Los Angeles
A few hours before the final battle


Spike stood in the shade of the alley staring at the mailbox glinting in the late afternoon sun. It was only five feet away but it felt like he was attempting to traverse an ocean. And he was in a way. Letter was meant to go to Europe. To Rome. To Buffy.

To a Buffy who’d moved on to a new wanker. Spike scowled when he thought about her with the Immortal. The woman had the worst taste in men. First Angel, then Captain Cardboard and now the bleeding Immortal. He paused to think about how he was included in that list of men then mentally shrugged. He figured the way he had to fight tooth and nail for the barest smidgen of attention from her, he was the exception to the ‘Buffy dates idiots’ rule.

He looked down at the unsealed envelope and pulled the letter out to read one last time. He suddenly wished he’d brought a pen and a sheet of paper with him, certain there were a few last minute editions he’d need to tweak. Damn. He scowled and read on.


Buffy,

I’ve tried so many times to think of the perfect words to say to you. To let you know I was back from the great beyond. To tell you how I felt. I can’t find them. I’ve racked my brain till I was ready to strangle something but they’re never right. There are no words to fully explain what you mean to me. Every word isn’t enough. Not strong enough or powerful enough or beautiful enough. It’s a new torture all its own, to be filled to the brim with so much feeling and unable to express it. So I found myself swallowing these inadequate noises. They were unworthy of you. You deserve better. Always have.

So why am I bothering you now? Way I figure it, this might be my last chance. I know you’ve moved on. I suppose Andrew told you about my visit to Rome. Pathetic, right? I only caught a glimpse of you, a shimmer of gold, but I could tell you were happy. Finally happy. You looked free the way you were dancing. I’ve always loved to watch you dance. You were never more alive than when you were dancing. I never felt more alive than when we were dancing together. Beauty in motion.


She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes


Byron truly was a poncey bastard, but he had a way with words. Better poet than I could ever hope to be. That’s how I see you. A creature of darkness born of fire and sunlight. Dangerous and powerful. Yet the darkness never consumes you. You rule the night. Your inner light banishes the shadows. You conquer and enslave. Makes you warm inside to be near it. And beneath that strength lies your heart. I’ve spent so much time trying to find myself there. Within the warmth of your heart. I think I always knew that’s where I’d find home again.

Love, don’t mind me. I told you once it didn’t matter how I felt, that I didn’t want anything from you. That’s not exactly true. Hell, it’s complete bollocks. I want. I want so many things from you. But I know I’ll never get them. And you shouldn’t give them to me. But I’d be a fool not to see you for what you are and be staggered by your light. The Slayer. Buffy. All that’s best of dark and bright.

I wanted you to know how I felt. How I feel. It’s a part of me, the best part. Sometimes I think it’s the only good inside me – the part capable of loving you. It means I’m more than a monster. That maybe someday I'll finally be...

Bad things are coming, love. And I find myself taking a side I never thought I’d choose. But he who shall not be named needs my help. It’s the right thing to do. And I think you’d be proud. So I’m going to save the world one last time.


Just thought you should know.

- Spike


Not bad. Damn, he wished he had a pen. Sighing, he refolded the letter and pushed it into the envelope, raising it to his lips and hesitating for a moment before licking it closed. He walked to the edge of the alleyway and judged the distance between the relative shade he stood in and the mailbox. He glanced down at the edge of shadow his toes were encroaching on and then out into the sunlight.

Buffy was always pushing him to be reckless, forcing him out into the deadly daylight hours to be near her. She was thousands of miles away and she still pushed him into the light. He had to mail the letter now or else he’d be out of time. He didn’t expect to survive the coming battle. He knew he stood a good chance of making it out alive. Or undead to be more accurate. Being a vampire had its perks, but up against these odds he read his chances as slim nonetheless.

Hell, why was he doing this? She’d moved on. Found another guy to snuggle up to in the wee hours. And it’s not like he hadn’t played around with other ladies since he got back. The second he’d been made corporeal again, he’d had Harmony up on one of the office desks showing her what for and how. Just because their coitus had been interruptus’d didn’t mean he hadn’t been moving on quite well himself.

Not that it meant anything. Was just sex. Passing the time, scratching an itch. His heart knew better. Still belonged to a blond slayer with a holier than thou attitude and wicked right cross. He sighed as memories of her flooded his mind. The way her hair bounced as she strode forward determinedly. The rare smiles he’d spied when she was with her friends and family. The even rarer smiles directed at him.

It felt like ages since he’d last seen her, but she lived on vividly in his mind. He could see her face, hear her voice, feel the softness of her skin underneath his fingertips. She was with him even when he didn’t consciously think of her. She was inside him. Soul deep.

Screwing up his courage, he tossed his duster over his head and leapt towards the mailbox, tossing the letter inside and jumping back into the shadows. He panted, staring at the mailbox and resisting the urge to rip it open and steal back the letter. He’d said too much, gotten too maudlin, worn his bloody heart on his sleeve. Damn.

Ah, well. He’d probably be dust by this time tomorrow. No harm done. He turned and started walking into the shadows. There were a few hours left till he was meant to meet Angel and the others. Looking for something to pass the time, he noticed a hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner and ducked inside. Glancing at the sign upfront announcing their drink specials, he smirked.

Poetry open-mic night. Just what he needed for his last night in the world – whiskey and rhymes. Might as well let it all hang out. He’d already sent Buffy his heart to do with what she pleased. How much courage would it take to read some of his poetry in public? Best start off with the drinkin’, though. He raised his hand to catch the barkeep’s attention and ordered a shot of whiskey, raising the glass to cheer the man before downing it quickly.

A large thug in a biker get-up pushed into him in the crowded room, turning to glare at Spike as he passed by. Spike smiled sardonically, “Ahh. Nice crowd.”

The bartender leaned in to refill Spike’s glass. “It can get pretty ugly in here, I gotta warn you.”

Spike grabbed the shot glass and upended it. He looked around in anticipation before turning back to the bartender. “What I'm after. Couple more shots of courage, and I may make my presence felt.”

The bartender scoffed as he refilled Spike’s glass again. “Your funeral.”

Spike raised the glass, grinning. “Well, I never had a proper one.”

Los Angeles
Post-After the Fall


Spike stared at the bottle of whiskey on the bar in front of him. He glanced up and noticed his lack of reflection in the mirror behind the greasy bartender. Not that he had to worry about anyone noticing. It was a demon bar. Vampires welcome as long as they paid cash. Or kittens. Huh. He wondered if he should do something about the kittens. He doubted he’d make it out alive if he tried. Demons were funny about kittens. Only the slayer could scare them enough into letting her set their precious tabbies free. Maybe he’d call the ASPCA on the joint. Yeah. He’d do that tomorrow.

“Feeling lonely tonight?” A raspy voice purred in his ear.

Spike turned to face the brunette with the pornstar hair and the boobs to match it brushing up against the leather of his jacket. Her smile screamed sex and Spike glanced down at her straining cleavage before looking up to notice her heavily-lined eyes were a hazel-green.

“What’s that, pet?” He’d forgotten what she’d asked. As fake breasts went, hers were certainly eye-catching. Or they were til he noticed the color of her eyes.

“You feeling lonely tonight?” Her mouth quirked flirtatiously as she waited for him to answer, stroking his right arm as she leaned in closer.

Spike shook his head and broke eye contact as he turned back towards the bar. Her eyes unnerved him. Wrong color. No, not the color - he liked the color. They just looked wrong. Shallow, maybe. No, hollow. They looked hollow. There was no light in them.

The girl pouted for a second then reconsidered her approach. She sat down on the stool to his right and crossed her legs towards him, painting her smile back on. “Wanna buy me a drink?”

Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eye then nodded at the bartender. “Jack, give the lady whatever she wants.”

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

The bartender’s eyes widened. “You want a whole bottle of Glenfiddich?”

She laughed nervously. “Make it a shot.” She toyed with the shot glass handed to her then turned back towards Spike. “So what should we toast to?”

Spike raised the bottle in front of him and tilted it her way before taking a hard slug. “Not much for toasting. Sorry.” The girl’s shoulders slumped as she lifted her glass and downed the shot.

“So you’re a vampire, right? I heard about this bar from a friend of mine. Says that the non-killing variety of demon hangs out here.” She leaned in closer running her painted fingernail along the collar of Spike’s jacket.

“That’s what you heard, eh?” Spike eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Vampire groupie. Figures. Stupid cows looking for a thrill with the Big Bad.

“I hear that vampires have amazing stamina.” Her tongue caressed the syllables of the last word, lingering.

Spike leaned his head down slightly, his mouth quirking into a half-grin as he scoffed out a breath of air. “People do like to talk, don’t they?”

“So what do you say? Wanna go somewhere more…private?” Her voice deepened into what he assumed was her sexy-bedroom voice.

“Can’t. Kinda busy at the moment.” Spike muttered offhand.

Her jaw dropped in surprise then she looked down at the bar. “Doing what? Writing on postcards?” She reached forward to grab one. “Who’s Buffy? What kind of bimbo name is that? She your girlfriend?”

“Oy!” Spike grabbed the postcard back, snarling. “Hands off.”

She raised both hands as she rolled her eyes. “I get it. Hands off. Off of everything.” She grumbled the last line to herself. “I’m Christy, by the way. In case you wanted to know the name of the woman you just rejected.”

Spike swept the remaining postcards together into one pile in front of him, encircled between his arms resting on the bar. He looked a bit suspiciously at Christy for a few moments. “Name’s Spike.”

“Spike.” She repeated his name in a dull monotone.

“Yeah.” He muttered in response.

“Okay.” She sighed.

“Right.”

They both sat facing the bar not looking at each other in silence for several minutes. Christy looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else might be worth talking to. They weren’t. All she saw was slime, horns, flabby skin and creatures with scales. She sighed.

“So why are you writing to this Buffy girl on multiple postcards? Shouldn’t one be enough?” At least this Spike guy was nice to look at, no matter how rude and grumpy he was. Being hot made up for a lot of character flaws.

Spike shook his head. “Not gonna send all of ‘em. Like that would make sense.”

“So what then?” Christy shook her head.

“Just…” Spike’s gaze unfocused and Christy felt like he was looking right through her.

“Just what?” She asked frustratedly.

Spike looked down at the pile of postcards in front of him. “Just making sure I get it right. You know, don’t come on too strong. Don’t say anything embarrassing.”

Christy rolled her eyes again. “If you’re that worried, why even bother to write it? You’re here torturing yourself over writing some chick a postcard. You realize you’re pathetic, right?”

Spike closed his eyes and visibly clenched his jaw. Christy looked down at her empty shot glass and then reached across Spike’s arm for his bottle. He jerked reflexively, tightening his arms around the postcards only to relax when he opened his eyes to see her reaching for the whiskey. Christy took a few more shots straight from the bottle, shaking her head after each hit.

“Whoo! Wow, that is intense.” She looked at the bottle label. “I’ve never been a big fan of whiskey but this stuff ain’t half bad.” She smiled crookedly as she raised the bottle for another drink.

Spike started chuckling to himself. “Should be good, pet. I paid a pretty penny for it.”

Christy hiccoughed and then giggled a bit. “Well, it sure does go down nice.” She grabbed the bar with her free hand to steady herself. “So you want me to read it for you? Let you know if you’re being…embla- embarrassing?”

“Oh, so you can read?” Spike’s mouth dimpled his left cheek.

“Yes, I can read and, and – shut up.” Christy let go of the bottle to use both hands to brace herself as she wobbled on her bar stool, her stiletto heels grasping for purchase on the stool's foot rest as she blinked dazedly.

“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you pet?” Spike’s voice softened. He reached to steady her by the arm as he pushed the postcards into the inner pocket of his duster. “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

Christy let him help her down from her seat, holding her arm firmly as she wobbled from side to side in her heels. “We can’t go home. It’s not even…what time is it?”

“Time to go home, pet.” Spike said as he tossed money down on the bar and led her towards the door.

“I thought you didn’t wanna go somewhere more private.” Christy muttered as she let him walk her towards the door.

“Just doing my duty.”

“Duty?” Christy squinted up at Spike, stumbling slightly as they weaved forward on the sidewalk.

Spike half-smiled. “Rescuing kittens.”



An hour later

Spike stood on the sidewalk looking up at Christy’s apartment building. Once he’d gotten her to tell him where she lived, they'd walked the few blocks to her place only stopping so Christy could vomit her guts out in each passing alley. Her roommate had helped her into bed, inviting Spike to stay for a drink. He’d passed on the offer.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last postcard he’d been working on before Christy bumped into him at the bar. The last one. Pathetic. How many of them had he written? Enough to feel a bit heavy in his duster's pocket. He looked down at the oversized postcard with his tiny script squished together to fit everything he’d wanted to say. He’d even put a stamp on this one, thinking he’d finally got it right. Disgusted, he walked towards the trashcan on the side of the street. Raising his arm up, he clenched the postcard in his right hand prepared to toss it away only to stop and lower it slowly.

“Bollocks,” Spike muttered angrily. He looked up the street and noticed a mailbox at the corner. Glancing back at the trashcan, he clenched his jaw and hurled the postcard inside. He stormed off, muttering “I’m not pathetic” to himself as he walked away.

Half a block down the street, he whipped around and ran back to the trashcan, leaning down to grab the postcard off the top of the rumpled heap. He wiped it on his jacket, brushing it clean carefully, inspecting it for any offensive damage. Seemed to be alright.

He looked up the street at the mailbox, straightened his shoulders and strode directly toward it. He grasped the handle of the mailbox firmly, opening it with a jerk and tossing the postcard in before he could change his mind. He jumped back, panting.

Spike nodded. “Right then.” His chest rose as he continued to breathe heavily. “Right. Not pathetic.”

He strode down the street, the lines he'd written echoing in his mind over and over again.


Buffy,

So I made it out okay. Guess that’s obvious. I thought I might as well tell you. Trying to keep it a secret didn’t go so well last time. Bloody Andrew never could keep his trap shut. So yeah, was in hell for a bit. Not exactly what you’d expect. Torture, chaos, demon overlords – well okay, I guess it was what you’d expect. But the thing is it wasn’t really hell. No eternal damnation going on. I didn’t feel like I’d been judged or found wanting. None of that going down when the whole city went down with us in it. Was more an absence of judging. Like being abandoned. Forgotten. I doubt you even realized I was gone. Time had no meaning, right?

But at the end of the day you still have to get up and continue to fight. No matter how pointless it seems. Or how much you failed the day before. Life is still life even when you’re in hell. Difference is you’re constantly fighting for your right to live. Which hey, I’m used to so no strain there. It was harder on everybody else. I tried to help. Tried to keep them safe. I never really understood how hard it must have been for you that last year in Sunnydale. All those girls who… You lost them but you had to keep going, keep leading everyone. It really does make you tired.

I think a vacation is in order. Somewhere not too sunny with a nice nightlife. The Vegas strip isn’t too far off. Guess I can avoid the sun easy enough. Might be fun to gamble with something disposable like money for a change. Doubt I’ll be going to the demon casino there – kitten poker just isn’t as fun as it used to be. And who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out where I fit.

I hope you’re okay. Better than okay. And that you don’t mind me sending you this. I figure if you don’t want to read it, you don’t have to. Angel knows how to get in touch with me, if you needed anything. Not that I think you need anything, but just in case.

You are okay, right? I just had this weird feeling. Ya know, the kind that just starts to make everything feel not quite right.

Hope you’re good. And you’ve got someone with you to watch your back.

- Spike

Rome, Italy
Nearly One Year after Not Fade Away


Buffy fumbled with the key as she worked to open her hotel room’s door. As the lock clicked, she pushed her shoulder against the door and slipped inside. The snick of metal as it automatically closed behind her made her blink tiredly as she examined the sparse room in the fading light of the setting sun. Andrew was busy catching up with the Italy squad of Slayers and wouldn’t be ready to leave for Scotland till morning. She’d overheard some of the girls talking excitedly about a night out on the town.

Night out on the town. How long had it been since she’d went out to party? Her dancing shoes probably had molded over from disuse. Actually, last time she’d danced her shoes were charred Cajun-style from Sweet’s spell. Figures. She couldn’t even dance on her own time – it always had to be to someone else’s tune. Her shoulders shook as they reflexively hunched forward and she crossed her arms to hug her chest. Her trip to Rome had been all about business gone bad. She’d figured that things wouldn’t play out peachy and keen, but she hadn’t expected this. This feeling of failure. Again.

She trudged forward across the room to look out the window, the fading light casting warm orange and reddish tints on the shingled rooftops and stone encasements. The city felt old. It practically breathed, sighing with each wave of light that passed across its surface. She leaned against the window sill, staring aimlessly out as she watched the yellows and oranges give way to deeper reds and purples, soon to be enveloped by the creeping bluish blacks at the very edges of the sky. Darkness falling. Except it didn’t fall. It greedily ate away at all the bright colors till they retreated beneath the horizon. Running away.

Buffy turned to push her forehead against the window casing, squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to the transitioning silence of day giving way to night. People were hurrying home to rest only to go out again once the dusk-hour passed. Her eyes flew open to the jarring sound of a woman shrieking from the street below, her battle-ready reflexes relaxing as she saw a tall man with wavy, dark hair release the shrieking woman from his arms to twirl her in a circle with a firm grasp on her hand. The woman laughed as she spun back into him and he bent forward to kiss her.

Buffy’s mouth opened unconsciously as she watched the lovers’ feverish embrace in the middle of the strata. She leaned forward, unable to look away as the man tilted the woman back, cradling her head in his arms as he deepened his kiss. A ruckus of catcalls forced the lovers apart, laughing as they smiled up at each other. Buffy blinked and looked down, suddenly too embarrassed to watch anymore.

She swallowed tightly and blindly reached for the shutters, pulling them closed and blocking out the last bits of light in her room. Feeling her way, she bumped into the nightstand by her bedside before letting her knees give way and falling down on the mattress. She rolled to the side and pulled a pillow from beneath the headboard to hug against her chest. It was too early to go to sleep but that’s all she wanted to do now. Just close her eyes and forget. Forget about Simone and her rogue gang of slayers. Forget about the little girl who’d lost her home. The little girl who Buffy had promised to help. And failed. Sure, they’d all made it out alive. But that wasn’t enough. It was never enough these days.

An entire island full of people had been forced to abandon their homes. All because of a Slayer with a major jones for power. Taking the island was only the most recent transgression in the eyes of the world. Everyone was watching and judging. Slayers were evil. They were dangerous. They attacked innocent people and forced them to run in fear instead of protecting them. The world didn’t know about the Slayers who bled for them every night, who died in battle against the forces of darkness. They didn’t know about the silent heroes. All they saw was the abuse of power from the misguided few. She didn’t know where to begin or how to fix this mess. Andrew had suggested releasing footage of the slayers in action fighting evil, but Buffy had rejected the idea.

What I do is too important to show the world.

She still thought that was true. She knew it deep down inside. She wasn’t going to beg the public for a PR pardon when she was needed on the front lines, teaching the girls how to fight, showing them how to lead. There was so much they still hadn’t learned. She had to be there to make sure they –

A knock on the door cut off her train of thought. Buffy considered ignoring it. Andrew and the Italian squad were the only ones who knew where she was and she so didn’t want to deal with more Slayer business right now. Not when she was so tired. A minute passed and just as she began to hope that her visitor had left, a staccato of raps against the door forced her eyes open.

She sighed as she leaned across the bed to turn on the bedside lamp, rolling off the mattress to stand upright. Buffy shrugged her shoulders stiffly as she walked forward to answer the door, pausing by the vanity mirror to brush the hair back from her face. She absently touched the shadows beneath her eyes. Oh well, can’t make those disappear without some magic concealer. Where’s Will when you really need her? Turning back to face the door, she stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Breathing deeply as she composed her face into a neutral expression, Buffy straightened her shoulders. Game face on - check.

Buffy pulled the door open and blinked at the bright light pouring in from the hallway. A woman stood on the other side of the doorway, looking intent and nervous. She stepped back in surprise as if she hadn’t expected anyone to answer her knock. Buffy stared at the young woman quizzically, trying to remember a blond slayer with green eyes from Andrew’s squad. Her face looked strangely familiar but she couldn’t place her. Buffy waited for the woman to speak, but she just stood there staring right back at her.

Suddenly frustrated and too weary to try figuring out how she knew this girl, Buffy broke the awkward silence. “Yes? Can I help you?” Buffy’s eyebrows rose expectantly, inching even further up as the girl blinked and nervously licked her lips. Rolling her eyes, Buffy waved her hand in front of the girl’s face. “Hello? Did you want something?”

“Are you –" The girl hesitated, staring at Buffy’s face with eyes wide like she couldn’t look away. "…are you Buffy?”

“That depends. Who’s asking?” Buffy narrowed her eyes as she took the girl’s measure. Something about this whole set-up just felt off. Her shoulders tensed as she watched the Slayer suspiciously, wondering if Simone had followed her to Rome for round two. The hallway behind the girl appeared empty, but that didn't mean much when you were dealing with a bunch of preternatural Slayers trained in stealth. Except this Slayer didn't look like she was dressed for an ambush, but a night out clubbing. Not that Buffy was judging her stylish fashion choices. She'd gone patrolling in skimpier gear in years past, back when she wasn't in charge of a Slayer army and actually had a social life.

The blonde girl laughed as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m …” She shook her head before continuing quietly. “I’m Buffy.” She grinned suddenly, her voice gaining strength. “The Vampire Slayer. “

Buffy’s head tilted to the side as her eyes lost focus on the girl’s face. Did she just say…? “Did you just say…huh?”

“Huh? Who are you?” Buffy repeated herself dazedly, shaking her head in confusion.

“I’m Buffy the –“

“Yeah, you said that already. But who the hell are you?” Buffy’s voice shook with anger as she clenched her jaw. Her hands tightened into fists as she leaned forward to force the girl to answer. And suddenly it clicked. Rome. Andrew. A girl that looked familiar because she looked a bit like Buffy herself. Even down to the stylish clothes Buffy had been coveting a few moments ago. It was the sort of outfit Buffy would wear if she had a choice, if she’d been living a different life. This girl was the decoy set up by Andrew to provide a cover for Buffy’s secret location. “You’re her. The girl Andrew – “

The other Buffy was already nodding. “Yeah, I’m her. And you’re…you. Wow.” The girl spoke in quiet awe, eyes wide with amazement. Buffy recognized that look. She’d seen it on hundreds of newly called Slayers’ faces. Like she was Gandhi, Rambo and Barack Obama all rolled up into a cute, blond Slayer package. She was a legend and very uncomfortable with the star status. Even Simone held a wealth of respect for Buffy, though apparently not enough to stop wreaking havoc.

Buffy’s rigid stance loosened when she realized the girl in front of her wasn’t a threat. As the tension drained away, all the exhaustion held off by the rush of adrenaline and anger came flooding back. She shook her head, trying to find focus. “So what are you doing here?”

The girl broke eye contact to look down both sides of the empty hallway. “Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.

Buffy nodded absently, stepping back to let the girl enter her room. She closed the door and turned to look again at her visitor, taking closer note of her appearance. Superficially, they could have been confused for sisters or even twins. But there were some marked differences. This girl’s eyes were a bright, clear green compared to Buffy’s hazel color. She was a few inches taller than Buffy and not as petite in build.

The general resemblance was striking and from a distance Buffy imagined that anyone who knew her would initially be fooled by this doppelganger. Even the girl’s hair was styled to perfectly match Buffy’s in cut and color, though her twin actually took the time to style it so it flowed and curled softly against her shoulders. Buffy found herself throwing her own hair up into a ponytail nine times out of ten. No time to style it in between training sessions, nightly slayage, trips to the future and massive attacks on downtown Tokyo.

The most noticeable difference in the girl’s face was her nose, straight and rounded at the tip. Buffy resisted the urge to rub her own nose in response. Not that she was still self-conscious about it - she’d gotten over that in high school. She’d totally gotten over it. Buffy bit her lip and looked down, noticing for the first time how pale her skin had become. Her twin boasted a radiant tan, the kind of tan Buffy could only get from a tanning bed nowadays as she spent most of her time in Scotland where sunshine was a rare commodity. Buffy rubbed her arms self-consciously. It felt like looking at a more attractive version of herself.

Buffy remembered Giles telling her a story about a cave where people were chained and forced to watch the world through the shadows projected on the walls. That there was a place where perfect forms existed, the pure versions of the distorted forms found in the real world. This girl who was pretending to be Buffy had somehow upstaged the real one. It made her feel like she was a broken copy, inferior. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Her stare met the other girl’s eyes expectantly. “So?”

“I shouldn’t be here, ya know? Us being seen in the same place at the same time? Badness.” The other Buffy started pacing from the window back to the center of the room, skirting around the corner of the bed each time she passed it.

Buffy watched her twin working up the nerve to answer her question. The girl seemed torn, wanting to speak but holding back. Watching her move around the room with so much nervous energy made Buffy feel her exhaustion even more acutely. She gazed longingly at the bed then back at her energetic guest. Exasperated, Buffy cleared her throat loudly. “Look, whatever-your-name-is. You came here for a reason, right? Not to just do a few hundred laps around my room?”

The girl stopped mid-walk to look back at Buffy over her shoulder. She sighed dejectedly and sat down on the bed, shaking her head worriedly. “I just don’t know where to start. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”

Buffy’s eyes twitched slightly as she watched the girl cross her arms defensively to hug herself as she sat on the corner of the bed. Her bed. Her jaw tightened reflexively and she started to grind her teeth. Be nice, be patient, don’t snap at her. “Why don’t you start with why you’re here?” Buffy said slowly through gritted teeth and a stiff smile.

The girl looked up to stare into Buffy’s eyes, a solemn expression on her face. “I have something of yours. Something that belongs to you.”

Buffy jerked back in surprise at those words, laughing slightly. “It’s not a weapon stuck in block of stone, is it? ‘Cause I already have one of those.”

The girl laughed. “No, it’s definitely not a weapon. It’s a – ” Her smile faded slowly and her eyes became a bit sad. “It’s a letter.”

“A letter?” Buffy smiled suddenly. “That’s it? So why the dire? Unless you think the postal service has been infiltrated by evil and needs to be slayed? Which I’m not saying isn’t possible. Just that we kinda have more urgent priorities right now.” Chuckling, Buffy walked over to sit in the chair facing the bed. Her eyes sparkled with restored good humor as she held out her hand.

The other Buffy looked away and reached into her bag to pull out an envelope. She started to hand it over only to stop and hold it between both hands in her lap, head hanging down. “It’s not the original one. I don’t have that anymore. But it’s a scanned version I uploaded onto my computer.” She looked up at Buffy, then down at the envelope. "I thought I should give it to you in person."

“Okay. Fine.” Buffy stretched her arm out further, palm upwards to accept the letter. The girl handed it over reluctantly and looked down. Buffy shook her head and pulled the folded letter out.

Buffy - I’ve tried so many times to think of the perfect words to say to you. To let you know I was back from the great beyond.

Back? No. How? Buffy’s eyes widened in shocked disbelief as she read on, her head shaking from side to side in denial. She began to feel dizzy as she forgot to breathe out, finally gasping when her body forced her to exhale. The words bled together as her eyes watered with suppressed emotion. Her chest burned. A tear slipped down her cheek unnoticed until it dropped onto the sheet of paper Buffy gripped with taut fingers. She blotted at the moisture, frowning as the ink smeared.

Spike was alive. Or at least he was when he wrote this letter. The way he wrote, he made it sound like his being “back” might not last past the night he mailed this to her. The bed creaked as her forgotten guest fidgeted awkwardly. Buffy’s head shot up.

“When did you get this?” she interrogated, eyes fierce.

“It was…” the girl trailed off nervously in the face of Buffy’s intense stare.

“When?” Buffy demanded.

“A year ago. Almost. It was back in May. Or maybe June. Around then.” The girl’s voice wavered uncertainly.

“And were there any other letters after this? Did he write again?”

The girl shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Buffy sympathetically.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she tried to blink back her tears. She struggled to swallow over the knot in her throat. Her body seemed to fold in on itself. She let her head fall forward, her lower lip quivering as she leaned her head slightly to rest on her upraised shoulder.

The girl’s eyes filled with emotion as she watched Buffy, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry. I just…I thought you should know.” She finished softly.

Buffy raised her head woodenly at those last words, nodding slowly as she stared through the girl in front of her. Her expression went blank as she swallowed and blinked involuntarily every few seconds.

The girl stood up slowly and moved to leave. As she passed the vanity mirror halfway to the door, she turned to look at Buffy one last time. Buffy hadn’t moved. She sat frozen, staring off into space, no expression on her face. The girl turned back towards the door and took a step forward, gasping in surprise as a hand on her arm jerked her to a stop and whipped her around to face Buffy again.

The girl panted slightly, looking into Buffy’s stormy eyes still wet with unshed tears. Buffy’s gaze traveled over the girl’s face as her grasp on the girl’s arm remained firm. It would have broken a normal human’s arm, but even for a Slayer her grip felt unbearably tight. Buffy opened her mouth, her lips moving as if to speak yet no sound came out.

“You said… “ Buffy’s voice trailed off as she noticed the mirror on the wall behind them. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled the girl around like a doll so they both stood facing the mirror. With her free hand, Buffy reached out to touch her own reflection then that of the girl standing next to her. They were identical. All the minor differences Buffy had noticed earlier had disappeared. The girl’s reflection looked exactly like Buffy. Buffy looked away from the reflection to look at the girl’s face, turning back to the mirror with eyes wide in amazement.

“Magic.” The girl whispered softly. She nodded at her reflection. “That’s how everyone sees me now. You’re the only one who doesn’t see the illusion. Except when…” She nodded at the mirror again.

“Who are you?” Buffy shook her head from side to side, hoping to clear her vision.

The girl smiled sadly. “I’m Buffy.”

Buffy continued to shake her head. “No, that’s not your real name.”

The girl looked away from Buffy to gaze at her reflection. “That’s who I am now. If I forget, if I think for a second that I’m anyone else, I put lives in danger. I am Buffy. That’s who I have to be.”

Buffy let go of the girl’s arm, letting her hand drop limply to her side. She stood in silence, too stunned to respond. The girl turned to leave again and Buffy suddenly remembered.

“Wait! You said…you said that you didn’t have the original copy anymore.” The girl turned to look at Buffy, her eyes wary. Buffy swallowed tightly before continuing. “What happened to it?”

The girl looked down and licked her lips. “It’s gone. I don’t have it anymore.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t have it?” The girl shook her head guiltily. “Who does have it?” Buffy asked slowly, eyes intent.

The girl’s head hung even lower, her head shaking slightly as she turned to pull open the door. She paused in the doorway and finally raised her eyes to look at Buffy directly. “I gave it away. I don’t know what happened to it after that.”

“Who did you give it to?” Buffy spoke in a low tone, holding the girl’s gaze without blinking.

The girl sighed. “Mr. Giles. I gave it to Mr. Giles.”

Buffy sat in the darkened corner, waiting. Her first reaction after learning Giles had kept Spike’s return a secret had been to call him and demand an explanation. Said demands coming in the form of extremely angry yelling. And boy daddy, she’d tried.

But as it usually happened nowadays, Buffy couldn’t get Giles on the phone. Giles didn’t want to talk to her. Oh, the irony. Apparently, Giles didn’t want anyone communicating with her directly. She’d stewed in growing anger for hours after the other Buffy had left, finding no outlet to vent her rage.

After the third hour had passed, she’d realized she was glad that Giles hadn’t been ‘available to take her call’. She already knew what Giles would say to her. She could hear his voice in her head saying that he’d done it for her own good. That knowing Spike was alive would only upset her. That there was no future with a souled vampire and he wanted more for her than an unhealthy attachment to a member of the undead. He’d excuse his own sketchy behavior and somehow make her the guilty party for failing to live up to his expectations. The Giles in her head was seriously pissing her off.

No. She was done talking. She was done with excuses and false truths. And that’s all Giles would give her now. He’d try to placate her and when that didn’t work, he’d guilt trip her by reminding her that her duty was to her Slayers first and foremost. Like she didn’t already know that. Like devoting every second of her life for over the past year and a half wasn’t enough proof that she understood her priorities. Buffy understood sacrifice. She sacrificed her life everyday for the mission. For the girls she’d made into Slayers. Every day she paid the price.

The price hadn't felt so high before in a long time. What if he hadn't survived? Was that why he hadn’t written again? Her world would be just cruel enough to bring him back to her only for her to discover she'd already lost him again. Stupid world.

No, she was glad that Giles hadn’t wanted to talk to her because it made her realize what she had to do. It was time to take action and she knew just where to start.

Voices laughing from down the hall carried through the closed hotel room door. Buffy tensed in anticipation. The door opened after several failed drunken attempts to slide in the key. Andrew stumbled into his room, already half-undressed with his dress shirt pulled out of his slacks, his tie loosened and hanging askew. When he threw his jacket on the floor and started slipping out of his shoes, Buffy decided it was time to put a halt to this very unwanted strip show.

“Andrew,” Buffy drawled menacingly as she clicked on the lamp next to the chair she lounged in.

“Sweet bejeesus!” Andrew tripped over his shoes, falling back into the dresser behind him. “Ow!” Banging his head, he flailed about caught in his half untied shoes as he fell to the floor. Rolling over onto his back, he turned his head to find Buffy watching him with one eyebrow raised. “Oh. Hey, Buffy. How is our fair Roma treating the Slayer Generalissimo?”

“Have a good time tonight, Andrew?” Buffy’s voice held a dark undercurrent beneath her falsely sweet tone.

Fumbling into a sitting position only to trip over his shoes again, Andrew’s face was flushed from his night out carousing. “Heh. You know what they say about Slayers – all work and no play leads to extremely grumpy Slayers. And extreme grumpiness leads to the Dark side.”

Andrew’s face screwed up quizzically. “Or it makes you a dwarf in service to a beautiful princess forced to abandon her home because of an evil queen who’s desperately hoping that her Prince Charming will restore her with True Love’s kiss.” Andrew rested his chin on his fist, continuing to ramble in his tipsy state. “Don’t you miss Disney back in the day when they did their old school animation? It truly was a Golden Age.”

Andrew’s gaze unfocused as his imagination carried him away. Buffy’s silence coupled with her calculating stare brought him crashing back to reality. He looked at her uncertainly, crawling up to sit on the bed and face her.

“You like stories, don’t you Andrew?” Buffy’s gaze was intense and unblinking, her mouth firm.

“Sure, who doesn’t?” Andrew started fiddling with his cufflinks and accidentally knocked one off his sleeve. He lurched forward, trying to catch it but it fell to the floor at Buffy’s feet. She leaned down to pick it up, examining the silver design in the shape of a light saber. She quirked her left eyebrow and looked back at Andrew with a half-smile. Andrew returned her smile ingratiatingly. Buffy’s upper lip curled to bare her teeth. Andrew bit his lip and gulped audibly.

Buffy held the cufflink up in front of her, tilting her head to look at it more closely. “I’ve never been a huge fan of mysteries myself. I always go for the romance, action and humor - the Princess Bride-effect. But I think I’m finally starting to see the attraction.” Buffy’s hard smile accompanied her musing tone. “Mysteries are about that moment when you just get it. Everything makes sense and you realize how it all fits. See, I had all these puzzle pieces laid out before me and I didn’t even realize that when I put them together – they told a story. Can you guess what it was?”

Andrew’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. He looked at the silver cufflink being casually tossed from Buffy’s right hand to her left and back again. She occasionally paused to roll it between her index finger and thumb.

“No guesses? I’ll give you a hint. The first piece in the puzzle - LA.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly while Andrew’s face looked baffled. “Not enough? How about this one – Angel. Still not enough? Dana.” Buffy paused again before continuing, jaw clenched. “Still don’t get it? I’ll give you a big one – vampire with a soul.” She sat back in the chair, watching Andrew start to squirm while she fiddled with the cufflink. She smiled tightly. “That’s better. Now is there something you want to tell me, Andrew?”

Andrew laughed awkwardly. “Well as you’ve heard, my quest to the city of Angels led me to the evil citadel of the Wolf, Ram and Hart where I found myself facing many a harrowing experience. Little did I know that Angel the Vampyre would so boldly challenge my right to guardianship of the crazed Slayer, Dana.” Andrew waved his finger. “Oh, but the Dark One had underestimated his opponent. In the end, the side of Slayerly righteousness won the day…or night since it was dark out. And Angel the Vampyre was sent back to his evil fortress impotent and empty-handed.”

Andrew smiled like a child expecting a cookie for a job well done. Buffy stared at him, silent. “Erm, though no blows were exchanged it truly was a battle to the death. By glaring. Oh yes, we had a death glare-off royale! For the brooding great one was no match for Andrew, the greatest watcher in all the lan – ”

Buffy slammed her fist against the table next to her, leaning forward with gritted teeth. “No more lying to me, Andrew. Not to me.” She leaned forward and held the light saber cufflink between her index finger and thumb, pushing down until the metal was a flattened mess. She tossed it into Andrew’s lap. “Understand?”

“So you wanna talk about…” Andrew’s voice trailed off.

“Spike’s alive. Or he was - ” Buffy’s voice caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists tightly. Head bent down, she opened her eyes to glare at Andrew. “Spike came back. And you’re going to tell me everything you know.”

“Right-y-oh, boss.” Andrew’s voice cracked, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

Buffy nodded stiffly, satisfaction coloring her face. “Good. ‘Cause I’m done playing your games.” She leaned forward, the fire in her eyes holding Andrew in rapt attention. “It’s time you started playing mine.”



Rome Airport
12 hours later

Andrew rapped his fingers against the ticket counter, his entire body humming with nervous energy. The ticket sales agent paused in entering his travel information to glance at him strangely. He smiled in a creepily reassuring way and she widened her eyes behind her glasses, typing faster in order to get the bizarre man away from her post. “Two tickets to Glasgow. Would you like a window or an aisle seat?”

“Window.” The petite, blonde woman standing next to the peculiar American answered automatically. “Please.” She added as an afterthought, looking uncertainly at her male companion.

The saleslady nodded and entered in the information. “Two tickets for Andrew Wells and…” She looked up at the pair when they failed to answer immediately.

The blonde woman flashed her perfect teeth in a big smile and handed over her ID for verification. “Buffy. Buffy Summers.”

“Buffy?” The saleslady barely suppressed a smirk, printing out the two boarding passes and handing them over to the man with the obnoxious manners.

Andrew grabbed the tickets from the saleslady’s hand and mock saluted. “Mille grazie, ticket lady. Ciao ciao!”

The pair turned and slowly worked their way towards the boarding gate in silence. Thirty minutes later, they took a seat by the gate and waited. Andrew remained jittery, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes and scanning the crowds. “Buffy.” His mouth quirked after saying her name.

“Hmmm…” she answered absentmindedly, lost in thought.

“It’s gonna work out. I can tell. It’s gonna work out great.” Andrew’s chipper voice rose above the general din of the airport boarding area as he rocked back and forth in his seat.

She looked at him skeptically. “That’d be loads more convincing if you weren’t acting like a kid who forgot to take his Adderall.” She took a deep breath as the flight attendant called all the passengers to prepare to board their flight. “I guess it’s time to face the music.”

Andrew nodded. “Showtime.”

They walked towards the gate, slowly moving forward in line as the group boarded the plane. A blonde woman in sunglasses and a dark overcoat watched their progress from across the room. She stood like a silent statue, her arms crossed over her chest. When the attendant finally closed the boarding gate, the woman walked to the window to watch the plane depart, staring as it taxied along the runway and prepared for takeoff. Her breath caught as the plane began to move forward, faster and faster, until it was airborne. She watched it rise into the sky, her heart in her throat, hazel eyes wide behind the tinted glasses. The plane finally disappeared from sight over the horizon and she let out a deep sigh. A smile slowly spread across her face.

A woman’s voice over the PA system announced, “Now boarding international flight 1630 to Los Angeles…"

35,000 Feet
En Route to Los Angeles


Buffy had always loved flying. The exhilaration of takeoff as her body raced forward within the metal bullet, the struggle to defy gravity in the first few seconds off the ground, the way her ears popped as she was carried up into the sky. The otherworldly excitement as she chased her heart which had already flown high above her.


She swelled with emotion and feeling in those first few moments only to settle into a quiet, surreal wonder as the plane leveled at its high altitude. She loved the journey as she passed over the world from on high, enshrined in the fragile safety of metal and mechanics, watching cities and towns in their newly miniature scope.


During the day, she loved passing through the clouds and imagining she could reach through the thick Plexiglas to let the streams of white gossamer float through her fingertips. When night fell, she marveled at the stars that had fallen to Earth to light up the ground below, rivaling the sky in their brilliance.


Buffy loved the way her heart raced as the plane began its descent, how her stomach jumped and her body instinctively leaned forward in anticipation of the landing. How for a few moments she was between worlds, land and sky, and she reveled in the powerful sensation of being pushed forward while the brakes grappled with the force of the plane’s forward momentum.


She felt giddy after every landing as she returned to solid ground. With each step forward the sensation of flying faded away till her land legs were firmly rooted and her heart settled back into her chest. But the true wonder of sensation – it stayed with her long after her fall from the sky. In her memory and imagination she could still feel the clouds whipping past her and see the stars blazing within the black canvas of terra firma.


Buffy loved flying. Or at least she usually did. But this time the race to the sky made her body clench in anxiety and fear.


What if Spike was dead?


The sun breaking through the clouds on the horizon didn’t inspire wonder but made her flinch as she imagined his ashes scattered on the cavernous stone of the Hellmouth floor. The high altitude didn’t lead to pleasant musings about the world below, but made her feel alone and set apart.


What if Spike hadn’t written her again because he’d found someone else?


She imagined him kissing Drusilla, kissing Harmony, kissing an unknown woman in shadow who clutched at his shoulders as he ravished her mouth.


What if Spike no longer loved her?


She imagined him sneering at her, telling her it wasn’t even all that good while it lasted and that he’d already died for her once and wasn’t that enough?


Everything Buffy loved about flying had abruptly shifted until the experience was foreign and terrifying. The only constant that remained was her heart. Her heart that had flown up into the sky as it always did as the plane took off. Her heart that she continued to chase in choked desperation. Yet she feared this one time it was forever lost to her. She would chase her heart across the world but never find it again.


She imagined Spike dead. She imagined him in love with someone else. She imagined him hating her and blaming her for leaving him to die inside the Hellmouth. She imagined so many nightmare scenarios waiting for her at the end of her flight.


Everything she imagined was wrong.




Alystrata Casino
Las Vegas

Spike’s head smashed into the pavement from the hard fists bashing him in the face. He growled through his fangs and caught the other vampire by the wrists, flipping him over his head as he whipped his shoulders back against the ground. Using that momentum, he swung his legs back down as he kipped up into a standing position, spinning around on the balls of his feet. His snarl fell when he looked at the cloud of dust where his opponent should have lain. He glared at his hunting companion who was supposed to have stayed on the sidelines for the fight.


Connor shrugged. “Sorry. You were just taking your sweet time. I figured I'd finish him off for you.”


Spike looked up at the sky in disbelief before turning his narrowed gaze on Angel’s son. “You know, next time you decide to come a-visitin’ Uncle Spike, you might wanna think about giving me some incentive to actually issue the invite. Here’s a hint – don’t bogart my kill. I’ve been hunting that lowlife wanker for the better part of a week and when I finally get him out in the open, you…” Spike growled again.


Connor raised his hands up. “Hey! Sorry. Won’t happen again. It just looked like you were getting your face pummeled, is all.”


“Pfft. I had him right where I wanted ‘im.”


“You’re right. I see that now. I was wrong. So very wrong.” Connor face twitched as he struggled to keep from smirking.


Spike glared at Connor before bending down to pick up his forgotten stake, shoving it angrily into his jacket pocket. “Didn’t ask when you showed up on my doorstep all pathetic looking, but why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t Papa Bear be shitting his proverbial brick right about now what with you subjecting yourself to my bad influence?”


“Nah, Dad’s cool with me taking a vacation. Or he would be if I’d told him about it.” The smile faded from Connor’s face. “I just needed to get away for a little bit.”


Spike sighed and started walking through the charred remains of the casino lobby. Halfway to the door, he turned to look at Connor who stood frozen in place. Spike raised his eyebrows and jerked his head towards the exit, waiting for Connor to start walking forward before he continued on.


“So how’d you know he’d be here? The vamp.” Connor ducked under a fallen ceiling beam as he waited for Spike’s explanation.


“Place burned down about a year ago.” Spike looked around at the blackened walls. “Perfect hideout for our kind.”


“But how’d you figure he was here? I’ve been helping you track him for the past day and his scent was nowhere in the area. No trail to follow.”


“Wasn’t him I was following.” Spike breathed in deeply through his nostrils. “You smell that?”


Connor closed his eyes and inhaled. After a few moments, he opened his eyes to look at Spike questioningly. “What? What is it?”


“That scent. Destruction. Despair. Fear. Death. It’s all burned into the walls here. It’s irresistible to a demon.” Spike’s eyes hardened. “Bastard couldn’t stay away.”


They walked in silence to Spike’s Viper parked a few blocks away from the abandoned remains of the casino. Connor stared at the massive dent above the front passenger tire. He absently kicked the tire as he waited for Spike to unlock the door. Slipping inside, he turned to look at Spike and nodded in the direction of the dent. “What happened?”


Spike glanced at Connor while he turned the ignition and started driving back towards home. “Vänrak demon.”


“I had no idea Vänraks were so evil. Going around denting expensive sports cars.” Connor shook his head in mock disillusionment. “Petty vandalism. It’s just so…petty. Did he at least leave a note with all his insurance info?”


Annoyed, Spike turned to look at Connor. “It wasn’t vand – don’t make me pull this car over.”


“Wouldn’t dream of it. Who knows what else this Vänrak did to your car? I’m just praying it’ll get us back to your place before it dies on us.” Connor settled back into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling as he looked out the window.


Spike kept his mouth shut, driving in silence. He stroked the steering wheel with his thumbs, occasionally patting it in a placating manner. Connor looked at Spike out of the corner of his eye, certain he’d heard Spike murmuring ‘sorry, sweetheart’ under his breath. He decided that would be taking the weird to all new heights and pretended he didn’t have superhuman hearing that could discern a pin dropping from 100 feet away.


Connor turned to stare out the window, hunching down into his seat. He sighed and looked back at Spike. Staring ahead at a scratch in the dashboard, he broke the silence. “Gwen and I broke up. Again.”


Spike turned his head slightly without losing sight of the road. “Sorry to hear that,” he said softly after a prolonged silence.


Connor exhaled loudly. “Yeah well, I should’ve known it wasn’t gonna work. After what she did. We tried, but I guess…” Connor stared down at the floorboard of the car. “I guess once you lose the trust, you can’t get it back. I kept waiting for her to stab me in the back like before. To turn on me.” Connor squeezed his eyes shut, holding them closed for a few seconds before blinking rapidly. He pushed back hard against the headrest, bracing himself with the reassuring pressure. “The worst part is that I still love her. I just can’t stand to be around her. Because of the person I become, the things I think and feel. I don’t want to be the guy who’s always wondering when his girlfriend is going to betray him again.”


Spike grunted. “’ve been there. A few hundred times with Dru. She’d always wander off, playing around with other demons till she got bored and decided to come home. And I’d always take her back. Always. Managed to convince myself she really loved me and that it was just her being…Dru. But there was always a part of me that knew she’d do it again. Took a long time before I finally learned to stop making excuses for her.”


Connor squinted. “How’d you do that?”


Spike chuckled painfully. “Fell in love with someone else. As far as easy solutions go, I don’t recommend it. The cure was just as painful as the disease. Maybe more.” Spike’s voice became solemn. “Most definitely more.”


“So you wish you’d never fell in love with this other girl?”


Spike scowled at Connor. “Don’t be an idiot.”


Connor shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Then I don’t get it. You said falling for this other girl was worse than being with Dru. Worse than being with a woman that cheated on you, that you couldn’t trust.”


“Never said it was worse. Said it was painful.” Spike stared straight ahead at the horizon. He continued in a soft voice, musing. “Pain isn’t always a bad thing, you know. Pain lets you know you’re still alive inside. Pain shows you how deep the feeling goes. You’ll never truly know love till you’ve gotten your heart ripped out from your chest. Heartbreak is part of the way love works its will. Love brings the highest highs and the lowest lows. Love takes you to an all new dimension of pain. Nothing can compare to the ecstasy of a bleeding heart.”


Connor shook his head again, confused. “I think I’ll pass. I’ve had enough pain to last a dozen lifetimes.”


Spike blinked, his eyes refocusing on the road ahead. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Hyperion Hotel
Los Angeles



Angel sat in his office, staring at the phone and willing it to ring. Connor had disappeared without any word of his whereabouts a few days ago. Angel worked hard to not hover or smother his son, but he knew Connor hadn’t been back to his apartment since he’d broken up with Gwen. Connor hadn’t told anyone where he was going, he’d just vanished. He wasn’t answering his cell phone or returning any of Angel’s messages. There’d been no word of Connor getting into a fight according to Angel’s demon contacts and with his newfound fame anything that happened to his son would make waves. Waves the size of tsunamis. Connor was lying low. Angel wasn’t even sure Connor was still in LA.



“No news yet?” Nina leaned against the office doorway, her face doing little to mask her concern for both Connor and Angel.



Angel shook his head, his grave expression never shifting.



“He’ll be fine. Connor can take care of himself. He’s tough.” Nina smiled. “Just like his dad.”



Angel looked away and sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he answered softly.



“Maybe it’d be a good idea to go out. I’ve been researching that case about the random acts of demonic cult activity downtown.” Nina walked to the desk, placing a handful of papers in front of Angel. “Turns out – not so random.” She pointed to the location in the center of the map. “I think we should check it out. So far no one’s been hurt, but that kind of mojo can’t be good news.”



Angel pushed the papers away. “Have Kate look into it. If there’s something there, she’ll know what to do. Right now it doesn’t seem like much to go on.” Angel stood and walked towards the microwave in the corner of the office. He pushed start and watched the mug full of blood slowly spin inside.



Disappointed, Nina picked up the papers and walked towards the door. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know. Maybe go with her myself.” She paused in the doorway. “I’ll call if we find anything.”



“Yeah, great. Do that,” Angel said absently with his back to the door.



The microwave dinged and Angel pulled out the mug, sipping it as he walked back towards his desk. He resumed staring at the phone, unable to think about anything but Connor. Angel knew how painful break-ups could be and he understood the need to get some distance, maybe gain some perspective. What worried him was that apparently gaining perspective for Connor meant leaving town.



His mug of blood forgotten, Angel continued to stare at the phone as he thought about all the times in the past few months that Connor had come to him for advice about his relationship with Gwen. Angel hadn’t been able to help much. He had over 150 years of experience with Darla, but no experience gained there resembled a healthy relationship.



And Buffy, well, half of the time he was in Sunnydale he spent trying to stay away from Buffy, the other half trying to drive her insane and eventually kill her. Plus the whole open communication thing was never their strong suit. There were so many horrible things he was afraid she’d find out about him. That the light in her eyes when she saw him, that light would fade away till it was replaced with disgust. Honesty was always a struggle for them. And trust. Love came easily. But the trust…



Then there was Cordy. Who he trusted so easily. Completely. She’d seen him at his darkest hours and still stood by his side. But they’d never really been together. Not really. Just when things were starting to build towards something more--well, towards something--she was taken away and he’d never really gotten her back. They’d missed their moment and now she was gone. Their first kiss when both of them knew how they felt about each other was their last. A goodbye kiss.



Angel didn’t know what to tell Connor. He didn’t have any sage advice for how to make things work with Gwen. He’d tried being supportive and saying the right things, but he knew he was falling short. That Connor was frustrated with his inability to help. Angel was used to failing his son, just like he’d been used to failing his father. But every time he tried so hard to do the right thing. Every time.



Lost in thought, the phone rang three times before the sound penetrated Angel’s brood. His hand shot forward to pick up the phone. “Hello?”



“Dad? Hey Dad, it’s me.” Connor’s voice came through a bit fuzzily over the bad connection. Angel slumped back into his chair as the tension drained from his body, silent. He smiled as he listened to the sound of Connor’s voice. “Just wanted to let you know I’m on my way back. And I’m bringing someone with me. You might remember him – has a thing for leather, cusses every other word and can’t go five minutes without a cigarette.”



Angel heard a muffled, “Who doesn’t have a thing for leather, no I don’t and yes I can.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s fine, Connor. Anything to have you home.”



“Right. I’ll be back soon.” Connor paused. “Sorry I left like that.”



“It’s okay. I knew you’d be fine.” Angel strained to act reassuring. “See you when you get home.”



As the line went dead, Angel slowly lowered the phone and looked at it. He smiled as he hung up. Glancing at the mug still full of blood that had now cooled over, he picked it up and downed it quickly. Feeling ravenous, he stood and walked towards the miniature fridge underneath the microwave, bending down to get another bag of blood to heat up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He’d only made the mug of blood earlier so Nina wouldn’t fuss at him like she’d been doing the past few days. He slit open the bag and poured it into the mug, placing it inside the microwave and pushing start. Instead of staring aimlessly at the circling mug, his eyes lost focus as he imagined Connor walking through the door.



“And here I was worried you’d be too busy to see little old me.” The familiar feminine voice had an edge to it. Angel’s shoulders tensed.



“Buffy.” Angel turned to find her standing right where Nina had been less than an hour ago. Only Buffy didn’t lean against the door jam. She stood straight and tall with her arms crossed over her chest. Strange how she could stand so tall when she was so tiny. Her hair fell past her shoulders, longer than he’d remembered it.



“Angel.” Buffy responded automatically, her mouth tight.



Angel’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Buffy, reading the tension in her face and stance. She looked pissed. Not enraged. More like a cold anger. Icy. Angry Buffy was never easy to deal with. The microwave dinged behind him and he pushed the cancel button to quiet it. “So what is it? Why are –“



“Where is he?” Buffy’s voice cracked as she interrupted him.



Angel jutted his chin forward obstinately. “Where’s who?”



“Spike.” Buffy bit out the words. “Where is Spike?”



Angel shook his head, disbelieving. “You came halfway around the world to ask me where Spike is?” He raised his hands defensively, annoyed at her accusing tone. “I’m not Spike’s keeper. And I couldn’t tell you where he is because for one, I don’t care and for two, I don’t care.”



“So he’s alive?” She asked in a small voice, the anger leaking away.



“Yeah, as alive as any other vampire.” His mouth grimaced. “Thanks for asking, by the way. I’m fine.”



Buffy’s eyes closed briefly before opening to glare at Angel. “You knew he was back and you didn’t tell me. What? Is it your mission in life to keep me in the dark? To make decisions for me without actually giving me the right to choose? I’m not a teenager anymore. You don’t get to just…just…” Buffy searched for the words frustratedly, stabbing her index finger at Angel each time she hesitated. “Ugh!”



Angel clenched his jaw. “Let me repeat myself just so we’re clear. I. Am. Not. Spike’s. Keeper. I don’t pass notes for him during study hall. I don’t send out ‘Welcome Back’ party invites to all his friends. I have more important things to worry about than Spike like oh say, stopping the world from ending. Oh yeah, and eradicating evil.” Angel punched the air with his fists. “So sorry if my priorities inconvenienced you. Wait, no. I’m not sorry. ‘Cause the only person who needed to tell you anything was Spike. Go be angry at him.”



Buffy’s shoulders slumped as she dropped her arms to her side. “Sorry. I just…” She rubbed her temples, exhaustion leaking into her voice. “I’m just so tired. I can’t even tell who’s lying to me anymore.”



Angel’s face softened and he walked forward to touch Buffy by the shoulder, his hand paused in midair as the front door banged open in the lobby.



“Dad! We’re back!” Connor’s voice carried loud and clear to the office. Buffy raised her head to look confusedly at Angel. “Dad? You here?”



Angel cleared his throat and walked past Buffy to stand in the doorway of the office. “In here, Connor.”



Buffy’s eyes widened. She mouthed ‘dad?’ and stared at Angel, waiting for him to explain. He turned to look back at her and shrugged. “It’s a long story. But yeah, he’s my son.” Angel couldn’t help but smile proudly as he responded.



Buffy shook her head dazedly, walking towards Angel with her mouth open in shock. “How is that even…”



Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of bleached blond hair and a black leather coat over Angel’s shoulder as he stood in the doorway with his back to the lobby. Her already wide eyes strained even further. Her breath caught in her throat, only to force its way through shallow pants. Her hands felt numb, hanging listlessly at her side while her feet were rooted to the ground.



Angel resisted the urge to greet Connor, unable to look away from Buffy’s face as she stared past him. He finally glanced behind him to see Spike handing Connor a broadsword to put in the weapons cabinet. Connor and Spike stood bantering and swapping insults until Spike quieted suddenly, his back tensing visibly beneath his jacket. He turned to stare at Angel standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side. “Buffy?” He whispered beneath his breath as he shook his head.



“Who’s Buffy? Isn’t that the girl who you…oh.” Connor quieted as he caught sight of the blond woman standing behind his father.



Buffy’s feet moved forward sluggishly and Angel moved aside to let her pass. She barely noticed him as she walked slowly towards Spike. She hadn’t thought it would be this easy to find him. She’d expected hours of dragging the truth out of Angel and then more time spent going to Spike. Her eyes moved over him from head to foot, taking in every detail of his being while avoiding his eyes. Her head bowed down to stare at his chest when she finally stood in front of him.



Was he real? She reached forward to grab his right hand, holding it between her own as she stroked his fingers with her thumbs. His hand. The last time she’d touched him it was here. She remembered the flames burning them both. She felt like the sensation was embedded underneath his cool skin, all she had to do was look for it and she’d feel it again. She held his hand up to her chest and began to slowly intertwine their fingers, her left to his right, making a fist which she clutched to her heart.



She looked up finally to gaze into Spike’s face, seeing him standing frozen and staring at her intensely, waiting to see what she’d do next. His eyes were transfixed and tinged with wonder. She’d forgotten how he could make her feel just by looking at her. Warm. Admired. Loved. Her lips started to curl into a smile only to fall as her chest tightened unbearably and she gasped out a breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head again, continuing to hold his hand against her as moisture seeped out from under her eyelids to fall down her cheeks. She felt his other hand brush against her cheek, wiping away the dampness. She shuddered at his touch.



“Buffy. Love.”



She shook her head, unable to respond or let go. He stroked her cheek and her hair, brushing away the tears as they fell. Her head tilted up into his touch but her eyes remained closed. He closed his eyes to match her and leaned forward till their foreheads touched, letting out a sigh that matched her own. He breathed her in, the scent of her, the warmth of her breath, the salt of her tears. He breathed shallowly to match her own rhythm, wishing his heart beat so that it too could move in sync with her motions.



Each time a soft whimper escaped her throat, his dead heart clenched. He continued to stroke her hair, murmuring endearments and crooning to her. Her tears eventually slowed as her breathing evened out. She sighed and his body followed the rise and fall of her chest. She pushed up with her forehead and pulled back, opening her eyes to look at Spike as he raised his head to gaze back at her.



She smiled painfully. “Hi."

Spike stared back at Buffy, mesmerized. “Hello,” he said softly, afraid to break the moment.

Buffy raised her free hand to brush at the remaining tears on her cheeks, rubbing them away with her sleeve. She laughed and rolled her eyes. “God, I must look awful. Puffy Buffy isn’t what I was going for here.”

Spike shook his head, never breaking eye contact. “No. You look beautiful.”

Buffy’s smile wavered as she bit her lip, her eyes still holding a fragile air. “Liar,” she whispered.

Spike tilted his head to the side, his smile widening as he reached forward to push Buffy’s hair back from her face. “I’m many things, love. But I’ve never felt the need to tell tales about the God-given attributes of a beautiful woman. Now take your compliment and stop acting like you don’t know you’re bloody gorgeous.”

An involuntary laugh escaped Buffy and she quickly swallowed it, shaking her head at him. She looked down at their intertwined hands resting against her chest and slowly lowered their joined fist to hang between them. She noticed the absolute quiet of the hotel lobby and swiveled her head to discover that Angel had disappeared from the office behind them and his son – her mind figuratively blinked at the concept – his son was gone as well. She looked back at Spike, eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Where’d they go?”

“Cleared out right quick. Was the tears, I expect. Nothing scarier than a woman having a good cry.” He looked down at their joined hands. “I’d have gone running, too. If I could.” He grinned openly, tongue curling behind his front teeth as his cheeks dimpled.

Buffy shook her head playfully, swinging their hands back and forth as she muttered “idiot” underneath her breath.

Spike’s grin widened. “You know, this is going a lot better than I’d imagined. Thought you’d be right angry with me what with telling Andrew to keep his trap shut. Figured I’d be down on the floor holding a bloody no – ow!”

Buffy’s right fist connected with Spike’s face, forcing him to fall back from the impact and stretching their joined hands tautly. Buffy pulled Spike back into her with her grip on his right hand, glaring at him while he clutched his nose.

He looked at her angry expression suspiciously, his voice carrying a nasal quality. “So that’s it, then? We on to the kick the Spike portion of the evening?” He scoffed, dropping his hand from his face to jab his finger at Buffy. “At least you’re predictable, Slayer. I’ll give you that.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What? Other than a bleedin’ nose ain’t nothing wrong with me. I don’t go around hitting people to work out my feelings.” His eyes widened significantly at Buffy before his face fell into a sheepish expression. “Well, okay. I do. But it’s totally different and perfectly right in a completely different context and I’ll have you know that I…I…what were we talking about again?”

“How you’re an idiot?” Buffy supplied eagerly.

Spike grimaced.

“How you kept the fact that you’re back from the dead a secret for over a year?”

“Pfft. Wasn’t that long. A few months shy of a year at most.”

Buffy stared.

“Well okay, yeah. But…”

Buffy’s raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“I had reasons, you know. Very good reasons.” He huffed. “Oh, you’d be impressed.” Spike tapped his temple, nodding. “The thoughts in here. Yeah, very impressed.”

Buffy stared at Spike, wordlessly expressing ‘you’re an idiot’ with her eyes.

Spike looked off to the side and opened his mouth, working his tongue from cheek to cheek as he wrestled with his words. “Like for one, can’t top an exit like that. Everybody knows you burn up in a blaze of glory savin’ the world, it’s a bit anticlimactic to just show up again a few months later.” Spike glanced surreptitiously at Buffy, noting her increased glare of death directed at him. “Plus figured it was time to be my own man. Nothing wrong with being a bachelor. Setting out on my own.” He nodded solidly, affirming the notion. “And Angel practically begged me to stay and help him. Poor sod was at a loss and needed me around.” He glanced back at Buffy, seeing her clenching and unclenching her jaw. “And it’s not like you left a forwarding address, pet.” Buffy eyes narrowed to slits. “Not that I’m saying it’s your fault. Didn’t expect you to think up a contingency plan in the event of my resurrection. Though the way our world works, any idiot could see…” Buffy began to squeeze Spike’s fist, causing him to cough and clear his throat. “Right. Well, those are just a few of my very well thought out reasons why I didn’t…you know, tell you.”

The anger melted away from Buffy’s face, her expression going blank. She looked down, roughly swallowing the knot in her throat. Her grip loosened, letting Spike’s hand drop from her grasp.

Spike’s body reeled back from the loss of contact, his eyes bereft as he looked at her avoiding his gaze. He looked down to stare at the same spot on the floor that had absorbed Buffy’s attention, opening his mouth to speak and closing it repeatedly before finally working up the nerve to continue. “’Course I forgot to mention the most important reason.” Buffy’s gaze sharpened, listening carefully as she stared at the floor. “Didn’t think you meant it.” Spike watched Buffy’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “There. At the end. When you said you…”

Buffy slowly raised her head to stare at Spike solemnly. “You’re an idiot, Spike,” she said softly. “Why do I always fall for the stupid ones?”

Spike half-laughed through his wavering smile. “Couldn’t tell you, love. Doesn’t make a lick of sense. Not worthy to even look at you much less – ”

Buffy grabbed his shirt and pulled him close till they were face to face. “Shut up.”

“Right. No more talking.”

Buffy nodded. “Good.”

“Brilliant.” Spike tilted his head to the side, gazing intensely into Buffy’s eyes as his face inched closer towards her.

“Uh huh.” Buffy stopped as her lips gently brushed his, breathing into his slightly open mouth.

“Hmm.” Spike waited, watching her, afraid to move and break whatever spell held them this close.

Buffy kissed his lower lip softly before pulling back to move to the right side of his mouth. She pressed a dry kiss on the corner of his lips, holding for a moment then brushing her lips against his and moving to the opposite corner to repeat the caress. She reached up to touch his lips with her right index finger, testing the softness and resiliency as she pressed down gently in the center before brushing his lower lip with her thumb, pressing her soft kiss deeper into his lips rather than wiping it away. She looked at Spike, eyes serious and warm and slightly uncertain. “Can I kiss you?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed questioningly. “Thought that was what you were doing, love.”

“I thought I should ask,” Buffy said softly.

“Stupid question, pet. Always want to be kissing you. And for the record, seeing as you’re being all proper-like, it’s ‘may I kiss you’.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him down to her with a strong grip on his neck, kissing him firmly. Her hands looped around the back of his neck as she pulled herself up into his embrace, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, feeling the entire length of him with her body. Her body sighed into his, relaxing for a moment only to tense immediately and pull him even closer to her while she rose up on her toes to meet him head-on.

Yes, she thought. This. This is what’s been missing.

Her stomach tightened unbearably only to unfurl and jump inside her, making her insides quiver.

Spike tilted his head, deepening the kiss while opening his mouth to duel with Buffy’s tongue. She pulled back slightly and took his lip between her teeth, nipping gently before kissing away the sting. He groaned, his throaty rumble intensifying while his hands roamed her back. His right hand began to play with the hem of her shirt, sneaking up to stroke the skin of her lower back before slowly moving forward to the soft skin of her abdomen. With each renewed note of their battling tongues, his hand inched upward only to be forcibly stopped by Buffy’s grip as she pulled back gasping. She looked around at the hotel lobby and shook her head.

Spike looked around and shrugged ‘why not’. Buffy pushed his hand out from under her shirt, frowning.

“Not here, Spike,” she panted. She looked up at the ceiling, wondering where Angel had disappeared to. “Most definitely not here.”

Spike dropped his forehead against Buffy’s, groaning. “Woman, why do you insist on tormenting me?”

Buffy grinned, breathing heavily. “Oh come on, you can take it. Tough guy like you. You’re probably just faking so I’ll feel sorry for you.”

Spike grabbed Buffy by the hips and pulled her into him, his eyes zeroing in on hers as he raised his eyebrow. “Who’s faking?”

Buffy swallowed, eyes closed. “Okay, not faking. But still kinda milking it for all it’s worth.”

Spike groaned again. “If you’re not gonna use your tongue properly, stop with the double entendres, pet. Please.”

“Double who?” Buffy asked as she pushed away from Spike.

Spike shook off her question. “Nevermind. So where to? I don’t have a place here anymore. A hotel?” He looked around at the lobby. “Another hotel?”

“Well, that just sounds skanky.” Buffy pouted.

“You do have a hotel here, right?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to have dirty-hotel-reunion-sex.” She looked up at the ceiling as she whispered the last word.

“Pet, there’s nowhere else to go.”

Buffy’s lip jutted out even further.

“And that.” Spike pointed at her lip. “That’s not helping. Love, you want me to go get a room somewhere? I’ve got the blunt. Just say the word.”

“No.” She sighed heavily. “We’ll go to mine.” She pouted again and Spike leaned in towards her lips, forcing her to jump back. “Hey! No touching. Not here. This is a no-touching zone.” She waved her arms around herself. “No kissing. No hugging. No caressing of…things. Got it?”

Spike held his hands in the air. “Got it. Can we go now?”

Buffy nodded. “Oh yeah. Right now.”




Buffy’s Hotel
Thirty Minutes Later


Buffy and Spike stood at opposite ends of the elevator, watching the lights blink as they went up to the 16th floor. As each floor passed, Buffy let out a little sigh. The air hummed between them. They’d stopped speaking on the ride over to Buffy’s hotel. Buffy’d had trouble not accidentally making with the sexy talk and after the third time Spike nearly drove off the road, she’d decided silence was golden.

The light dinged at 16 and the doors opened. Buffy turned to meet Spike’s gaze and they stepped out into the hallway, never breaking eye contact. They stood outside the elevator, frozen for several long moments as they looked at each other. Finally remembering herself, Buffy jolted back into motion and started walking towards her room at the end of the hall, Spike following close behind. She paused at the door and started digging into her pocket for the key, raising it to the electronic lock. Spike’s hand caressed her back and she fumbled her grip, dropping the card to the floor. She bent down the pick it up, her hand unsteady as she tried to insert the key into the slot. Cursing, she tried again when the lock didn’t light up.

“Any time now, love,” Spike rumbled from behind her.

Buffy scowled at him over her shoulder, turning to make another attempt at unlocking the door. The lock lit up and Buffy turned to grin triumphantly at Spike, only to find him already in motion. He picked her up and spun them both across the threshold, shouldering the door closed. Never one to be left behind, Buffy took advantage of her new position and angled herself down to meet his mouth in the darkness of the room. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her thighs gripped his hips as Spike slowly worked his way towards the bed, turning at the foot of the bed to fall back on the mattress.

“Oomph,” Buffy grunted and sat up to smile, resting her hands on his shoulders as she looked down at Spike’s returning grin.

His smile melting away, his eyes locked with hers in the faint moonlight shining in from the window. Buffy’s hands relaxed their grip to splay wide on his shoulders and slide down to his chest in a massaging pressure while Spike’s hands simultaneously gripped the hem of her shirt and started pulling upward. Buffy’s hands fell on top of his, helping him pull her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor behind her without a glance. She shook her head, letting her blond hair fall forward over her shoulders while she grinned down at him.

“Your turn,” she murmured throatily as she reached for the bottom of his shirt.

Spike stilled her hands, pressing them against his sides. He traced his right index finger from her belly button to the middle of her chest, his eyes following the motion until he stopped to lay his hand flat right above Buffy’s left breast. His eyes unfocused as he listened to her heart and felt the vibrations of its beat beneath his palm.

Buffy looked at him in confusion before covering his hand with her own. “What?” she asked softly.

“Just makin’ sure.” His eyes raised to look into hers. “You’re really here.”

She smiled. “I’m here.” Slowly leaning down without dislodging their hands, she kissed him. “I’m really, really here."

Spike watched Buffy sleep, his palm cupping her naked shoulder before stroking down her arm with a featherlight touch. He traced the curved line of her spine as she lay sprawled next to him on the bed, her back curled into his chest. His hand would pause when she’d murmur faintly in response to his touch and he’d smile when he recognized her satisfied tone.

She’d fallen into a deep sleep, exhausted after hours of them connecting. No other word for it. They’d fucked each other blind plenty of times before tonight. They’d chastely lain down together speaking volumes without words. They’d never done both at the same time. He hadn’t known they could. Hadn’t known anyone could.


Vampires could go a long time without sleep and still function. It just took the right kind of incentive to keep one awake during the daylight hours. And incentive for the past dozen hours or so was most definitely not in short supply. Even after Buffy had fallen asleep, Spike couldn’t stand the thought of succumbing to his fatigue and somehow missing this. Not appreciating the feeling, the fullness inside.


Buffy sighed and turned back towards Spike, bumping her head into his chin before nuzzling into his shoulder. Spike laid his left hand on her hip, stroking upwards till he reached the silky skin of her neck and behind her ear. Tracing forwards with his index finger, he ran his finger across her cheekbone and down to her lips, lightly touching the planes of her face as if he was blind and attempting to memorize her.


He noted the softness of her cheeks and the even finer softness of the skin beneath her eyes, gentling his touch as he traced the silken skin on the tops of her eyelids. He pushed a fallen lock of blonde hair away from her face and held it between his fingers, weighing its texture and length as he eyed the shiny blond color.


“You jealous?” Buffy murmured with her eyes closed.


“Hmm?” Spike grunted before looking down at Buffy’s smiling face. “What’s that, pet?”


“You jealous I’ve got a better dye job?” Buffy opened her eyes to grin at him, reaching up to play with his mussed bedhead curls. “I could give you the name of my stylist.” She giggled. “We could go in together. Be annoyingly cute and couple-y.” She reached for his hand, turning to lie on her back and hold it close to her face as she examined his bare fingernails. “We could even get your nails done. Black.” She nipped playfully at his fingers, looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.


Spike grinned. “Think I’ll pass on the day at the spa. Now if you wanted me to help you go lingerie shopping, I’d be all for getting annoyingly couple-y in public. Probably shock a few prudes but they just might learn a thing or two.” He pulled back his hand to rest over his heart. “I’m all about the greater good now or haven’t you heard?”


“I think I remember hearing that somewhere.” Buffy’s smile faded into a happy sigh as she closed her eyes again. “This is nice. I don’t wanna move. Can we just stay here, not moving, just like this…”


“No reason not to, love.” A knock sounded on the door. “Hold that thought.” Spike sat up and reached down for his pair of jeans at the foot of the bed.


Buffy touched his shoulder. “Wait, let me jump in the shower first.” She tossed the covers back and walked nude to the adjoining bathroom, winking over her shoulder at Spike as he stared. Another knock on the door had Buffy peeking her head out of the bathroom with her eyebrows raised. “You gonna get that?”


Spike shook himself, standing and pulling his jeans up without buttoning them. “Yeah, got it.” The sound of water falling prompted Spike to hurry towards the door with an annoyed scowl on his face.


His face fell into one of surprise as he found Connor waiting for him in the hallway. He looked at Connor suspiciously. “How’d you find us?” He leaned in slightly to stare at Connor more closely. “You tracked us here from the hotel? Knew you were good at it, but that’s a tad freaky. We drove over here, took the interstate. Even bloodhounds can’t follow a scent once it gets a fast ride.”


Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, raising his eyebrow. “It’s called a phone. Found out what hotel your friend was staying at. Say it with me now – technology is your friend.”


Spike crossed his arms over his chest. “Right, so why are you here? Notice how I keep having to ask you that. It’s ‘cause you keep showing up when I’m otherwise involved. Got things I’d rather be doing to a girl I’d rather be doing. Catch my drift?”


Connor grimaced. “Unfortunately, I can smell your drift, too. I’m not here to interrupt your…whatever. Not my business. Dad sent me.”


“Oh ho! So Angel sent the heir apparent to break up the party. Well you can toddle on home and tell the broodmaster to sod off.”


“Hey, I’m not here for the whole jealous, competitive vampire show. This is business. Dad needs you and Buffy. Some kind of new development with the demonic cults Nina and Kate were looking into.”


“What’s that got to do with Buffy?”


Connor shook his head. “Dunno. Dad called and told me to come get you guys on the way back to the hotel. I missed the action, too. Still playing catch-up here but the faster you get dressed –” Connor looked pointedly at Spike’s bare chest “ – the faster I get to have fun making evil things go crunch.” Connor glanced down at his wristwatch. “You coming?”


Spike shrugged, turning to face the bathroom door with an amused smirk. He raised his voice to ask: “Honey, wanna go kill things?”


“Sure! I just need to get dressed and do my hair.” The cheerfulness in Buffy’s voice carried over the sound of the water falling in the shower.


Spike squinted, reassessing his plans as he looked back at Connor. “Maybe you should meet us there. Don’t imagine she’s gonna be ready anytime soon. The hair alone…”


Connor raised both eyebrows, backing away. “Yeah, meet you there.” Connor turned to leave and paused, looking back at Spike over his shoulder. “You might wanna…” He nodded his head towards the shower.


“What?”


Connor tapped his nose.


Spike chuckled evilly. “Ha, talk about rubbing Daddy Dearest’s face in it. Serve him right. Not like he didn’t do that to me a million times – er, I mean your dad’s a real stand-up guy, Junior. Got a lot of great qualities like…like…” Spike’s tongue flapped in his mouth as he searched for words. “…excellent penmanship. And a not completely hopeless taste in literature. Not a bad hand at drawing though he certainly is pompous about it.” Spike raised his hands placatingly. “Not that he’s pompous all the time. Only most of the time. There’s some quality non-pomp somewhere in there. Never been around to see it myself, but so I’ve heard.”


Connor smiled mockingly. “Thanks. I get it. Dad is good, therefore I’m good. My self-esteem is now secure.” He started walking down the hall, looking over his shoulder to retort, “And seriously. Take a shower.” He shook his head, mumbling to himself, “Stupid enhanced sense of smell – worst superpower ever.”


Spike watched Connor disappear around the corner before closing the door and turning towards the bathroom, listening to the noises from the shower. He shrugged, shucking off his pants and reaching for the bathroom door. “Can’t blame me if we’re late now, can he? Just following his advice. One shower – coming up.”



******




Hyperion Hotel


Buffy jumped onto the landing of the hotel doorway and turned to grin at Spike. “Beat you!”


Spike reached past her to pull open the door and slide inside first. “Nope. Doesn’t count till you’re inside. Cheaters never prosper, Slayer.”


Buffy scoffed as she walked inside after him. “You should know, Mr. I-cheat-at-kitten-poker. And nobody said it was whoever got inside first. That’s winning by technicality or cheating or something.” She waved her finger at him. “You so did not win. I want a rematch.” She fisted her hands into her hips. “No, I demand a rematch. I have my Slayer honor to uphold. Plus I’m undefeated in the ‘me versus you’ category. It’d be like a sign of the apocalypse – you beating me. Can’t let it happen, Spike. It’s my job to save the world. Face it, you’re going down and there’s nothing you can do about it.”


“Never had a problem with you winning, love, and you know I don’t have a problem with going down.” He grinned. “But you lost. Gotta learn to accept it and move on.” Spike patted her on the shoulder.


Angel cleared his throat and the pair turned to notice the group of people dispersed throughout the lobby. He glowered. “You done?”


Buffy raised a hand to wave as she stepped down towards everyone. “Hey. So what’s the what?” She noticed a girl with brown hair tied to a chair next to the large red circular couch where a redheaded girl was lying unconscious on the cushions. “Okay, wild guess here, but looks like you didn’t call us over to lecture on the dangers of forgetting the safe word during bondage fun.”


The brown-haired girl moaned, her head lolling forward. A blonde woman with blue eyes and a no-nonsense attitude walked up and smacked her on the shoulder. “Wake up, sunshine. You’re going to answer my questions. Doesn’t matter how long it takes. You hear me?”


Buffy looked confusedly at Spike who was staring at the girl tied up in the chair. She turned towards Angel with eyebrows raised. “What’s going on? And who are all these people?”


Angel stared at Spike for a few moments before nodding towards the blond attempting to start an interrogation. “This is Kate. She’s an ex-cop and a friend.” His head jerked towards Connor who was sitting on the desk counter. “You’ve met Connor already. Sort of.” Angel gestured towards another blond woman who sat down on the couch and started sponging a wet towel on the unconscious girl’s forehead. “And this is Nina. As for the rest, we’re working on it.”


Buffy squinted. “Working on it?”


Nina looked up to answer. “Kate and I were following a lead. Some weird goings-on downtown. Rumors about a cult and something to do with vampires. We figured out there was a pattern to where the incidents were happening. Staked it out and –”


“Walked into a trap.” Kate interrupted. “Except the trap wasn’t set for us. It was for her.” She nodded at the unconscious redhead. She turned back to the brunette. “And this one is responsible for the set-up. She’s just not feeling very talkative right now.” Kate gripped the girl’s chin and lifted her head up. “You really don’t want to try my patience. Now I’ll ask one more time – what’s your name?”


The girl looked blearily up at Kate and sneered.


“Her name’s Christy.” Spike stepped forward to stand in front of the brunette who looked at him in surprise. “And last time I checked, the only sort of trouble she was looking for was a good time. Things change, huh pet?”


Christy blinked in surprise. “Spike? You know these people?” She started to fight her restraints. “Tell them to let me go. They’re crazy. They attacked me and tied me up for no reason.” She looked worriedly at the redhead lying on the couch who was moaning softly and starting to stir. “And keep that one away from me. She’s dangerous, Spike. She’s a killer.”


Buffy held her hands up in the air. “Okay – time out! The more people keep talking, the more confusing it gets in here.” She looked directly at Kate. “What’d you mean that you walked into a trap?”


Kate nodded at the redhead who Nina was helping to sit up. “I mean that Christy here pretended like she was being attacked by a gang of vampires in order to lure her – ” Kate pointed at the redhead – “into a fight to help save her. But Christy didn’t need saving. Apparently she’s best buddies with the vampires that were ‘attacking’ her. It was all a show so they could shoot half a dozen tranq darts into…”


“Rachel,” the redhead supplied in a rough voice. She looked around the room woozily. “Where am I?”


“It’s okay,” Nina reassured. “We’re friends.”


Rachel looked around the room, her shoulders stiffening as she glared at Spike and Angel. “Friends? I don’t make friends with vampires.” She reached behind her, looking for something in her back pocket only to start searching around the room with desperate eyes.


Connor hopped off the counter to stand slightly in front of Angel. “You don’t like vampires. I get that. But these two are okay. So stop looking for the stake you dropped and sit back. ‘Cause even if you tried, we’d take you down.”


Buffy looked at Rachel in sudden understanding. “You’re a Slayer.”


Angel nodded. “She’s a Slayer, Buffy. Who’s apparently the new hot commodity in the demon world. Whoever Christy’s been working with has been staging these traps all over the city. The vampires weren’t going for the kill and Christy wasn’t the only human helping them. Almost half a dozen men armed with tranq guns. Kate fired a few warning shots into the air while I grabbed Rachel. They ran. It’s probably the first time things didn’t go according to plan.”


“They all got away,” Kate added. “Except this one. I introduced her to my right hook. And if she doesn’t start talking about her friends, I think they might need to get reacquainted.” Kate flexed her fist.


“You don’t understand. That thing is a killer.” Christy spat in Rachel’s direction. “Spike, don’t turn your back on her. She’s an animal. She goes out at night hunting vampires. She’s a murderer. A monster.”


Buffy blinked. “Okay, I’m still not used to the whole part where the world acts insane-o.” Buffy walked over to Christy. “Vampires are bad. Evil. They kill people. Drink their blood. You get that that’s bad, right? The whole dying part?”


Christy shook her head, her eyes wild. “That’s just lies. Lies the Slayers have been spreading for generations. They’re misunderstood. Vampires have been persecuted and forced into hiding for so long. The Slayers are trying to kill off their entire race. If you actually knew what they were like –”


“Oh, I know what they’re like. I’ve watched vampires kill. Over and over again.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you? All vampires are into is the kill, the hunt. They want you dead and the sooner the better.”

“Right. That’s why you’re hanging out with Spike? Buffy, was it?” Christy laughed and looked at Spike. “This her? Your penpal?” She looked back at Buffy mockingly. “Yeah, I can see how all vampires are so bad. So what’s your plan? You gonna snuggle him to death?”


Buffy clenched her jaw. “Spike’s different. He has a soul. So does Angel. Every other vampire out there, better off dust. Slayers are the only ones protecting you. Slayers are good.”


“The only good Slayer is a dead Slayer,” Christy sneered.


Spike walked forward and swiftly untied Christy, waving away Buffy’s protest. Christy looked up at him gratefully before smirking at Buffy. She didn’t notice his hand swoop down to grab her by the neck and she gasped in surprise as he lifted her up and tossed her against the lobby’s counter. Tightening his stranglehold, he looked into Christy’s terrified eyes and bared his teeth. “You’re gonna talk, pet. Tell us everything you know about your friends. Who, what, where – everything.” His hand tightened on her neck reflexively as Christy tried to swallow. “Won’t stand for any lip. Say one word out of turn against Slayers, you’ll regret it. Understand?”


Christy nodded.


“Right then.” Spike stepped back, letting Christy fall down to the floor. "From the top.”


******

Buffy pulled a stake out of her back pocket, gripping it tightly as she looked at the front door of the abandoned building. The sign hanging above the door read “CARNAGE”, the letters drawn in a style that made the red script look like dripping blood. A condemned notice hung on the boarded up door of the main entrance.


She scowled. “Always with the condemned buildings. Vamps never wanna hang at the local Starbucks.”


Glancing behind her, she noted Angel and Kate bringing up the rear. Buffy, Connor and Spike had jumped out of the backseat of Angel’s moving car as soon as they’d driven by the address of the club Christy had revealed. Nina had offered to stay behind and keep an eye on their prisoner. No wait, not prisoner. Hostage. Er, not that either. Guest. Christy was their guest. Buffy didn’t keep humans hostage. She just sometimes babysat them against their will.


“So. What’s the plan?” Spike broke the silence.


Buffy eyes narrowed. “We go in. Covert. Do a little recon. See how – ”


Angel raised his hand, interrupting. “Hold on. Something we need to work out first.” Buffy looked at Angel with eyebrows raised. “Everyone follow my lead. Don’t just go running off like you three – ” he looked pointedly at Buffy, Spike and Connor “– did just a minute ago. We need to work together on this and no offense, Buffy, but you don’t know all the players here.”


Spike and Buffy rolled their eyes simultaneously at Angel while Connor turned his head away to smirk.


Buffy gestured placatingly at Angel. “Okay. You’re in charge. What do we do, oh great leader?”


Angel nodded. “We go in covertly. Do some recon and see how many we’re dealing with.”


Buffy smiled wryly. “Great plan.”


Spike snickered, making Angel glare at him before continuing. “Spike and I go in. Get a read on what we’re dealing with.”


“Okay, you had me up to the point where I’m not going in,” Buffy interjected. “There could be Slayers in there. I have to – ”


“What? Endanger them?” Angel interrupted. “Tip off the vampires that another Slayer’s inside? They’re hardwired to sense you. You wanna help those girls? You’ll wait out here for us till we know the score. This is a vampire cult we’re dealing with. Don’t you think the two vampires have a better chance of blending in?”


“Hate to admit it, but he’s got a point,” Spike added reluctantly.


Buffy raised her hands defensively. “Okay, we’ll do this your way.” For now, she added silently.


Angel and Spike glanced at each other briefly before walking around the corner of the club to look for another way in. Buffy sighed and turned to stare at Kate and Connor, twirling her stake between her fingers agitatedly.


“Cool trick,” Connor complimented as he watched the stake spinning in her grasp.


Buffy shrugged. “You do this as long as I have, you pick up a thing or two.”


Connor grinned. “I caught an axe being thrown right at me this one time.” He raised his hands to imitate grabbing the axe out of the air. “It was pretty cool.”


Buffy nodded with lips pursed, impressed.


“I once arrested a guy for urinating on a poodle. Aren’t battle stories fun?” Kate added sarcastically, arms crossed over her chest.


Buffy and Connor looked at each other, eyes wide with a trying-not-to-laugh expression on their faces like two kids caught passing notes during class by the teacher.


Kate shrugged. “I once shot a perp at over 100 yards away. The force tried to send me in for sharpshooter training, but I wanted to be a detective.” She scoffed. “And look how well that turned out.”


“You still make a difference. You know that. It’s not the same, but…” Connor’s voice trailed off uncertainly.


Kate nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah, I know. Taking it one day at a time, kid.”


Buffy exhaled loudly. “God, what is taking so long?” She crossed her arms and started drumming her fingers on her biceps before dropping her hands to her sides. “Screw this, I’m going in.”


She strode towards the corner only to stop short as Spike and Angel appeared. She smiled awkwardly. “Oh hey, I wasn’t…” She looked at Angel and Spike, wide-eyed. “So what’d you find out?”


Spike looked at her suspiciously before answering. “Right. Place is packed. Looks dead on the outside and even deader inside. The undead variety, that is. Counted at least fifty vamps, maybe more.”


“More than fifty. I counted sixty-seven on my first sweep,” Angel added grimly. “And that’s not including the dozens of humans.”


Buffy’s face fell at the news and she looked down at her stake in disappointment. “Stupid airline regulations not letting me bring my Scythe,” she grumbled.


“You mean that axe thingy you had back in Sunnydale?” Angel asked.


“It’s called a Scythe,” Buffy corrected knowingly.


Angel shook his head. “It’s an axe. Scythes have more a – ”

“S’not the point,” Spike said quickly. “We’re seriously outnumbered here and lacking a bluish Old One to even up the odds.”


“Huh?” Buffy looked confusedly at Spike.


Spike shook his head. “Also not the point.” He raised one finger to count off, “Outnumbered. Any ideas? C’mon people. Anyone?”


“We have to get them separated. We can’t go in and hurt innocent people.” Buffy hesitated. “Okay, not so innocent. More like misguided. But still, we go in full force and people get hurt. Maybe killed. And I don’t have a super-powerful witch here to heal them all.”


“Huh?” Kate and Connor added.


Angel spoke over them. “And if we go in with anything less than full force, we’re all dead.”


“Some of us already are. Wouldn’t change much,” Spike snarked.


Buffy shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t see how we even the odds. Maybe we wait til daytime and – ”


“So I get to be flambé’d to a dusty finish for the fight?” Spike shook his head as Angel nodded in agreement. “Keep thinkin’, love. ‘Cause I’m voting that not be Plan A.”


Buffy turned to scowl at Spike. “Well maybe if you’d offer some ideas here, we’d actually get somewhere. Maybe you – ”


“Should’ve called for back-up?” A deep voice broke them apart. Buffy whipped around to look in surprise at the tall black man grinning at them.


“Gunn,” Angel greeted him with a relieved smile. “How’d you know?”


“Got a call,” Gunn answered, looking at Kate who smiled in return. “Heard you might need some more fighters.” He nodded over his shoulder at the group of young men and women behind him. “Went back to the basics – old school crew. It’s right up their alley, though. Armed and ready to bring on the dust.”


Gunn nodded at everyone, pausing to look awkwardly at Connor before nodding a greeting. Connor nodded back, shrugging his shoulder slightly in response to Gunn’s questioning look.


“Came to the right place then, Charlie boy,” Spike grinned. “Got so many vamps cramped inside it’s practically a fire hazard.”


Angel looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to gaze at Gunn’s rigged up truck. “What are you packing? The usual?”


“All my favorites. Why?” Gunn asked only for his eyes to widen a second later. “Ooooh. Yeah, I got it. We looking to light up this joint?”


“Looks like. Get ready to use it,” Angel ordered. He turned to look at the door of the club. “We still need to separate them somehow…”


“I know how,” Buffy said quietly. She looked up at Angel and Spike, eyes hard. “Get everyone ready out here.” She turned to stare grimly at the boarded up door. “I’m gonna make them come running right to you.”


As she started to walk forward, Spike grabbed her by the shoulder and whipped her around to face him. “What? You think you’re going in alone? Scratch that plan, too. I’m not letting you go all kamikaze here.” He grabbed her by both shoulders, shaking her as he spoke. “Not gonna happen, you hear me?”


Everyone watched silently, their eyes going back and forth between Buffy and Spike.


“Spike,” she said quietly, reaching up to gently lift his hands off her shoulders. “Trust me. And be waiting out here for me.” Spike shook his head firmly, prompting Buffy to continue in earnest. “I’ve done this before. Well, not exactly. Kinda backwards actually. But I can do this.” She looked over her shoulder at the door and then turned back to Spike. “They want Slayers. So I’m the bait.”


She lowered her voice to a whisper, looking at him intensely. “I have to do this.”


She stepped away from Spike and looked at the others briefly. She gazed at Angel for a moment before glancing at Connor, Kate and Gunn. “Be ready.” She turned back to look at Spike. “Be right back, promise,” she reassured, smiling slightly.


She straightened her shoulders and slid her stake into her back pocket, walking proudly around the corner and out of sight. The alley on the side of the club was dirtier than she was used to and she stepped over broken bottles and trash before pausing to look up at a large, open window two stories above her. Okay, that’s how Angel and Spike snuck in. Too bad she didn’t have those nifty vampire jump-like-she’s-flying skills.


Looking further down the alley, she noticed a smaller vent window above a dumpster against the brick wall. Walking toward it, she tilted her head and hopped up onto the dumpster. Looking inside, she noticed an empty restroom with several vanity mirrors and the walls spray-painted black and covered in red graffiti. She lifted the window open and turned her head, gritting her teeth as she squeezed through the opening. After squeezing her head through, she slide easily down face first along the wall into a tuck and roll onto the floor.


Standing up, she brushed off her shirt and pants, looking back at the small window then down at her body. Measuring her hips with her hands and then raising them up to the window, she pursed her lips.


Okay, was there a size tinier than petite? she wondered. Shrugging, she turned to look at herself in the mirror just as two girls opened the bathroom door. Buffy froze. The girls stumbled forward, giggling drunkenly as they primped in front of the mirror, adjusting the cleavage showing in their tight halter tops.


The girl to Buffy’s right turned to look scornfully at Buffy’s jeans and conservative top. She leaned over, head tilted sympathetically. “You’re new, huh? Try something red or black next time. The vamps just love it. Especially red. It makes them get all hot.” She patted her neck, drawing Buffy’s attention to a bite mark.


Buffy smiled nervously. “Right, red. Gotcha.” Buffy raised her right hand to do a mini-cheer gesture. “Go vampires! They’re just the coolest.”


Both girls laughed, looking at Buffy oddly before stumbling out of the bathroom. The loud beat of music reverberated off the bathroom walls before the door swung shut. Buffy patted the stake in the back pocket of her jeans reassuringly before opening the bathroom door and looking out into the empty hallway.


She followed the beat of the music down the darkened hallway, glancing at the graffiti on the walls, reading random words and phrases like “Vampirez Rule” and “Blood is the life”. Her left eye started to twitch, her jaw clenching involuntarily. She stopped reading.


Reaching the dance floor, she blinked at the strobe lights crisscrossing over the crowd undulating to the heavy metal techno beat. She stumbled slightly as she walked forward, the lower reaches of her back burning. She’d never had an acute sense for when vampires were nearby, but when this many were surrounding her even she couldn’t remain oblivious. Her fists clenched involuntarily and she had to stop herself from reaching for her stake.


By appearance alone it looked like any other club scene. The men and women were drunkenly gyrating on each other, occasionally stopping to kiss and cop a feel. Except this crowd had added their own specialty to the clubbing menu. Every minute or so Buffy would spy a vampire in game face leaning in to bite their partner’s neck, drinking briefly before pulling away to resume dancing, leaving their ‘victims’ moaning in bliss. Buffy closed her eyes in disgust as her stomach turned.


She felt physically sick, overwhelmed and dizzy. A couple bumped into her, forcing her eyes open. She panted and shook her head, attempting to clear the fog. The music began to quietly wind down and she noticed a tall man dressed in a black showman’s jacket and heavy eyeliner stand up on the empty stage used for live band performances. He raised his right hand and the crowd quieted, turning to watch him. A microphone lowered from the ceiling and landed perfectly in his grasp. The man grinned, flashing a smile full of brilliant white teeth against his pale skin.


He was handsome. Buffy hated that she thought he was handsome. He had that pretty boy hair that was fluffed back into place with loads of gel, but still managed to look windblown. Not that the hair was why she hated him. Well, that was part of it. It was the look in his eyes as he gazed out on the crowd. He got off on this. The humans crawling in, desperate to be food and playthings. Willing meat for the beast.


The man pulled the microphone to his lips and rumbled seductively, verging on purring. “It’s about that time. I know you’ve all been waiting for it. Time for the blood. The blood…” He grinned, rubbing his chest suggestively as he leaned towards the crowd. “…of the Slayer!”


Buffy grimaced as the crowd began to scream and whistle catcalls. He sounded like Ryan Seacrest. A less ambiguously bisexual, vampiric Ryan Seacrest. He raised both hands, pointing towards the ceiling like he was taking a victory lap and the crowd pushed closer and closer towards the stage, leaving Buffy to stand alone on the far edges of the dance floor.


She looked behind her and noted the main hallway that led to the front of the building. She imagined Spike waiting for her on the other side of that boarded-up door. It’d be so easy to slowly back away from the crowd and join them there. A united front.


She looked around at the crowd, at the excited faces waiting for a Slayer – no, just a girl – to be brought on stage and drained. These people had chosen to be here. They’d chosen to be victims to soulless monsters. They’d chosen to watch a girl die. For fun. They wanted this. They got off on it just as much as the vampires did.


Watching them now as they begged to be bitten, as they fawned over the misshapen creatures that fed from them, she felt like she wasn’t surrounded by humanity anymore. She watched them offering their necks and then kissing the blood-covered mouths of the monsters that fed from them. Her stomach turned violently.


She was supposed to save this? This rabble? She backed away, stumbling until she hit a pillar behind her. She could hear the crowd chanting the name “Draco Draco Draco” and assumed that was the announcer on the stage. She closed her eyes, sliding down against the pillar till she hit the floor, bending to rest her forehead on her knees.


She was supposed to save them and all she wanted to do was scream at them that they were cruel idiots. These weren’t victims. They weren’t helpless, salt-of-the-earth people being attacked in a darkened alley. These people were screaming for a girl’s blood to be spilled.


She was the Slayer. She didn’t judge humanity, she saved it without question. But every time before, she’d always believed humanity was worth saving. Here, now, she couldn’t. She felt revolted. She squeezed her eyes shut. Bereft.

There was no humanity inside this club of death.


******


Thanks for everyone's feedback so far. More to come soon.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she looked up to find a girl with long brown hair and clear blue eyes looking at her with concern. Buffy blinked dazedly.


“Are you okay?” the girl asked. Buffy shook her head in response.


The girl pointed at Buffy to stay put and walked towards the bar, slipping behind it only to return a second later carrying a clear plastic cup. “Here – drink this,” she said, handing the cup to Buffy.


Buffy looked at the clear liquid skeptically. The girl smiled. “It’s only water. You looked like you were going to be sick.” The girl rubbed Buffy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You gotta stay hydrated when you go out to places like this.” She frowned when Buffy continued to hesitate. “Did somebody slip you something earlier? Is that why you’re not feeling okay?”


A chorus of shrieks made the girl turn towards the stage for a moment, only to look immediately back at Buffy, frowning. “Maybe you should go home. You don’t seem like you belong here, ya know?” The girl smiled reassuringly, rubbing Buffy’s shoulder and lifting the cup up to Buffy’s mouth. “Drink – it’ll make you feel better. Help settle your stomach.”


Buffy swallowed a few sips of water hesitantly then gulped down the rest. She sighed as she leaned her head up against the pillar behind her.


The girl smiled. “Feeling better?” She stood up and held out a hand to help Buffy stand, gripping firmly and pulling her upright. “You should go home. You don’t want to see what happens here.” The girl looked solemn for a moment before turning to walk back behind the bar, prompting Buffy to reach out to touch her shoulder.


Buffy swallowed tightly, shaking off her lightheadedness. “Thank you,” she uttered hoarsely.


“No problem.” The girl smiled before walking back towards the bar at the far wall.


Buffy watched the girl walk away, a vulnerable expression on her face. She turned towards the stage and straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin and walking determinedly back towards the edge of the shrieking crowd. Announcer guy was still drawing out the moment, talking about blood and rewards. Figures. Ryan Seacrest always did know how to bleed a moment dry for all it was worth before getting to the main event. She half expected him to say they’d be right back after this commercial by Ford.


“You know the drill, how we play the game. Only one gets to drink. Oh yeah, drink deep from this sacred chalice. It’s not a right.” Draco’s voice rumbled menacingly, lingering on each vowel sound and drawing it out like a Baptist preacher gone metal-punk. “Oh no, it’s a privilege. You’ve gotta earn it, kids. So who earned it tonight? Who’s the one –” a drumroll began to sound as Draco pointed his right index finger into the air “– who gets a taste of the finest blood this side of hell. Who’ll taste the blood…” Draco paused dramatically before swinging his arm down to point to his right offstage. “…of a Slayer!”


A teenage girl dressed in ragged clothes with long, knotted black hair was dragged on to the stage. She stumbled as the vampires pulled her forward, tripping over the heavy chains on her ankles as they grabbed her from under her chained arms. She closed her eyes against the blinding spotlight shining down on her, panting. Her head hung limply, swaying from side to side as they propped her up next to Draco.


A dozen vampires began to flank the stage in a perfectly coordinated oval like attendants at a wedding ceremony, six to Draco’s left and six to the chained Slayer’s right. Draco grinned and grabbed the Slayer by her left elbow, pulling her up against his side as he raised the microphone to his lips. “Who will it be? Who’ll get to taste – ” He chuckled evilly and leaned over to lick the Slayer’s bruised cheek. “– this prime, oh so fine morsel?” He rumbled a growl into the microphone and the crowd swayed in anticipation.


Buffy glared. She looked desperately behind her at the hallway leading to the front door and then back at the crowd of humans draped over vampires in gameface and finally at the dozen vampires on stage surrounding Draco and the Slayer. She had to end this. She dismissed the stake in her back pocket. It wasn’t going to be enough for this type of crowd control. She frantically searched around the room and glanced over at the girl standing alone behind the bar. Yes. There.


She strode quickly forward and leaped over the bar, grabbing bottles of liquor and lining them up on the counter.


“Hey!” the girl exclaimed, reaching to grab Buffy’s arm. “You can’t just…” Her voice trailed off as Buffy turned to glare at her.


Buffy continued to line up full bottles of vodka, gin and whiskey on the bartop. Without pausing, she spoke in a dark tone, “Get out of here. Get out now. You hear me? You don’t want to be here for this.”


The girl shook her head and backed away, running to the back area of the club reserved for employees. Buffy didn’t turn to watch, instead picking up a lighter and slipping it into her pocket before jumping onto the bar to face the stage twenty feet away. She took a deep breath and picked up a bottle from the dozens sitting at her feet, listening to Draco’s obnoxious growl as he waited to announce the winner.


Winner, she sneered. Win this, suckheads.


“…and the winner is…” Draco paused again to grin. “…the vicious, the insatiable, the unstoppable – argh!” Draco yelped as a bottle of vodka cracked him upside the head, shattering and splashing alcohol on the vampires standing next to him.


The Slayer standing next to him whimpered as the glass flew past her head to the floor, desperately pushing herself out of Draco’s grasp to land sprawled at the back of the stage. The vampires on stage turned to see where the bottle came from but failed to react before more bottles were hurled with perfect precision at each vampire from Buffy’s stance on the bar. The crowd watched in shock, unmoved by the spectacle of violence, conditioned to wait and observe.


Buffy stopped when she had only one bottle left, opening it to stuff a rag inside the bottle with the tail end hanging out. Glaring at the crowd, she reached behind her to pull out her stake, using the sharp edge to rip open her palm before holding it up towards the crowd. “You want blood. You’re so thirsty for it,” Buffy yelled furiously. “Come get mine. You want Slayer’s blood – come and get it right from the source. The Slayer.”


Draco growled as his eyes lit in recognition, the ridges on his forehead rippling as his face twisted into snarl. “Buffy Summers…I’m gonna kill you.”


“You first,” Buffy snapped, reaching down to grab the last bottle while she grabbed the lighter out of her pocket. Lighting the damp rag, she hurled it at Draco, her eyes glinting in satisfaction as it hit him in the chest, the flames from the rag spreading immediately across his entire body. Draco screamed, his body lighting up before combusting into a pile of dust. The dozen vampires on either side of him jumped back to avoid the fire.


The vampires on stage stared in shock at the pile of Draco’s dust, then snarled at Buffy but made no move to act uncertain without their charismatic leader issuing orders.


“Come on! You just gonna take that,” Buffy sneered, goading them to attack her. The vampires in the crowd looked at each other in confusion, hesitating. “You’re pathetic. Has it really gotten this easy for you? You forgot how to hunt? How to feed without it being handed to you?”


She slashed the stake into her palm again, grimacing as she whipped her hand in the direction of the crowd and let the blood splatter freely. The vampires growled as drops hit their faces, the powerful scent of Slayer’s blood stroking their hunger, while the humans shrieked in disgust and began to back away towards the stage. Buffy smiled grimly. So much for humans loving blood. Posers.


A bulky male vampire on the stage grabbed the fallen microphone resting on top of Draco’s ashes, picking it up to growl ,“Kill her,” before jumping down into the middle of the crowd and pushing his way towards the bar.


The vampires began to move forward en masse, leaving the humans behind in the wake of their blood lust. Buffy backed away down the bar in the direction of the entrance hallway, watching the vampires prowl forward, growling loudly through their fangs.


Buffy paused as she reached the end of the bar, flinching as something pinched her in the neck. She reached up and pulled out a dart, glancing across the room at a man in standard Goth gear holding a tranquilizer gun. She staggered slightly as the drugs entered her bloodstream, making her fight to keep her balance. Oh god, she thought dizzily. Time to move.


Shaking her head desperately, Buffy leapt off the bar and started running towards the entrance hallway, gasping as darts pierced her in the back. She brushed an arm behind her, attempting to pull out the darts within reach and felt the brush of cold hands wrenching the back of her shirt. Faster, faster, faster, she chanted.


Her heart raced as she forced her legs to fly across the floor, straining forward with each desperate stride. Cold hands grabbed at her shirt, her arms, her pants, ripping off pieces of fabric as she refused to let them slow her momentum. As she reached the darkened hallway, she staggered against the wall, bouncing off it as her knees shook from the drugs pumping through her system. The hallway floor tilted in front of her like a shifting tunnel at a carnival but she kept running, forcing one foot in front of the other.

So close, so close, keep running, almost…

She pushed forward with the last ounce of her Slayer strength as she barreled into the closed door, smashing through it to land on her knees. A burly vampire tackled her from behind, rolling her to the side and lifting her up by the neck as he slid his fangs into her shoulder. She gasped in pain only to scream as the vampire was wrenched away violently and leather clad arms picked her up roughly to carry her away from the doorway.


“Now! She’s clear!” Spike yelled, pushing her against the brick wall to the far left of the alleyway.


Buffy watched dazedly, her vision going in and out of focus, as Gunn lit up a flamethrower and doused the vampires that came running out of the club’s entrance.


“Oh, hell yeah!” Gunn grinned viciously as he brandished the flamethrower from side to side against the hordes of vamps that were bottlenecked between the narrow entrance door and the wall of fire that quickly turned into disintegrating bodies of dust. He stepped forward through the falling ashes and pressed down hard on the fuel, letting out great bursts of flames to reach the vamps that were attempting to retreat back inside the club.


The flamethrower began to wane in its intensity and eventually puttered out. Gunn watched the dozen or so remaining vampires running back inside the club as he lowered the torch.


Angel and Connor came up to stand beside him. “Time for us to do the clean-up,” Angel said grimly, looking briefly over at Buffy held in Spike’s arms.


Connor grinned, pulling out a stake and twirling it roughly. “Let’s finish this.”


Gunn set down the torch and jerked his head at his crew. “Move out! If it’s undead, stake it.” He glanced awkwardly at Angel. “Er, except Angel. Let’s go!”


Buffy watched over Spike’s shoulder, her entire body going numb as she succumbed to the drugs in her bloodstream. Spike held her cradled in his arms, half-kneeling as he leaned against the wall with her sitting on his bent legs. He applied pressure to her shoulder, alternating between growls as he pulled darts from her back and a comforting rumble when she shivered.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was weak. “Did it work?”


“Yeah, love,” Spike reassured her, voice tight. “It worked.”


She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder, sighing. “I feel dizzy.”


“S’okay, I’ve got you.” Spike’s voice cracked in mid-sentence.


Suddenly remembering, Buffy struggled to lift her head up. “The…the Slayer inside…she’s…”


“Angel’s taking care of it. Don’t worry. Shhh,” Spike crooned.


Buffy struggled to stand, trying to move her legs with no success. She clutched at Spike’s shoulders weakly, her hands starting to go numb. “I have to…have to make sure…”


“Hush now,” Spike said gently.


She allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder, looking up into his worried face. She smiled woozily, the drugs beginning to affect her mood as the rush of adrenaline left her body. “You…you take care of me,” she smiled loopily, her voice high and weak.


His mouth crooked momentarily before he flattened it into a severe frown. “I do. When you let me, pet.”


She closed her eyes, snuggling into the side of his neck. “This is nice.”


Spike scoffed, hugging her tightly to him. “Is it now?” he asked incredulously, unable to keep a faint smile off his face. “You plannin’ on passing out anytime soon, Slayer?”


“Uh huh…”


******



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