walked around right under the vampires’ very noses.

“So you lot think those blighters in the castle are Gods?” Spike would have been amused if it wasn’t so deadly serious. “They’re vampires, same as me. Can’t go out in the sun, wooden stake through the heart destroys them, no reflection in mirrors, yada yada.” He watched the blonde stand up straighter and hastened to add, “except that I don’t kill people and they do.”

Lyre shook her head. “They are not as you are. They can be seen within mirrors and have no human visage, although the rest of what you have said is true of them. But isn’t it also true that Gods are always stronger than mortal man and also eternal?”

Taking a pull on his cigarette, Spike remembered Buffy mentioning something about the vamps here having a reflection and pondered the situation. If the comment was correct about their true faces, then either they were all very, very old, or in this dimension the vampires were even more different than anyone realized. These were all things he needed to suss out for the Slayer as soon as possible.

Shaking off his impatience, he spoke calmly. “I suppose this hideout has another exit that comes out somewhere near the castle.”

Cris stiffened. Gritting her teeth, she could barely choke out the words. “We are not hiding when we are down here. We are the onlyones who will fight.”

Spike winced. She definitely had a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. “Sorry, pet, bad choice of words. Every resistance movement needs a hidden base. Actually, I’m very impressed.”

She glared at Spike. “Only your death would impress me.”

Lyre laid a placating hand on Cris’ arm and gazed squarely at Spike. “All of us here have left our villages and our families because we are the only ones who believe the Gods are evil. We seek a way to destroy them.”

“Then we have something in common, pet. I need to get inside that castle. If you’ll show me how, I’ll be able to supply you with information about their defenses.”

“What do you really want inside the castle, vampire?”

Pulling on his cigarette again, Spike debated briefly whether he should mention the icons and decided it would only make the blonde even more suspicious. He exhaled and shrugged. “Same as you. Them, all dead.”

“Cris, he could be helpful to us. We have not been able to walk through the stone structure undetected. They hear our hearts beat and easily locate us. He would have no such problem.”

He listened to the appeal. Lyre was undoubtedly second in command, and unfortunately the blonde ranked above her.

Cris gazed sourly at Spike. “It appears we have no choice.”

She turned back to Lyre. “You have made the decision to trust him, so I accede to your request and will allow this. Show him the hidden entrance.”

Lyre nodded and motioned to Spike. As he moved to follow her down the tunnel, Cris laid a restraining hand on his arm.

Scanning his face, her expression hardened again. “Vampire, you have only a few short hours before night will arrive again. Lyre must be back here when it does, or it will mean her death. If she dies, I will make certain that you do, also.”

Chapter 7


Empress stopped at a fork along the ridge’s path and scanned the valley spread out below her. Lifting her head high, she inhaled deeply, searching through the darkness. The adversary’s trail was becoming less distinct, the demon’s scent melding with scents from others of its own kind and now a few humans. The Grundy closed her eyes and concentrated, finally catching a faint whiff of the scent. There.

The Slayer stood on the rocky terrain waiting patiently for Empress to make her choice. Buffy trusted her completely; she had never known the Grundy to be wrong.

Empress confidently turned to the west and the Slayer followed.

Halfway down the steep, narrow trail into the valley, the Grundy abruptly stopped as she’d been trained.

“What is it Empress?” The Slayer maneuvered carefully around the little demon.

Buffy could see there were obstructions blocking the path ahead, indistinct mounds in the dark lying among the sand and rocks. Cautiously she picked her way forward, sweeping the flashlight’s beam in a wide arc. She could already smell the sickly sweet odor of decay and wrinkled her nose.

Her light stopped on two bodies sprawled across the trail. They were both boys, fairly close in age to her sister Dawn and dead some little time now. Drained of blood they no longer held value to their killers, so they’d been left sprawled on their backs in the middle of the trail with twin expressions of horror and agony mirrored on both freckled faces. Ignoring sightless eyes that stared at the star studded sky, she nudged the closest body with her shoe. A limp arm splayed across the neck shifted, allowing the beam of her flashlight to highlight the damage. She didn’t need to check the other body to know it would also have two identical holes caked with dried blood. She wondered if they had older siblings waiting up for them, wondering why they hadn’t returned home. Why they never would.

“Is this because of our guy?”

At the affirmative tail wag, Buffy nodded thoughtfully. So they weren’t far behind. When they reached the valley floor, they’d have to pick up their pace in order to catch up before it went into some bolt hole for the day. She wanted to kill this demon and there were only three more hours until sunrise.

Empress stilled. Tilting her ears back, she growled and whirled around to face the opposite direction.

Buffy’s tinglies fired. “Empress, did it double back?”

Empress growled again.

Buffy swiveled, trying to see the trail behind them. “So our vamp went out and invited more guests without even asking. That’s so rude.”

Four pairs of glittering golden eyes slowly advanced toward them. Setting her flashlight to the side, Buffy fingered her stake. “I’m glad some of you finally showed up because this has been a pretty boring walk. My name’s Buffy and this is Empress. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you know, it’s really not.”

*****

Willow paced back and forth in front of their small fire. She had her worry on and pacing helped relieve a little of the anxiety.

Anderson, the soldier in charge, leaned back against the cave wall and watched her. “Why don’t you try to rest Ms. Rosenberg? Daylight will be here in a couple more hours.”

“Please call me Willow.” Embarrassment colored her face. “I’m sorry if this is bugging you, but I can’t sleep.”

“You’re not bugging me, although there’s nothing to worry about; you’re perfectly safe. Watson and I are both in here with you and Williams is on duty right outside the entrance. Nothing can get in.” Stretching, he stood up. “Maybe this will help.” Cupping his hands around his mouth he called to the soldier standing guard outside. “Williams? What’s your status out there?”

There was no immediate reply and the lengthening silence made the hair on Willow’s arms stand up. She shot a panicked look at Anderson. Frowning, he stared at the entrance.

“Watson, go out and see what’s going on.” As Watson walked outside, he turned to Willow again. “It appears I may have been wrong, Ms. Rosenberg. It might be a good idea to arm yourself.”

“Willow,” She corrected automatically and reached for her backpack.

“I don’t think arming yourself would be a very good idea at all. We certainly wouldn’t want anything violent to happen, now would we?” Willow heard the stranger’s drawled comments and looked up. Horrified, she watched the vampire saunter nonchalantly into the cave. He stopped inside the entrance and growled, “Drop your weapon and kick it to the side. Now.”

“Hello Grange.”

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Willow heard Anderson acknowledge the vampire as he reluctantly obeyed the command.

Biting her lip, she watched the smirking vampire settle against the wall with his arms crossed. He was wearing black Council fatigues and Anderson knew him by name, so he had to be the missing security man from the Council’s first expedition. One of the vampires must have turned him, creating a dire problem.

Anderson stepped in front of her, speaking low. “Willow, stay behind me.”

Grange smiled and Willow could see his fangs were bathed in blood–Williams’ blood? or Watson’s?– the sight made her stomach lurch.

“Willow Rosenberg? The American witch? How fortuitous. I was back here to find this wanker from my group, but you’ll do nicely. I need someone to handle a couple magical objects for me.”

She cleared her dry throat. “I’m not all that good with magical objects or much else in this dimension.”

Grange smirked again; Willow decided he’d probably been a jerk when he was alive and becoming a vampire wasn’t a major improvement.

“I’m the head of Council Security, Ms. Rosenberg. Or may I call you Willow? I’ve read your dossier. Your background is very impressive, you have a natural talent.”

“You can call me Ms. Rosenberg,” She snapped, hoping he couldn’t smell her fear.

“You used to be Head of Security and you were good at your job.” Anderson’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m so sorry Grange.”

Clearly baffled Grange stared. “Sorry? For what? I’m faster and stronger than I’ve ever been. It’s amazing, Anderson. All those years we fought for the Council and never knew how incredible this could be. I get it now.” He leaned forward confidentially. “You know, I’ve never killed a lookout so easily. But then Williams never was that competent. I only gave him average marks on his last evaluation. On the other hand Watson was an excellent soldier, so he proves my point.”

“During your mission Philips died, but Adams returned alive.” Anderson watched him carefully for any sudden movements. “Grange, where are the icons? At least satisfy my innate curiosity before you kill me.”

Anderson was trying to keep Grange engaged and talking, not only to elicit information but in a ploy to buy the two of them time. Closing her eyes briefly, she sent a prayer to the Goddess.

The vampire pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning, moving farther into the cave with athletic grace. Tightly corded muscles flexed beneath his uniform. The soldier had been fit in life and the demon was powerful and self- assured now. Fear swept through her as she realized Anderson wouldn’t be any hindrance at all to the arrogant predator and he knew it–the vampire was toying with them. Hurry Buffy.

Exuding supreme self confidence, Grange took another deliberate step. Anderson backed up again slowly, gently tugging Willow along with him. Without looking behind her, she knew they were now only a foot or so from the cave’s back wall. There was nowhere left to go. He’d boxed them in.

Eyes glittering, Grange wagged his finger at the soldier. “Now, that’s not very nice, Anderson. I get that she’s a priority, but she’s mine now.” He shrugged. “As for your questions concerning the others in my little group, I have no idea what happened to any of them. I saved that ass Harker and got jumped by the locals for my trouble.” His expression hardened again. “Humans aren’t worth dying for. Would you like me to turn you? It’s the only way you’ll survive tonight.”

Ignoring the question, Anderson persisted. “Where are the icons? Does Harker still have them?”

Grange snorted. “Are you joking? Harker couldn’t hold his own dick without help. The owners took them back.”

He stepped forward again so quickly Willow couldn’t follow the movement before boasting, “Vampires rule this dimension,” He’d stopped an arm’s length away. “We’re treated like Gods. If I didn’t hate the damn desert so much, I’d stay here. But I miss London and all those modern amenities.”

He smacked his fist against his open palm and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “That’s why I need Ms. Rosenberg. I’m planning to retrieve those statues so I can go home and she’ll be ever so helpful with that little endeavor.” He leered at her. “And she’s much prettier than Harker.”

He laughed then— an ugly sound that made Willow cringe. Petrified that she’d have to leave with the demon, she slid closer to Anderson. He briefly squeezed her hand.

Grange glided another step closer. Willow pressed her back against the wall and he laughed again before turning back to the soldier.

“Since the witch is here with you, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the Council sent the Slayer in–that’s what I’d do in their shoes. Is that why you’re so chatty? Waiting for Supergirl to save your ass? I’ll bet she went out to annoy the locals and left Ms. Rosenberg in your very professional care. She’s going to be upset when she discovers you didn’t keep up your end. I’ll bet you’re hoping she’ll show up to neutralize the big bad vampire. How’s that working out for you?– he pretended to look all around the cave– “Because unless she’s invisible, I’d have to say not too well.”

Grange leisurely stretched, working the kinks out of his shoulders and Willow thought it was one of the most menacing things she’d ever seen. Very shortly, she was going to be forced to watch Anderson die and then, not too long afterward Grange would become disgusted and kill her too, because she’d already made the decision not to cooperate. There was absolutely no way she’d let a vampire use her to get through the portal.

“Staring straight at Anderson Grange spoke. “Ms. Rosenberg, you might want to say goodbye to Anderson now. Any longer and he won’t be able to hear you.”

Not waiting for her reply he growled, closing the gap between them.

Anderson pulled a stake from the inside sleeve of his shirt and gave the startled witch a slight push. “Run Willow and don’t stop until dawn.”

Raising the stake he propelled himself forward.

Grange lifted his hands to ward off the unexpected strike, knocking Anderson’s hand aside, but the soldier stubbornly held onto the stake. The vampire grabbed for it and chest to chest they started to grapple, both struggling to gain the advantage.

Seizing the opportunity Anderson had provided for her, Willow scooped up her backpack and ran as fast as she could out into the desert.

Chapter 8

“That’s quite a story you reported to the Council Cyrus.” Lydia leaned over and said, “But I need to hear everything.”

To Giles’ astonishment the soldier grinned. “Sure, Lydia, I’d love some company.” He nodded at the empty visitor chairs in the corner. “Why don’t you two sit down for awhile?”

“Are you allowed to be up yet? It’s such a lovely day.” At his nod, she smiled–affectionately?– for the first time. “Wonderful. Rupert, would you find a wheelchair? I think Cyrus could use some fresh air.”

Still utterly confused, he murmured, “Good idea.” It was more than possible the Council was keeping a close eye on the young soldier, or even possibly watching him and Lydia. Either way it would be a good idea to leave the room.

It only took a few moments to locate a chair and gain permission from the floor nurse for the brief excursion. Giles pushed the young soldier out into the courtyard and stopped next to a stone bench beneath a huge flowering tree. He locked the chair’s brake and sat down on the bench next to Lydia.

Adams was staring around the courtyard at the flowers and trees like he hadn’t seen the world before and Lydia was being uncharacteristically quiet, so Giles finally broke the silence. “I can’t help but be curious. It sounds as if you two know each other well.”

Lydia stared at the young soldier absorbed in watching the squirrels playing tag on the branch above his head and the corners of her mouth lifted. “You could say that. Cyrus is my nephew, my oldest sister Corrine’s son. I helped him get his job in Security.” She raised an eyebrow. “And now he’s going to tell us what’s going on here. Cyrus?”

The young soldier reached over and plucked a piece of clover from the lawn. Twirling it between his fingers he looked at Giles. “So how much do you know about the icons and our mission?”

“Only what is written in the mission reports-that the group was sent into the portal– by Lydia on orders from Travers–in order to retrieve two icons, but the mission failed. You alone returned alive with an empty box and most of your group either dead or missing and presumed dead.”

Giles cleaned his glasses with his handkerchief. Replacing them, he stared at the soldier for a moment. “And that it was you alone who supplied the information within your report concerning what transpired on the mission.”

Ignoring Lydia’s wince at the flat recitation he awaited a response.

“I can assure you that everything in the report is correct, as far as it goes.” Cyrus stared down at the little piece of clover. “But I’m also certain that bringing back the icons was not our only priority. Harker had other instructions.”

Lydia jerked. “But that can’t be. I wrote the mission instructions and protocols myself. Retrieval of the icons was paramount.”

“What were the other instructions?”

Cyrus refused to meet their eyes, instead plucking the petals from the piece of clover. “After we retrieved the icons, Harker was instructed to use the icons immediately to open a portal to any location.”

Lydia frowned. “Whatever for? We were opening a portal here for your return. There was no need.” She stared intently at her nephew. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“You know how I was supposed to guard Philips and Harker on the mission? They were my number one priority. Since this was my first real mission I wanted to make a splash, so I spent a lot of time hanging around with them in the week before we left getting to know them.” He looked sheepish. “I guess I let the assignment go to my head.”

“Anyway I accidentally overheard a conversation Philips and Harker were having in Harker’s office a couple days before the mission. They were studying an incantation that Philips had been instructed to hand over to Harker by the Council. Its purpose was to open and close a test portal in the other dimension. They’d been instructed to make certain that the icons worked before we brought them back.”

“But that’s absurd. Not only did we need to remove them from the vampires’ possession as soon as possible, it makes a lot more sense to bring them through and test the icons under stringent conditions here as opposed to battlefield conditions there. If they didn’t work we’d have all the time we wanted to figure out why, not to mention expert guidance that would be unavailable to you. Also, if something went wrong, they could have easily caused that entire dimension to implode. That was not only a foolish idea, but an extremely dangerous one. I daresay Travers had no real idea what he was ordering you to do.”

“Which is probably why you were never supposed to know about those orders until later—when everything could be deemed a terrible accident.” Dismayed, Giles shook his head. “Lydia, we have inadvertently stumbled upon a plot between Travers and at least some of the Senior Council to make absolutely certain those vampires would never return here and evidently in order to do that, they’re willing to destroy the entire dimension including any and all humans living there.”

“This means if Harker is found alive and Buffy is successful in retrieving the icons, that incantation will still be part of his instructions. He will insist upon performing it. The dimension is still in jeopardy of being destroyed including Buffy and the rest of her team.”

Adams blinked. “But isn’t it a good thing we kill the vampires? They’ll never come through the portal.” He watched Giles’ expression harden and hastened to explain. “I mean, I met the Slayer and I know she would give her life to save everyone here, the same as the rest of us.”

“Ms. Summers is indeed a champion and has offered up her life before; however all of the humans in that dimension are innocents. We can not allow this power play to continue unabated.”

“But Aunt Lydia, it’s too late to stop it. Everyone’s already through the portal and it won’t open again until they’re supposed to return home. You have no way to reach them. Besides, only Ian Harker had the instructions for that additional incantation and he’s long dead. I was there, remember? Harker could no more survive out in that desert alone among those vampires than pigs can fly across it.”

“He has a point, Rupert. More than likely Ian is already dead and even if he is not, it’s a long shot that the Slayer and he will find each other.”

Giles rubbed his temples. He could feel the mother of all headaches coming on. “We need to discuss this further, Lydia, but first we should return Adams to his room.” Standing up to leave, he looked down at the young soldier. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that everything discussed here must remain among us three.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Thank you Cyrus for being so forthcoming.” She smiled at him. “I shall tell my sister that you are indeed a hero and that she should be very proud of you.”

Giles was amused to see one of the Council’s highly trained security men cast his eyes to the ground, blushing furiously.

*****

“Cris is a very good leader. We’re all alive because of her. You must ignore her strong words to you.” Lyre anxiously whispered.

“I’m sure she is.” Spike shrugged, although he doubted Lyre could see him that well in the dark tunnel. “Look, I don’t have to like her to work with her. I’m not interested in being anyone’s friend.” After all, it wasn’t like he’d never worked with a pushy acid tongued blonde before.

He felt the girl stiffen and knew she was going to drop the subject about as easily as Empress would give up a piece of imported wood.

“Cris was the first brave enough to leave her village in defiance of the Gods.”

Sighing, Spike stopped. This was not the place he would have chosen to have this conversation. They’d been silently picking their way through a rough rock strewn tunnel that, if he’d judged the distance correctly, placed them somewhere beneath the middle of the castle.

But for whatever reason, Lyre obviously felt it was necessary to defend the blonde to Spike at this particular moment. She’d probably been thinking about it ever since they’d stepped foot out of the cavern. She was probably starting to second guess his motives, maybe even beginning to worry that he would take off leaving her to die. He couldn’t blame her concerns.

“Yeah, I get that. The chit’s a good fighter, knows her way around weapons.” He was dying for a cigarette but didn’t dare light one down here, so he stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall. “Lyre, I have no problem with your leader. She’s doing what she feels is necessary for the group’s safety and I respect that.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable against the uneven stone. “She’s concerned because she sees me as a threat. It takes time to build trust, which is why I’ve been walking along down here wondering why you were so quick to believe me.”

She nodded. “That’s a valid question.” Moving to lean against the wall next to him, she continued. “Cris and I have different natures, but we also have different backgrounds. I’m from a village of seers. We have long held the belief that someday a strong blonde warrior will lead us in victory against the Gods. It is one of the prophecies passed down from the elders in the oral tradition of our people.” She glanced over at Spike and took a deep breath. “You need to understand that although we are forced to comply, most of our village disagrees with the Gods and the sacrifices they insist upon. But most villages are not that way. They willingly, no gladly offer up their people; it is considered a great honor to die for the Gods. Even with all their hatred and cruelty they are still loved unconditionally. Cris lived in such a village.

She left when her sister was sacrificed and she’s been gathering other warriors like herself to fight ever since. I believe she is the savior as the prophecy states.” She looked up and stared into Spike’s eyes. “It was also foretold that the blonde warrior would be aided by someone more than human with great strength and bravery. I believe you are that someone, which is why I needed you to understand Cris. Sometimes it is hard for men to follow a woman into battle.”

“So some seer long ago foretold of my help, but you’re afraid I’ll double cross Cris anyway because she’s a strong female leader.” Spike chuckled. “Lyre, remind me to tell you about my girlfriend later.”

His expression sobering, he added, “I’m here with a group searchin’ for some lost members and my primary mission right now is to locate them. That’s why I have to look inside the castle. However, our own leader has sworn to kill vampires and I’m sure she will offer her assistance once we’ve done all that we need to do ourselves. “

“And you? Will you now lend your assistance as the prophecy has stated?”

“I don’t think I’m the one you’re looking for, pet. We live far away from here and I don’t think your elders could have known about me. But I said I’d help you and I’ll do what I can while we’re here. I won’t go back on my word.” He stood up and dusted off his jeans. “Now, how much farther is this secret entrance?”

Spike watched the brunette run her hands along the side of the tunnel. She’d been unusually quiet since their brief talk a few minutes before. He’d brushed aside any guilt over his edited reason for sneaking inside the castle. Lyre and the other warriors didn’t need to know he was planning to steal icons from the vamps. More than likely they wouldn’t understand anything about portals or other dimensions anyway, so he’d kept it nice and simple, stressing the missing men instead. Lyre had immediately offered to ask the other warriors if they’d heard any rumors concerning strangers in the area when they returned to the cavern.

“Here.”

Spike helped her slide the heavy stone out, revealing an open gap about the size of a modern manhole cover. The air rushing out smelled musty and stale. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe.

Cupping her hands around his ear she whispered, “This tunnel leads to a small doorway which opens behind a tapestry and shelving within an empty storage room. I dare not go any farther.”

He nodded his understanding and climbed through. Once inside he replaced the stone behind him. The darkness closed around him and he slipped into game face. His newly enhanced vision showed him a tunnel so narrow that his shoulders brushed against the rough stone walls and a ceiling so low he was forced to walk bent over at the waist.

It took about fifteen minutes walking uphill before he reached the doorway Lyre had mentioned, which turned out to be an ancient hinged wooden plank fitted unobtrusively into the wall. Hearing nothing but silence on the other side, he carefully slipped through the door and into the empty room. Taking care not to touch the shelves or the dusty tapestry, he quickly checked out the room. It was an empty storage room and nothing more. Satisfied that he definitely wasn’t being played, he stepped to the closed door.

Another quick listen and he stepped softly into the hall. Nostrils flaring, he lifted his head to try and ascertain which part of the castle held the sleeping vampires. His demon, already adjusted to this dimension, reminded that he only had a couple of hours left to complete his search for the icons and get Lyre and himself safely back to the cavern before the sun rose.

Father down a large carpeted hall, he finally detected scents from at least a dozen, very old vampires on the other side of the castle. Watching for sentries, he headed in the opposite direction. He and Buffy had discussed this earlier and they’d both reasoned that the icons would most likely not be in their sleeping quarters, making Spike’s search that much easier. They both figured that since the vampires used the icons often, they would have set aside a space large enough to open a portal without disruption. Spike was to limit his search to large rooms–dining halls or communal meeting areas, any place big and empty.

After a few dead end corridors and a couple of possibilities that didn’t pan out, he was becoming frustrated with his nonproductive search when he rounded a corner in the serpentine corridor and he smiled to himself. This had to be it. He was staring at a vast empty space at least forty feet long with a ceiling that soared thirty feet high and an odd, almost medicinal scent wafting in the air that smelled differently than any of the other rooms.

Keeping one ear out, he slowly circled the room. In London, he’d glanced in the box the Council had retrieved when Giles had opened it and he had a good sense of the icons’ size. Now all he needed to do was find something in this room the right size to contain them. He glanced around and under the few small pieces of furniture pushed against the walls, trying not to touch anything unnecessarily. Finally his eyes lit on a small table in an alcove on the far side of the room. Quickly crossing the space, he lifted the top on an identically sized small wooden box.

Nestled inside were twin statues– their unmistakable golden shine muted within the dark room. Raptor shaped feathered heads with gleaming ruby eyes warred incongruously with benign smiles and rounded Buddha-like bellies. Spike decided they were creepy enough to be the real thing. He dropped the icons into separate pockets of his duster and quietly closed the box.

He was only a few feet away from the storage room when two voices began arguing loudly. The voices turned into the hall and Spike dove behind a tall cabinet next to him. He could only hope the vampires were too busy arguing to hear him or notice his scent.

The fates were with him for once. The vampires never paused, continuing their vehement argument down the hall and around the corner. Once they were finally out of sight, Spike rushed into the storage room and out through the hidden exit.

He didn’t stop until he’d gathered Lyre and they were back among the warriors in the cavern with the icons still safely hidden inside his coat. One strike for their side.

Chapter 9

Buffy staked the last vampire and watched it explode into dust. “I think I’m going to need something a little less pop culture-y and more creature of the night-ish next time, because he sure didn’t get that HBO quip.”

Empress snorted. She thought the vampires in this dimension were very stupid. Extremely strong, yes, but stupid. The fight hadn’t lasted nearly long enough and was even a little boring toward the end. Once she’d lit the sky with a couple fireballs to make it easier for the Slayer to see, the demons had almost run right into the Slayer’s stake. They appeared shocked and surprised that the petite woman and her fire shooting pet hadn’t surrendered immediately. Like she and the Slayer would allow some hunting party of very stupid vampires to attack them without a fight. She might be a Grundy but nobody could force her to roll over. She snorted again.

Buffy grinned. She knew exactly what the Grundy was thinking.

“I know that was hardly worth the effort Empress, and I’d love for us to track down some more vampires, but we’d better start back. It’s almost dawn and Willow’s going to wonder what happened to us.” She wiped her ashy hands on the butt of her jeans, dropped the stake in her shirt pocket and started back up the trail with Empress padding along behind her. “I hope Willow and the Council minions were able to get some sleep tonight.”

***

The sounds of a routine morning in the village washed surreally over Ian. He’d awakened with a pounding headache and a worse heartache and wasn’t sure how to go about doing anything about either one.

Before falling into a fitful sleep last night he’d made a promise to himself that he would try to learn more about why the villagers worshipped demons. After breakfast he decided the obvious place to start would be with Kalin’s parents.

He found the couple in their hut surrounded by several members of their family and others from the village including one of the elders. Swallowing his sudden nervousness, he entered the crowded hut.

To say it didn’t go well would be the understatement of the year. He stuttered and fumbled, trying to find the right approach. The couple stared blankly at his polite condolences on behalf of their dead daughter. Growing more nervous in the face of so many suspicious villagers, he blurted out a question about the vampires. Kalin’s parents ignored him, looking everywhere but at the spot where he stood nervously awaiting their reply, while the other villagers around him murmured uneasily, and the elder next to Kalin’s mother narrowed his eyes angrily.

Gathering his last shred of courage, he repeated his question even louder. Kalin’s father finally replied with a flat rambling statement about Gods, immortality, honor and tradition that was not only illogical, but made Ian’s stomach churn. Extremely agitated, the elder leaped to his feet, pointed to the hut’s doorway and demanded that he leave.

Embarrassed, he mumbled a hasty apology and fled.

Jamming his hands in the pockets of his khakis, he walked the perimeter of the village feeling like a jerk for upsetting everyone. The villagers were obviously too mesmerized by the vampire cult to help themselves, nor did they have any real understanding of a vampire’s true nature. They believed the demons were Gods and Ian had no idea how to change that misconception.

Ignoring the little voice whispering in his head that he was a scientist not a soldier, Ian thought about the situation, running scenarios over and over in his head determined to find some way to change the villagers’ minds. He had to do something, he owed it to Kalin.

When the sun started beating down on his uncovered head, he looked up and realized he’d walked a long distance from the village. He was about to turn around when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and squinted ahead into the sun. A red haired woman was carefully picking her way down a steep sand dune. Looking up, she waved her arm excitedly.

Shading his eyes with his hand, he saw that she carried a twentieth century backpack slung over her shoulder and let out a relieved breath. Evidently the cavalry had finally arrived. Enthusiastically, he waved back.

“I’m sorry I’m not the cavalry but more of a private that got lost during the battle.” Willow stretched her aching legs and feet out in front of her and took another long swallow of the water Ian had provided. She still couldn’t believe that not only had she found civilization but had stumbled into the one place that housed a missing Council member. She glanced around at the primitive conditions inside the hut. Well, it was sort of civilization. “What a coincidence, finding you here. Buffy is never going to believe it.”

“Buffy? Are you talking about Buffy Summers? The Slayer is here?”

She nodded, holding out her empty cup. Ian immediately refilled it. “The Council sent us here to retrieve the icons and then find the rest of the missing team if possible.” She blushed. “I’m sorry, that made you sound second best. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You don’t mean it that way but the Council does. I have no illusion which is more important to them. I can’t say that I disagree, as those icons are key to holding these vampires within their own dimension, although that doesn’t sound as attractive as it used to.”

Willow set her cup down next to her and waved off Ian’s attempt to fill it again. She was so full of water she sloshed. “Are you referring to the way vampires are treated like Gods? That is so twisted.”

His mouth dropped. “How do you know about that? Is the Council aware of it?”

“No, at least I don’t think so. Well, I guess it’s possible. Maybe.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. I have no idea what they know. I only know because Grange boasted about it last night before I escaped.”

“If Grange is still here why isn’t he with you? And why would he boast about it?” Even as the words left his mouth comprehension dawned. Oh God, another member hadn’t made it home and once again the responsibility could be laid squarely at his feet. A sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Grange is the vampire you ran away from last night.”

Willow met his gaze. “I’m sorry Ian but at some point Grange was turned.”

She watched the scientist wearily rubbing his forehead and felt a stab of sympathy. The man looked far worse than she did and she’d been running for her life for the past two hours. She could see that the responsibility for the safety of his team weighed heavily and she already knew how badly that had turned out. Factor in living here with no idea whether he was stuck forever and it was a miracle the man could function at all. If it had been her, she’d be a blubbering idiot. She laid her hand on his arm.

“I’m impressed how well you’ve kept everything together. I don’t think I could have done half as well. Look, we’ve just met and everything, but I’m beat and no offense, but you look like you could use some down time yourself. This is definitely battlefield conditions and I think we could both use a nap before we try to sort anything else out.” She glanced around the empty hut and added wryly, “I don’t suppose you’ve got an alarm clock.”

He blinked and then a slow grin formed erasing some of the worry lines and making him look years younger. “Welcome to my world. To stay sane I’ve spent the last two weeks pretending I’m Margaret Mead.”

Willow’s mouth quirked and he muttered, “That didn’t sound so odd in my head.”

Pushing his sleeve up he showed her a wrist watch. “We can use the alarm button. A couple hours of sleep sounds heavenly. There was a ceremony last night and I didn’t get much sleep. Later if I’m not completely persona non gratis around here now we can eat and then I’ll fill you in on what this village considers a festive occasion.”

Willow yawned. “Add in any info we can share about the icons and that sounds like the makings of a perfect afternoon. Besides, we have to give Buffy time to track me, so we need to sit tight.”

“There’s no place to go anyway, we’re extremely isolated. I’m not sure you realize how lucky you were to stumble across this village, it’s the only settlement in this entire section of desert.”

“How did you find it?”

“I saw smoke from their central fire.” He settled down next to Willow, politely scooting toward the edge so he didn’t touch her. “What if the Slayer runs into Grange?”

Snuggling into the pallet Willow murmured, “We can only hope.”

*****

“I can’t seem to walk anywhere in this dimension without running into drained bodies. It’s becoming a habit I could do without,” Buffy muttered as she stepped around the second dead soldier. Gripping her stake she cautiously walked into the cave with the Grundy at her heels. “Willow? Are you in here?”

Her voice echoed through the empty cave. No Willow anywhere.

She stepped carefully around the third dead soldier, stake still clutched in his hand and examined the dusty cave floor, putting together how everything had played out. One set of large tracks in, so one male vampire had shown up and killed both of the soldiers standing guard. Then according to the scuff marks and prints, the demon fought and killed Anderson after a lengthy fight. And somehow while all of this was going on, Willow managed to escape. The vamp’s tracks led back outside, although oddly not in Willow’s direction, instead they joined several others before she finally lost them among the rocky ground on the ridge.

Walking back into the cave, she picked up her own backpack from the corner where she’d left it last night. “Empress, can you track Willow?”

Crooning, the Grundy headed outside.

Following, Buffy felt both sad and relieved at the same time. The Council’s men were dead, but her friend had walked away under her own steam, so things were only half as dire as she’d originally thought when she’d arrived. But they needed to locate her before the next sunset. “Which way?”

Empress turned east into the desert with the Slayer at her side.

Chapter 10

Lyre looked up. “I hear something in the tunnels.”

Bollocks. Spike knew stealing those icons had been way too easy. “Vampires. They must have let me leave so they could follow.”

He watched Cris call her people. Gathering around, they quickly formed a line across the cavern, bows nocked and trained on the entrance.

Confusion crossed Lyre’s face as she lifted her bow. “There was no one following behind us. I’d swear to that fact.”

“I didn’t smell them either. Once they figured out where we were headin’, they must have known another tunnel.” And they never had a reason to try it until I showed up and nicked the icons.

“There is one other way– beneath the moat.”

“That would do it, they don’t need to breathe.” Spike surveyed the large cavern critically and shook his head. It was a wide open space with a few large boulders along one corner. “Tactically they couldn’t have chosen a better spot.”

Cris replied sourly, “That’s true. There is no high ground here and very little cover. However this has been anticipated and there are a few surprises awaiting them in the closer tunnels.” Assessing Spike’s fighting stance, she handed him a long knife. “You can use this.”

He ran an appreciative eye down the blade. “Very nice.Ta.”

She shrugged it off. “It would be unwise of a leader not to equip an able fighter.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before there was a loud crash.

“That was a trap set near one of the entrances to this cavern. They’ve arrived.” She hurried to join the other warriors. Lyre moved to stand next to Cris, her own bow aimed at the door.

Another tremendous crash and the door splintered and fell, allowing the snarling vampires to rush the cavern. Cris and her bowmen stood their ground shooting wave after wave of arrows into the vampires’ midst. Several dusted, but more streamed through.

Keeping one eye on the wooden arrows flying around the cavern, Spike lifted the borrowed knife and flung himself into the middle of the fray, beheading a vampire running through the line. He drove through the dust to find another.

Over his shoulder he could hear Cris ordering her people to barricade the door again.

He spun, slashing his knife in a wide arc before throwing the vamp he’d stopped against the wall.

All around the cavern the whirlwind raged as warriors and vampires tore at each other in a nightmarish melding of dust, dirt, blood and noise that formed a scene straight out of a renaissance painter’s vision of Hell.

Spike’s enhanced hearing automatically separated the kaleidoscope of sounds into their individual components. There were several deep, throaty growls from vampires that competed with warrior battle cries. Beneath it all like the riff from a bass guitar were harsh screams and moans from the wounded–all reverberating against the stone walls to form the hideous war-like cacophony.

He’d already surmised that it wasn’t going to end well for the warriors. Cris and her people were fighting hard but Spike could see that the tide was slowly shifting in favor of the vampires. Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, the warriors were being forced to abandon their bows in favor of hand to hand combat with opponents much faster and stronger than themselves.

It would only be a matter of time.

He staked another vampire and slid away from the thick of the battle, rapidly scanning the cavern. He’d tried to keep Lyre in sight but it had been impossible and he was growing increasingly worried over her safety. She’d confessed to him earlier that she was second in command because of her people’s capacity to memorize and retain vast stores of knowledge. Except for the compound bow her fighting skills were extremely limited.

Craning his neck he finally caught a glimpse of her. She was pinned against a boulder in the far corner by one of the arguing vampires Spike recognized from the castle hallway. He watched the demon rip Lyre’s stake from her hand as she struggled, holding it triumphantly above her head as he bent over her neck.

Rushing around the melee Spike grabbed the vampire by the shoulder, wrenching him from the woman. The stake clattered to the ground.

Growling angrily, the demon drew his fist back.

Spike deflected the punch with his forearm as Lyre grabbed the stake. “Spike!” He glanced her way and she tossed it around the vampire’s back.

Catching it one handed, he rammed it home. The vampire exploded in a flurry of dust.

Keeping Lyre beside him, Spike surveyed the scene again. Although the fight still raged, it appeared to be winding down. Warriors lay dead or dying among drifts of dust. Surprisingly, most of the vampires had been destroyed, although several had escaped through the door that had been torn open once again. Scowling, he realized they were going for reinforcements.

On the opposite side of the cavern, Cris–a stake held in each hand– stood between two snarling vampires. Spike watched as she straightened her arms, efficiently driving both stakes home. The vampires exploded, raining dust everywhere.

Shaking the vamp dust from her hair, she caught Spike’s eye and motioned for him and Lyre to wait there for her.

Standing behind the boulder with the two of them, Cris took a moment to catch her breath. She motioned toward the fighting and said wryly, “Well vampire, I think this day was more exciting than either of us expected.”

“I think you’ve stopped them.” Their eyes locked and neither one said what they were both thinking. Until dark.

The corners of her lips curved. “I expected that you would kill far more than you did, Spike. After all I loaned you my best knife.”

Surprised at both the flash of humor and the use of his real name, he shot her a cocky grin. “Now I couldn’t be showin’ you up in front of your people, Cris.”

She arched an eyebrow to show him what she thought of that response before turning to Lyre. “There are still many more in the castle and it will be dark in an hour. I plan to stay and make another stand.”

Translation: We have too many wounded to move and we’d be so slow that they’d track us anyway.

“Spike, it’s past time for you to leave and locate your companions. You can use the escape tunnels until it grows completely dark. I want you to take Lyre and the others from her village with you. She can show you the way.”

He met her calm gaze. Right. The brave woman standing in front of him had a lot in common with his Slayer. He knew intuitively that Buffy would have liked her. Replying, he tried to keep his voice casual. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to get this involved, only supposed to do a recon. I really should go.”

Next to him, Lyre sucked in a breath. Spike cut his eyes over to her. Not fooled in the least, her eyes grew large. “No, we need you to lead us, Cris. You go and I’ll stay here.”

Cris’ voice was firm. “You have everything including the tunnel system, ceremonies and fortifications memorized. Without your information there is no hope at all. Go with Spike. I will catch up.” Her mouth curved up again. “Besides I have to kill as many of the vampires as Spike. After all, I’m the leader here.”

“These boulders might come in useful tonight.” He placed the knife in palm of her hand. “They’ll keep the wounded protected.” Until the line falls, then it won’t matter anyway.

“That is my intention. Now Lyre must be protected as well. She is a valuable asset and it’s up to you to keep her safe.” She turned back to the brunette. “We’ll meet in the usual place tomorrow. If I’m late for any reason, you know what has to be done.”

Shoulders slumped, Lyre stared bleakly at Cris before finally nodding. “I know.”

Spike laid a hand gently on her shoulder. “Call your people Lyre. We need to move out.”

She took a shaky breath and whistled. Within the space of a couple moments three women and a man came around the boulder. They were all exhausted and bloodied. The man cradled one arm. It hung at an odd angle and Spike knew it was broken, but he couldn’t take the time to look at it. Right now he needed to get them away from the cavern and this portion of the tunnel system as quickly as possible.

Cris met each of their eyes briefly before walking back around the boulders.

“Your leader is quite a woman.” Pulling gently on her hand, he urged Lyre and the others toward the tunnel system. “Which one, pet?”

She pointed to the left. “This way.”

Chapter 11

Grange stepped around the remains of his dinner discarded haphazardly on the floor. The elderly man had left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. It was enough to make a vamp gag. He preferred young women; their estrogen-laden blood had a sweet taste that reminded him of fine wine. And of course there was also the added bonus of what he could do with them before he drained them.

Unfortunately for this meal he hadn’t had a choice. The thought of being held captive enraged him all over again and he gave the body a hard kick.

He felt a little better now, although the way he’d been grabbed outside the cave last night still rankled. He’d finally killed Anderson– it had been touch and go there for awhile, he’d put up a fight– and was leaving to hunt the witch when three vampires had shown up and called him over. He’d sort of recognized one of them from the night he’d been turned, although the other two were complete strangers. Then he’d made a big mistake and walked over to see what they wanted.

The two strangers grabbed and held his arms while the other vampire– his Sire it turned out–gave him an ultimatum. Either Grange went with them willingly to work off some half-ass indentured servitude that he supposedly owed for the Siring, or they dusted him right then and there.

They were extremely angry that he hadn’t remained in the cave where they’d left him. When he’d tried to explain that he didn’t know becoming a vampire came with specific rules, they’d beat him nearly senseless. How the hell was he supposed to know any of that crap? This damn dimension was becoming worse every single moment.

When they finally stopped, he’d elected to go along with them– what choice did he have? Besides, they were taking him to where the icons were kept, so this wasn’t such a bad thing. It would be a lot easier to steal them with inside access.

After bringing him back to the huge stone building where he’s originally stolen the icons, they’d locked him inside a small room and left him there. Several hours later someone shoved the old man in and relocked it. Now he’d been fed–albeit with the pot bellied geezer–and left to stew some more. This was ridiculous. He was still hungry and without enough blood to heal properly, his bruises from the beating still ached. He kicked the body in the ribs again.

He was about to try pounding on the door when there were footsteps outside in the hall. Someone inserted a key in the lock and turned the knob. The door swung open and Grange was facing his Sire again. Waiting warily, he realized he still didn’t even know the vampire’s name.

“Follow me.”

Grange stepped over the body. “Where are we going?”

“We have an audience with Calder.”

That certainly didn’t tell him anything. Who the hell was Calder? He knew he’d better show them that they still hadn’t broken his spirit, so he stopped walking. “Who is Calder?”

“Calder is our leader. He must not be kept waiting.”

“Fine. Lead on McDuff.”

His Sire looked confused, but turned down the hall.

Grange snickered to himself. He’d be running this place inside of a month if he wanted to stick around. But he missed civilization too much. They could take their desert and shove it. He wanted those icons.

Calder, so far the only vampire who had demonstrated an ability to change his face, turned out to have a massive frickin’ God complex. Or maybe it was a King complex. Grange couldn’t decide. Then it struck him. Rock star. With his long dark hair, angelic face and smoldering eyes, the leader held an uncanny resemblance to one of the dark stars of the music world– Jim Morrison, long dead leader of the Doors.

Guards stood before the doors while his entourage was arrayed though out the ornately decorated room. Calder himself leaned negligently in a tall-backed wooden chair resembling an old fashioned throne, while his booted feet rested on the end of a long wooden trestle table. One arm was propped and his chin rested on his hand.

The leader of every vampire in the dimension appeared bored out of his mind.

Grange followed his Sire through the room until they stood close to the end of the table. Calder negligently lifted a hand. “I understand you have sought an audience, Rayce.”

Grange watched his Sire bow before replying. “Yes. I have brought my lowest minion Grange for your blessing, so that I may begin his training.”

Calder motioned for Grange’s Sire to step away.

Rayce bowed again, moving to the edge of the room and leaving Grange to face the leader alone. Meeting Calder’s eyes he realized he’d been completely fooled by the leader’s lazy demeanor.

The black eyes assessing him sparkled with cunning and intelligence. The bored attitude was merely a façade, an affectation to lure his cadre and his subjects into ease. His true nature was radically different.

The Lizard King.

“What village are you from, minion?” His voice was deep, the inflection unusual.

“I’m not from a village here.” Grange shifted. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to explain this.

Rayce moved forward slightly. “He is one of the men that attempted to steal the portal keys the first time.”

“I see.” Calder lifted an eyebrow and stared at Rayce. “What would make you believe a thief would be a good addition to my Cadre?”

“He exhibited thought and bravery in the execution of his plan.”

Calder snorted. “The timing was poor and he himself caught and the keys returned. I see nothing well thought out, nor did walking through the front door prove anything except the stupidity and laziness of my own guards. His plan failed, unlike the Warriors’ plan earlier today. Coming in through an unused tunnel system showed true cunning and resourcefulness and we have yet to recover the keys. I see no reason to offer a blessing to this minion. He is unnecessary. You must choose another.”

Grange’s thoughts tumbled over each other. Someone stole the icons earlier today? It must have been the Slayer. Hearing himself referred to as an unnecessary thief, he realized this wasn’t going to be some rubber stamp-type ceremony. His very existence was in jeopardy. He’d better become an asset in a real hurry.

“I know who has stolen your portal keys and I can help you retrieve them.”

Calder’s cold eyes turned to Grange again.

Forcing himself to remain still, he returned the stare nonplussed.

“I have changed my mind, Rayce. Leave us.”

Grange watched his Sire open his mouth to speak. Obviously thinking better of the idea, he clamped it shut, bowed and left the room.

Calder waited until the door closed before speaking. “How is it you know about this morning’s theft, minion? Were you in league with the warriors? A sneak thief with friends who have succeeded where you failed.”

Grange stood as tall and straight as possible. It wouldn’t do for Calder to believe he was nervous. He’d learned years ago as a fresh faced cadet that you never let the enemy think you’re afraid. Never let them see you sweat. “It’s true that I was once with them, but now I’m a vampire and I belong with others like myself. I still understand how they think and act and I can be a valuable asset in your search.”

“It appears you’ve evaded death today minion. I have a troop returning to the garrison within the next hour. They were supposed to retrieve my keys but were unsuccessful. You may assist the troop leader in regaining them when the sun drops.” He held up his hand to stave off Grange’s reply. “I do not tolerate mistakes. If you are unsuccessful, you will die. Now leave me.”

Chapter 12

Willow stretched, almost knocking Ian’s papers off the backpack they were using for a table. “Oops, sorry, Ian.”

The Englishman smiled. “It’s okay.” Sitting cross legged on the other side, he confided, “You know, it’s nice to talk with someone who understands this stuff.”

”Yeah, I suppose even Margaret Mead can get lonely.”

Ian snorted, pretending to be disgusted. “You’re never going to let me forget that comment, are you?” He watched Willow grin at him. She was fun to be around, a person with an interesting mix of brains and a great sense of humor. When he looked at her he could almost see home.

“Nope, never will. That’s one for the never miss-the-chance-to-tease-Ian side of the ledger.”

He watched her pick up another sheet of notes from the stack. He liked the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating. It was sort of cute. Of course this relationship wouldn’t be going anywhere like that, she’d already shown him a picture of her girlfriend and he’d made the obligatory admiring noises. But he’d made a friend and one could never have enough friends. Surprised, he was happy for the first time since he’d arrived here.

“Ian? What’s the purpose of this particular incantation? It doesn’t seem to include any of the symbols from the others and there’s no translation.”

He looked at the sheet she was holding up. “Oh, that’s the sampling incantation. My orders are to test the icons prior to their return by opening a small portal. The Council was very specific about that. I didn’t see the point in translating it until I had the icons.”

“That’s okay; I’ll help you with it when the time comes. So for now, I’ll stick it over here.” She set the sheet to the side of the others. Looking toward the door, she asked, “What’s all that noise outside?”

Ian was already getting to his feet. “I have no idea, but whatever it is, it’s probably not going to be good. This time of day, the Treen are busy preparing their meal so that they can finish eating before dark.”

They joined the crowd moving toward the sacred circle and excited voices ahead.

“Buffy!!” Willow took off running.

Ian followed a little more sedately while he watched Willow eagerly work her way through the crowd toward a pretty blonde woman implacably ringed by a large crowd of excited villagers.

The adult Treen jockeyed for positions near her while small children danced around her feet squealing excitedly. He finally reached her side and saw the reason for all of the noise and excitement.

In the center of the villagers, the Slayer– amusement written across her face– tightly held a thin leather leash. The leash was attached to the collar of a small, furry dog. Ian took another, longer look. No, not a dog– something else entirely. It was some type of small demon with dog-like features. Was that a real smile on its face?

All the villagers vied for a chance to touch the animal’s soft fur while the animal itself obviously basked in the adulation. Holding its head high it appeared serene and confident as if the attention and notoriety were an every day occurrence. He was amazed at how careful and patient the beast was with the overly excited people. There was no hint of any anger or impatience in the animal’s body language, only bright interested eyes and a wagging tail. Relaxing, he found himself smiling and itching to stroke the soft fur, too.

Willow had already arrived at the Slayer’s side. She whispered in Buffy’s ear. The Slayer caught his eye and nodded. The noise made it impossible to speak, so he raised a hand in greeting. Her smile widened and she winked before turning back to the villagers.

Standing to the side of the group, he watched the Slayer take pains to make sure even the shyest children got a chance to pet the animal and a lump formed in his throat. She was the strongest woman on the planet and obviously one of the kindest.

It took nearly half an hour for Buffy and her little furry demon to finally shake free. They’d both patiently waited until every single villager had had a chance to touch or stroke it. Now it was nearly dark and main meal was being hurriedly called. The villagers scattered, leaving the trio and the Grundy alone outside the circle.

Eschewing everything that eating with the excited villagers would entail, Ian led the group back to his hut and some peace and quiet.

Buffy flopped down on the pallet and wiped her sweaty face. She looked down at the panting Grundy who’d settled beside her, forked tongue hanging to her paws. “Well, Empress, you were certainly a big hit.”

The Grundy shot her a smug look.

“That was the kindest exhibition I’ve ever seen, Ms. Summers.”

“Empress always makes a splash.” The Slayer’s lips curved at the corners. “Why are you Council people always so formal? Please, the name’s Buffy.”

“I’m Ian.” He raised an eyebrow in the Grundy’s direction. “I’ve never seen anything like Empress before. What variety of demon is she?”

“She’s a Grundy and an essential part of our team. She tracked Willow for me from the cave.”

“Buffy, what about Anderson?” Willow’s voice held a note of anxiety that Ian hadn’t heard before, but he knew she was terribly worried about the soldier.

“I’m sorry Will., he was already dead when we returned to the cave. From the marks all around there, it looked like that was one serious fight.”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears. “He saved my life.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she asked, “What about the vampire? He was a man named Grange from Ian’s team, the head of the security detail.”

“That vamp was Council?” Buffy reclined against the back of the hut and rubbed her temple where a headache was trying to form. So far she’d had exactly zero sleep in over thirty hours. Exhaustion was trying to settle in her bones, and it warred with her growing concern over Spike’s lengthening absence. Willing everything else into the background again, she focused on answering the question.

“The tracks we found showed the he left the cave. He met up with at least two, maybe more, other vampires on the ridge. They all left in the opposite direction from your tracks.”

Confusion crossed Ian’s face. “How odd. Why wouldn’t Grange go after Willow, especially if he had help to catch her? She was important to him.”

Snuggling closer, Empress laid her head in Buffy’s lap. Her wet muzzle dripped on the Slayer’s jeans. Ignoring the drips, the Slayer slowly stroked the soft patch of fur between her upraised ears. Crooning softly, the Grundy closed her eyes.

“What did Grange want with Willow to begin with? There’s stuff going on here that I don’t understand. I think I’m going to need the longer director’s version. Willow, why don’t you start by telling me what happened last night.”

“Okay.” Pulling her legs into a more comfortable position, Willow quickly ran through everything that had happened in the cave between her, Grange and Anderson before her frightening run through the desert and ending with her chance encounter of Ian outside the village.

Buffy laid her hand on Willow’s arm. “I’m glad you’re alright, Will. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I never saw Grange coming. He was unexpected.” She looked over at Ian. “Now I’d like to hear anything you can tell me about the icons, this dimension and the vampires.”

“Of course. I witnessed a gruesome sight last night that I need to tell you both about. But first I’d like to ask a couple of questions of my own, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fair.” Buffy picked up her water bottle and unscrewed the cap. “What do you want to know?”

“Grange told Anderson that the icons were taken from him while he was being turned, so I’d like to know if you have any set plan to retrieve them?”

“That’s not a problem any more.” A blond man leaned against the entrance to the hut, arms crossed, smiling tiredly. “They’re here with me.”

Shocked, Ian watched the man cross the floor toward the Slayer. Eyes intent on Buffy, he was all feline grace, quiet as a jungle cat. It was no wonder they hadn’t heard him before he’d spoken.

“Spike!” Setting the snoring Grundy aside, Buffy jumped to her feet and met the man half way across the floor. He scooped her into his arms. Slanting his mouth across hers, he kissed her hungrily as she leaned against him, her hands wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Relieved and embarrassed by the overtly lusty display between the couple, Ian quickly turned his attention to four more people filing into the hut. Bloody bandages combined with the weapons they carried told him they were from this dimension and had been in a battle recently, probably with the vampires. Their exhausted faces told him they’d traveled a long distance with the blond man Buffy had called Spike.

At least some villagers here hate the vampires. Willow was already on her feet trying to help the weary people get settled. She’d taken one look at the only other man in the small group and started digging in her backpack for bandages to replace the makeshift rag that bound an obviously broken arm.

Wanting to be of assistance too, Ian reached for his bucket. “Willow, I’m going to the well for water and I’ll grab some food. I know where the Treen keep their stores.”

She smiled at him. “That would be great.”

He glanced uncertainly at the couple still standing in the middle of the hut wrapped tightly in each other’s arms and then back at Willow.

Catching his look, she grinned. “Don’t mind them. It’s always like this when they’ve been apart for any length of time, like say, fifteen minutes.” She added wryly, “They’ll wind down in a few. Once everyone’s settled, we’ll do introductions and compare notes.”

He nodded. Giving the oblivious couple as wide a berth as possible, he headed for the well.

Chapter 13

Giles paced within the confines of Lydia’s small office, his long legs carefully skirting the furniture. He’d been steadily following the same circuit since they’d returned from their visit with Adams.

Becoming more and more worried over the shocking revelations that continued to manifest with every step he and Lydia took, Giles was feeling ineludibly trapped– tied in place by a thick coiling rope made of Council protocols and power.

They both knew that they desperately needed to find a way to warn Buffy, but so far they’d yet to come up with one single solitary idea on how to accomplish the task.

He could feel his legendary control slipping and was nearing the point where he’d march into Travers’ office and throttle the man, Ripper-style.

“The problem as I see it is the impossibility of opening the portal without anyone in the Senior Council being made aware of it.” He took off his glasses and started polishing a lens with his handkerchief without missing a step.

“That’s not the main problem at all, Rupert. Although we need to avoid alerting the Council, the main problem is opening the portal ourselves. It’s impossible. It is on a mystically set schedule, and due to the difficulty of opening anything into that dimension, it’s impervious to change. The next opening is timed for the Slayer and her team’s return, which is in two days– which means she and the others will have been in the other dimension for over a week.”

Giles could feel the Council’s rope tighten. “That’s too long to wait. They’ll have already stolen the icons by then and if they’ve located Harker they’ll have set off the icon test, too. There must be another way. If only I could travel there myself and tell her.”

“Even if you could travel there– which you can not– it would not be the wisest idea. That dimension is literally teaming with vampires. Look at what happened to Harker and Phillips and they had experienced security with them. Besides you wouldn’t have any way of locating the Slayer. You’d be searching an enormous area alone and unprotected.”

Leaning back in her desk chair, Lydia stared at the ceiling and drummed her red tipped fingernails on the arm of her desk chair. Tap, tap, tap. Suddenly she sat up and smiled, causing him to stop abruptly and ask, “What?”

“You’ve given me an idea. I don’t know if it’s even possible, however…” She reached for her telephone. While it rang, she quickly sketched her idea.

He agreed that it was definitely a long shot, but it was all they had. Maybe, just maybe the rope could be loosened slightly, enough for one slim chance.

*****

“So what do you think, Professor Simms? Will it work?” Giles waited anxiously for the Professor’s opinion on Lydia’s idea.

The elderly academician stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Theoretically it should work. The box is still cohesive enough on its own to house a small letter. If we remove the box from its protected space here in the lab, it will travel back to its own dimension and I can accelerate the process to assure its arrival in one piece. However there is something else which should be carefully considered first.”

“What would that be?” Giles tried to keep his impatience in check, but every moment standing here gabbing with the talkative professor was another moment Buffy was in danger.

“Once the box and your letter are sent on their way, I can’t predict their final destination with any degree of certainty. I have no way of tracking the box’s movement once it leaves our dimension.

I have postulated three distinct possibilities. The first shows the box arriving back at its original location. This is the worse case scenario. The Slayer’s enemies would then possess information that she does not.

The second possibility shows the box having an unknown attraction to the icons, somewhat like a magnet and a piece of steel. It would then materialize next to the icons or possibly with them inside again. Depending on who possesses the icons at that moment, either the Slayer or her enemies would then benefit.

The third possibility has the box dropping into some unknown location, possibly a dimensional hot spot, where no one involved in the situation will see it. Neither the Slayer nor her enemies would possess the information, therefore no one would gain.

So there is a high probability that the Slayer will never receive your letter and an even slightly higher probability that her enemies will.”

Lydia let out a breath. “What do you want to do Rupert?” It was his Slayer, his call.

“I’m not a gambler by any stretch of imagination, but I’d like to believe the odds aren’t always in favor of the house. Send it.”

Professor Simms beamed. “Excellent. Why don’t you sit down in my office and write out your missive while I get everything prepared. It won’t take long.”

Giles retreated to the desk in the next room. Locating some paper, he penned a quick note explaining everything Adams had told them and added a few personal lines to make sure Buffy could tell it wasn’t a hoax. He was sealing the envelope when the professor came back through the door. “Everything’s set. I’m ready for your letter.”

Reaching for the envelope, the elderly man smiled at Giles. “I felt it important that you understand everything and although it wouldn’t have been ethical to try and influence your decision, I personally believe you’re doing the right thing. Star crossed lovers hold a special place in my heart and I believe Buffy and Spike deserve any chance you can give them for continued happiness, no matter how slight the possibility.”

Giles looked up and froze.

Not expecting any reply to his comments, Professor Simms plucked the envelope from Giles’ outstretched hand. Mumbling calculations to himself, he walked back into the lab nodding absentmindedly at Lydia standing in the doorway.

*****

Grange wiped the last drops of blood from around his lips with his thumb and sucked it clean. Surveying the cavern, he had to give kudos to Calder’s soldiers. They certainly knew how to hold a top notch massacre. Other than a couple enemy fighters they’d deemed healthy enough for a token gift for the vampire leader, his soldiers had killed and drained every single human in the cavern, including the wounded.

Other than killing Anderson, this had been the most fun he’d had since he’d arrived in this God forsaken hellhole.

He watched one of the vampires turn over the last body, do a quick search and shake his head. Feeling acute disappointment, Grange growled sullenly. Calder had been so certain the icons were here with these puny fighters.

Obviously someone had spirited them away before the second battle had begun.

As the lowest minion, he knew better than to try and sneak away to search himself– he could feel eyes watching his every move–so he forced down his impatience. He’d bide his time and eventually they’d turn up. He had no doubt Calder had sent feelers out throughout the countryside. He’d discover their current ownership before the night was over.

In the meantime he’d eaten very well. He glanced down at the blonde lying at his feet. Among the humans he’d eaten, she’d been the best. Deliciously sweet, just the way he liked. And bonus, he’d gotten a superb knife in the bargain. Smugly he slipped the knife down inside his boot and joined the line of soldiers heading back to the castle. Definitely a good night.

*****

“…..so I agreed to bring Lyre and the others with me. Their tunnel system is extensive and there are tunnels that join caves beneath almost the entire desert. We circled around to confuse anyone followin’ and then finally came up top a couple miles from the ridges. That’s where I caught your scents. Just a matter of tracking after that.” Spike reached in his pocket for his lighter. He was sitting on the ground in Ian’s hut with his arm draped across Buffy’s shoulders. She was leaning against his shoulder.

Willow and Ian were listening to his story while clearing away the leftover food. The Grundy and the exhausted warriors had already fallen asleep on the floor. Lyre was still awake, sitting alone, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Buffy glanced over at the quiet girl and nudged Spike. His eyes filled with compassion.

“Lyre, why don’t you get some rest now, pet? We’ll have our big confab in the mornin’ when everyone’s not so exhausted. I know I could use some sleep, myself. We walked a long way.”

She looked up and Spike’s heart twisted for her. The grief stricken girl looked so utterly lost and alone, as if she’d lost her only friend. No, more like twenty friends.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I am tired. Good night.” She stretched out next to the other warriors.

“Buffy? Ian and I are going to turn in, too.”

Ian smiled at the couple still sitting on the floor. “It’s not the Ritz, but you’re welcome to any part of the dirt floor still available.”

Spike smirked. “I’ve slept in worse. Hell, I own worse. You should try sleepin’ in a crypt sometime.”

Buffy giggled, waving her hand airily. “Don’t let him fool you Ian. He might be a vampire, but he has the most comfortable king sized four poster bed you’ve ever laid on. Silk sheets, too.”

Spike growled, nuzzling her neck. “Gonna wreck my image, Summers. Besides, who said you’ve ever slept in that bed? Although I’d certainly have to agree with the laid portion of the comment.”

Ian stilled. “You’re a vampire?” Scandalized, he glanced at Buffy. Still giggling, she was playfully smacking Spike’s arm while he smirked.

“A vampire? Working alongside the Slayer? I mean, and a personal relationship, too…. That sounds so….” Dumbstruck, his voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to say.

Willow laid her hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Ian. Spike’s a huge part of our team and Buffy’s main backup. Her Watcher is aware of the relationship. He’s been working with her for over a year and has saved us all countless times. Empress is his Grundy.”

Spike cut his eyes to Buffy. She’d stopped giggling and was warily watching Ian. “It’s too close in here, Sweetling. Care to join me for a stroll?”

She nodded, rising gracefully to her feet. “Willow, I think it’s time you and Ian got some sleep. Spike and I’ll do a quick patrol around the village perimeter before we turn in.” She looked pointedly at Ian. “Besides I need some air.”

“Sounds good. We’ll all be fresher in the morning. Good night guys.”

“ ‘night Red.”

“Good night Will.”

Neither one of the couple spoke to him as they walked out of the hut.

“Guess I mucked that up,” he said ruefully. “I was so surprised. I mean, he ate food with us.”

“Spike’s different than most vampires. He loves food and the spicier the better. He really is a good guy, Ian. I admit the first couple of times I met him, he tried to kill me. But after that chip was forced in his head, everything became different. It acted as a sort of catalyst and he completely changed the direction of his life and willingly joined our side. Once he and Buffy got together– no matter how it looks to the casual observer, they’re in love, it’s not just physical–that was the icing on the cake. He’s fiercely protective of her. I honestly believe, and I think her Watcher would agree, that Spike is one of the reasons she’s still alive. While we’re all working together here, if you can’t deal with Spike you’re going to find yourself pretty lonely.”

“Chip?” Ian’s eyes widened. “That isn’t William the Bloody is it? Dear God, I’ve read about him in the Council library. He’s an incredibly dangerous vampire.” His voice grew thoughtful. “There was a page appended to the text about how some covert military organization put something in his head to muzzle him.”

“He’s not muzzled. He could easily find a way to kill if he wanted. He chooses not to hurt people. In fact, he only drinks cow’s blood.” Willow’s voice hardened. “Ian, you need to try not to be a Council geek here. You’re a scientist first, so be rational guy and give him a chance. And whatever you do think about this, know that Spike and Buffy are our best chance of getting out of here alive. Personally, that idea appeals to me a whole lot. And look at Lyre– she’s a warrior whose sole mission is to kill vampires and Spike saved her and the others. She trusts him. I think you need to do the same.”

Ian spoke slowly, trying to get his jumbled thoughts in order. “I guess I need some time. I’ve seen things in this dimension that have colored my outlook– to put it mildly– and it might take awhile for me to figure out who I can trust. But I promise I’ll try to give Spike the benefit of the doubt.”

Satisfied with his answer, she said, “Spike’s a good man. You’ll see that once you’ve been around him for awhile.” She yawned widely. “Good night, Ian.”

But he’s not a man at all and that’s the crux of my problem. “Good night.”

Chapter 14

The couple walked in companionable silence past the edge of the village, turning by silent consent toward the open desert. The terrain soon flattened and Spike could see the hilly shapes of the sand dunes off in the distance. “We haven’t found anythin’ out here. Do you really feel like patrollin’ anymore, Slayer?”

“I’m exhausted, but I needed to get away from there. That hut and even the village was getting way too rush hour for me. I’m tired of crowds.”

She touched his arm. He promptly stopped, turning to her.

Buffy wished the stars at home were this bright. She could see every detail and sharp plane of Spike’s face. She touched his cheek gently and his expression softened. Always for her.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there Spike, but I’m sure Ian will come around. Willow thinks he’s okay. In fact I bet she’s reading him the riot act right now.”

“Not your fault, pet.” Kissing her palm, he let it drop and shrugged out of his coat. He spread the duster across the soft sand so they could sit down.

Pulling her close, he spoke in a low voice. “You know we have a big problem.”

Her brows knit together. There were so many problems. She was beginning to feel like that guy Sissyfoot. One more and she’d definitely be rolling back down the hill. But if she rolled, everyone else would roll, too, so she kept trying to find footholds to anchor herself. Like being here now with Spike.

She sighed. “Which big problem would that be? I mean next to all these other smaller, more insignificant problems we already have, it couldn’t be that terrible.”

“Harker’s a Council git, Buffy. That means they know about us now.”

She bit her lip. “He won’t tell anyone.” Would he?

“We don’t know that, Sweetling.”

“True. But I refuse to dwell on it now Spike. There’s not much we can do to prevent him from ratting us out if he decides to. That is, if we leave here in one piece. Besides it’s a beautiful night and we’re all alone for the first time since we left Sunnydale. I don’t want to talk about the Council, or this place, or icons or anything else problem-y. Can’t we just be Buffy and Spike for a little while?”

If he had to, he’d run through the desert in daylight to give her a brief respite. “Buffy, I’m sorry for even bringin’ it up. Of course we deserve a break. It’s been a bitch of a trip so far.” He tried for a smile. “Remind me to tell Rupert he needs to rip up the travel brochures. I don’t think they’re ready for the tourist trade.”

She responded by casting a wicked smile toward him. She ran her finger lightly down his bare arm. “I missed you so much.”

He hesitated for less than a heartbeat before pulling her around to face him. “I missed you too, but I thought you were exhausted,” he murmured, his lips a fraction above hers.

“Suddenly not so much,” she whispered.

That was all he’d been waiting for. Fitting his lips to hers, he wrapped his arms around her, turning and rolling her to the sand before settling his lean body above hers. Shivering slightly, she acquiesced easily, reaching up to cup his pale face with her hands. Gazing into his eyes she could see her own love reflected back as he leaned down to press his lips hard against hers. Moaning lightly, she clutched his back. Her mouth opened to his and everything tilted.

*****

Lydia down shifted and wrenched the steering wheel to the left, forcing her little Sierra into a quiet side street parking spot. She cut the engine, leaving the noise of the summer rain drumming softly against the roof as the only sound.

“Rupert, we need to talk.”

This was the first sentence Lydia had directed toward him since they’d locked eyes in the doorway.

Since she overheard the professor say Buffy and Spike were lovers.

He watched pedestrians dodging raindrops for a moment, struggling to find words that would repair the breach. “I’m so very sorry Lydia—”.

She whirled around to face him and he saw the hurt behind her glasses. “How could you keep something like that a secret from me? I’ve let you be privy to everything. I’m trying to help you save the Slayer and yet you don’t even have the decency to tell me something that would compromise my already precarious position even further.”

He winced at her angry tone and tried again. “I –”

Shooting him a dark look, she held up a hand. “I’m not finished yet.” Dropping the hand back to her lap, she shook her head, still trying to wrap it around the concept. “Buffy Summers is sleeping with William the Bloody.”

Her voice rose. “We are So. Very. Very. Screwed. You know how this is going to look if Quentin finds out. We’re working behind his back to save a Slayer who’s screwing around with one of the most notorious vampires in history.”

She struck her palm against the steering wheel. “Damn, it would have to be Spike. I did my Masters thesis on him. Do you know how bad that little tidbit would look to the rest of the Council? I still have some loyal people on my side. If this gets leaked, no one will trust me any longer. You and I will both be pariahs.”

Giles sighed. “Lydia, it isn’t my place to tell anyone. I promised Buffy before we left Sunnydale that no one here would ever learn of her and Spike’s relationship. She’s frantic with worry for Spike.”

“Then how the bloody hell does Simms know?” She narrowed her eyes. “Rupert, you do realize he’ll spill everything and it will get back to the Council. That man jabbers to anyone and everyone within vocal range.” She slapped her forehead. “Dear Lord, I’m the one that hired him. Mark my words, he’ll be our ruination.”

Giles laid a placating hand on top of Lydia’s. “Simms has known since that very first meeting. He was in our hotel room afterwards and accidentally saw Spike and Buffy being amorous in the kitchen.”

“Oh? And whatever were they doing? Going at it on the table? You know I’ve heard olive oil can be a good lubricant.”

Straightening, Giles gazed squarely at her. “I understand all of your concerns Lydia, and I am sorry about the deception, but we’re talking about my Slayer and her personal life. Buffy is an adult and that comment was over the line.”

At her incredulous stare, he lifted his chin. “As much as it pains me to say this, Spike and Buffy love each other deeply. Anyone around them for any length of time can see it. And he’s absolutely devoted to her. You of all people know how solicitous and loyal Spike is toward any woman in his life. As you’re also aware, he’s an incredibly skilled fighter. He’s saved her life countless times. Not just her, but everyone that works with us. I trust him with her and I trust her to make her own decisions.”

He stared out the windshield at the falling rain. “You know what the Council will do to her if they discover any of this.”

“Of course I know what they’ll do.” Grimacing at the picture he’d painted, she added bitterly, “It’s so damn easy for them too. Everyone in service is so very expendable and Slayers most of all.” How many people had she known through the years that weren’t alive any longer? It had to number in the hundreds.

Tiredly, she slumped against the seat and rubbed her eyes. “Rupert, you know I like Buffy, I really do. She’s the only one who has ever had the bollocks to stand up to Quentin and his cronies. Other than you and me that is.”

She watched Giles stare at the rain. It was pouring now and the windows were beginning to fog. He looked so much older than the last time she’d seen him in London. How long had it been? It was a well known fact Watchers aged quickly in the field, and Rupert had been with Buffy for several years. She blew out a breath. “Alright. Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“All of your arguments in favor of them aside, I can well imagine how the conversation went when she told you,” she said wryly.

He smiled thinly and her lips twitched. “But after all, it’s not like she’s the first Slayer to ever have the predilection. I think they all do it at least once if they live long enough. We’ll continue to play this close to the vest and as far as I know Buffy is not screwing around with the undead. But Rupert, Professor Simms...”

“—Has not spoken a word to anyone and won’t,” he replied firmly. “He’s a romantic, believes Buffy and Spike to be the modern day Romeo and Juliet.”

“God save us from romance,” she muttered.

Giles’ eyes twinkled. “I think you mean ‘thank God for romance’, you’re just having a tough time with the concept at the moment.”

“As are you.” She started the car. “We need to get back on point. What can we do to keep Quentin from discovering we’ve sent that box to Buffy?”

Chapter 15

Two hours later the sated couple was still lying on top of the duster, cuddled together.

Buffy was staring at the night sky again. Some of the constellations, like the big apple pie over to the left, were starting to look familiar. “Spike, what did you do with the icons? I didn’t feel any bumps during the actual, uh, bumping.”

“Just startin’ to wonder about ‘em now, huh?” His voice sounded amused. “I placed them in Red’s backpack and gave her the heads up. Figured we shouldn’t have them out here with us on patrol.” He nuzzled her neck. “That is if we’d actually patrolled.”

“Patrolling can be overrated sometimes, other things not so much,” she replied airily. “Besides the vamps seem to leave the villages alone for some reason.”

She stretched. He waited until she was nestled against his side again to speak. “I have to take Lyre and the others back to her village late tomorrow, their rendezvous point is near there.”

“We’ll all go. The farther we get from those vampires you took the icons from, the better I’ll feel.”

“It’s going to be a wasted trip, but at least she’ll be back with her own people afterwards. There aren’t goin’ to be any survivors–the vamps tore through those people like they were children playin’ with toy weapons.”

Hearing the bitter tone, she twisted around to see him better. “Spike, it wasn’t your fault. People die. It sucks, but it happens. You had a mission and you completed it.”

“My mission was recon.”

“We decided before you left that if you saw an opportunity you’d take it. They would have found those people at some point and you know that.”

“You’re wrong, Slayer. I led those demons back to that cavern. I might as well have killed those fighters myself. I should have waited and gone back in after they’d left the area, but I got impatient and cocky.”

He sat up abruptly and dug for his cigarettes. “We probably need to go back, so we can catch some sleep. Tomorrow’s goin’ to be a long day.”

He snapped open the lighter and she glimpsed his shuttered expression in the flame’s light. It was going to take some time for him to process the guilt. Spike had assumed the burden for those deaths and although she didn’t feel that it was in any way his fault–she hadn’t lied to him about that–obviously he did. Add another thing to the problem pile–one conscience stricken vampire.

She reached for her clothes. “You’re right; we need to go. It’ll be daylight in a few hours.”

*****

“And then yesterday morning, I tried to find a real reason, but the villagers closed down. They wouldn’t tell me anything except for meaningless phrases about eternal Gods.”
Shaking his head sadly, Ian waited for the Slayer to comment.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she leaned against the wall with Spike next to her. Empress was on the vampire’s other side, her furry head in his lap. Watching Ian with hooded eyes, Spike was idly stroking her head with one hand while the other held a thermos full of blood. He occasionally upended the thermos while acting as if he dared Ian to cross some invisible line.

After Willow’s comments last night, he’d made the decision to give Spike–no matter how scary he appeared–the benefit of the doubt, but it was harder to do than he’d thought. When they’d all awakened this morning, he had smiled and said good morning. Pushing past him, he’d received a brief nod. Okay, that hadn’t been the most reassuring.

Now there had been more of that unblinking stare during his explanation of the Treen ceremony he’d witnessed. It was making him so nervous that he’d actually stuttered a couple times, something which hadn’t happened since he’d been in fourth form.

Finishing his explanation, he mopped his brow with the tail of his shirt and reached for water, nearly upending the cup in the process. Taking a sip he watched Spike’s lips twist. Averting his eyes, Ian glanced over at Willow. She and Lyre were quietly discussing routes and tunnels over a map spread on the floor. No help for him there.

Buffy shifted, pulling his attention back to the Slayer. Spike was busy screwing the cap on his thermos, so he ventured a slight smile. “So what do you think we should do?”

She shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. My main priority–the Council’s priority– are the icons. My orders are to return them through the portal when it opens again in a few days. Until then, I’d like to move them as far away from the vamps in the castle as I can take them. Since Spike agreed to accompany Lyre and the others back to their village, I’ve decided that we’re going with them.”

His eyes widened. “But we need to help the Treen. They’re under the vampires’ control. I explained what they did to the three young women.”

Buffy nodded soberly. “And it’s definitely horrible, and goes a long way toward explaining why they seem to leave the villages alone for the most part. But what would you have me do? I can’t risk a confrontation with an impenetrable castle full of vampires. If we provoke an attack and they start to lose, they’ll run back in there and we could easily lose the icons all over again.

Spike figured there were easily a hundred battle-ready demons living together in that building and not even a Slayer could take on that many. They’ve already trashed the only resistance movement around, and there are simply not enough fighters. There’s Spike, me, Empress, and Lyre and her people. That’s not enough to take them on.

You said yourself the Treen won’t fight for themselves, so I’ve got no way to break the vampire’s hold on them. We need something to even the odds. It’s too bad we can’t fire bomb the crap out of them while they’re hiding away during the day. Lob a few through that secret opening in their defenses that Spike used, like those Orcs did in Lord of the Rings.”

Spike shot her an amused glance. “Did you just use a Lord of the Rings example?”

Buffy’s lips curved. “I’m spending way too much time hanging with Xander, huh?”

Ian smiled slowly. “Actually, a bomb isn’t as farfetched as it sounds. We could try making a rudimentary black powder. Supposedly that’s what they used in the movie.”

Willow got excited. “Oh, that could work! But we’d need–”

“Sulfur, charcoal and potassium nitrate” Spike said promptly.

Willow and Ian turned to look at him and Buffy snickered. Trust Spike to know how to blow something up.

Spike was grinning at their surprise. “We used it in guns back in the day.” He nodded at Ian. “Council Boy actually has a right decent idea, if we can find the ingredients. It would level the playin’ field. I know there’s sulfur here, we’ve all smelled it.”

Ian nearly stammered again– this time from shock over Spike’s acknowledgement of his idea–but caught himself. The vampire already thought he was a git. “The Treen use charcoal to start their fires, so there must be a goodly amount close by somewhere. I’m sure they would show us.”

“But what about that other stuff– the potato nitrate?”

“Potassium nitrate,” Willow corrected easily, grinning at Buffy. “I knew you should have gone to chem class a little more.”

Ian thought out loud. “I’ve read it can also be made with bat guano, but I haven’t seen any bats. It’s the oxidizing agent, so this isn’t going to work without it.”

Spike frowned. “I’ve walked through miles of caves in the last twenty-four hours and haven’t seen or smelled a single bat. We used to use salt peter. It’s common, used to keep foods from spoiling without refrigeration. It was mined as a crystal inside caves, too. Maybe they’ve got that here.”

Lyre looked at the group. “I don’t understand much of what you’re saying, but I believe you’re speaking of stone salt.” She nodded at the man sleeping behind her. “Dar’s family gathers it for our village from caves all over this area. I’m sure he can lead you to a supply.” She looked curious. “But what can you do with this black powder?”

Spike smirked. “Storm a castle, pet.”

“And with any luck at all, turn a huge cadre of vampires into a big pile of dust. It can be amazingly destructive.” Ian started digging for paper and a pencil. “I’m going to need to compute the exact measurements and then there’s burn rate to consider….”

“Willow?”

“I can help Ian with the calculations.”

He smiled his thanks at Willow. “I can use all the help I can get. It’s been a long time since I did any basic chemistry. What should we use for a fuse? If it’s not long enough someone would have to get awfully close to light it. You know on second thought, this could turn out to be terribly dangerous.”

Spike, Buffy and Willow looked at Empress at the same time.

The Grundy wagged her tail.

Willow reached over to scratch her ears. “Don’t worry about that part, Ian. Lighting it won’t be an issue.”

“We’ll need some type of containers,” Spike said.

Lyre spoke thoughtfully. “What about clay jars to hold this powder? Would those work?”

Ian nodded. “They would probably work well. Do you know of someone who manufactures something like that? The treen only make these slatted buckets. They don’t own any pottery that I’ve ever seen. Where would we get them?”

Lyre smiled. “My village is along a marshy area. There is an abundant supply of clay, so we make all sorts of containers to trade with other villages. I think the Treen are set in their ways and don’t want anything but wooden containers. You may have as many jars as you wish.”

Buffy stood up, signaling the end of the planning. “Alright, we’ll collect everything we need along the way to the rendezvous and then do the final assembly in Lyre’s village. Lyre, wake up Dar and the others. Ian, go find out where the charcoal can be found and ask if we could have some of their buckets, too.”

Chapter 16

“Buffy, could we stop a minute? I’ve got to rearrange my backpack. My shoulders are starting to hurt.”

“Sure. We’re carrying so much stuff I’ll bet we could all use a break.”

“I can’t decide which are heavier, buckets of coal or buckets of stone salt.”

Lyre massaged her arm muscles. “I vote for the coal.”

Ian carefully set his bucket down. “I’ll trade if you’d like–this sulfur isn’t too heavy, it just stinks.”

Setting the bulging backpack against a tunnel wall, Willow started shifting stuff, trying to even out her load. “Wait a minute, where did this come from?” She lifted out a small wooden box.

Buffy turned to Spike. He was lighting another cigarette. Rolling her eyes at his nicotine habit, she said, “You didn’t mention bringing a second box.”

“I didn’t, just nicked the icons.”

The group stared suspiciously at the ornate box.

“Be careful Willow,” Buffy warned.

She sprung the clasp and her eyes widened. “Okay, this is weird. The icons are in here, and so is this.” She held up a white envelope. “It’s addressed to you, Buffy.”

“Since when does the post office deliver mail here?”

Willow handed it over. “Maybe it’s included under ‘nor gloom of night.’”

“It could be a Council trick.” Spike threw down his cigarette and moved next to her, placing an arm protectively around her shoulders.

Buffy looked up at him. “You’re afraid some evil thing’s going to go all postal on me, huh?”

Watching Spike’s solicitous attention, Ian had an epiphany. It wasn’t him personally that Spike didn’t trust as much as his employer. Slightly relieved, he decided that he could deal with that. After all, he didn’t completely trust Spike-the-vampire either.

Buffy was still staring at the sealed envelope. “This looks like Giles’ writing.” She pried open the back flap and scanned it. “It is from Giles. It’s a warning not to use an incantation the Council provided for the icons.”

She looked over at Ian. “Do you know anything about that?”

He nodded. “The Council gave me last minute instructions to test the icons before returning through the portal with them. It’s here in my papers. It’s supposed to assure us that they do indeed work.”

Buffy crumpled the paper in her fist. “Well, it’s a trick. Travers and the Council are planning to destroy this entire dimension. They wanted to be certain the vampires would die.”

“But-but- that’s absurd,” he sputtered. “We would have been killed along with everyone else here, including all the villagers.”

Spike’s mouth tightened. “And you didn’t know about this? You were the leader of their little foray.”

Ian looked around at the suspicious expressions. All the goodwill and camaraderie had evaporated. With a sinking heart, he realized how much he’d grown to like these people in such a short time.

“I swear I didn’t know anything! I haven’t even read their incantation yet. I don’t want to die and I don’t want anyone else to die either. Besides, why would I be badgering you to help the Treen if I knew they were going to die?”

Spike snorted. “That’s the sort of devious behavior I’d expect from the Council.”

Willow shot him a look before turning to her best friend. “No, that’s true, Buffy. Yesterday Ian asked me to help him decipher the incantation when everything calmed down and we had the icons. He really hasn’t read it.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time Travers screwed over his own people.” She turned to Ian. The man looked stricken. “We’ll have to destroy them without trying them out.”

Relieved, he agreed. “Absolutely. We’ll find some way.”

She looked up at Spike and said casually, “I’m going to have a little talk with Travers when we return.”

He met her gaze and growled softly.

Shivering slightly, Ian decided he’d avoid that meeting like the plague.

She straightened the creased paper, slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. “Willow, for now give the icons to Empress and we’ll destroy the box later.”

“Okay dokey. Here Empress.”

Wagging her bushy tail, the Grundy promptly swallowed them.

Ian’s mouth dropped. “How did she do that?” he asked, bewildered. “And where exactly did they go?”

Spike patted the Grundy’s head. “Not to worry, they’re safe as houses.”

“How much farther to the meeting place, Lyre?”

“Just up ahead and only a little farther past that is our village.”

*****

Lyre’s voice trembled. “There’s no one here. Cris and the others really are dead. I had hoped….” Her voice trailed off as she blinked back tears.

Buffy looked around at the solemn warriors. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Spike told me how much he admired your leader and the other brave fighters. But at least you’ll be honoring them by working with us to take down the vampires.”

Spike’s eyes glittered. “The Slayer’s right, Lyre. We’re going to try our hardest to kill every last one of them. Think how proud Cris would have been to see you lot not givin’ up.”

She wiped her eyes. “You’re right. The last thing Cris would have done was give up, so we won’t either. It would make all of her hard work and sacrifice meaningless.”

Her expression became determined. “Let’s go. The village isn’t far now. Then we can plan our retribution.”

The sky had darkened by the time they finally arrived at Lyre’s village, and even in the dark, the group could see obvious differences between the two villages and their people.

While the Treen were semi nomadic, extremely primitive, and lived on the edge of the desert, Lyre’s people– the Abadi– had lived in an idyllic setting of large, shady trees along the banks of a swiftly moving stream for many generations and their spacious buildings, made of wooden planks, reflected that fact.

Buffy walked Empress nervously into the heart of the village, braced for the same noisy reception she’d experienced with the Treen.

She couldn’t be sure whether it was because Lyre and the other warriors were accompanying them, or because the village was used to trading with strangers, but no one appeared overly interested in either the strangers or their unusual animal. Buffy glanced down at the Grundy and giggled. Empress, less than impressed with her reception, had acquired a sulky expression, her nose high in the air.

Everyone followed Lyre through the village square to a large, square building on the far side.

Lyre stopped outside the door. “This is the temple of the Priestess-Seer, the leader of our people. It is customary to introduce new visitors before settling you inside the guest house. I know we’re all weary, but this won’t take long.”

She motioned them through the door and into a large, dimly lit room.

Buffy’s eyes swept the room, drawn to large swirling symbols painted on the white walls and then to the center of the room dominated by a large freestanding altar; clay vessels with offerings of food and other items were arrayed around it.

A slight noise caught her attention. There were several people standing silently in the dark corners. Still glancing around, a voice drew her attention back to the altar. Someone stood in the shadows on the far side.

“Lyre! The portents told of your arrival, but I refused to believe until I saw you with my own eyes. The woman smiled. “You have been missed greatly. I have longed to speak with you again.”

Lyre chuckled. “I have longed to see you, too.”

Leaning heavily on the can she was using for support, an elderly woman with waist length white hair smiled in the group’s general direction. Looking in her face Buffy saw milky white irises and a complete lack of focus and got the joke. The woman was blind.

She held her arms open and Lyre hugged her. “I also have longed to see you and our people again, Priestess. But I’ve brought sad news. My friend Cris and her followers have been killed. They died heroically, slain by the false Gods during a fierce battle.”

“I’m sorry, Lyre. Cris was a wonderful woman, but she was not the one you sought. I warned you that I saw death treading upon her shadow and I have been deeply worried since you left.” She patted Lyre’s arm. “But you have returned whole and for that I shall leave a little something extra for the Gods tonight.”

She turned in the group’s direction again and bird-like, cocked her head. “Dar and our other missing children are also back safe and sound.”

She made a shooing motion with her free hand. “You all have my permission to leave. Your families will have heard of your return and they’ll be anxious to see you.”

Dar and the other Abadi warriors quickly left.

Turning in the general direction of the strangers that remained, the Priestess motioned them forward and murmured loud enough that the others could hear. “You have brought some interesting companions, my dear. I can feel power, strength and yes, even intelligence and cunning among them.” She leaned her head in that odd bird-like way again. “I should like to meet them now.”

Lyre reached to take her arm and she shook her head, adding coquettishly, “I believe I would very much like the men to help me to my seat.”

Spike shot Buffy a smirk.

She rolled her eyes in response.

The Priestess gestured vaguely in the general direction of a small table and chairs in another part of the room. “Everyone else, please sit down. I know it has been a tiring journey and I promise not to keep you from your rest for too long, however you’ve safely escorted my granddaughter home and I would know more about you.”

Spike helped Ian escort Lyre’s grandmother to a chair. He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. The skin of her hand was light and dry and she smelled of summer flowers.

After helping her into a seat at the end of the table, he slid into his own seat and thought about what he’d heard. Spike already knew that Lyre, with her vast stores of knowledge, was special. Now it appeared there was another, equally important reason Cris had watched over her so carefully. Linage. And with linage usually came power. He wondered how much power the old woman– and Lyre through her– wielded among the Abadi villagers.

While everyone else was still getting settled, he watched the Priestess listen to the sounds and comments swirling around her. She might be old, but nothing got by her. By being seated first at the end of the table, she’d set up the perfect scenario to be near enough to hear everything. From Ian and Willow’s whispered concerns about the careful upright placing of their backpacks and Buffy’s terse commands regarding the overly full buckets to Empress padding over to lie down next to his chair, gave the wily old woman clues concerning the dynamics within the group. Buffy dropped into the seat next to him and he almost flinched. The Priestess was no doubt aware from the assistance he’d rendered– at her request– that he was a vampire. He wondered what she was thinking right now.

Spike unabashedly continued assessing her until she turned in his direction. Although there was no reason to do so–he knew she couldn’t see him– he dropped his eyes. Her sightless gaze lingered a second or two in his general direction before turning in the Slayer’s direction. She smiled broadly, displaying several missing teeth. “You girl, the leader, what is your name?”

“Buffy.”

The old woman murmured. “Such a pretty name. And I am Imala, Priestess-Seer of the Abadi. I, too, am a leader. We have that in common.” She smiled again. “What would you say, Buffy, if I told you that I had a vision concerning you and your friends two days ago?”

“I’d ask if you understood any of it. Visions can be cryptic.”

Imala chuckled. “You’re a smart girl.” The Priestess sat back against her chair. She was so tiny that her feet didn’t touch the floor. She swung her legs back and forth like an energetic child. “I will tell you what I saw and perhaps between all of us we will gain the knowledge to understand the Gods’ message. A wise man has said that the sum of parts is sometimes greater than the whole.”

Chapter 17

“I saw an enormous stone building sitting peaceful and still in the hot desert sun.”

Spike and Lyre glanced at each other. They were the only ones that had actually seen the vampire’s castle, although the others around the table recognized Imala’s description.

“Suddenly the stone building’s peace and solitude was shattered by a great blast.”

“Sounds like our idea is on the right track, Slayer,” Spike murmured in her ear.

“The blast was created by a bright shiny ball that flew through the air.”

“What? Wait a minute; we don’t have a shiny ball that flies, we don’t even have one that rolls.” Buffy was worried now. Until that point Imala’s vision had been yay-for-their-side, but now it had moved into the realm of a bad scifi movie. Not one that starred some A list actor like Keanu Reeves or Ron Perlman either, but some unknown with bad hair that you knew you couldn’t get invested in because with a simple twist of the plot, he’d get killed in some really gross way.

“Are you sure the majority of the destruction was caused by a shiny ball? Maybe it only looked like a shiny ball, maybe it was really a round clay jar painted gold with a lot of black powder in it.” Buffy asked, hopefully. Maybe her vision had bad vertical hold.

Her heart sunk when the Priestess shook her head adamantly. Rats.

“No, it wasn’t clay. I could see it distinctly. Somehow it is what causes most of the destruction, although there were several other, smaller blasts, that seemed to have been ignited by something. I do not know what. Then Buffy, you and the others engaged the false Gods that survived the initial blasts, vanquishing them easily. Still, it was a most propitious vision. However, I don’t understand how you will accomplish this task. Whatever could you build that would allow an object to fly through the air?”

“I have no freakin’ idea,” Buffy muttered.

Sitting straighter in his chair, Ian looked around the table at the group. He brightened at the thought of contributing something. “And after all of that discussion early today aboutLord of the Rings, I can’t believe you haven’t thought of it.”

When Buffy and everyone turned to look at him curiously, his smile widened. “We could build a siege engine. I think a wooden catapult should do nicely.”

Willow bounced in her seat. “Oh! That would work! But wait, no, not a catapult, they’re too unwieldy and we don’t have any metal for the spring or the fulcrum. Oh, I’ve got it! We’ll build a trebuchet.” She looked at the amazed expressions. “What? A science nerd can’t know anything about medieval weaponry? I grew up around Xander, remember? He shot Barbie, her friend Midge and even his own G.I. Joe into our tree with a little homemade one all the time. From seeing their houses I’m sure the Abadi have the technology. They’re super simple to make.”

“They’d have to be if Xander did it.” Spike murmured.

Buffy shot him a look before saying matter of factly, “We could probably find some way to build a modern day cannon if we wanted to, but that’s not the problem here. We don’t have anything to shoot out of it, or from it. Whichever. We didn’t come through the portal equipped with our own special shiny ball like the one in Imala’s vision.”

Empress crooned loudly to get everyone’s attention before dropping the icons at Spike’s feet with a flourish.

Spike grinned at the furry Grundy. “You think we should melt the icons down.”

The Grundy wagged her tail.

Ian made a face. “Please tell me you don’t mean that. There’s way too much power locked inside. Remember that’s not ordinary gold that you could melt down into Krugerrands or something, those statues are portal keys. You’d need some way to bleed off the excess magical energy or you’re going to have an explosion the size of the one the Council is expecting.”

Lyre spoke up hesitantly. “I don’t understand a lot of this, but perhaps grandmother and I could help. We and the other acolytes could act as vessels and contain some of the power–we do have that ability– allowing it to drain harmlessly.”

“I have no idea if that would work….” Ian said in a weak voice. “I don’t know the first thing about how to go about transferring something like that.”

“It was your idea to build a catapult.” Willow reminded him. “Maybe there’s something we can use among all of that information the Council gave you, or maybe we can craft something from the components of a spell. Ian, you’re the foremost authority on magical objects in the world, surely you can think of something. I’ve got some magical background myself and I brought a few things with me–I like to be prepared– and I’ll try to assist you in any way that I can.”

He sighed. “I’ll look into it.”

“Good,” Buffy said, pleased. “In the meantime, we’ll continue with our original plan and make several nice sized bombs while Lyre’s people construct the tray thingie. Willow, it’s up to you to sketch out what that looks like, exactly.”

“No problemo.”

“What about me luv?”

“Once Ian and Willow figure out the formula, you’re in charge of making the bombs with the bucket-y stuff. We’ll get Dar and some of the others to help you.”

Ian felt he had to say something. “No offense to Lyre’s grandmother here, but are you certain we should be following guidelines from a stranger’s vision?”

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I have to agree with Council Boy. Are you sure this isn’t taking on a little too much, pet? Our original idea seems like enough.”

“I know it looks like I’ve sort of embraced this out of left field, but it’s an instinct thing. This isn’t our world. These people live here, we don’t. Lyre’s grandmother has the pipeline to their powers-that-be and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned being the Slayer, it’s that if someone offers you help, grab it and find a way to turn it into an advantage. It sounds as if they want us to use those icons against the vamps.”

Her lips curved. “Besides, we’d already decided to destroy the icons, so it makes good sense to kill two vampires with the same bird, uh, ball.”

Spike acquiesced easily. After all he’d do whatever she asked, although right now he couldn’t stop a grin from forming. “Admit it, Slayer. You want to blow up a castle, same as the rest of us.”

Her smile bloomed. “It does sound like a fun party.”

*****

Imala sat in her chair with Lyre waiting for the door to close completely behind the group. Everyone was exhausted and they’d finally traipsed off to get some sleep making jokes about forgetting purposely to set something called an alarm clock.

“What did you wish to speak with me about?” Lyre looked curiously at her grandmother.

“I know how tired you are, but this won’t take long.” Imala patted her granddaughter’s hand. “It’s good to see you home again, Lyre. You must finish your training. I am not as adept at doing everything as I was when you left. It is time for you to take over as Priestess-Seer. ”

“Is this what you wished to speak about? My training?”

Her grandmother let out a long breath before smiling gently. “Yes and no. There is something else which I need to tell you about the vision, which is for your ears alone. It concerns Buffy and your other new companions.”

“Isn’t Buffy incredible? You saw it for yourself tonight as well as in your vision. Grandmother, you were correct about Cris and I was wrong. She was a good warrior and friend, but not the leader from the prophecy. I believe now that Buffy is that woman. She fights false Gods– they are actually known as vampires– every day in her world and saves people all the time. I know she will save us as well.”

“There is great strength and control in her aura and she is undoubtedly the one from the prophecy. My vision was clear. They will win this battle.”

Lyre smiled happily, satisfied that Imala had seen what she’d said. “I’m excited to play my part.”

“Yes, we will all play a part. But Lyre, there was more to the vision which I did not divulge.”

“What else was shown to you?” She asked worriedly. It was not like Imala to keep secrets from her or anyone else concerning her visions. The elderly Priestess was usually an open book.

Her grandmother sighed. “I saw ugly death, Lyre. In the vision, someone– maybe more than one– from within the group will die during the battle.”

“Who? Why would you choose to keep this a secret? If we know who or how, we can stop it from happening.”

The elderly Priestess shook her head. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” she said softly. “It was not made clear who would be the sacrifice, or how it was to occur, only that there would be death. For great good to happen sometimes we must offer up something in return, to balance the universe. This is one of those times, Lyre.”

“But they are helping us, making our world safe. It is not fair.” She started to cry.

Watching her tears fall, Imala felt terrible, but she had to prepare the girl for what was to come. “Do you believe that if they were told this, they would stop helping us win against the vampires?”

Lyre wiped her eyes. “No. They are warriors, like Cris was. It is an honor to die in battle against evil. They would sacrifice themselves to save innocent lives.”

Imala nodded, satisfied that her granddaughter understood the motivation of true heroes. “Which is why you must not say anything about this conversation. It will change nothing; only lend distraction, which may get even more killed. Now go to bed, child, you are weary and tomorrow brings much work.”

Once Lyre closed the door, the Priestess rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. She’d done the right thing, swearing Lyre to secrecy. She did feel that it would be the wrong thing to tell them the remainder of her vision. It served no purpose.

But she still felt guilty. It wasn’t every day that she lied to her granddaughter. But she’d heard the way Lyre felt about Buffy and earlier had heard the story about the unusual vampire Spike. He’d treated Lyre so kindly after the death of her friend, protecting her until she could be returned safely back to her clan. Lyre thought them both nearly invincible and definitely larger than life.

So how could she tell Lyre that she’d witnessed Spike become dust while trying to save his blonde leader? And even worse, that it had been in vain. There had even been hints that their own lives were at risk, that this world might possibly end.

She spoke to the ceiling. “You want more than we can give without deep sorrow. As always, I accede to your wishes; however I beg that you reconsider what you’ve ask.”

Chapter 18

“’Lo, Sweetling.” Spike carefully avoided the slanting rays of late afternoon sun and walked beneath the tree’s broad canopy. He looked down at his girlfriend and smiled.

Buffy was sitting on the cool grass, her back against the enormous trunk. Her clothes were wrinkled and there was a smear of dirt on her forehead. She was utterly beautiful.

She smiled tiredly. “Lo yourself.”

“Scoot up a bit.” Angling himself behind her, he sat down and stretched his legs out on either side of hers. Pulling her back against his chest he wrapped his arms around her waist. “There, that’s better.”

She nestled her head back against his shoulder. “Mmmm, much better.”

Quietly, they watched the village children playing with Empress in the nearby field. The Grundy, a stick clamped tightly between her teeth, was running in a large circle, ears perked and tail streaming behind her like a bushy banner. The children would chase after her until they became dizzy, and then fall to the grass laughing hysterically.

Buffy watched Empress trot over and drop the stick at a child’s feet to begin the game again. “I don’t think any of them realize that’s a different stick. She ate the first one.”

Spike laughed and Buffy felt the sound rumble through his chest while he lazily stroked her bare arm, trailing his fingertips lightly up and down in long, smooth strokes.

She sighed.

“Tired?”

“A little. I spent the entire afternoon hefting huge rocks onto that contraption of Willow’s to test it. It’s sort of like a slingshot that uses weight to counterbalance and fling something forward. Naturally no one else could lift anything remotely heavy enough to make the darn thing work.”

“Naturally.”

“How’s the bomb making going?”

“It’s done. Dar and I mixed and filled ten nice gifts for the vamps. We never did decide on a length for the fuses, so I made an executive decision and went for ten seconds.”

She laced her fingers with his. “Ten seconds isn’t very long.”

In the distance the children were squealing and laughing. She felt Spike’s chest move as he shrugged. “Long enough. Don’t want to give ‘em time to chuck the bloody things back at us.”

“Won’t they go off on impact?”

“That’s the plan. But I haven’t used black powder in nearly a hundred years and I’m the “expert.” It’s completely theoretical to everyone else. Homemade powder like this? I’d prefer to place them against the walls and then have Empress set ‘em off anyway, it’s safer for everyone.”

She watched the Grundy bank a curve, the children in hot pursuit. “So we’re going to have to sneak up to the wall without getting noticed. That’s not going to be easy. We’ll need a diversion. Plus I’d like to get a couple inside somehow for later in the fight.”

“There’s always the tunnel I used before, although that might tip ‘em off.”

“That might actually be workable. Lyre told me the vamps have another worship celebration set up for tonight. The village is fairly far away, so it won’t start until long after dark and they’ll be late getting back. Counting the walk there and back, you and I still have time to leave a couple inside the tunnel.”

“Since they finished off the warriors, I doubt they’ve been payin’ much attention to the tunnel and tonight they’ll be lax anyway with their leader gone.”

The Grundy trotted across Spike’s line of sight. She was carrying a different stick. Empress caught his look and winked. He grinned back at her.

“What’s goin’ on with the icons?”

“Willow and Ian are working up some type of incantation to bleed some of the power away. Lyre and Imala are with them. Willow told me that they don’t use magic here in the same way that we do. They don’t do incantations, nothing is actually verbal. It’s all instinctual. Imala says a Priestess is trained by learning to use her mind and body to channel nature’s power. Spike, were you aware that Lyre had almost completed training to take over as Priestess-Seer before she left to join Cris?”

“She told me on the walk to meet up with you lot that her parents died savin’ her from a vampire when she was young. When Cris came to recruit an Abadi so the resistance would have someone that could memorize maps and such, she joined up. Said it nearly broke her grandmother’s heart. I didn’t know about the mystical stuff, she never mentioned it.”

He moved her hair so he could nuzzle her neck. “So exactly how much time do we have before we leave?”

*****

Grange was excited. He’d been told that tonight he’d be allowed to accompany Calder and some of the others into a village. He hadn’t been outside headquarters since he’d been forced inside by Rayce.

When he thought of his Sire, he smirked to himself. Rayce had been ordered to remain behind tonight and was in his room sulking.

After that first meeting with Calder, Grange had spent more time with the leader and ingratiated himself by offering some ideas concerning security. Impressed with his vast store of military knowledge, the leader had implemented his ideas and offered him a position on his personal guard.

Now he was being given this chance and he’d jumped at it. Not only was it even more face time with Calder, but he planned to keep his eyes open for any chance to slip away from the group and head off to look for the icons. Surprisingly, Calder’s scouts had been unable to ascertain the location of the icons and Grange was getting antsy. He was moving rapidly up the ranks here, but he’d still prefer to be in London.

Calder entered the room and everyone bowed deeply. He motioned Grange to his side. “Tonight, you will be second-in-command and shadow the Captain of my security detail. When we return, I would hear suggestions you have for improvement.”

“Of course.” Proudly, he joined the Captain at the head of the line, licking his lips in anticipation. Calder had bestowed a great honor. As second in line, the ceremonial victims would still be alive and he would be able to feel all that rich, sweet blood pump through their veins as he drank. Vowing to live up to Calder’s expectations, he shifted slightly so he could observe the rest of the security detail as they walked out the door.

*****

Giles wound his way through the rowdy pub goers until he reached Lydia’s quiet corner table. He waited patiently while the waitress took his order and left.

In the pub lighting, the lines bracketing Lydia’s mouth were more pronounced than usual and Giles thought she appeared exhausted. Before he could ask if something was wrong, she slid a piece of paper across the scarred surface. “This memo found its way into my hands before I left for the day.”

Frowning, he scanned the missive. Placing it back down on the table, he tapped it thoughtfully. “Despite having attempted to hide the fact, obviously Quentin is aware that Professor Simms allowed the box to return to its own dimension. Someone else in the Mystical Objects department must have alerted him.”

Lydia replied soberly, “Apparently we aren’t as good at the clandestine cloak and dagger activities as we’d thought. We were so concerned with covering our tracks with the Professor that we never stopped to consider vetting the other employees. No one else was in the lab when we were, so I have no earthly idea who could have discovered the discrepancy.” She shook her head at the ironic turn of events. “Simms was terminated as of close of business today. I hired the professor, and if the Council felt it necessary, it should have been me that dismissed him. By going over my head, Quentin is making the point that he’s aware that I’m somehow involved and probably you as well.

We must do something to protect our position. The Slayer will be returning through the portal tomorrow evening and according to Emma, Quentin has already set up a meeting with the senior staff in conjunction with the portal opening. He is planning to force a vote in the conference room to sack us both for insubordination while we await the Slayer’s return in the subbasement. Of course he is not expecting Buffy to return, but when she does, the Slayer will discover that she is now assigned to another Watcher.”

“Buffy will never stand for that.”

“Then what we have tried so hard to avoid will happen anyway. He will remove her and call another–someone more malleable. You and I will both be persona non grata in less than twenty-four hours and will have absolutely no say in the matter. We are losing, Rupert.”

Giles pushed away from the table. “I have an idea, but we must move quickly.”

Chapter 19

Buffy surveyed the group. They all looked exhausted after working around the clock to finish up all the details for the castle assault. She was tired, too. She and Spike had spent the better part of the night walking through the tunnel system to the castle and back. They’d managed to plant two of Spike’s bombs beneath the center of the castle before the secret entrance. It appeared from the dust on the floor and the musty smell that no one had been down there since Spike had been there. Hopefully that meant the bombs would be safe from detection for twenty-four hours.

Now there was only one thing left on her mental list, so she looked at Willow and Ian sitting across from her. “I need a progress report. What’s going on with the icons?”

Ian replied for both of them. “They’ve been drained as much as possible. We used a magical smelting incantation to separate the portal key from some of the power source.”

Spike scowled across the table at the two of them. God he hated magicks. It always sounded so…wrong. “Is it enough? I don’t fancy anyone gettin’ blown up.”

Willow bit her lip. She knew Spike wasn’t going to like this answer one single bit.

Staring at the vampire, Ian shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, we just don’t know. They’re less powerful than before, but we don’t have a precise way to measure how much energy we actually bled away.”

Cringing at Spike’s thunderous expression, Willow glanced at Buffy. She wore a confused expression, so she hurried to elaborate. “Think about it this way, Buffy. You open the tap in the kitchen and water starts flowing out in a haphazard manner, sometimes it rushes out and sometimes it drips. You can see the water falling, but if there’s no stopper in the sink, it’s hard to measure how much water really came out. When we turned on the icon’s faucet, we didn’t have a stopper or even actually any sink. Our water went straight into the sewer system.”

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.” In her mind’s eye she saw Giles murmur ‘dear lord’ and decided right then and there that it would be for the best if he never actually heard this part of the story.

Ian muttered, “We’d know precisely if I had my laboratory equipment.”

Spike’s mouth thinned. “Well you don’t. But now you two need to give it your best guess, so the Slayer can make an informed decision. How much damn water do you think flowed out? Did you leave enough to fill a teacup or the Grand Canyon? When we let the bloody thing fly are we all goin’ to be blasted back to the old sod or not?”

“Oh we’re definitely positive that the entire dimension won’t blow up any longer.” Willow cast Buffy an apologetic look and added, “But we’re not actually sure how much of the surrounding area will go boom when you hit the castle.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure we’re well back from it.” Knowing how her boyfriend felt about magicks in any way, shape or form, she cut her eyes to Spike and wasn’t surprised in the least to see him clenching his teeth. She appreciated the Herculean effort aimed at not throttling Ian or even Willow. A few months ago he wouldn’t have hesitated. A little voice inside whispered that at least he couldn’t stroke out or have a heart attack. But all that excess energy has to go somewhere… he looked up and caught her staring at him. Her lips curved.

His eyes widened briefly before a slow grin formed.

Ignoring the bolt of heat that shot through her, Buffy tried to get back on track. She turned back to Willow and asked, “So where are the icons now?”

Willow smiled cheerfully. Correctly interpreting the looks that had passed between the couple, she knew that she and Ian were safely out of the spotlight. Besides she was proud of this part of their work. “We placed the melted icons– with the rest of the power safely intact–in a homemade circular mold and right now our gold power ball is slowly cooling down inside one of the Abadi’s brick pottery ovens.”

“Sounds like a poncy name for some lottery.” Spike muttered.

Ignoring him, Ian read his watch. “The power ball will be cool enough to handle in another couple hours.”

“Okay. Sounds good. I know how hard everyone worked all night, so go take a long nap. We’re going to try to be in place before sunset, so meet here ready to move out in three hours. That should give us ample time to get there.” She spoke to Imala and Lyre for the first time. “Can you have several villagers ready at that time to help move the slingshot?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Then in a few hours, we’ll see if we can’t kill a castle full of vamps.”

Reaching for Spike’s hand she pulled him toward the door. “I noticed what a great job you did with anger management back there.”

He leaned in close and murmured, “Don’t you think I deserve a reward for good behavior?”

“We’ve got three hours; we can probably come up with one.”

He shot her a wicked grin that curled her toes. “You’re underestimating us both. Three hours is plenty of time to come up with more than one.”

*****

It was nearly dark and they were still navigating the trebuchet to the designated position at the top of the hill. Buffy had wanted everyone else in position first and then the trebuchet had taken longer to move than anyone had anticipated. They didn’t have any wheels, so they’d resorted to using logs. Several Abadi would run to the front and place another log as the siege engine moved forward. It was tedious and time consuming.

Buffy and Spike had used the excuse that they needed to scout ahead of everyone else so they could get away from an ongoing argument between Willow and Ian concerning whether the ancient Egyptians actually used this method to build the great pyramids.

“If I’d heard the word ‘dynasty’ in a sentence one more time I would’ve decked Council Boy,” Spike said. He was walking beside Buffy with Empress padding along in front of them. They were circling around the hill using the tunnel system.

“Yeah, I never did like that show. Although you gotta give credit to Alexis Carrington–she had a pretty good right hook considering she was hampered with those big old shoulder pads.”

Spike loved his girlfriend, so he usually flowed along with the conversational tide. It wasn’t any big deal, he’d gotten used to doing that with his ex. And there were perks to being with someone sane. At least he never had to pretend he saw twinkling stars on some bloody old building’s ceiling just to join in the conversation.

“I actually liked that show. It used to be on telly right after ‘Passions.’ I’d always order Indian takeaway on Friday night. Did you know Joan Collins, the bint that played Alexis, is a Brit?”

“Really? I’m surprised Ian didn’t mention that. But then, maybe he did. I zoned out when they starting arguing over middle earth.”

“I think that was middle kingdom, pet.”

“Whatever.”

With one word Buffy wiped out any differences between thousands of years of Egyptian history and a twentieth century fantasy novel. Spike grinned to himself. And she was the best fighter he’d ever met in his life, too.

“Lyre is probably in position by now.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’m sure they’re ready.”

Lyre, Dar, and the other three warriors– joined by Abadi volunteers– were circling around the castle from the outside. Armed with compound bows, they were stationing themselves on the ridge that ran along three sides of the valley. They had orders to shoot any stragglers that fled in their direction.

“I hope Red listened to your instructions. I don’t fancy bein’ inside when that ball lands.”

Willow and Ian, both armed with their own bows, waited with the trebuchet below the hill’s rise, where it was undetectable from the castle. They had orders to wait until the bombs softened up the castle’s defenses before lobbing the ball.

“She’ll wait,” Buffy said confidently.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past Harker to go early. He looks the type.” Spike stopped. “We’re at the split. Which way do you want to go, Slayer?”

Buffy hefted her sword. “It’s bound to be dark by now. Let’s go start the light show.”

Chapter 20

“Okay, Empress, let’s see what happens.”

Wagging her tail, Empress concentrated on measuring the distance to the clay jar where Buffy pointed. It was a tricky shot. She needed to hit a small piece of rope that stuck out of the narrow opening. It had been explained that any other spot and the fire couldn’t penetrate the clay. It was the rope or nothing.

But she was ready. She’d known she would be called upon to handle this part of the operation, so she’d eaten a lot of extra wood yesterday, turning it into a game to play with the children.

Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she opened her mouth and a small fireball flew through the air, soundlessly landing with pinpoint accuracy right on top of the bomb’s wick.

They watched as it ignited and worked its way inside the jar. There was a brief interval where Buffy held her breath before she and Spike clapped their hands over their ears to drown out the sound of a tremendous explosion. The dust settled and they could see that an entire section of the thick stone wall had collapsed.

“Good work, luv.”

“Now rinse and repeat.”

Empress smirked and immediately set off another; blasting an enormous hole alongside the first.

“Oh My God, Spike. This is awesome. Look at all the damage!” She looked down at the grinning Grundy. “Great job, Empress. Now you need to do the same thing on the other three sides. Spike and I will be down in the tunnel. We’re going to set off those last two bombs with Spike’s lighter. As soon as you finish, go back and wait with Willow. Do you understand?”

When the little Grundy wagged her tail, Buffy nodded satisfied. “Good. Okay, Spike, let’s go.”

“Right behind you, Slayer.”

*****

Grange felt the castle shake for the second time. It felt as if they were under some type of mortar attack, but that was impossible, although someone was blowing enormous holes in the castle walls with some type of incendiary device. The other vampires in the cadre that were still alive after the initial attack were frightened beyond belief and running all over the place. They’d never had anyone stand up to them before except for those children they’d dispatched fairly easily and they couldn’t comprehend that they should be doing something to protect the castle and themselves, especially with the noise from the assault ringing in their ears. It was obviously too much.

Instead of preparing defenses, they were trying to run away in droves, but whoever was in charge for the offense had prepared well. Scores of wooden arrows flew through the air, cutting off the escape routes and dusting any vampire stupid enough to run out of the castle into the open.

Disgusted, he was preparing to mount a counter attack when Calder appeared with his contingent of personal guards. “Come Grange, we’re going to escape through the tunnel system to a safe haven I have set up. The castle will not last.”

He almost opened his mouth and volunteered to lead a fight when he thought about what he would be doing. Why should he stay? This wasn’t his dimension and this was not his leader. Besides he might be able to escape later from Calder and locate the icons in all the confusion. “Fine. Which way?”

Grange, Calder and the guards ran through the unused storage room and into a secret tunnel when Grange stopped. “What the hell?” He picked up one of two clay pots sitting against the tunnel wall and sniffed. “I’ve figured out what happened to your castle, Calder. These little beauties are filled to the brim with good old fashioned black powder. Someone has been giving your villagers a little chemistry lesson.”

“Put them down now.” Buffy’s voice rang through the tunnel.

Lifting his sword, Spike moved next to her. “You heard the girl. Set them down now.”

Grange showed his teeth in the parody of a smile. “Ah, the mystery is solved. The Slayer I presume? Say, how is Ms. Rosenberg? I was certainly sorry to let her go off into the desert alone like that.”

“Willow’s fine. She loves the icons, by the way.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “You must be Grange. I should have known by the tragic accent.”

Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Not you Spike. This idiot sounds too much like the Council for my taste.”

“Spike? My, my, we’ve a visit from someone famous. Calder, meet William the Bloody. He used to be one of the most vicious vampires in our entire world before he became the Slayer’s lap dog.”

Spike took a step forward. “I’m no one’s lap dog.”

“Careful Spike. He’s still holding the bombs.”

Grange smiled and his face became the perfect parody of a Halloween jack-o’-lantern. “Oh yes and we certainly wouldn’t want me to light them. I happen to have some top-of-the-line waterproof matches in my breast pocket, too. The Council never did mind spending money to equip their soldiers with the very best. Too bad they don’t do the same for Slayers. Between us, I suppose that make you the more expendable.”

“Maybe I can help that little fact along.” He held the bomb up. “Calder, these contain explosives and they’re what destroyed your castle walls–he nodded at Spike and Buffy– and these two made them.”

Calder growled at his guards. “Kill them.”

*****

“That last blast was only number eight.” Willow said for the third time.

“It’s been ten minutes. Maybe they’re not going to do the two in the tunnel. We should shoot the power ball.”

“No, we need to wait a little longer. Oh, here’s Empress. Hello baby.” Willow bent down to pet the Grundy. “You did a good job, girl. Wait, she’ll know. Empress, did Buffy and Spike go for the other two bombs?”

The Grundy nodded, crooning and wagging her tail.

“That settles it. We wait.” Willow sat down next to the siege engine within the small circle of torch light and folded her hands. “You might as well take a seat, Ian, we’re not doing anything until those last two bombs go off. We can’t risk it with Buffy and Spike still out there. We have to make sure they’re safely in the tunnels first.”

He obediently sat down, folding his own hands in his lap. “So, do you honestly believe that Imenhotep was a healer? I read recently that…”

*****

“Well, that wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.” Buffy looked at the piles of vampire dust on the floor and turned to Grange and Calder. “Your fighters aren’t really that good at actual fighting.”

Spike wiped his sword off. “Next time you might want to hit a dimension that has soldiers that know how to use weapons, Grange. It’s a little one sided otherwise.”

Grange handed a clay pot to Calder. Holding up the book of matches, he said, “I think the sides just evened up” He pulled a match out. “You two are going to sit down and let Calder tie you up. Then you’re going to wait right here while we leave. Otherwise I’ll set these off. Somehow I don’t think both of you want to die in this Godforsaken dimension and even if you’ll sacrifice yourself for the cause, Ms. Rosenburg is still around here somewhere. Without you to protect her, she’s as good as dead.” He closed the matchbook in preparation for striking. “Now, drop your swords and kick them over to me.”

Calder tied their wrists behind their backs and their ankles together while Grange placed the bombs on the floor and scrutinized the wicks. “These are certainly short. I guess that means we’ll need to run.” He lit a match. “Sorry, but I lied. Of course you knew I would.” Lighting the wicks, he and Calder took off down the tunnel.

Spike and Buffy easily broke their bonds and ran through the tunnel after the other two vampires. They reached the split as the bombs went off. The concussion blew them off their feet and into the stone wall.

“When we catch up to them, Grange is mine,” Spike growled.

“He’s Council and that makes him mine. You can have that mute leader. Besides I have a rope burn on my wrist. I won’t be able to wear a bracelet for at least a week. But we’ve got a more pressing problem. Those last two bombs were the signal for Willow and we’re still in the strike zone.”

*****

“There go the last two now,” Willow said relieved. “Ian, are you ready?”

“Ready.”

Together they counted down to zero.

After working so long and hard on the project, the pair’s final act was sadly anticlimactic. They released the rope, the enormous boulder counterweight sunk to the ground and the golden ball was slung from the hill top and down into the valley. It was so dark they couldn’t even follow its trajectory.

But in mere minutes they had no trouble hearing and feeling both its final destination and its terrible destructive power.

There was a deep bass earthquake-like rumbling that shook the ground beneath their feet, making it hard to stand up, accompanied by an instantaneous, brilliant flash of light– light so bright it turned the entire valley floor into day instantly.

The castle vaporized, leaving behind an enormous steaming hole.

Up on the ridges, Lyre and her warriors stared in openmouthed amazement as every one of their vampire targets instantly crumbled to dust from the searing heat that blew outward from the epicenter. Luckily for everyone else, the fiery heat stopped once it reached the thick sandy base of ridges.

On top of the sandy hill, Willow and Ian whooped in excitement and relief, holding each other and dancing around the siege engine.

They both heard a noise and thinking it was Buffy and Spike, turned around to call out congratulations.

“Ms. Rosenberg. It’s so nice to see you again. And surprise, surprise. Harker is here, too. I should have known something as destructive as what you unleashed had to be the work of the Council.” Eyes glowing with menace, Grange moved into the torchlight. “So I guess congratulations are in order, however I haven’t time to celebrate. I’m here for the icons and I understand you have them.”

He stepped closer, forcing Willow against the trebuchet.

She felt like she was going to faint as she relived the horror of the other night. Only this time there was no courageous Anderson to save her. Ian was white as a ghost and Willow thought he might actually faint. She quickly looked around for Empress. Where had the Grundy gone? Remembering the success Anderson had had stalling the verbose Grange for awhile in the cave, Willow desperately asked, “What makes you think Ian and I have the icons at all?”

“The Slayer may have mentioned it in passing a little while ago, just before I blew her and her vamp boy toy up with their own bombs. By the way, whatever you two did certainly makes those pale in comparison. That was a stunning show of force. Certainly upset Calder here. It was his castle that you vaporized.”

To Willow’s unending terror, another vampire stepped out of the shadows, exuding more power and if possible, even more menace than Grange.

Ian stuttered. “I-I know you! You’re the leader of those vampires that killed the girls in the village.”

Calder growled. “I kill a lot of girls, or at least I did. Until you destroyed my castle and killed all of my followers.” He moved deliberately toward Ian. “And now I find that it was you that took my portal keys, too. You will return them at this moment or be in a great deal of pain. Comply quickly enough and I may give you a merciful death.”

“No one’s going to do any dying. Well, except for you of course.” Buffy stepped into the circle of light, followed by Spike and Empress. “You know, I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak. Did anyone ever tell you how grating your voice is? Nails on a chalk board. I’m just sayin’.”

Spike stepped between Ian and Calder. “He’s mine, Slayer. You wanted the Council wank.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I got sidetracked. Do him quick Spike, that voice just goes through me.”

Spike reached out and yanked Calder away from Ian. “Leave Harker alone. You’ve killed enough.” He blinked and stared at the vampire. “You know you look so familiar that it’s startin’ to really bother me.”

“You are a traitor to your own kind,” Calder growled, pulling away from Spike. He leaped toward Buffy.

“Slayer, look out!”

Buffy sidestepped easily, giving Spike plenty of space to swing his broadsword. He lopped off the vampire’s head and Calder exploded into dust.

Spike shook his head. “What an utter git.” He turned back to Ian. “Are you alright mate?”

He nodded hesitantly.

Spike smiled a genuine smile at the nervous scientist. “Good. I’d hate to see someone with your talent for destruction overly upset.”

Ian blinked. Did Spike smile at him and make a joke? Starting to relax, a huge grin spread across his face. “It was pretty awesome.”

Buffy was advancing toward Grange. “You’re so predictable, Grange. I knew you’d come sniffing around if I dropped that super obvious hint about the icons. We even let you tie us up to make it look good. But there’s one thing I didn’t tell you. That enormous explosion? It was caused by your precious icons. We totally blew them up. So sorry, no one’s going to be having take out in London or any other dimension. That is if there were any vampires left. But I guess they’re all gone, too. And if they aren’t, I think the villagers might have a thing or two to say about it now. They’ve seen vampires die at the hands of humans, so they know you’re not immortal Gods and on that note—”

She spun so fast Grange couldn’t follow her movements, and suddenly the Slayer was right in his face with a stake in her hand. She stared in his eyes for an instant and then drove the stake home.

He exploded in a cloud of dust.

She wiped her palms on the butt of her jeans. “I hate fledges, they’re so annoying.” She smiled. “So I guess we can go home now.” She looked down at her clothes and added wryly, “And just in time. I don’t have any more clothes.”

Spike tucked her hand in his. “Who said you need clothes.”

He snapped his fingers. “Got it. That bloody leader looked like the lizard king himself That’s been botherin’ me since the tunnel.”

“The king? Is this some type of Elvis reference? Maybe he came and went through a portal. Now that I think of it, he did look sorta otherworldly at the end. I mean who squashes all that fat into silver sequined pants?”

”Not that king. I’m talkin’ about Jim Morrison. Singer for the Doors.”

Rolling her eyes, she smirked at him. “Oh Good. For a moment there I thought this was going to be one of those ancient memories. You know, like where were you when Kennedy got shot.” She smiled sweetly. “Or in your case, I guess it would have to be Abe Lincoln. And then you’d get to add ‘oh you lot are such children’.”

“You lot are children.” He leered. “But I happen to like a certain child. When we get home you can sit on my lap and I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

She leered right back at him. “It had better be a really long story.”

He draped his arm across her shoulders, pulled her close and purred, “Oh it will be, luv, it will be. With an enormous happy ending guaranteed.”

Gazing in each other’s eyes, they pointedly ignored the simultaneous eye rolls from the two humans and the Grundy standing in front of them.

****
“Good-bye Imala.”

The elderly woman stepped closer to Buffy and lowered her voice. “I must tell you something which has weighed heavily on my mind. In my vision, you and Spike both died and there was even the possibility that the entire world would turn to ashes. I didn’t have the courage to tell you. But I believe I finally understand now. Although the most probable course at the time, the vision shown to me was only one outcome among many. Your strength of conviction and principles changed history and saved us all, including yourselves. Buffy, you were the keystone that held everyone together and made our future possible.”

Behind her, Imala could hear Lyre saying good-bye. “Buffy, please make sure that Spike understands that what he did was the right thing. Bringing those icons here was another step in the line of change. He also saved Lyre. She would have died in that battle with Cris and it is not yet her time. I have been shown that she will lead this village through extraordinary changes when I am gone.”

Buffy laid her hand on the elderly Priestess’ shoulder. “I think Lyre will make a wonderful leader. As for the rest of what you’ve told me, I believe we do make our own destiny. Our visions are merely guidelines, to give us a sort of heads up, so we can make informed decisions and choose the right path for ourselves.”

The Priestess nodded. “Well said, warrior.”

Buffy grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been known to think deep thinky thoughts on occasion. Just don’t want to ruin my image.”

Imala laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“There have been a few reports of stragglers showing up, but the villages are taking care of the problem themselves.” Lyre smiled shyly at Spike. “We have changed the world, Spike. Cris would have been proud.”

“About Cris, pet…”

She touched his lips with her finger. “Please don’t be sad or guilty. I’m not. Cris was my closest friend, but she was foremost a warrior and chose her own path. As do we all. You know I never got the chance to thank you for saving me at a time when I was not strong enough to do it for myself.” She called over to Buffy. “Slayer, may I hug Spike goodbye?”

Buffy flashed a grin. “A pretty girl like you? I don’t think you’ll be able to keep him from hugging you.”

“Goodbye Spike.” Lyre hugged him tightly and the guilt over the warrior’s deaths melted from his face.

He hugged her in return. “Goodbye pet.”

Relieved that Spike had finally resolved his issue, Buffy picked up her sword. “Is everyone ready? We need to get to the portal site by this afternoon.”

Ian grabbed his backpack. “It’ll be good to get back to London. I have so much to report to the Council. I may even get an academic paper out of the information we’ve collected on portal keys.”

Buffy cut her eyes to Spike and her mouth thinned. “I can’t wait to see Travers and the Council myself.”

Chapter 21

“Well, I didn’t expect a brass band or anything, but I at least expected to see Giles. We didn’t even rate one of the Juniors.” Perplexed, Buffy looked around the empty room. “Where do you think everyone is? Are we late or something?”

“I don’t think portals work like that pet.”

“Buffy? I’m sorry I was late, but I had to wait until the meeting was underway to slip down here.”

Buffy stared for a moment before her expression cleared. “I know you. You’re Adams. We met last week at the hospital.”

The young officer nodded. “That’s right, except it’s only been a couple of days ago here.
I know you were expecting Mr. Giles, but he was unable to be here due to some unforeseen circumstances. He asked me to give you this, and to request that you to read it immediately.”

Frowning, Buffy took the offered envelope. “Another letter? This can’t be good.” She ripped it open, reading quickly. “Come on, we need to be in the conference room right now.”

“What is it Slayer?”

“You know that little convo we wanted to have with Quentin? Well, it seems we’re about to have it. I’ll explain in the elevator.”

*****

“I’d like to call this meeting of the Council Security and Ethics Committee to order.” Chairman Roger Wyndam-Pryce lightly rapped his gavel on the conference room table in an effort to gain everyone’s attention.

“This meeting has been called as a fact finding inquiry into allegations that two of our Council members, Rupert Giles and Lydia Chalmers, have been working in a clandestine manner against the Council. I’ll now turn this meeting over to Quentin Travers so he may explain the facts behind these accusations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I’m sure once I have laid bare all the facts, the committee will agree that the issues are problematic enough to merit at least the removal of Mr. Giles from his position as Watcher over our current Active Slayer, Ms. Buffy Summers and with possibly stronger repercussions for both Mr. Giles and Ms. Chalmers.”

“Where are the accused? I should think they would be allowed to bear witness in their own behalf,” asked Sir Cedric Dunn, Professor Emeritus of the Watcher’s Academy and prominent Council member.

Travers’ eyes narrowed as he waited out the elderly professor’s outburst. Not unexpected, it was well known that Rupert Giles was an old favorite.

“Unfortunately Sir Cedric” replied Travers smoothly, “they were not able to attend. Mr. Giles has a previous engagement in his current capacity as Ms. Summer’s Watcher and Ms. Chalmers is assisting in her capacity as Head of that particular project.”

A couple of words that sounded distinctly like “witch hunt” was muttered as the elderly professor turned to Wyndam-Pryce. “Than I suggest that we adjourn until such time as both Rupert and Ms. Chalmers are able to attend.”

“Thank you Sir Cedric, but that won’t be necessary.” Giles and Lydia stood in the doorway. Taking a step inside Giles surveyed the group. The conference room was full of not only the committee members themselves, but most of the senior staff as well. Bloody witch hunt alright.

Giles moved farther into the room. “I assume from the current conversation that we’re not too terribly late.”

Lydia moved to stand next to him. “And I should like to apologize for our late arrival and subsequent interruption of these proceedings. We only recently received notice concerning the meeting and had to rearrange things in order to attend.”

Giles held out a chair for Lydia before seating himself. Glancing at Travers he noted the flash of surprise before the mask slipped smoothly back into place.

The Chairman acknowledged their presence with a quick nod. He waved toward Travers. “Please continue.”

Travers cleared his throat. “As I was about to say, there is undeniable evidence that Mr. Giles and Ms. Chalmers have acted in less than a professional manner with regard to a Council-specific project. They not only stole property belonging to the Council, they refused to follow specific orders laid out by the Council and instead acted in an insubordinate way that has threatened the safety of everyone within this dimension.”

Chairman Wyndam-Pryce quirked an eyebrow. “Those are serious charges, Mr. Travers. This committee should like to see the proof of your allegations at this time.”

“But of course. If everyone would please open the folders that I have provided, there is an overview of the project in question, and some documentation which will back up the charges. Together they will help explain the mission and its purpose, and expedite this meeting.”

Giles glanced at his watch. The faster Quentin could move the meeting along, the less chance Buffy would have of arriving before the vote. He looked over at Lydia. She caught his eye and grimaced.

The committee members dutifully opened their folders. Giles opened his as well, scanning the pages. It was essentially the same overview that Lydia had presented at their first meeting, along with a sworn statement from two lab assistants that pointed the finger of guilt at Giles and Lydia for the theft of the box.

There was nothing that suggested the icons could not be used as originally proposed or that the Slayer or anyone within the dimension was in any way at risk. Travers had neatly orchestrated what was known in the reports and Giles knew he could call upon anyone that had attended that meeting for corroboration.

Angrily, he slammed the folder shut. “I’d like to request that the committee allow some other pertinent facts regarding this mission to come to light.” He held up several pieces of paper that he and Lydia had put together late last night, including the memo from Professor Simms which luckily Lydia had kept. Not unexpectedly, all other copies had disappeared from the Council files.

Mentally crossing his fingers Giles continued his appeal. “Mr. Travers’ synopsis is correct so far as it goes. But there is more to this story than what is in those folders.”

Travers looked down his nose at Giles. “You and Ms. Chalmers blatantly took something extremely valuable which belonged to the Council to further your own personal goals. Goals which were not those of the Council. Those are the facts. ”

Sir Cedric interrupted. “I should think this august body would want to be in possession of all the facts before making any decisions.” He appealed to Wyndam-Pryce. “For God’s sake Roger, at the least, two people’s professional careers are at stake. They have a right to explain their actions.”

The Chairman nodded. “Very well. Mr. Giles, what evidence do you and Ms. Chalmers have in your possession which would explain your actions?”

Lydia handed out copies to the committee members. “The first is my personal copy of a memo to the Council accompanied by a sworn statement from Professor Simms regarding the instability of both the icons and the box retrieved during the first portal opening. As you can see by the supporting data included, it would have been impossible for the Council to retain permanent ownership over any of the three. For some reason still unknown, the box began to return immediately to its dimension particle by particle.”

Giles continued the narrative. “To study the box would require its removal from stasis and would only hurry a process already begun. Ms. Chalmers and I readily admit that we requested that the process be allowed to continue unimpeded, so that we might offer the Slayer pertinent information concerning specific dangers, in a note which we included within the box. I offer statements by Ms. Chalmers and myself regarding information–obtained anonymously– which led us to realize that Quentin Travers and some members of the Senior Council planned to allow the Slayer to use the icons. This action would in turn destroy not only herself and the rest of her party, but all the innocent denizens of that dimension in an effort to stem the flow of vampires arriving through the portal from that dimension.”

Travers’ mouth thinned. “I do not believe that the committee should allow information that was obtained anonymously to be entered into evidence. Why doesn’t your source for this information step forward?”

Sir Cedric slammed a hand down. “Are you discounting the veracity of Mr. Giles’ information Quentin? Or were you perhaps a tad too zealous in your work?”

“I merely believe the author of any testimony should be known.” Travers turned a steely look on the committee beginning with Sir Cedric. “Believe me when I say that the vampires within that dimension are a very credible threat, a fact with which Ms. Chalmers, Mr. Giles and the Slayer all agreed, as did everyone within the Senior Council, myself included.

You have all read the information. There was absolutely no choice. We could not allow those vampires to gain access in any permanent way to this dimension. The Slayer is the Council’s strongest instrument in the fight against evil. Mr. Giles and Ms. Chalmers far overstepped their boundaries while attempting to subvert and thereby corrupt that instrument’s power and ability to complete a necessary job.” He slammed his hand down on the table. “There is no room for sentiment here.”

The door to the conference room slammed open. Buffy breezed through the door followed by Spike, Ian, Willow and Empress. All eyes were riveted on the Slayer striding through the room. Fists clenched and eyes narrowed to pinpoints, she quivered with indignation and rage.

Giles thought she’d never looked so powerful, nor so welcome.

She stopped in front of Travers and scowled. “So I was an expendable instrument huh? You wrote me and every innocent person in that entire dimension off as expendable before I even got there. That’s not sentiment, that’s mass murder.” She reached over and poked him hard in the chest, adding sarcastically, “And I hated disappointing you Travers, but this time the blunt instrument survived the actual blunting.”

Before he could formulate a reply, she tossed her hair and turned away. Surveying the committee members, her eyes fell on Giles. She flashed a brief smile. “Hi Giles. By the way, your penmanship is terrible.”

“But you’re timing is impeccable,” he murmured. “Welcome back.”

“Mr. Chairman, this might be a good time to hear evidence from our Slayer who returned only a few moments ago from the dimension in question,” Lydia said in a brisk voice.

The murmuring rose in volume.

“Please everyone, let us have order. Ms. Summers would you and your team sit down. And someone remove that Grundy.”

Eyes narrowed and serrated teeth bared, Empress planted all four paws stubbornly and growled.

“Oh very well, she can stay. But keep her quiet. Ms. Summers, are you aware of the reason for this meeting?”

Buffy glared at Travers. The iceman mask securely in place, he was watching her with bland indifference.

“Oh, I’m aware of the reason alright.”

“Good. Then please explain to this committee everything that occurred after you were sent through the dimensional portal two days ago.”

“Everything? That might take awhile. Time was a little wonky, so we were there for over a week.” Pointedly ignoring Travers now, she turned her attention back to Wyndam-Price and the other members of the committee. “Mr. Chairman, we Slayers aren’t big with the understanding on tricky science- magicks combo stuff, especially when it comes to using portal keys as a way to completely destroy vampires. But since we did accomplish that– no thanks to Travers and his cronies–you probably should ask Ms. Rosenberg and Mr. Harker to explain the fine print. They’re the experts.” Her lips curved. “As we’re all aware, I’m just the blunt instrument.”

The room erupted again.

“Order please.” Chairman Wyndam-Pryce was surprised. “Ms. Summers, are you saying that you and your team managed to destroy all the vampires without harming yourselves or the inhabitants of that dimension? Is there a threat to us any longer?”

“There’s no threat anymore. Everyone undead is dead and everyone not dead is still alive.” She fixed a beady stare on the Council Head. “Unlike Mr. Travers I value life. I guess that counts as being too sentimental to the Council, but I couldn’t justify killing everyone there to save everyone here if there was any other possible way. So we got creative and found another solution that wouldn’t blow everybody into tiny little pieces, or big chunky ones. And fyi, we wouldn’t have known to try in the first place without Giles’ info.”

Returning her stare Travers said coolly, “I resent your implications Ms. Summers. The Council does whatever we must to rid the world of evil and sometimes difficult decisions must be made. Although I’m sure you don’t believe me, I do applaud you for discovering a suitable compromise.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” she snapped.

Travers turned to Wyndam-Pryce. “Mr. Chairman, with regard to the recent information supplied by the Slayer, I withdraw my allegations concerning Mr. Giles and Ms. Chalmers. Obviously there was a solution that I and the Council had not considered.”

Wyndam-Pryce nodded. “This committee will expect a report detailing the actual steps taken to rid us of this insidious threat; however I believe we are all in agreement that, as of now, this meeting stands adjourned.” He rapped his gavel briskly.

Buffy spun on her heels and flounced from the room.

Spike and the others, including Lydia and Giles, followed her out into the hall. They’d reached the elevator doors when there was a crash followed by loud voices.

Lydia jumped. “That sounded like something heavy fell in the conference room.”

Empress trotted up to the group. She gave Buffy a smug look and dropped something at her feet. Two tiny objects rolled across the floor and stopped in front of Spike.

Nudging one of them with his foot, he chuckled. “Déjà vu, Slayer.”

He reached down to pet the Grundy. Her bushy tail was wagging briskly. She caught his eye and winked.

Grinning, he winked back.

Lydia studied the objects. They were two small L-shaped pieces of burnished metal. “Does anyone know what these are?”

Buffy grinned at her. “Those are the cotter pins that held the back on Travers’ chair. Empress removed them while we were arguing with him.”

“So when Quentin leaned back in his chair…”Lydia’s voice faded as she turned to look at Giles.

“He fell right on his pompous arse,” he supplied, eyes twinkling.

There was a moment of silence and then Lydia burst out laughing merrily. She had a wonderfully infectious laugh and everyone joined in.

The elevator doors slid open and they all stepped inside, still laughing.

“So, down to the lobby and out the front door,” Giles forced out, digging for his handkerchief.

“Can’t be quick enough,” Buffy replied, leaning weakly against Spike and clutching her aching sides.

Lydia bent down to stroke the Grundy’s silky head and murmured, “What a good, good girl.”

Empress smirked.

Epilogue
The Horse and Hound
Three hours later

“So this is a real English pub, huh?” Finished with supper, Buffy ran her eyes appreciatively around the noisy, wood paneled room. “It’s seriously cool in that whole ‘throwback-to-the-ancient-ways’ way. So, Lydia, I was wondering if you might be able to take me and Willow shopping tomorrow. We’ve got a few hours until our plane leaves for Sunnydale.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but I need to pack my office. I’m changing positions. ”

Giles touched her hand. “Sir Cedric offered– and Lydia accepted –a teaching position at the Watcher’s Academy.”

“I’ve lost my taste for the front lines and this new position will allow plenty of time for my research. I’m very excited. Anytime you’re visiting England, please stop and see me.” She stood up and smiled at the group. “It’s getting late and I should be going.” She touched Giles’ arm briefly. “Good bye Rupert. I shall miss working so closely with you.”

He smiled at her. “Take care of yourself Lydia. Do write or call sometimes.”

She flashed him a quick smile. “Although difficult to tell in here it is the twenty-first century, Rupert. I shall email you soon.”

Everyone watched the blonde thread her way through the crowd to the entrance.

Spike immediately scooted his chair closer to Buffy and draped his arm around her shoulders.

Giles shot him a look.

“What? Didn’t see any reason to upset her, what with everythin’ she did for us, but after all she’s still bloody Council.”

“May I remind you that I’m still bloody Council, too?”

Buffy smiled affectionately at him. “You don’t count and neither does Lydia. You’ve both still got your hearts.” Leaning across the table she stage whispered, “And speaking of hearts, you do realize that she’s seriously into you.”

Eyes widening, he sputtered, “What? No. I mean, I don’t believe that’s true.”

Spike smirked at the Watcher’s confusion. “Watcher bird was droppin’ hints all over the place tonight, Rupes. You were just too thick to pick up on ‘em. I could give you some pointers if you want.”

Buffy elbowed him.

Rubbing his ribs he muttered, “Or not.”

“Right then.” Smiling slightly, Giles turned toward Willow. “Could you teach me how to use email?”

The end