CHAPTER ONE

(Sometime in the Modern Day)

The young girl ran as fast as her legs could take her, away from the thing that stalked her. She could feel the air in her lungs running out, but she knew that if she stopped to catch her breath even for a moment, she would know instant death.

She could hear its feral roar growing more distant, but she didn’t dare look back. Sweat gathered on her forehead as she ran inside the Bronze. It wouldn’t follow her inside, she hoped.

The girl saw all of those her age, totally oblivious to the fact that there was a new fiend in town. She made her way through the crowds to the center of the dance floor. An attractive, brown haired boy stood there as if he were waiting for someone.

“Dance with me,” she told him, trying to keep desperation out of her voice.

The thin, sepia haired guy looked at her with big, brown eyes. Any other time, she thought she could go for him in a big way.

“I can’t,” the boy told her, then watched as her face, slightly paler than his, fell. “I mean, you’re candy and all, but if my girl ever saw me with another woman, it would be fist fights all around.”

“Just one dance,” the girl entreated, moving to the rhythm of the fast paced rock tune.

The boy dutifully danced with her, not wanting to hurt her feelings, telling himself he would explain to his girlfriend if she should see them somehow.

“So, you’re name is…?” she asked. She didn’t look at him, but was in fact looking over his shoulder to see that no one entered the club.

“Xander,” he responded.

The music ended, and he saw his girlfriend come in with some of her friends. He parted, gently pushing the girl away. He went over to his girlfriend, an attractive brunette whose hair fell in soft waves down her back. She was with a blonde girl who had a pretty, if somewhat vacuous, look about her.

“Cordy!” he greeted. “I missed you!” He went in for a hug, but Cordelia brushed him away.

“What gives?” he wanted to know.

“Xander,” Cordelia began. “I came here to break up with you.”

Xander could hardly believe his ears. Sure, she was the most popular girl on the campus they shared, and sure, she ran around with the it crowd even though they both came from the same, poor section of town, but he’d come to expect after their four weeks together that they had something. His face, which was never capable of holding back emotions, showed shock.

“What?” he finally said. Behind Cordelia, Harmony, the blonde friend, grinned triumphantly.

“If I continue to see you, my stock of friends will plummet,” Cordy was saying. “It’ll be badness all around.”

Xander just stared at her. “Okay, fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “You wanna break up, it’s totally cool with me. I’m with the outage.” He left Cordelia, who reached to answer her cell phone.

She went to the back of the Bronze, where fewer people gathered. “Hello?” she said into the phone.

“Hi, sis,” a younger voice--belonging to one Buffy Summers-- greeted.

“Oh, hi,” Cordy said in a flat voice. “Checking up on me?”

“Someone’s got to,” the voice said. “Someone’s gotta be responsible in this family.”

Cordelia stiffened, snapping, “I resent that! I just had to get out before Mom got back from the hospital,” she said. “It’s not like I was gonna stay here overnight. I was sick of waiting at home. Those hospital releases take hours!”

“Yeah, well, when Mom gets back, I’ll just tell her you were too bored to give her a proper homecoming,” her sister Buffy said with disgust.

“You are so evil!” Cordy pronounced.

She stopped when she saw a very attractive man enter the club. He was tall and had other heads looking appreciatively in his direction. She noted that he seemed to be searching for someone.

“Gotta go,” Cordy said, hanging up and making her way to Drop Dead Gorgeous Guy.

Before she could find out more about him, he spied the girl looking right at him and walked in her direction. She slipped out the back door, into the alley beyond.

As the man left, Cordy muttered to her friends, “Just my luck. Handsome’s got a girlfriend.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The girl ran again, hoping that maybe another building was open. She probably should have stayed inside the Bronze, but she knew that her hunter was more than capable of picking off people to get to her. She ran toward the police station.
Just three more blocks, she told herself.

She had almost reached her destination when she felt herself being violently jerked back and shoved against a brick wall. The girl looked into the eyes of death. They were glowing, golden orbs, and as frightened as she was, she couldn’t look away.

“Hi, darling,” the beast purred. “Did you miss me?”
She continued to fix his yellow eyes with her pretty blue ones. “Nothing to say?” he mocked. “Can’t have that, especially since I owe those flatfoots next door another body.”

The girl kept her eyes riveted to the one who held her in his monstrous grip. “Come on, baby,” he jeered, lowering his mouth to her neck. “I wanna hear your scream reach the heavens.”

The girl let loose an ear piercing scream as he buried himself in the velvety smoothness of her skin, drinking to his demon’s delight. When he heard the sounds of the police coming out, he withdrew into the shadows, perfectly blending undetectably with them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Minutes later, an officer muttered, “He’s getting bolder, dropping one right on our threshold.” He scanned the ground for any clues with his plastic gloved hand.

“She died within minutes,” another officer pronounced, adding, “although we need the Coroner here to verify that, Chief.”

The Police Chief, a blonde in her forties with short hair and a face that had seen more deaths than any of the people who surrounded her, knew that no Coroner could tell her what she didn’t already know.

"The Vampire Beast," as the press were nicknaming the perpetrator of these deaths, had stuck again, and minutes before. She felt a headache coming on.

“All right,” she commanded. “When the Coroner’s wagon gets here, be sure there are no other vans around. The press will have a field day with this when it breaks. No sense in letting this story erupt any sooner than it probably will.”

“That’s a wise idea,” a voice said, crossing over to join them. One of the officers jerked his head up from his dusting for prints, glaring at the owner of that voice, a sandy haired man dressed in Army fatigues.

“Hey, pal, move it,” the officer ordered. “This is official police business. No others allowed.”

The Chief’s eyes fixed her officer with a cold stare. “He’s with me,” she rebuked coldly. Not waiting for the officer to reply, she steered the Army guy over to the outside of the alley.

“Did your boys find anything?” she asked, desperate for information, but showing no signs of it. The Army man shook his head.

“Five bodies, five weeks, and not so much as a single fang to attach to it,” he mumbled bitterly.

“Keep digging,” she told him. “And keep this under wraps. We don’t want everyone knowing the secrets of this town, Riley.”

“Sure thing, Chief Walsh,” he said. “Now, I gotta go. Have to check something.”

Riley walked away from Chief Maggie Walsh to his jeep without waiting for her dismissal. The Chief went back to the business at hand as the Coroner’s van pulled up. She hoped that she would see this Beast face to face before another body was found so that she could personally bury him

CHAPTER TWO

Buffy Summers tossed and turned in her bed upstairs as she saw another death in her dreams. She didn't know if she could take much more of the images which had been plaguing her of late.

The nineteen year old girl saw the alley; heard the death screams of yet another victim. She felt as though the being doing the killing ravaged her neck, drinking her blood.

She didn't know why she dreamed about the killings or about the tall stranger who sometimes fought for her on her behalf. It wasn't as though she knew any of the principal characters. Buffy wondered why she never seemed to dream about her current boyfriend of one year, Riley Finn.

Riley had been teaching English History as a substitute whenever Mrs. Snodgrass couldn't. Although both had strongly ignored their attraction to one another, one thing led to another, as did one date, and then another.

Now, Riley was a permanent fixture in this, her Mother's and her sister Cordelia's and her home. The blonde haired, green eyed beauty wondered why she didn't react with more enthusiasm whenever he visited. It seemed to her that there was something missing, someone else out there for her.

It was times like this that she wished her dreams were real, particularly one of them concerning a peroxide blond haired, blue eyed man. His hair often stood up in spikes on top of his head, so she found herself nicknaming him "Spike" whenever she dreamed about him. Unlike Riley, who had a Midwestern voice, Spike had a Cockney British voice, which she decided was DEFINITELY more interesting.

As for his kisses, after he fought with her or saved her from the latest attack in her dreams, they drove her insane with wanting more. Her latest dream involved him driving off the beast when he went for her. She collapsed into Spike's arms, grateful and quivering somewhat at his nearness.

"You know I wouldn't let anythin' happen to you, right?" Dream Spike asked her.

She grabbed him and pulled him so tightly to her that she thought he'd break. "I know," she said. They kissed hungrily as he pulled her warm, moist lips into his.

"Your lips…" he breathed softly. "So warm…they taste like honey…"

"Honey! I'm home!" a voice bellowed downstairs, jerking Buffy out of her nap. She went to the wooden railing as she spotted Riley downstairs. Concealing her disappointment at not being able to keep Spike company in her dreams any longer, Buffy walked down the stairs.

Riley grabbed her, spinning her around so that her golden hair whipped around him. "Hey, Buff…did you miss me?" he asked, hugging her. Buffy's mind searched for a suitable reply before Riley spoke again.

"Um, I did, but…" she said lamely.

Riley let go of her, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that. You have other things on your mind. How is your mother anyway?"

"They're letting her out of the hospital today," Buffy responded, glad for the distraction from having to be in his arms. "I spoke to her before getting off work. She said the doctors said the surgery went really well, and there should be no more headaches."

"Work!" Riley shouted. "You work too hard! Why doesn't your older sister work?"

Buffy sighed. She'd heard Riley's protests before, and while she couldn't say that everything he said about Cordelia was wrong, the older woman was her sister, and Buffy would defend her.

"She's just not a worker bee like I am," Buffy said. Riley snorted.

"Why?" he challenged. "Because flipping burgers or handling dresses at the shop would damage her fingernails?" He held up Buffy's hands, which were a little calloused.

"She hasn't toiled a day in her life, and you have two jobs…TWO jOBS! It isn't right you had to drop out of college to work," he protested. Buffy angrily glared at him.

"And what would you have me do? Let us all starve?" she flung back. "You know my mother can't work since she went out on disability, and our insurance doesn't begin to cover the hospital and doctor bills!"

"That's what I'm here for!" Riley yelled. "Let me provide for you all, or at least let me contribute something!" Buffy brushed past him and went into the kitchen to check on the stew on top of the stove, along with a smaller pot of chicken broth for her mother.

"You wanna help out?" Buffy said in a low, yet still angry voice. "Then get the bread out of the refrigerator and start setting the table." Riley started to protest, but then dutifully did as he was told. Buffy stirred the stew and then the broth, wishing that her mother was there to keep the peace.

It seemed that whenever she was with Riley, she argued about everything. Her mother was the only glue that held their crumbling relationship together.

She hoped there wouldn't be a setback and that her mother would be with them later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joyce Summers packed her one suitcase and walked to the door of her soon-to-be-vacant hospital room. She would be so glad to get home, so happy to see her family again.

Oh, Buffy visited regularly with Riley, and Cordelia visited whenever she could, but visiting was not the same as being at home and seeing the three people Joyce loved more than anything together again. As she snapped the case closed and went to get her purse, Doctor Rupert Giles came into her room, his nurse Willow Rosenberg on his heels.

"Ahh, Ms. Summers," he said, smiling, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. He pushed them back in place. "I see you are totally getting into the swing of things again. Eager to be home again, are we?"

Joyce nodded. Although she liked Doctor Rupert Giles, and loved listening to his crisp, British accent even when he scolded her for not eating all of her food to keep her strength up, she wanted to see Buffy and Cordelia and Riley. The nurse handed him a chart with Joyce's vitals and also a discharge form to Joyce to sign.

The mother of two never realized how young Willow looked; yet, she handled her duties with the experience of decades. Willow's red hair gleamed a little as the moon made its appearance through the open blinds. Joyce fished through her bag, but couldn't find a pen. Willow handed her one as if on cue.

"Thanks," Joyce said, taking the pen from her and signing the documents.

"Here is your copy, Mrs. Summers," Nurse Willow told her.

"Thanks," Joyce said again, looking at Doctor Giles again. Giles slightly blushed under her scrutiny, but then was all business again.

"Did you wish to contact one of your relatives to come collect you?" Giles asked.

"No, I think I'll take my car," Joyce said. "I really don't want to bother Buffy. She's usually pretty tired when she comes home from work. And Cordelia's probably studying. Besides, it's a short distance, and there is a clear sky with a full moon out tonight. I'll be fine."

Giles handed her a list, saying, "Don't forget. I want to see you in two week's time, unless complications from the surgery arise." He handed her a slip of paper with his number on it.

Joyce looked into his eyes and teased, "Why, Doctor…are you in the habit of making house calls?"

Giles didn't miss a trick. "Yes, I sometimes have been known to rise to the occasion for my special patients," he said smoothly. Now it was Joyce's turn to blush, but she hid it a moment later.

"Your prescriptions are on that list, along with other vital things you should and should not do," he said.

"Got it," Joyce told them both. Willow handed Joyce a small first aid kit with bandages and local pain killers.

"I'm thrilled you do," Giles responded as Willow helped Joyce with her coat. "I wish others would be as eager to follow my instructions to the letter."

Joyce handed the pen back to the nurse, then walked out into the hallway. She fished through her purse for car keys and, finding them, headed to the elevator and the parking lot in the basement.

As she drove her Ford Focus up the ramp and into the night, Joyce couldn't help feeling the stirrings of destiny, as though this night was a prelude to a much larger role she would have a part in.

Joyce's car made her ascent out of the basement. When her car was totally gone, two figures emerged from the shadows. One of them growled to the other, his eyes blazing with anger. "You should have let me take her!" he snarled.

"You have no right to complain, my young charge!" the other voice, this one feminine, said, her yellow eyes also glowing. "You already had your meal tonight."

"A mere snack!" the man said derisively. "That girl I took wasn't enough to keep a hummingbird alive, let alone me!"

The smaller woman, a light blonde with an almost elfin face, reached up and caressed his cheek. "That woman's special," the blonde woman said. "My sister said she saw magic energies entwined with her. She could lead us to the Chosen One and your Greatest Enemy in one fell swoop. Can't jeopardize that, now can we?"

"You're right," the man finally agreed. "But when we do kill them both…"

"Then this town will be ours for the devouring!" she finished his thought. The two shared a brief kiss then returned home to consult with the woman's sister.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Joyce continued driving on through the fog that had suddenly sprung up. She tried staring ahead, but couldn't see anything but the faintest of images. She slowed her speed down lest she accidentally strike a fellow motorist. She activated the speaker in her car that was attached to her cell, but only received static.

"Dead zone," she murmured. "Buffy's going to be so worried." Her eyes darted back and forth, hoping to find someplace where maybe, just maybe, she could make a pay phone call. A sign reading "Williamstown" caught her eye. She had never heard of it, but then, this area of California was made up of several small towns not unlike her home Sunnydale.

She turned to the left and drove on for a little longer until she came to a dead end. "Great!" she cried, frustrated. Joyce was about to back up when the fuel indicator on her dashboard flashed, alerting her to its hovering-near-empty condition. She was about to get out and walk when she saw a large house in the distance. It didn't seem too far, and as she got out of her car with her purse, she reasoned that maybe she could ask the owner of the house if she could use his or her phone in exchange for some money.

As she walked closer to the house, which looked like something out of one of those horror pictures she and Buffy often laughed at, another pair watched the goings on with interest in the building Joyce had occupied just about an hour before.

"You sure that is the right house?" Giles asked Willow as she opened her eyes in the hospital room Joyce had been in. It took the redhead a moment to answer; she had been concentrating so intensely.

"I'm sure," she told him. "I timed the fog to come in just as she was starting to pass the exit for Williamstown. That's the only town in the area."

"Yes, and it's a good thing I also thought about negating the cell phone signal so that she would have to stop to use a land line phone," Giles added. "I certainly hope we aren't stretching our powers too much."

"You taught me, and we read the prophecies, right?" Willow asked. "She's supposed to be there at this time. We're just helping, right?" Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them, depositing them back on his face when he was finished.

"I certainly hope so," he said grimly. "Heaven help us all if we overlooked something at this critical juncture." Willow and Giles split up to engage in their duties, but their thoughts were still with Joyce.

XXXXXXXXXX

The one Willow and Giles focused their energies on was making her way through the soft grass. She noticed the fog had lifted significantly. Joyce could see the house and a garage beside it. The red brick house looked less Gothic upon closer inspection, but no more welcoming.

The garage had a motorcycle in it that seemed out of place in what was definitely an older house. In fact, the structure looked like something time had forgotten. The lawn was not mowed, nor did the front entrance have any flowers or even trimmed bushes. It was three stories high with an attic and save for the smoke that she'd noticed peeling out the chimney, there were no other signs of life inside.

Maybe the owner's out, she mentally reasoned. If that was the case, perhaps she could let herself in and make the phone call before she was even noticed. Joyce went around to the side of the house. She saw a window which had an opening large enough for her to crawl through and found herself in a living room which looked like something out of the Victorian era.

There was a round rug over wood floors which, while slightly neglected, still retained the elements of a bygone age. The walls were painted in grey and lacked the homey elements of pictures or posters. There was a small couch which had a throw on it. It was surrounded by four claw nightstands and, on the left table, a rotary phone rested. Joyce could hardly believe her luck. She went over to the phone and picked up the black receiver.

**Thank Heaven!** She thought as she made out a dial tone.

She started to dial her home phone number when the floor gave way. Joyce tumbled down until she ended up on a mattress in a cell with iron bars.

The mother of two was too dazed to scream. She recovered rapidly, feeling her head for any bumps or bruises. Thankfully, there were none. Joyce sat up on the mattress, looking through the bars to see where she'd fallen.

It looked like she had tumbled into a basement. She stood up, jiggling the bars to see if they were a strong set. Her disappointed face told her that they were and that she was locked in, tight. She looked around for any means to escape when she heard a growl.

The growl was followed by a tall figure with orange-yellow eyes in a sallow looking, bumpy face that was one of the most unattractive that she'd seen. Joyce could see that he sported almost inch long canines in a long face with angular cheekbones. His hair was whitish blond, and he wore contemporary clothes: a black t-shirt with black jeans and black boots.

He sported a leather jacket with a high collar which made him look even more fierce. He growled again, his face clearly showing his displeasure. Joyce felt her fear rising inside, but she banked it down, hoping that she could somehow reason with this monster.

"What do you want with me?" Joyce asked. "Did you trap me here? Who are you?"

The creature growled again before speaking in perfect Cockney English. "I'm the las' thing you'll ever see," it said.

CHAPTER THREE

Joyce's thoughts flew instantly to Buffy and Cordelia. How could she somehow escape to let them know she was okay? Even if she did escape and warn them, what could they do against this being?

The mother then thought about Riley, and his friends in the police department. If they could somehow find out about her and this beast, then they could do something. But the fact remained: she was in here, and he was out there, AND he looked awfully hungry.

Joyce swallowed, mustering as much courage as she could. "You don't want to eat me," she told it.

The vampire raised a brow, saying, "Yeh? An' why is that?"

"Because I'm older and tough, and I just got out of the hospital," she said. "I probably don't have enough blood to feed you."

The vampire considered that. Of course, he'd made up his mind about what he'd do to his prisoner when he was good and ready, but a little cowering on her part wouldn't hurt his ego any.

He stared at her as though she was a piece of steak he was considering purchasing from the butcher's window. Joyce didn't whimper or scream, but she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He pulled back from the bars.

**Damn, but she got a set of chops on her!**He thought.

Most people probably would have cried out, or fainted; very seldom, if ever, did they face their fate with quiet resolve. He smiled.

"You can open your peepers," he said. Joyce did so, not wanting to upset him any further. "You got a name?" he wanted to know.

"Joyce," Joyce said with as much force as she could muster.

"Well, Joycie," he said. "I took an early bite this evenin' so I'm not gonna feed on you. Wouldn't be sportin', now would it?"

Joyce was visibly relieved. She put her hand to her chest, sighing, "No, definitely not."

He chuckled and turned away, but said over his shoulder, "But I might change my mind tomorrow."

He heard a gulp from her as his footsteps echoed in the distance. Joyce sank down on what could be her permanent resting place as she considered her options.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley Wyndham-Price drove up the road that led to the biggest house in the small town of Williamstown that evening with his latest acquisition. He'd used some big bucks to purchase it, but he knew it was worth all the money in the world if it would help his friend Spike.

He was glad he had happened to see the address of the magic shop a few weeks earlier and had, upon scoping it out for himself, found one of the things (he hoped) that would cure Spike of his vampirism.

It was the least he could do in view of all that Spike had done for him over the years. He had saved Wesley from a gang shooting years before that had claimed the lives of his British parents before they'd even had time to get used to America.

It was Spike who had taken the mantle of older brother for Wesley; Spike who had eased his nightmares of his parents' shootings with either Spike's patented boring poems which could render anyone asleep within minutes, or with an all night marathon of a soap opera when the orderly wasn't working at hospital.

In return, Wesley made trips to the blood bank when the doctors and nurses weren't paying attention, which was pretty often. He also fended off the curious when those few souls dared to venture to the house, saying that it had been left to him by his family in England, and that he preferred his solitude (which of course he did).

At university, Wesley majored in Library Science, which also provided him with books aplenty to read up on his first loves, demonology and vampirism.

It was his unfailing devotion to those sciences which enabled him to finally find a cure for Spike's seemingly incurable condition. His elation was palpable as he sang off key to an eighties tune, thumping the dashboard in rhythm to the music, glad that his nine year period of watching his friend suffer was going to be at an end soon.

The 22-year-old orderly parked his car a short distance from the house like he always did, lest anyone should follow him and discover Spike. Wesley knew secrecy was key, especially now, with all of the hoopla about the "Vampire Beast" near their town.

The people in Sunnydale, which was the next province over, would never understand a vampire who had not taken human blood in over 90 years except in self defense, or for that already in the blood bank . He knew that they would stake first then ask questions later.

Wesley let himself into the house and was struck by cooking smells coming from the kitchen. He walked inside and saw Spike cooking some soup on the stove.

"What are you doing?" Wesley asked.

"Bowling," Spike answered in his usual sarcastic way. Wesley waited patiently for more information.

"What's it look like I'm doin', boy genius?" Spike asked. "'M cooking soup."

Wesley sniffed the variety; it was homemade Chicken soup. "Yes, I know that," he said in his usual, upper crust British tone. "What I am wondering is WHY you're doing it."

Spike continued stirring as he said, "We have a guest."

Wesley's eyes widened and his face took on a worried frown. "Are you certain that's wise?" he asked.

Spike stopped stirring to look at his friend and honorary brother. He spotted the usual brown sack of blood and something else in Wesley's hand: the "Sunnydale Gazette".

Spike grabbed the paper and saw the midnight edition headline "Vampire Beast Claims Fifth Victim". He went back to stirring, not revealing how worried he was becoming.

"Well, 's not like anyone knows I'm living here, right?" he asked Wesley.

"But this article indicates the beast drained his latest victim at the police station, which is one block closer to the road leading out of town. Suppose they don't find him? Suppose he brings his fetish to our doorstep?" the young man queried.

Spike looked at Wesley, his glowing orange yellow eyes and bumpy face taking on a determined expression. "Then we fight," he said.

Wesley didn't comment further; he knew he was going to put in extra hours at the library tomorrow to find out all he could about the mysterious beast to see if the monster could be eradicated before ever venturing out of Sunnydale.

"Who's our guest?" Wesley asked conversationally.

"Her name's Joyce," Spike said. "Has nerves of steel." He put some soup into a bowl after turning off the stove and included some crackers with it on a tray. "Take this to her. She's downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Wesley echoed. "In the penitentiary? Don't you think that is a bit barbaric, keeping a woman in there?"

Spike growled. "Keepin' her there is the only thing which will also keep her from runnin' off to tell people about this house," he snarled.

"Don't you take that feral tone with me!" Wesley snapped back.

Spike put the pot in the refrigerator before grabbing the sack from the young man's hand and tearing into the bag of blood. Wesley blanched at Spike's behavior. True, the vampire wasn't known for manners or gentility, but it seemed to the Library Science major that the older being was becoming increasingly monstrous in his tone and less human.

Time was running out for Spike to be cured. The other object, a blue white star shaped object, fell to the ground. Wesley picked it up and dusted it off.

"What's that thing?" Spike asked.

He studied the star in his friend's hand. Plucking it from Wesley, Spike grimaced, commenting, "So, we're gettin' into the fantasy realm, eh?"

Wesley grabbed the object back. "The Star of Samara is a documented talisman which is capable of curing vampires of their afflictions! I've done my homework!" he defended. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Well, you need to go back to school, nancy boy," he told his friend. "I know about that li'l gem. I also know that it's part of a binary spell, or din't you know? It can only cure me if it's wielded by the one I love, and the one who pledges her love to me in return."

"And?" Wesley challenged.

"Jus' where are we going to get the bird?" Spike spat. Wesley thought about the female prisoner in the basement.

"Maybe she's already here," he responded. He took the bowl and put a spoon on the tray with some napkins before opening the door to the basement.

"No' even close, Sherlock," Spike said. "She's too old for me; not ninety or anything, but still a bit long in the tooth to be my eternal mate." Wesley considered for a moment.

"Maybe she can lead us to her," he said, brightening. Spike gave him a long look, his orange yellow eyes not showing any emotion.

"Yeah, you keep believin' that," the vampire said. "I'm gonna go watch the telly and see if Pat and Vanna are on."

Spike withdrew from his friend, who was now more determined to see if the woman downstairs was in fulfillment of some prophecy. If she was, then Spike had been right: they should keep her for observation to see if she would lead the vampire to his salvation.

CHAPTER FOUR

XXXXXXXX

Joyce tossed and turned on her mattress, not able to relax at all. She still couldn't come up with a viable solution to her problem. She thought she would go insane with worry if she had to remain where she was much longer. Of course, she thought, maybe I'm crazy now.

The almost middle aged woman had heard about revenants, and she'd seen the Lugosi, Langella, and other films chronicling their blood sucking existence.

But she had always laughed them off as so much fiction, stuff that was designed to prey on the minds of impressionable teens and fantasy writers. Joyce had even thought that the newspaper articles about the Vampire Beast were just things the media did to sell more copies.

She would have laughed at the articles totally if it weren't for her daughter's dreams. Buffy had told Joyce about her first one at age seventeen. Joyce remembered about when her youngest girl had awakened, screaming, from a nightmare.

"Mom!" Buffy had called out. Joyce rushed into Buffy's room in an instant, and she'd found her, curled up in a ball, holding Mr. Gordo, her stuffed pig, tightly.

She went to her youngest daughter, hugging her and whispering, "I'm here, sweetheart. What is it? Bad dream?"

Buffy whispered, "I dreamed about a vampire. H-he was tall, had long fangs, and he was attacking someone in San Francisco, I think."

Joyce had rubbed Buffy's back as the girl continued. "What is it, Mom?" she shrieked. "What does it mean?" Outside, the sounds of Cordelia's snoring across the hall could be heard. Joyce almost cracked a smile. Cordy could sleep through a nuclear disaster without waking up.

Joyce rocked Buffy back and forth, saying, "It's okay, honey. It's just a bad dream. That's all."

"But Mom," Buffy had protested, "It seemed so real."

"I know, sweetie," Joyce soothed. "But you know as well as I do that vampires are the stuff of fantasies. They don't really exist, unlike your father. Be thankful you didn't dream about him."

Buffy laughed, and after that, relaxed. "All better now, huh, sweetheart?" Joyce had asked. Buffy nodded, settling back down on her pillow. "Good night, and don't let the bed bugs bite," Joyce told her, walking out and leaving her daughter sleeping peacefully.

Joyce's mind returned to her surroundings. The appearance of a vampire cemented what she had suspected all along: that vampires were real, and that her daughter for whatever reason was somehow connected with them.

She looked around for a weapon and saw a small sliver of glass on the floor. It was sharp enough to use against its neck, or something. If she could threaten it enough to make an impression, maybe it would let her go. Then, she would get home and tell Riley about it, and he and his friends would take things from there.

The door opened. It was time. "Hello?" a cultured, young British voice called.

The sound of the voice was followed by a young, fairly attractive, twenty something man with dark hair and intense blue eyes. He had a little stubble on his heart shaped face, and he wore a cotton jacket, blue jeans, and a royal blue polo shirt.

"Ah, Joyce, is it? Spike told me you were, ahem, staying here," Wesley said, opening a very small section of the bars at her feet, not enough for anyone to pass through; just enough to slide a tray of food to someone.

**Spike,** Joyce thought, turning the vampire's name around in her mind.

That seemed to fit him, she'd decided. His fangs certainly were sharp like spikes. He had probably impaled many girls with those teeth.

Wesley had pulled a chair in the corner of the basement closer to the bars, but not close enough for her to use her weapon on him.

She turned pleading, blue eyes on him, saying, "You have to help me! There is a monster here, and I need to escape."

Wesley shook his head, saying, "Sorry, I can't do that." He gestured to the soup, saying, "Please, eat something. You must be starving. My name's Wesley, by the way, and I will get you more food, if you like, once you finish your soup."

Joyce smelled it, and although her mind was telling her not to eat, her growling stomach had other ideas. She took a small amount in the spoon Wesley had provided and took a gingerly taste. When she didn't feel faint or anything, she swallowed one bite, then took a second.

"It's really good," she told him honestly. "Did you make it?"

"Goodness, no!" Wesley exclaimed. "I can cook some things, but I primarily eat out most of the time." Joyce dropped the spoon as she guessed what must have made the soup.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she said lamely. Wesley regarded her bowl.

"But you've hardly eaten anything," he stated. Joyce looked at him.

"HE cooked this, didn't he?" she accused. Wesley guessed then what she must be thinking, and he wanted to assure her.

"He did, but he means you no harm," he said.

Joyce gave him a scathing look. "If he means me no harm, then why am I being held here against my will?" she ground out.

"That's…something I'm here to discuss with you," he said. He studied her, trying to see if he could judge her motives with his eyes.

"What did you want?" she asked.

Wesley thought about how he should phrase his next words. He didn't want to frighten Joyce, but neither did he want her to be so complacent that she would not realize the seriousness of the situation at hand.

"I wanted to swear you to secrecy," he said. "If word about Spike gets out, the authorities will destroy him. That, I will not permit."

"But if he attacked those victims…" Joyce protested.

"He didn't," Wesley said with conviction.

"But…" Joyce tried once more, wavering.

"He DIDN'T!" Wesley shouted with even more confidence.

He pressed his point further home, saying, "Think about it, Joyce. He didn't kill you tonight when he had the chance. I've been here a long time, and he didn't kill me. If he wanted to attack us just to feed, don't you think he would have done that way before now?"

Joyce considered Wesley's words. Maybe he was right. Maybe Spike was not the fiend she had taken him for. Then again, maybe he had another agenda; one involving torture before feeding.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked warily. Wesley sighed.

"You don't actually. I have no way of proving my veracity," he replied honestly. "You just have to trust me, and him." Joyce adamantly shook her head.

"I wish I could believe you," she said. "But I know all about vampires. I know they aren't trustworthy."

"You know only what movies and books tell you," the young college student told her. "All of that, or at least most of it, is pure rubbish, particularly where good vampires are concerned!"

Joyce looked at Wesley for a long time. He didn't seem to be crazy, but GOOD vampires? She could hardly believe that! Still, like her favorite childhood heroine, Alice in Wonderland, she tried to believe at least three impossible things before breakfast, or at least before dinnertime. She decided to examine exactly who, or what, she was dealing with.

"What's in this for you, Wesley?" Joyce wondered as she ate some more soup. "Is he paying you to keep his secret?"

Wesley blanched; then, his expression turned to one of icy fury. "Money?" he spat. "You think I would do this for money?"

Joyce felt instantly guilty about what she'd just said. She didn't even know the man, yet she implied that he was mercenary. But she knew she couldn't take her words back.

"If I had wanted money," Wesley said with disgust, "I would have told the media and the paparazzi about Spike years ago."

He got up from the chair and walked over to a wall made from solid rock. The only opening in it was a window which was high off the ground, and was covered with bars. He looked up at the moonlight illuminated on the floor, then turned back to Joyce.

"When I was thirteen, my parents and I came to America in search of a better life. My father wasn't doing very well in his native country, you see, so he and my mother decided to move to California so that Father could get a higher paying job," Wesley told her. "He managed to get a nice flat in China, CA, a small town not fifteen miles from here, and for the first year, everything was bliss."

Joyce listened with rapt attention. Wesley shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. "Then, on the eve of my fourteenth birthday, everything changed. Father and Mother decided to take me out to dinner and the movies, but since the town we lived in didn't have a movie theatre, they decided to go to a slightly larger town, Sunnydale," he said. Wesley sat in the chair once more.

"We had just come out and we started to walk back to the car when a gang of thugs sprang up out of nowhere," he said. "My father didn't want any trouble. He gave them his wallet, like they had ordered. But they were out for blood. They shot my father in the back, and then, when my mother tried to grab me and make a run for it, they killed her, too.

"They would have shot me, except that before any of them could make a move, one of them was thrown against the pavement. I made out a man who seemed to move at incredible speed jumping on top of him. He lowered his face to the gang leader's neck and drank his blood. Before the others could react, the man had grabbed the second gang member and flung him on the roof of a nearby car. The last two marauders ran, but the man chased after them. I followed discretely, hiding behind a dumpster when he attacked one before the gang member could reach their hideout."

Joyce chewed on a cracker as Wesley went on. "The last one was also bitten violently, and as the man who had saved my life looked up, I saw a pair of glowing, orange yellow eyes," he told her. "I followed the creature, but he didn't want me to hang around…"

"So Spike saved you from the gang?" Joyce inquired. At Wesley's nod, she asked, "And then you moved in with him?"

Wesley looked at her empty tray and opened the bars to remove it before continuing. "I had to run to keep up with him," he said. "Spike didn't want to have anything to do with me at first. He even tried to keep me down here when all else failed. But, over the last nine years, we have bonded. I have no siblings, nor any family. Spike is more than a friend to me. He is a brother. We share practically everything. He has helped me get through school, and I in turn was able to get blood for him from hospitals and butcher shops so that he wouldn't have to go through the sewers to get it. We look after each other."

Joyce couldn't help feeling that Wesley was a kindred soul in his own way. He looked after Spike and would go through fire to save him, just as she looked after Buffy and Cordelia and would give up her life for her daughters.

"I'll talk to him; see if I can convince him that you won't say anything about us" Wesley said, adding, "but I can't promise what he'll agree to."

"But what can I tell my family and friends?" Joyce asked.

"Tell them you lost your way, and it took awhile to get petrol and find your way back. They'll believe you," he answered.

Joyce mulled that over. It really was close to the truth, and she trusted Wesley. Before she could respond, she heard heavier footsteps coming downstairs.

"Save your breath, boy wonder," a familiar Cockney accented voice said. "Even if she agreed, the truth would get out somehow 'bout me." Spike came downstairs into her line of vision, his demonic visage looking more frightening than ever.

"Please, both of you, you have to let me go," Joyce begged, her hands gripping the bars of her cell. "I promise I won't tell! I give you my word!"

"Still no reason why we should, pet," Spike said. "I don't trust you."

"If I don't go back home, they'll search for me! They'll find me!" she shrieked, flinging herself against her bars in desperation. "Look, I couldn't tell anyone. Even with the media hype, who'd believe me?"

Spike snorted, saying, "Someone would believe you. Even if they din't at first, they'd follow an' find my li'l hideaway."

"No, no they wouldn't. My family is very secretive; they keep to themselves," Joyce said rapidly.

"You just said they'd find you," he reminded her. "They'd move heaven an' Earth to save you, wouldn't they?"

The vampire turned from her, considering. Wesley caught the gleam in Spike's eyes as he saw his friend formulating a plan. The younger man's eyes met the older being's in an attempt to warn Spike away from what could be a disaster. Spike gave no sign of wanting to listen, however.

"I'll make a bargain with you," the vampire told her. "I let you go, an' you don't tell anyone about us. In exchange, I'll let you go on with your life. It'll be like Carol-fucking-Brady. But if I so much see a want ad 'bout me in the papers, I'll find you and tear you all apart with my bear hands. Got that, Ms. Joyce?"

Wesley looked at the mother, silently begging her to take the deal. Joyce knew that that was the best she could expect from Spike.

She nodded, asking softly, "When can I leave?"

"Tonight," Spike answered. "That way, the story about you losin' your way'll stick."

Joyce thought a moment, then realized that she still had a problem. "But, my car is out of gas."

"I could drive you back," Wesley offered. Spike shook his head.

"'S risky enough with you making too many trips into town to university an' your job," Spike told him. "Don't want your license plate to be traced, an' whatnot."

"Then how will I get back?" Joyce asked. Spike pursed his full lips together, then grinned, showing Joyce his full set of fangs. She fought the urge to pee just then.

"In my garage, I have a motorcycle," he said.

"But I can't ride one," Joyce responded.

Spike held up his hand which, Joyce noted, had black fingernails.

"You'll be able to ride my cycle," he said dismissively.

"It's magic, you see," Wesley clarified. "You can ride it easily, even if you've never ridden one before, and it will take you wherever you want to go."

"All you have to do is tell it your address, an' it will drive itself until it reaches there. It'll also return back here instantly," Spike said.

Joyce looked at Wesley. "If he has a magic motorcycle, why do you have a car?" she asked, curious.

Wesley said reverently, "It's the only thing I have left of my parents. Besides, can you really see me on the back of a Cecily 923 motorcycle?"

Joyce looked at the yuppie looking Brit and smiled, shaking her head. "No, can't say that I can see you on one," she said. After a beat, she told both of them, "Okay. You've got a deal."

"I'll have your car brought back by morning," Wesley assured her. "You could tell them that it was found abandoned while you searched for a phone for a tow truck."

"Okay," Joyce agreed. Spike fixed her with a venomous stare before he took some keys out of his pocket and let her out.

"Remember, if I have any reason to take care o' you an' your family to save myself, I will," he reminded her. Joyce swallowed nervously, but nodded. She started walking to the stairs when his voice stopped her.

"You gotta picture?" he asked suddenly. She turned around as he continued. "I mean, if I'm not going to attack you, I want to have some idea of who I won't be going after."

Joyce dug around in her pocket for a photo and pulled out a small picture that had been taken last year at a carnival. It was a grainy picture, but it had her, Buffy and Cordelia smiling in the photo booth. Cordelia had a wide smile, as if she were posing at a modeling school.

Buffy looked shyer, but cracked a hesitant grin. Joyce beamed, proud to be photographed with her two fine daughters. She handed the picture to Wesley, who in turn gave it to Spike. Spike looked down at it, then froze as his eyes lit on Buffy.

He threw the picture down to the ground, growling as he bounded up the stairs, muttering, "No! It can't be!"

Joyce turned confused eyes on Wesley. "What is that all about?" she queried.

Wesley met her confused look with one of his own. "I have no idea," he finally told her. He went upstairs, Joyce following hot on his heels.

When they reached the living room, Spike was pacing. "Go home," he said. "I won't do anythin' to you or to them. But leave here immediately."

"Why the urgency?" Joyce asked.

Spike put the picture in his pocket just then, not waiting for Joyce to tell him he could have it. She decided not to antagonize him any further; she had several copies of the photo, after all.

"Just go," Spike said quietly, walking away from the pair of humans.

Joyce looked at Wesley again, but he shook his head, saying, "Sometimes, my friend perplexes even me. Best not to analyze it. You should leave before he changes his mind."

She needed no further urging. Joyce went to the garage she had seen and, spotting Spike's motorcycle, did as the vampire had told her.

"I want to go to 3110 Rodello Drive in Sunnydale," she commanded. The bike instantly came to life, and drove off with its lone passenger. Wesley, meanwhile, went outside and got into Joyce's car.

"Don't worry," he told his vampire friend. "I'll put enough petrol in her car, then take it to the edge of the road, far enough out of Williamstown. They'll find it, and assume she abandoned it to get enough gas to get to Sunnydale, or something." After he filled up Joyce's car, Wesley started up the engine, then paused.

"What was the photo business all about?" he asked Spike suddenly. Spike looked to the road, and when he answered Wesley, the young man had to strain to hear him.

"Dreams," Spike answered cryptically.

CHAPTER FIVE

XXXXXXXXX

Buffy paced in the tiny house she and her family lived in, hoping that some news would come about their mother. Cordelia had made it home safe and sound almost two hours before, and the younger sister was getting worried. Upon hearing that Joyce had not made it home, Cordy was losing it rapidly.

"Maybe the beast got her and she's being chewed on right now," Cordy said, checking her face in a compact she pulled out of her purse. Buffy rolled her eyes but didn't stop pacing.

"So not helping, sis!" She snapped. Cordy was oblivious to what her sister had said.

The senior college student peered at her face once more. Her hand flew to the lower portion of her face.

"Look at me! I'm so wiggin' I'm getting a zit!" Cordelia wailed. "Mom's got to come home soon!" She started whipping out her cell phone, saying, "Maybe we should call the police!"

Buffy stopped pacing and gave her older sister such a look that Cordy froze, the phone open but her hand not punching the key's to Joyce's cell phone.

"And what should we tell them?" Buffy almost shrieked. "That we think some monster's got her? Didn't you see the news? They just found another body! We have to wait for more information before we call them!"

Riley, who had arrived earlier, came out of the bathroom, his face registering that he had heard every word. "She's right," he said in Buffy's direction. "We can't involve the police, at least not yet. I'll see what I can find out."

Cordelia didn't say anything more, but checked her reflection. At least one good thing came out of this: she didn't see a pimple. Riley started to leave when the trio heard the land line phone ringing.

Buffy crossed over to it and picked it up, saying, "Maybe that's some news. Cross your fingers."

Cordelia crossed her perfectly manicured nails and hoped for some good news. Riley waited patiently to see what smoke came out of the chimney.

"Hello?" Buffy asked breathlessly.

In his car, Giles spoke into the phone, asking, "Oh, hello, Miss Summers. Are you okay?"

"Actually…" Buffy started saying, but then Giles interrupted.

"I just heard from your mother," he said. "She wanted me to contact you."

Buffy clapped her hand over the receiver, whispering to the others, "It's Doctor Giles. He says he just heard from her." She turned back to the phone on the table. Behind her, Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. Behind both girls, Riley frowned, waiting for more information.

"How is she?" Buffy asked.

"She's fine," Giles told her. "She wanted me to tell you that she will be there soon. She was confirming a prescription with me when her cell phone battery was running low. She asked me to call you." Buffy related the news to the pair.

"Thanks so much for the information," she said. Cordelia smiled. Riley still frowned, but tried mustering a small grin.

Giles said, "I'll call back in the morning, or you can ask her to contact me if she needs any more information on her prescriptions."

"We'll do that, thanks," Buffy told the doctor, hanging up.

Cordelia started going to the kitchen. "Well, that's great news, and I'm starving! Who's up for stew?" she called as she walked.

Buffy and Riley responded in the affirmative. Cordy checked on the stew in the pot, which was still warm. She also heated the broth for Joyce in the mircrowave. Buffy glanced at Riley and saw his less than pleased look.

"What's wrong?" she asked her boyfriend.

"Don't you think it's odd that your mother didn't call here first? She usually does before doing anything else." he voiced his doubt, adding, "And wouldn't she have confirmed her prescriptions BEFORE leaving the hospital?" Buffy considered that, but waved him off.

"You're not telling me you suspect Doctor Giles are you?" the nineteen-year-old said incredulously. "You're totally wiggin' when there's no reason to."

Riley could tell he had ventured onto dangerous ground. He smiled a self assured grin and pulled Buffy close. As he stroked her back, the girl found herself wishing all of a sudden that her dream boyfriend, Spike, were comforting her. When Riley let her go, however, all he saw was Buffy's relief.

"Of course not," he said. The army man didn't say anything more as Joyce suddenly unlocked her front door.

"Mom!" Buffy shouted, grabbing her. Cordy ran out of the kitchen and joined in, hugging her. "We were so worried. Giles called and said you'd be home, but…" Buffy said, trailing off.

Joyce's brows furrowed with some confusion. How did her doctor know when she would arrive? She thought she would ask him later after she had assured everyone that she was none the less for wear.

When the mother and daughters parted, Riley told Joyce, "I'm glad you're okay, Mrs. Summers."

"Thanks, Riley," she said. "Are you staying for a late supper?"

Riley shrugged, answering, "If you want me to, although I should probably check in at the base."

"Well, if you must…" Joyce said. "I think we'll be okay now."

Riley grabbed his army jacket from the front hall closet and opened the door, saying, "If you guys need anything, please call right away."

Joyce turned to her girls, who were going into the kitchen to check on dinner for their Mom. "We will," Joyce assured the man. They failed to see Riley putting his hand under the small table by the door before he left.

"Till next time, then," he said loud enough for all to hear. After he exited, Joyce collapsed into a chair. Buffy looked at her mother quizzically.

"Mom?" she asked. "What it it?"

Joyce warred with wanting to tell Buffy everything that had happened and wanting to protect her children. "Nothing," she finally said. "I'm just tired."

Cordy came in with a big bowl of broth. Although Joyce was not really hungry after having eaten soup in Spike's cellar, she managed to down half of the broth to appease her daughters.

"Thanks, 'Delia," Joyce said, using the pet name she called Cordy.

Cordelia smiled, sitting down at the dining room table and also eating a small bowl of the stew. Buffy helped herself to an equally small bowl, but she looked at Joyce as though she knew that her mother hadn't told them everything.

Buffy gave the woman she loved more than anything in the whole world a reassuring smile. Joyce relaxed a little, but knew that her youngest would not rest until she knew the truth. The mother resolved to tell Buffy some more when she felt comfortable. They settled down to eat and, as Buffy snagged the remote control that had been left on the table, watch a sitcom.

XXXXXX

In his car, Rupert Giles called Willow, who was still at hospital. "Willow?" he said into the receiver when he heard her familiar voice. "Don't talk, just listen. Can you get to my flat, pronto? I need you. It's urgent."

At the hospital, Willow said, "Sure. My shift's over anyway."

The redheaded young woman went to punch out as she saw her replacement. After donning her sweater and going into the ladies' room, she washed her hands, came out, and upon leaving the building, went to the parking lot.

Looking around to make sure no one had followed her, she whispered, "Spirits of the ages, beings who roam, take me to my teacher's home." She was instantly transported to Giles' apartment's parking lot as the middle aged British man pulled up beside where she was.

"All right," she said as he switched off his ignition and exited his Toyota. "What's this all about?"

"It seems that I might have miscalculated," Giles responded almost sheepishly.

Willow looked slightly curious, but otherwise was calm. "Well, what happened?" she asked.

"I should not have left that message about Joyce arriving home without any incident," the older man told his student. "That would raise too many eyebrows in our direction."

Willow took a small black book from her pocket, saying, "I wouldn't worry, Giles. I've been consulting the Book of Prophecy and marking down dates, and all the things going on lately point to something big."

Giles removed his glasses, saying, "Strange that there hasn't been any contact from any Covens or Councils of late."

Willow responded, "That's just it. Whatever evil energy is here in Sunnydale is keeping those who should know about what's going on in the dark, and I can't find out why!" Her frustration showed for a moment, but then she calmed down.

"The only thing I know is that the book mentions that there is a "Chosen One", whatever that means, and that, with her aides, she will face the forces of darkness on the Doorsteps of Hell and triumph," Willow said.

Giles mulled that over. He chewed on the end of his glasses, saying, "But it doesn't mention specifically who the One is?" Willow shook her head. She thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I just remembered something! I saw it in a book at the University of Sunnydale's library! It says something about the Dark Forces becoming such a big…thingy that the Powers of Good would create a Slayer and a Hunter to destroy the dark ones. Together, with their helpers, they will bring in an era of peace. It's supposed to happen in the Year of Chaos!"

"I'm thinking that it is this year, Giles responded.

He went to the library in his flat and selected a thick book, flipping through the pages. After a moment, he placed his glasses on and read.

"The text is in an obscure dialect, but it is unmistakable," Giles explained. "It seems that the when the world was first brought into existence, there was the unprecedented era of peace, or at least, there was a balance between the forces of good, and the forces of evil. But, like all things, this did not last. The negative forces conspired and spat up a terrible curse on all of mankind. That is when the first vampires appeared, along with their demon co-conspirators."

Willow pulled an apple out of her purse, munching on it as Giles continued. "Now, to combat the menace, there were the White Witches…our ancestors. They used their magic to keep the demons and other evil creatures at bay. Of course, the First Evil did not like their interference. It kept chipping away, as it were, until there weren't enough left to help mortals."

"So, to even things up again, the Powers of Good infused mortals they deemed worthy to fight the forces of Evil, right?" Willow guessed. Giles nodded.

"Yes, that is correct," he said. "And, as you said, the Chosen Mortals will have special beings like you and I to aid them in their quest to destroy the forces of Evil."

"So, we have to use a locator spell to find whoever they are…" Willow said. Giles looked determined as he finished Willow's thought.

"And soon," he said. "We have to find them before the Evil Powers do, or everyone will suffer untold horrors for all eternity!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

In a subterranean hideaway, near one of the two cemetaries in Sunnydale, a dark haired woman screamed. She grasped her long, dark tresses in abject terror and might have pulled her hair out had she not been grabbed from behind.

"What is it, Dru?" a tall, handsome, man with short dark hair asked.

Behind him, lounging on a settee, the blonde who had been in the parking lot at the hospital stroked an unconscious man beside her.

"She probably saw something stupid again," the petite fair haired woman said tiredly.

"C'mon, Darla," the man purred, looking at Dru. "She must have seen something significant to be carrying on like this." The dark haired female was grabbing a headless doll and rocking quickly back and forth.

"The wind howls," she said in a Cockney accented monotone. "The darkness speaks. My prince goes further away, closer to the light."

"Oh, please," Darla said. "Give me a break!" She turned annoyed eyes on Dru, saying, "You've been talking about 'your prince' ever since you turned William Pratt into one of us over a hundred years ago. He's gone, and I say, good riddance!"

Dru wailed, shaking her head. "No! He is embracing the light!" she cried, near to tears now. "He dances with the One Chosen to End it all! No time for tea! No time for crumpets! It all ends when my poor prince aligns with her."

At that, Darla bolted from her settee. The young man started to stir. Darla gestured, sending a black wave of magic to her captive to knock him out again. "You mean…the Slayer? She's here, now?" she said, blanching. Behind her, the tall, dark haired man laughed.

"Oh, come on, now!" he chided. "Who cares? We can take her, and anyone who is stupid enough to oppose us!"

Darla turned angry golden eyes on the younger man, her suddenly bumpy face showing her displeasure. "You don't get it, my dear Angelus!" she snapped. "By herself, she will be formidable according to recent prophecy. But if she somehow does what she is fated to do, and aligns herself with that idiot William…"

"All will be undone!" Dru cried. "All our efforts will come to naught!" She turned dark, huge, sad eyes in the man's direction. "An' our Dark Angel will not get to fly."

Angel was serious as he spoke his next words. "Then, we'll find them both and send them to their deaths before that happens," he said in a low voice consumed with fury. "Hell, I'm gonna enjoy this!"

"Destroy them, Brother!" Dru cried, clutching her doll. "Destroy them for me!"

Angel grunted his assent. He kissed Dru on the forehead and Darla on the lips in a silent promise. "Anything for my girls," he told the pair of evil vampires. His bumpy visage appeared as he turned yellow eyes on the man on Darla's small sofa. "But first…"

The evil male vampire grabbed the young man and buried his fangs into his neck. He drank with reckless abandon then tossed the carcass to the floor.

"Nothing like a snack to get me goin', eh, Dru?" he questioned, turning back into his handsome, twenty-something-looking young self.

"Except that young boy there was supposed to be my dinner," Darla protested. Angel snorted.

His superior hearing made out a rooster's announcement that morning was breaking soon. "Well, another morning's a comin'," he joked.

His dark eyes twinkled with the headiness of the hunt he anticipated. "We'll feast tonight like never before with the blood of a Slayer, oh, and any other human bodies we find, of course, like, say, her family and friends?" he said gleefully. Darla grinned an evil smile.

"I knew there was a good reason why I turned you both when I did," she said. "Makes up for your one failure, eh, Drusilla?" Darla asked Dru. Dru nodded, looking hopefully at Darla and Angel.

"When the Bad Ones die, may Prince William come back to play?" She asked.

Darla said, "Why not? The Slayer'sdeath to say nothing of his friends, will drive him insane, especially when he won't be able to undo your Curse, right, Dru?" She asked Drusilla.

The raven haired beauty became the vampire she adored becoming and hummed a wordless tune.

"My Prince will become my Night again, an' we'll all be together, oohhhh!" Drusilla sang, rolling her insane, yellow eyes.

Darla said, "Or he'll die horribly, and you'll get another! Either way, I'd call it a win-win situation." The trio smiled again as Darla began chanting.

"Evil Circle of Santannus," she commanded. "Reveal the Slayer!" The image of Buffy showed up just then for all to see.

Angel studied the blonde haired, green eyed beauty. "That little slip of a girl's gonna be our Chief Nemesis?" he asked disdainfully. His dark eyes memorized every curve; every gesture he saw. "Well, then, I'll pay little Miss Barbie Doll a visit. Once I'm done with her, the police will have body number Six, won't they?" The youngest member of their trio guffawed.

His eyes lighted his collection of weapons he prized above all else for just such an occasion. "I've yearned to break in my katana. Seems like slicing her entrails is just the way to do it."

Darla purred; Dru sang something akin to the song the humans chortled about happy days being here again. Angelus grabbed his sword and sliced through the image of Buffy as it faded slowly from view.

CHAPTER SIX

XXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley poured through some surprisingly smaller books the following day after his class at his favorite table in the Magic Shop. He researched and cross-referenced the texts therein, writing down anything that could point to who the mysterious "Chosen One" was.

The night before, after vigorous pressing on his part, Spike had finally told the college student about the dreams which had haunted the revenant night after night.

Spike didn't know who the girl in them was, but he had said to Wesley that the dreams were becoming more intense. When the photo the vampire had seen presented the image in glorious reality to him, Wesley knew he could not rest until he knew everything about the girl in the photograph.

As Spike tossed and turned in his sleep the following morning, Wesley took up the arduous task of finding out about her. It had taken several hours since his single morning class had concluded, but he had at least found a passage that hinted that the girl could possibly be the "Chosen One".

That was, unfortunately, all he found out after the tedious research he had engaged in this fine day. When he discarded a fourth book and tried to leaf through another, the woman at the cash register came closer to where he sat.

"Excuse me," she began. "You seem troubled about something. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Without waiting for Wesley to tell her what he needed, she slid a cup of Chamomile tea in his direction. The college man smelled the brew and glanced at the cup, but was otherwise occupied by his research.

The woman tried again. "You're awfully cute, and I was thinking that perhaps we could copulate later on," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. That got Wesley's attention.

He looked up into a pair of intense brown eyes set in an oval face. Her hair was dark and framed her shoulders. She wore a chocolate brown long sleeved sweater with a floral print skirt. The skirt, a lighter shade of brown, had white floral patterns.

Wesley gasped, not only at her comment, but at her beauty. "Excuse me," he said finally. "W-what did you say?"

"I said, I find you attractive in the extreme, and I was thinking that we could know each other in a sexual sense," she responded. Wesley swallowed as he imagined the image of the woman naked all of a sudden.

"I, um…I…uh, what did you say your name was?" he asked.

The woman smiled, holding out a hand. Wesley grabbed it and shook it, marveling at the strong grip her small fingers provided.

"I didn't, actually," she said, sliding down into a chair across from him at his round table. "My name's Anya."

"I'm Wesley…" he started saying.

"Wyndham-Price," Anya finished.

"Yes!" Wesley confirmed. "How did you know?" Anya pulled a white slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"Your receipt," she answered. "When you came in that other day and bought the Star of Samara, I kept the paper hoping you'd come back."

Wesley studied the merchant copy of his credit card receipt and then looked at her. "Are you always this attentive to your customers?" he asked.

"Only the ones I think are worth my attention," she replied airily. "It's not every day that a person comes in for a binary spell initiating talisman, and even fewer customers come in intending to cure a vampire."

Wesley suddenly grew distant. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied in an icy voice. Anya gave him a pointed stare, but then shrugged.

"You needn't worry that I'll say anything," she told him. "You paid good money for that talisman, yes? Since I love money, it would hardly do to piss you off so that you don't fill my register with cash. Besides, as we already established, I think you're cute, and I would love to know you personally. To do that, I have to gain your trust and seduce you, right?"

Wesley was inwardly flattered, but he figured he'd better nip this in the bud before the situation got any worse. He just wished a certain part of his lower anatomy would capitulate with his current reasoning.

"Ah, look, Anya," he said slowly, "I'm flattered, really flattered, but…"

"I could help you," Anya said rapidly. "You looked like you were struggling to find some information. I know every book in this shop, and I know things that are not in here that could also help."

She got up and went over to Wesley to see what he was reading. He became aware of her strawberry scented hair. It was hard for him to remember just then what his train of thought had been.

"Anya," he said again. "I'm sure that I can find out that which I need to know by my—"

Again, she cut him off. "You want to know about the 'Chosen One', right?" she asked. "I saw you leafing through The Guide to the Chosen Few by Hubert Tremlar, who happens to be a personal friend of mine."

"You know who she is?" Wesley exclaimed, pushing his chair slightly back in his excitement. Anya shook her head.

"I don't know who she is exactly," she answered, "but I know how I can find out." The dark haired woman went to the upper level of the shop and selected a small black book from the shelves in the middle. Presently, she came down with it and handed it to Spike's friend, pointing to a passage.

"See…there," she clarified. "It says something about the 'Golden Girl with Eyes like the Sea', in the land of 'Niacharron', in the ninth year of the New Dark Age of Anno Domini. It says that she will have many followers and those who will fight beside her and she will know her eternal mate, but in the end, it is she alone who must kill the terrors of evil and darkness."

Wesley peered at the book, reading the other part of the paragraph. "It also talks about how she will train those who will come behind her in this prophetic year and the White Ones will infuse them with their powers to stand against 'The Angelic One'." The man's blue eyes knit with confusion. "I wonder who that might be?"

"Angelus, perhaps?" Anya guessed. At the other's confused look, she said, "We used to date, back in the day. He was boring to me, and couldn't even inspire orgasms. I faked mine whenever we…"

"Yes," Wesley told her hurriedly, "I get the picture." His mind returned to his original question. "What is the name of the 'Chosen One', I wonder?" he wondered aloud.

**And how does Spike figure in all of this?** He thought.

He studied Anya who by her current facial expression, seemed to be incredibly bored by it all. "You do seem to know a lot," he said in a calculating tone. "May I ask how?"

When Anya didn't answer, Wesley pressed on. "You said just now that you dated the 'Angelic One'. I've seen the name Angelus before, even if I don't know who he is. I do know he existed about 200 years ago, at the very least, so how could you possibly have known him unless…".

He broke off just then as customers came inside the shop. Anya jumped from her chair to see what they wanted.

Once she had taken care of them, the dark haired beauty went to the "open" sign and turned it around, pronouncing the shop "closed". Wesley's eyes followed her every movement, but the man did not stir otherwise. He waited for her to divulge more information.

"I am older than I look; you're right about that," she said conspiratorially.

"I'm not a vampire, if that's what you think. And, I'm paying my debt…" She fell silent. Wesley wondered what she was hiding, but he decided not to pry, at least not right away.

"You don't want to tell me the rest, right?" he stated the obvious.

"Well," Anya said, "it's nothing bad, per se, merely something which should remain in the past." She put on her most disarming smile.

"Besides," she said brightly, "we should get to the matter at hand: solving the identity of the Slayer with the Eyes like the Sea."

Wesley was slightly disappointed, but he knew Anya had him there. He didn't want to force her to reveal her origins, and anyway, she was right that they had to find out who the younger girl in Spike's photo was. He reasoned just then that maybe Spike knew something more about her, even if he didn't know everything yet.

"If I take you with me to help solve this mystery, you must promise me that you won't say anything about this, or about Spike, to anyone," Wesley instructed. Anya shrugged again.

"Who would believe me?" she asked. "Some might, but the majority of folks would just commit me to a sanitarium, and white straightjackets are so not me." Wesley chuckled just then before he had a sobering thought.

**Spike is not going to like this,** he told himself inwardly.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Before Wesley had come into view, Spike ambled tiredly from his King sized bed with red sheets. He growled as he realized that his young, foolish friend had brought a visitor. As he caught the sound of her feminine voice, he ran down to intercept the pair. Maybe, he reasoned, he could scare her off.

Wesley would no doubt be upset, but the young student had violated their most sacred rule: he had invited people to the house rather than taking them to his college dorm room, or another location. For that, Wesley needed to be taught a lesson.

When Wesley heard Spike's growling, he groaned, telling Anya, "You had better let me handle this. I was hoping that, since it is still daylight, Spike would have been asleep, and I could break the news about a visitor gently. Seems my idea was all for naught."

Anya placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. When Wesley opened the front door, she boldly strolled in ahead of him.

The beautiful woman was met by a snarling, fully fanged, orange yellow eyed vampire. "Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed, looking back at Wesley, who wanted to be anywhere else than where he was standing.

Anya's hands flew to her cheeks as she shouted, "William the Bloody? You're friends with WILLIAM THE BLOODY?"

Spike shouted, "How the bleedin' hell do you know…?" He stopped as he caught her scent. Something about the young woman was familiar.

"Hello, William," Anya greeted cordially. "It's been a long time."

Again, as before, Wesley stated the obvious. "You two know each other?" he asked.

"Yeh," Spike responded. "At least, I think we do."

"Of course we do," Anya replied somewhat arrogantly. "I just don't have my veiny complexion, or my powers. It's really quite vexing."

Spike's glowing orbs studied her once more; then, he swore in a loud voice, "Bloody hell!"

Wesley was still very confused. "What?" he asked. "Who is she?"

"Anyanka," Spike snapped. "She's Anyanka, a Vengeance Demon."

"Former Vengeance Demon," Anya corrected. "Anyway, I fail to see why you're so upset. It's not like I cursed you."

Spike growled, grumbling, "But you told Drusilla where to find me, didn't you?"

Anya said matter-of-factly, "Services rendered for wishes requested. I was just doing my job." Wesley glared at her, inwardly berating himself for ever having invited her to go with him.

"So now you wish to finish it, to do something even worse to my friend?!" he flung at her. "I never should have trusted you."

Before Anya could answer, Wesley told her, "Get out, before I forget my manners regarding women…and I use the term loosely…and throw you out."

Spike held up his hand just then. "Wait a mo', boy wonder," he told his friend. "Maybe she can help us."

"What do you mean?" Wesley started asking. Then, he said as he realized Spike's train of thought. "Ahh…the Star of Samara! I'll fetch it."

Wesley ran to get the object from his room as Spike and Anya stared warily at each other. Anya rolled her eyes, saying, "You know that won't work on me. There is no love lost between us. William certainly has no affection for me, and I don't care for him, so that magic thing is useless."

"Two things, Former Veiny Girl," Spike said, "one: 'm not 'William' anymore, I'm Spike; an' two: you will help us. Former Vengeance Demons usually return to their magic roots, like bein' witches, an' so forth?"

"Yes…" Anya responded hesitantly.

"So, you can cure me o' my curse, or make that Star of Samara do it," he commanded.

Anya burst out laughing. Once she had finished, the Former Vengeance Demon responded, "I'm afraid I can't. It's true that I have the power to do little spells, but I can't undo ages of prophecy. That's what's tied into that little gem. I can't break the Curse. Only the originator of your Curse can undo it, or only the maid destined to free you can. Either way, you're barking up the wrong tree."

Spike responded bitterly, "Great! Now I'll never be set free!"

Anya felt a moment of pity for the vampire with the permanently beastly visage. True, she had just been true to her nature and had helped Drusilla however indirectly, but now that Anya had been human for awhile, she could sympathize with the vampire.

"Look," she replied. "Maybe I can help you after all. Wesley is trying to find the girl in your photo, and since I have a magic shop, I'll help him locate her. Locator spells are second nature to me, and it would certainly help me earn brownie points with T'Hoffran."

Spike measured her expression just then. He wondered if he should trust her. The older male realized that he might not have a choice. Wesley might luck out in finding Spike's dream girl, but then again, the college student might not. At least, with Anya's locator spell, he would have a more certain outcome.

"I'll make up the bedroom in the Southern Wing for you," Spike said reluctantly.

Wesley beat him to the stairs.

"No, I'll do it," he said, adding to Anya in a voice dripping with contempt, "besides, you would need to get clothes and toiletries and all." He went upstairs into the bedroom and started making up the bed.

After draining his latest stash of blood, Spike hoped that he would be able to locate the bewitching-yet-innocent maiden who had haunted his dreams. The blood sucker failed to remember that, just when one has exhausted most, or all, of one's options, Fate often comes to lend a hand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Buffy waited patiently that afternoon for her mother's arrival at home. The nineteen year old had just finished her shift at the retail job, glad that this was her afternoon off from her next job. Her mother had started to ease back into her previous lifestyle since the brain surgery. Though it was too soon for her to work, Joyce had run some minor errands that day to the grocery store and the cleaners.

When the older woman entered the house, Buffy had the television on and was flipping through channels.

"Hi, Mom," she greeted, settling on a judge show.

Joyce put the grocery bags in the kitchen then sat on the couch. "Hello, Sweetheart," she told her daughter. "How was work?" Buffy turned off the TV.

"Work was work," Buffy said, shrugging. She sat in a chair directly across from her mother so that Joyce could see her daughter clearly.

"Have I told you how proud I am of you lately?" Joyce asked, smiling. "It hasn't been easy for you, I know, what with your sister being away in college and you having to manage for yourself. I'm so glad that you've become quite the capable young leader, taking the initiative like you do."

"Thanks," Buffy said, looking like she wanted to say something more.

**Might as well go for broke,** she thought.

"Mom," Buffy asked.

"Yes, Honey?" Joyce questioned back.

"Why won't you tell me what happened two days ago?" Buffy inquired, giving her mother a knowing look.

Joyce got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. She came back with a pitcher of water and a glass with ice. While she poured, Buffy waited for her to collect herself.

"Never could keep anything from you, could I?" Joyce said tiredly, drinking. "'Delia, yes, but not you."

"Did something bad happen?" Buffy asked.

"Besides me losing my way?" Joyce bounced back. She then shook her head, saying, "Not exactly bad, bad. But…"

"If it's not so bad, then why won't you tell me?" the younger girl questioned, looking worried. Joyce rose and sat beside her daughter, stroking her arm to comfort her.

"There's not much to tell," the mother said.

"But," Buffy reasoned. "Riley did make a great point." She stood up from the couch, walking rapidly. "I mean, you usually call us before anything, no matter where you are. A-and, I'm not saying a tow truck wouldn't have taken some time to get to you, but where your car was found wasn't where you normally drive."

Looking somewhat ashamed that she wasn't telling Buffy everything, Joyce said, "Well, there was a fog, honey…"

"Mom," Buffy said. "I'm not trying to get into your business. But you said that we share and share alike. We're family, right? And, if you're in some kind of trouble, I wanna help."

Joyce took a deep breath. She tried never to lie about keeping promises, but she also knew that, strong willed as Buffy was, her youngest daughter would dig and dig until all the stones were unturned. Rather than make things worse, Joyce told Buffy the whole story of what had happened. Buffy stopped pacing and stared at her mother.

"You mean you were trapped in the cellar of the Vampire Beast's home, but you promised him you wouldn't say anything?" she asked incredulously.

"We don't know that he killed anyone," Joyce defended Spike, wondering when she had become his champion. "There could be another one."

"Yeah, right!" Buffy cried sarcastically. "Because whenever a vampire gets an urge to feed, he just naturally picks our neck of the woods instead of, say, a more densely populated area like New York, or Los Angeles!"

Normally, her mother would have told her daughter not to take that tone, but Joyce knew Buffy had a right to be angry.

Joyce tried again, saying, "He has a friend who's staying with him. He didn't feed on him, and that young man has been with him for a long time."

"Well, even a vampire needs a servant, or something," Buffy accused.

**Just like in the movies, Mom. Ignorance, much?**the youngest of the Summers' clan thought, though she didn't voice her opinion.

Joyce continued to weather the storm of her daughter's tirade.

"I know you're upset," she told Buffy. "That's why I didn't want to say anything; that, and the fact that I gave them my word."

Joyce felt the stirring of guilt for having betrayed the vampire's trust. She also felt afraid for her family. Would Spike make good on his promise? That thought warred with her more logical side which told her that the beastly looking vamp was just trying to scare her; that if he really meant any harm, he would have attacked her family already. Plus, she'd seen his reaction to Buffy's picture. She wondered what her daughter had to do with him, if anything.

Again, Buffy's mother felt the need to defend the vampire, even as she queried within herself why she did.

"For what it's worth, I really think Spike wants to be alone." At the mention of the vampire's name, Buffy's eyes grew wide.

"What does he look like?" she asked Joyce. When Joyce didn't answer, Buffy went over to her and, kneeling in front of her mother, gripped both of her arms.

"Please, Mom, you have to tell me," Buffy insisted. "WHAT DID HE LOOK LIKE!?"

When Joyce described the bumpy faced, orange yellow eyed, vampire, Buffy got up from her mother, her face looking dejected.

"Honey, what is it?" Joyce asked, concerned.

"Nothing, Mom," Buffy fibbed, putting on a neutral look. Joyce didn't say anything; she knew Buffy would tell her what was going on when her daughter was ready.

Buffy thought about the handsome, blue eyed, angular cheeked man of her dreams just then. When she'd been younger, she'd thought that the dreams were just coincidental. But now, Buffy wondered, did the Spike of her dreams have a connection with the ugly vampire her mother had just described?

Realizing that her parent was studying her, Buffy put that question in the back of her mind. She said softly, "I just…can't believe what you're telling me."

"Well, now that I have told you, I want you to promise me something," Joyce said sternly.

Buffy nodded her assent, asking, "What?"

"Promise me that you won't tell anyone else," Joyce insisted. "If he is the one doing the killings, I don't want you to get involved. Let the police or the military handle this. Besides, if there is another vampire on a killing spree, and Spike 's innocent, we owe it to him to leave well enough alone." Buffy opened her mouth to comment, but Joyce cut her off, reiterating with more force, "PROMISE me."

Buffy said, "I promise. I won't do anything that will endanger us, or myself." Joyce smiled, glad that she had gotten her youngest girl to agree. When she told Buffy she needed to lie down, the girl's eyes followed her mother's trek upstairs.

Buffy was determined as she seized upon a course of action. She absolutely hated lying to her mother, but the wanted answers, and she wasn't going to wait.

After hastily scribbling a note that she was going shopping at the mall, she rose and went to her jacket. The almost-twenty-year old got the plank of wood that she had carved into a stake since the Vampire Beast in Sunnydale had been sighted.

Putting it back inside her jacket's pocket, Buffy dressed and walked out of the house. She hoped she knew how to use one, but movies and books, even though they dealit with creatures like vampires in a fictitious way, had to know something, right?

She headed to the car and drove toward the town her parent had described.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

At an underground base beneath the whole of Sunnydale, an army officer switched off the tape that had been running during Buffy's and Joyce's conversation. He rolled the tape back on his state-of-the-art machine, his long, brown fingers stopping the machine at what he believed was the beginning of said dialogue.

"Sir!" he called over to Riley, who was checking other monitors in the expansive underground base.

"Yes, what is it, Private?" Riley asked the African American officer. The black man removed his headphones from his completely shaven, dark chocolate brown head.

"We've got something," he told Riley, switching on the tape. As Riley listened to the conversation, he nodded, glad that he had planted the bug in Joyce's house.

"All right, get some officers here, only two for now," Riley ordered, "and I want a detailed map of that area where Williamstown is located. I want our contingent equipped with stakes, tranq guns, and any other weapons available."

"Consider it done," the Private told Riley. The sandy haired Midwestern man's eyes alighted on the cells that, as of that moment, were finished and ready for capture of the evil forces.

Riley had been ordered by the United States Government's Defense Department to use any means necessary to capture the Vampire Beast and any others like him. Once that had been achieved, his instructions were to inform his superiors so that they and the scientists milling about the base could study the creatures in depth.

The vampires and any other demons worth their attention would be tagged and eventually eliminated once the experiments to find out what their greatest assets and weaknesses were had been completed. The US Government also planned to market their unique services to allies overseas or potential friends who dealt with revenants and their demon cronies on a daily basis.

The highly secretive branch of the Defense Department would clean up not only by supplying the neutered vampires and demons as "servants" to their friends all over the globe, but it would also provide the means to off them if they got out of line.

After the US Government's Initiative Program offered its services to the highest bidder, it knew several interested parties who would jump at the chance to be on the ground floor of cheap labor and the latest technology from the US.

The resulting cash flow from said parties would not only be used to fund other worthwhile Government operations, but would, upon careful juggling, provide a nice and tidy profit to those who were intelligent enough to seize the financial high ground without getting caught. Determined to be one of those, Riley thought about the SUV he had just put a down payment on and grinned.

"Private Jones," Riley commanded, "make sure that any information goes through me first. I would rather view it initially before passing it onto the top brass. Got it?"

Private Marshall Jones nodded enthusiastically. He knew what side his bread was buttered on, and he and his fellow officers would serve Riley until the bitter end.

Marshall never trusted higher ups; they often issued orders without seeing first hand what was at stake, and they always forgot to take care of those who had helped them achieve their success. Riley was different. Although he'd risen in the ranks to become one of the youngest Commanders in their unique operation, he never forgot all ten of his men. He always looked after them, and, in turn, Marshall would look after Riley.

Marshall saluted Riley, saying, "Yes, sir!"

Riley smiled again. He walked down the corridor and opened the secret trap door at the end of the hallway. The door led into a crypt used by the military operation so that Army personnel could enter and leave without detection.

He would find out where Williamstown was, follow his inamorato there, capture the Beast, and when the financial and physical awards followed along with Buffy's hand in marriage, the Midwestern Army Unit Commander would toast his success.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In his flat on the Eastern part of town, Rupert Giles studied the images of the events that had just taken place on his magically enhanced telly. The middle aged British sorcerer walked over to his library of magic books, consulting which one would best serve Buffy in her journey toward her destiny. Although he didn't know everything yet about the mystic energies surrounding the girl, he did know that she and Spike were somehow deeply connected.

Giles found the tome he searched for at the top of his shelf. He focused on the protection spell to shield Williamstown so that Buffy could arrive there safely and undeterred by Riley.

"Spell of Cloaking, hear me now: surround the province of Williamstown," Giles spoke aloud.

He glanced at the telly and saw the mist that was invisible to everyone except those of his kind. The White One knew that the time had also come for him, and his best student, Willow, to lend a hand in helping Buffy, Spike, and the ones inseparable from the fabric of prophecy tightly woven around them.

He looked at the books and set forth putting the volumes into his bottomless magic bag. When he was satisfied that he had everything he needed, Giles left his flat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spike could practically sense that something was different about this day. He had risen about two hours before sunset, wondering what caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He had only felt that way once before: the day the Evil Vampire Sorceress, Drusilla, had robbed him of his humanity and cursed him to boot.

He opened his door before he had even smelled who was on the other side. His mouth hung open when he saw the petite, blonde haired, green eyed girl of his dreams in living color on the other side of it.

She looked angry about something, he could tell. He suspected what the source of her anger had been. Before he could react or try to placate her, Buffy let her fist fly straight into the nose on his bumpy face.

"Bloody hell!" he swore as he gingerly rubbed his throbbing nose.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Before the vampire could recover, Buffy landed another blow on his chest that sent him reeling across his living room. As Spike counted the stars he was seeing, Wesley and Anya ran down the stairs.

The young college student helped Spike up despite his protests. Anya looked at Buffy, whose fists were still clenched and whose long legs were spread in a combat stance. The former Vengeance Demon snickered.

"Did SHE do THAT to you?" she asked Spike as Wesley asked simultaneously, "Are you okay?"

Spike felt his nose healing rapidly as he regarded the fair haired, nineteen year old girl. "What are you on about, you daft bint?" The revenant asked Buffy.

She squared her shoulders and said in a voice laced with fury, "That's for my mother, you bastard!"

Wesley peered at the uninvited guest with interest. He brightened when he recognized her. "You're the girl in Spike's photo!" he said.

"You have a picture of me?" Buffy cried, getting madder by the minute. "You've been FOLLOWING me?"

"No, 's not like that," Spike defended, bracing himself for another attack. "Joyce, your mother, had a picture of you at the carnival, an'…".

The vampire stopped talking as he realized what he had just said. Buffy connected the dots rapidly. As she gave Spike a murderous look, Anya thought about the fact that if Spike were butter, he would have melted all over the floor from Buffy's expression just then. The former vengeance demon looked at the little scene playing between the two with interest.

Spike eyed her warily. Buffy didn't make any moves, but still stood with her hands clenched.

"You stole a picture from my mother?" she spat. "What else did you take from her?"

"Nothin'!" Spike said honestly.

"It should be interesting trying to see you prove that," Anya commented. Ever the diplomat, Wesley placed a hand on the brunette's back and started to steer her back toward the stairs.

"Come on, Anya," he said. "I need help with my history."

"But I wish to see them engage in all kinds of sweaty fighting and verbal diatribes!" Anya protested. "That really works up a sexual appetite!" To her left, Buffy could be heard saying "eww!"

Anya placed her hands on her hips and said, "Just because he has a face which could stop a basilisk in its tracks doesn't mean he might not be a good partner in bed!"

Wesley lifted his eyes upward, whispering, "Really, Anya!"

Spike totally disregarded the brown haired woman's and his honorary brother's remarks. He fixed his glowing eyes on Buffy and said, "I've had just about enough o' you, punching me in my bloody home, then insulting me! What'd you do: miss a whole soddin' year of Manners 101?"

"When people start capturing my mother and threatening her, I don't DO manners!" Buffy yelled back.

When Wesley spun Anya around and steered her toward the steps, the former demon frowned, saying, "I want to see her punch him again, this time maybe in the solar plexus, or better yet, the groin!"

Wesley groaned, telling the girl, "I'll take you to see that at a boxing or wrestling match! Let's go check out the library upstairs!"

The younger Brit successfully maneuvered Anya up the steps. When Spike and Buffy were alone, the vampire stared at the young woman. He had spent many a night dreaming about her, this golden beauty, the picture of stubborness and defiance. He, along with the demon inside, was extremely intrigued.

He'd hoped he would get to meet the beauty in his wildest fantasies, and now, even with her fists clenched, she was as exciting to him as she was making love to him in his imagination.

Of course, as he felt the imprint of where she'd kicked him in the torso, Spike had to admit, he was feeling conflicted.

The first instinct he had was to pummel her as successfully as she'd pounded him. The second mind, a distant voice which was growing stronger, was locking away the memory of her beautiful face, her muscular yet slightly curvy figure, and her rich green pools. Spike decided that he could drown in them forever.

As he kept staring, the once human side of him won out over the demon. Spike wondered how she'd feel if he wrote a poem to honor her, perhaps one about a Golden Goddess with eyes like the sea after a storm.

When he kept staring at her, the object of his scrutiny was shifting nervously as she became aware that the battleground had changed. Buffy regarded the sallow skinned, yellow eyed, beastly looking British vampire in front of her. She wasn't sure quite what to make of him.

One thing was certain: he wasn't going to attack any time soon, if the look in his eyes was any indication. Although she continued gripping her stake, Buffy's hold on it relaxed for the slightest of moments as she wondered which move to make. Despite herself, there WAS something about this vampire that seemed different somehow.

She wondered if another one could be responsible for the carnage that had been in the news these many weeks and months. Still, it paid not to be too careful. Buffy fixed her eyes on his to see what he'd do next, and if she could tell his true intentions.

"What are you looking at?" Buffy asked, sticking her chin out defiantly in an attempt to be more courageous. Spike chuckled softly.

"You," he purred. "You're a lioness, you are." Buffy then squared her shoulders, her chest thrusting out with pride just a little.

"I am?" she asked, starting to warm up to him.

"Oh, yeh, kitten," Spike told her. After a beat, the vampire said, "I almost forgot how you insulted me a li'l while ago. You're strong! You're the stronges' bird I've seen in many a day, an' I've fought some o' the best of them!" Buffy smiled a soppy grin.

"I've always been strong for as long as I could remember," she admitted. "Even my sparring partner, Bubba, said the same thing."

Spike commented, "Sounds like a jazz man." Buffy shook her head.

"Not even close," she responded. "He was a prize fighter in the neighborhood I grew up in. When I started hanging around the gym where he trained younger boxers for the fights, he started coaching me. Said I was a natural."

Spike could understand Joyce's obvious pride for her daughter just then. She was beautiful, she was built, and she associated with PRIZEFIGHTERS! A kernel of a plan took control of his mind just then. He hoped with all of his unbeating heart that Buffy would go for it.

"Your fightin' skills are top notch," Spike told her conversationally, "but your overall technique could use a li'l work."

Buffy regarded him for a moment, then said, "How would you know?"

"Jus' a feeling, pet," he said, circling her. "For instance, show me how you'd stake a vampire."

Buffy thought a moment, but came up blank. "How would I stake a vamp?" she repeated. The notion to take a stake to kill the vampire standing in front of her had seemed like a great idea back home, but now, she realized how inexperienced she really was.

Oh, Buffy had staked many of them...in her dreams. But in reality, she'd never gotten close to them. It had been only recently that she'd felt like she COULD kill a vampire, that she could overcome the odds by destroying one and being the only one remaining. But she didn't know where the dreams and visions came from. She'd just shaked them off as mere fantasies.

But now, having met Spike, she wasn't certain anymore.

"Yeh," Spike was saying to her question earlier. "For instance, where is your weapon? 'Cause I'm assuming you have one."

"Girls like me don't go around carrying weapons," Buffy tried to fib. Spike rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Yeh…pull the other one, lion cub," he said dryly. "I'll bet you were thinkin' you'd come here an' avenge your mum after the story she told you about me, right?"

Before Buffy could confirm or deny what he had guessed, the vampire continued. "She prob'ly couldn't wait to defend herself to you an' vilify me, right?"

His last statement was almost accusatory. "Said I was the Big Bad Vampire Beast, an' whatnot," Spike said.

"She didn't," Buffy said matter-of-factly. Spike did a double take.

"She din't?" he echoed, the surprise clearly on his face and in his voice.

"No, in fact, she suggested that there might be another Vampire Beast roaming around," Buffy replied.

Spike looked at her to see her reaction to her mother's insightful remark, but the girl's face was neutral. The revenant suddenly realized that what this young woman thought about him mattered to him more than anything. He would do whatever it took to gain even a tiny nugget of her approval. What disturbed him was why he felt he needed it.

Spike asked, "if there is another one, and if you could hone your skills an' save your mother and your kin in the bargain, well, that'd be worth its weight in gold, wouldn't it?"

Buffy thought about that. Ever since she'd felt, well, different as a little girl, she had wanted to put her strength to good use. Perhaps this was the opportunity she'd wanted.

"What's in it for you?" she wanted to know.

Spike shrugged. He did have a major reason for teaching her, but he wasn't quite ready to share until he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she trusted him. He could smell the doubt and beyond that, the fear in her; but equally, he could smell her arousal at being able to do battle. Spike just hoped he could survive the process.

"Jus' a chance to bone up on my vampire skills," he said. "S all about the hunt for us, but I never get to go into town much for fear of incitin' a mob, or something. If we could work on your fightin' skills, with weapons that won't stake me for real, of course, that would bring me up to snuff as a hunter."

Her instincts told her that Spike could be hiding something, but if she fought him, Buffy could learn the truth.

Her head jerked in the direction that Wesley and Anya had taken. "What about your friends?" she wondered.

"Ol' Wes doesn't have much of a stomach for fightin'," Spike responded. "He's more about research. I want someone who doesn't pull punches an' can get down and dirty, an' I don't trust the bird upstairs."

"So, I'm it, huh?" Buffy put in.

At Spike's nod, she smiled, salivating at the chance to do some serious damage. She had missed fighting with Bubba when she and her mother had moved out of San Francisco, and she wanted to be able to spar with a worthy opponent, one who could take her punches without getting seriously hurt.

Even Riley, with his army training, wasn't capable of withstanding one of her attacks. They'd found that out painfully when her fighting him resulted in his being sent to the hospital with cracked ribs. Though he got out within scant weeks after his arrival, it took months before Riley was up to his old, fighting self. After that, they didn't train with each other very often anymore.

The young woman realized that she hadn't even given Riley a second thought except to compare his fighting prowess with Spike's. While she was talking to Spike, she'd actually felt more comfortable, as though she'd known him for years. It seemed weird, but she was amazed to discover that she could talk to the vampire forever. Best not to let him know that, however.

Buffy put on her best no nonsense face and asked, "So, every day after I leave my first job?"

"Okay," Spike agreed. "I can even pay you to fight with me if you want."

"Okay," Buffy said, thinking, **this is great! Just how it should be.**

"We'll meet here at three," Buffy said. "That's normally when I start my second job, if three's not too early for you to be awake. I mean, you're all with the dead sleep and all, right?"

"I'll manage," Spike said, smiling a grin complete with fangs. He extended his hand. Not even giving his black fingernails a second glance, Buffy shook it eagerly.

"Sparring partners?" she asked. He nodded.

"Sparrin' partners," he responded. "Let me show you the house, an' where we can fight." The pair walked off to see the gym Spike had and the "weapons" Buffy would use.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In Sunnydale at the police station, Chief Maggie Walsh watched as Riley walked out, having given a cursory report as to what had been discovered about the Vampire Beast.

Behind her, Deputy Chief Cameron G. Springfield's dark brown eyes followed the Army man's every movement. At age 28, Cameron, "C. G." to his friends, was one of the youngest men ever to rise in the ranks at the police department in Sunnydale, partly out of necessity; mostly because the police force in the small town was always short staffed.

When the brownish blond haired, handsome Canadian man with the Welsh voice had started working there fresh out of the Academy, Maggie observed him with a critical eye. She admired the way he would analyze a case and use the best possible means to achieve results.

He was tough when it was warranted, tactful when he had to be, and respectful without being duplicitous. C. G. was also one smart cookie; although he was eager to help, he wasn't a doormat. He was capable of delegating work in his own fashion to his other coworkers without stepping on her authority. It was those qualities that made Maggie push very hard for his promotion. She also trusted his instincts, for the most part. Where Riley was concerned, though, C. G. saw a fire starting where there wasn't even a hint of smoke to her.

"Something?" Chief Walsh asked her Deputy as she viewed his expression.

"Off the record, ma'am…" C. G. began.

"It's off the record, Angler," the Chief said as she smiled. C. G. also smiled back at the nickname she used for him. He was known as "the Angler" to his workers because he always approached a case from every angle until he was satisfied that he had achieved the best results he could get.

"Are we certain we can trust Riley and his men?" C. G. said. "I mean, they may have hidden motives for helping us."

"Like what?" Maggie asked.

C. G. thought a moment, then said, "I don't know. Just call it my instinct. That's never failed you before."

"True," the Chief agreed. "However, instincts can only get you so far. Once they fail, if that's all you depend on, then you're dead." C. G. nodded.

"I know, Chief," he told her in all seriousness. "That's why I pursue each case from every angle." Chief Walsh put a motherly hand on his shoulder which, after a mere three seconds, was dropped. C. G. was used to her abrupt movements. The Chief was not given to public displays of affection, particularly if they could be misinterpreted as favoritism, or sexual attraction.

"I think you're way off base about Riley," she said. "However, if you get me iron clad proof of his dishonesty, I'll lock him up behind bars so fast his head will spin."

C. G. said, "I'll keep that in mind." The Chief turned to leave, her last words of the evening hanging on the wind as she left the station.

"But do it on your own time, eh, Angler?" she half requested, half commanded. "Good night."

"Yes, ma'am," C. G. promised. "Good night."

When Chief Walsh reached her car, a small, green Toyota Echo, she saw a young, handsome man, about six feet tall approaching.

"Are you a police officer?" he asked hesitantly. Chief Walsh sighed. Even after a long day, she wouldn't be granted the boon of being off duty.

She whipped out her badge and I. D., saying, "Yes. What's the trouble?"

The young man said, "I heard a girl screaming in the alley. I didn't want to go in there." He looked at her sheepishly, adding, "You know…the Vampire Beast they're talking about. Figured she needed a professional."

The Chief needed no further urging. She took out her gun, saying, "Show me." The young man told her to follow him. When she reached the alley, Chief Walsh was grabbed by two male vampires in game face.

"You said there was trouble," she argued. The man laughed.

"Well, actually, YOU said there was trouble," he clarified. "I just didn't disagree with you."

"We gonna kill her now?" one asked, his dark yellow eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Not yet," Angelus, their leader, responded. "Bring her."

Maggie struggled against the other vampires' vise like grips, glaring defiantly at the angelic looking revenant. His followers tightened their grip. They rendered her unconscious, then dragged her away into the night.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Willow Rosenberg (or, a "White One" as she was known in some circles,) walked into the cafeteria at Sunnydale U the next morning, her mind brimming with excitement over the electric charge she felt whenever something big prophecy wise was happening.

She grabbed her tray with her fruit salad on it, thinking about her place in the events coming together and was so focused on what she needed to do that she didn't see Wesley walking over to where Anya sat. They bumped into each other, the latter dropping his container of milk onto the floor.

"Oh!" Willow cried, bending down to retrieve it. "Sorry. Wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's okay," Wesley told the redhead. He looked at the small book she carried. "Is that yours?" he asked as he stared at the title, "A History of The Chosen."

"W-what?" Willow asked.

She peered at her book, thinking that it might be perceived as a strange tome for a medical student to be carrying. Before her mind could come up with a suitable reply, Wesley spoke again.

"I rather like studying things about otherworldly events in my time," he said softly.

Willow studied the thin, bookish looking man with the deep blue eyes. "You sit behind me in my English class," she remarked. Wesley nodded.
"Yes, I do, although the individual they got to teach English should be flogged for messing up the language," he commented.

Willow laughed. Just then, Anya came up behind him and placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder. She stared pointedly at the White One.

"Wesley," the former Vengeance Demon said in a voice that was deceptively sweet, "aren't you gonna introduce us?"

She sized up Willow, telling herself that there was nothing to worry about. The redheaded woman couldn't possibly interest her would-be boyfriend.

"Actually, though we share the same English class, I'm not sure who…" Wesley answered.

**Even better,** Anya thought, **that he doesn't know her too well.**

"I'm Willow Rosenberg," Willow said.

Wesley and she shook hands. Anya shook hands with the titian haired young woman, but her touch had been cooler than Wesley's was.

Wesley peered at her more closely. "Do you work in the hospital?" he asked.

Willow smiled, answering, "Yes, I work with Doctor Giles. Do you know him?"

"I've heard the name," the British man told her. "I'm an orderly part time."

"I'm a student nurse," Willow responded. Anya found herself wishing that she had her Vengeance Powers so that she could do something to nip this mutual exchange of information in the bud. In the scant hours since she and Wesley had met, the girl wanted him for herself, and no one would come between them, she had decided.

"Do you want me to leave so that you two can get a room?" Anya asked bluntly.

Wesley stared at her, then looked sheepishly at Willow. Willow hid a smile, not in the least embarrassed by her frankness or the little green eyed monster Anya was currently courting.

"Hey, it's okay, nothing personal. Strictly business," she told the potential couple. She moved off, her "Spidey sense" going into overdrive.

Wesley and Anya apparently had their place in the events surrounding Sunnydale in the days to come. Willow would do well to keep a discrete eye on them.
The White One was still sensing something when she was clear across the room. She looked about, trying to see what was making the hairs on her arm stand on end. It wasn't until her eyes scanned the tiny television screen on the wall that more pieces in the "prophecy puzzle" started coming together.

The screen revealed a very young, non-descript looking student in a trenchcoat. His face was somber; his well modulated voice had announced that he was Chet Springley.

"I'm here now at the scene of a real mystery at Sunnydale U. At approximately four PM yesterday, the bus containing the swim team allegedly vanished without a trace. If you will recall, the bus had been sighted just before the possible disappearance at the Sunnydale Gym and Recreation Center, where the swim team was gathering for a match against CU Sacramento.

"Campus police are here now and we are trying to get a statement," Chet reported as he turned to a Korean man with graying hair. "We're talking now to Campus Police Chief Nguyen Sun, who has not been able to provide any further evidence concerning the alleged disappearance of the swim team students, is that right, Chief?" Chet wanted to know.

"That is correct," the Chief confirmed. "All we know is that at 4:05PM yesterday, the Sunnydale Gym and Recreation Center reported that one of their operatives saw the bus 'disappear'. Another co worker who was with the first witness saw the exact same event."

Chet frowned, commenting, "A bus just disappearing…that's a pretty big supposition. How do they know it didn't just run off the road?"

"Supposedly, another man took a videotape of the occurrence," Chief Sun reported. "We should be able to secure the tape if in fact there is one, and we should also be able to check the evidence; however, I am not at liberty to state what will and will not be released to either the news media or the general public at this time. I will say however that the preliminary evidence we gathered at the scene didn't indicate signs of a crash or an explosion, or any data which is typical in a case such as this."

Chet said, "Thank you, sir. One more question, although this happened during the daylight hours, is there any reason to suspect that this could be tied into the Vampire Beast sightings given that the creature allegedly attacks young people?"

The Chief gave Chet a censuring look. "I am not at liberty to address that question, since at this time, as I am reiterating, we don't have enough evidence," he said. Chet turned back to the camera.

"Well, you've heard it here first, from Campus News. We will continue to update you on the situation. If anyone has any information concerning this ongoing investigation, please call either Campus Security at 508-555-6073, or your local police," Chet instructed.

As the student reporter's image was replaced by a report about an upcoming basketball game's cancellation, Willow's worried look met Anya's and Wesley's equally worried expressions. Her eyes told them that maybe they should all compare notes. The events surrounding Sunnydale were growing exponentially worse.

XXXXXXXXXX

In her dorm room, Cordelia put the finishing touches on her highlighted hair. She prepared to go meet her substitute Math teacher when there was a knock on the door. The brunette opened the door to a crying Harmony, who brushed past her best friend and flopped down on Cordy's bed.

"Harmony," Cordelia asked, "what's wrong?"

"Oh, Cordy!" Harmony wailed. "You didn't see the Campus News? Something happened to the swim team! They just were gone! My boyfriend, Jacques Maracques, was on the bus. He was the one I told you about, whose father was Stefan Maracques, of Maracques Cosmetics in LA and Paris?"

Cordelia cast her mind back to when she and Harmony had discussed Harm's makeup that day, which the brunette had said was "killer". Her rich blonde friend had talked about taking Cordy to Paris as her special guest.

Cordelia was up for any chance she could to elevate herself in the world. Now it looked like, thanks to something happening to Jacques, she would never get the chance to go to Paris.

"What happened, Harm?" Cordy asked, hoping that what her friend had to tell her wasn't too bad.

"He and the other team members vanished!" Harmony shouted. Placing her hands on her hips, she flounced her long, platinum hair as she spoke. "I mean, this is just like him, to pull a stunt like this! He knew I wanted to meet his dad in Paris!"

Cordelia thought about her ex boyfriend, Xander, who was the second-in-command in the team. She hoped that something hadn't happened to him. It would have been bad if the team had initiated a cruel joke, but what if the Vampire Beast had gotten them?

She felt a little guilty just then about ending things with him. If she hadn't broken up with him, he might not have felt the need to go on the swim meet trip. On the other hand, though, things could have happened the same way. Who was to know?

"I know it's hard," Cordelia found herself saying. "But, maybe we could go window shopping. I just saw a dress with your name on it in the boutique where my sister works, and I don't have any other classes. You up for it?"

Harmony considered her best friend's words. Boys could come and go, but like eternal Paris, there was always shopping. "Let's go," Harmony decided. "In fact, I'll treat you to some Maracques makeup!" The two friends linked hands and left Cordelia's dorm room.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Later that afternoon, Riley looked at the display on his GPS screen near his dashboard. It wouldn't be long before he and his men found out where Buffy was headed and, if she was indeed visiting the Vampire Beast, kill the criminal or, his personal favorite, let the scientists at the base insert a chip into his brain then ship him off to some Middle Eastern Diplomat with money and power.

The Commander smiled, thinking about Buffy's show of gratitude. Oh, they hadn't had sexual relations yet, but he had been thinking about that lately. Riley could tell by Buffy's kisses that she had him on her mind, too.

She would be so grateful that he, her knight in shining armor, saved her that she would reward him by molding her naked body to his. He pictured her lips, her whispers, her soft caress and felt himself grow hard.

"Sir!" a Lieutenant's Tennessee drawl came over the loudspeaker. Riley reached over to the "on" switch and activated it.

"Yes, what is it, Lieutenant Townes?" Riley asked.
In the jeep directly behind Riley's, Lieutenant Jeremy Townes said in a somber voice, "We've lost the signal."

"What do you mean, you've 'lost the signal'"? Riley demanded.

The Lieutenant sighed. Computer glitches, though they were commonplace, were always a nightmare. He punched buttons, checking the system as much as he could in a moving vehicle. His surprise was evident as he noticed that the signal was beeping stronger than ever.

"Nothing, sir," the Lieutenant reported. "Just a glitch. The signal is registering again. The town is approximately three-point-oh-five miles from our position."

"Good work, Townes," Riley said in a tone that was neither praising nor censuring the junior officer. "Once we do what we came to do, I want a detailed check of all systems."

The Lieutenant replied in the affirmative and switched off the com link. He sighed again, his eyes falling on the systems that would have to be double and triple scanned for any trouble. He was very much an action man, but Townes hadn't been hired for his brawn so much as for his knowledge of computers and tracking systems. If there was a malfunction, he was duty bound to see what the trouble was and correct it without fail.

Presently, the jeeps turned on the exit to Williamstown and drove around the curving road leading into the area. They turned left, right, and left again, continuing down the only road into town for several minutes.

Riley looked for any signs of houses or the like, but he and his troops only saw trees on the sides surrounding the road. He was frustrated as he remembered that the sign had read that there were only 150 in the whole town. They had driven long enough to find the town's location at least once, so where could it be?

Private Jones, who sat next to Lieutenant Townes, pointed to a sign that read "Williamstown". Finally! Lieutenant Townes thought. He activated his com link.

"Commander! Follow me!" The Lieutenant drove a little past Riley, going down a dirt road on his left. The other three vehicles followed…and promptly found themselves at the location where the exit sign had been.

**What's going on?** Riley thought. **We didn't miss this; I know we didn't!**

Aloud, he barked the order to his officers to find a second exit. After driving for another twenty minutes, the officers found a second exit, and still ended up back at their starting point.

Riley swore, growing more livid with each passing turn. He guessed that someone, or something, was controlling things so that they were missing Williamstown all together. He forced himself to calm down.

"Men!" he barked to his officers. "Return to base! We'll rendevous at the lab at 11:00 hours!" He turned his jeep in the opposite direction from the exit, his men following close behind.

Enjoy your little magic trick, Riley thought. I'll find out what your secret is, and one day soon, Mr. Beast, you won't be so lucky!

Looking briefly at Riley and his men on his rear view mirror, Giles laughed softly. His cloaking spells were second-to-none. His teacher, Merrick, had instructed him well. The British White One thought about his mentor and felt a pinch of sadness. At least Merrick's work had not died with him. Giles continued on to his appointment.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

In Spike's gymnasium, Buffy pulled out a dull object resembling a stake and proceeded to stab the vampire. Spike easily stepped to the side, shaking his head.

The sweating girl wiped a big drop off of her face and fixed him with a glare.

"Now what?" Buffy yelled, exasperated. "We've been doing this for over an hour."

Spike glanced at the clock on his wall. "Beg to differ, pet," he said. "We've only been doin' this for approximately fourty-five minutes an' thirty seconds."

Buffy placed her hands on her hips and said, "Oh, geez. I'm so sorry about the glaring error in time!"
Spike was in no joking mood. "Yeh?" he countered. "Well, lion cub, they won't give you extra time to make an error like you did!"

"I don't even see what difference this makes!" the girl protested. "It's not like I'll be staking anything unless it attacks my family."

The vampire studied her, cocking his head to one side. Buffy was struck all of a sudden to how similar his gesture was to her handsome dream hero.

"You really don't sense it, do you?" Spike asked her.

"Sense what?" Buffy responded, totally confused.

She glanced around for a towel and, seeing one on the wall, grabbed it. Wiping her face, she watched Spike, who now looked incredulous.

"You," he said. "You're one o' them."

"One of what?" Buffy asked.

"One o' those Forces against Evil, or the like," he said. "Spotted that right off."

He proceeded to tell her about the Legend of the White Ones.

"…although," he finished, "never heard of one of them usin' brute strength like you do."

"But, how do you know I'm one of those White Ones?" Buffy asked, still perplexed.

Spike pointed to his forehead. "C'n sense you, kitten," he said. "Your energy's so powerful, it's downright scary!" He smirked just then.

"Of course, for me, I'm not easily scared," he added, smiling with his mouth closed.

Buffy grimaced, saying, "Attracted, more like."

Spike grinned with full canines that time. "Yeh," he said.

Buffy rolled her eyes, thinking, great, now I have a horny vampire. She found that she wasn't scared or even disgusted, but was wondering what sex with a vampire could be like, even with one who looked as unattractive as Spike with his bumpy game face and sallow complexion. The teenage girl decided that she had best stick to business rather than pleasure.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath, "what exactly was wrong with my stakeage?"

He came behind her and took the hand holding the pretend-stake in his. Although his fingers were cold, Buffy felt a warm sensation radiating up her spine and the most delicious tingling throughout her body.

Not even Riley or her dream man had inspired feelings with such intensity before, though her platinum blond hero came in at a close second.
He pulled the hand higher so that the round-tipped weapon brushed the middle of his chest.

"You want to live an' save everyone, you don't miss where a vampire's heart is," he told her. "You also need to apply a lot more force like you did yesterday if you're gonna kill one."

He demonstrated the swinging motion for Buffy with gusto. After she practiced the movements he was trying to teach her, Spike turned her around so they faced one another. The dead, living being showed her how to initiate a frontal attack. The young woman absorbed his instructions rapidly.

"You got it, pet," he praised, adding, "you remember the techniques we reviewed; you'll live to see the next sunrise."

Buffy started putting the stake back into her pocket, but his voice stopped her. "One more thing, kitten: try to have the stake in your hand, or at least, pick a hiding place for a weapon that's more readily accessible."

The Creature of the Night pointed to her small round pockets in her front denims, commenting, "I noticed you strugglin' to get the thing out of your jeans just now."

"Got it," Buffy said, demonstrating a much faster withdrawing of the stake from her pocket. When she put it back, she showed him some of her boxing moves which, to Buffy's surprise, Spike matched perfectly.

They fought for almost an hour without speaking; then, when he saw that she needed a breather, the vampire said, "Take a break for ten minutes. 'M gonna go get somethin' to eat." He started to leave when her voice stopped him.

"I really felt like I was accomplishing something today," she told him honestly. The revenant turned around, again cocking his head to the side.

"You don't feel that way often?" he asked. Buffy shook her head. She sat down on a nearby mat. Spike sat next to her.

"It's just that I always feel like I'm defined by the people I'm with, rather than being my own…whatever, y'know?" she questioned. "I'm always 'Joyce's younger daughter', or 'Cordelia's younger sister', or 'Riley's girl'," she said dejectedly. "I mean…I'm almost twenty! I'm too old to be anyone's 'girl'"
.
Spike wondered just then who Riley was. Obviously, he was a boyfriend; anyone as pretty as Buffy would probably have dozens of boyfriends. He didn't know how he felt about that just then, but decided not to analyze his emotions too carefully.

The vampire chuckled, keeping his expression light. "You're still young enough to be a girl, pet," he commented.

Buffy didn't like that he thought of her that way. She glared at him, grinding out, "You know what I mean!" When she realized that this was only their first day in each other's company, she amended, "Well, maybe you don't, but I just am so tired about being in everyone's shadow all the time! Why can't I just be 'Buffy, The Whatever the Hell I'm Supposed to be?'"

Spike thought about his younger sister, Dawn, just then, and how she had felt about the same thing. "Had a sister a long time ago," he told Buffy, staring ahead and remembering Dawn's big, innocent eyes and her long, brown hair.

"She felt the same way," he said. "I c'n still hear the Nibblet, complaining to my Mum about bein' in my shadow. I was much older, y' see."

"How much older?" Buffy asked.

"Ten years her senior," he responded. "On top o' that, she couldn't go where I went because she was supposed to be a 'lady', an' ladies didn't go out."

Buffy looked at him, confused.

"She never left the house?" she asked. Spike looked at her.

"When I was human, 'goin' out' referred to unmarried ladies or ladies-in-training not going out to parties without an escort of some kind, like a brother or a father," he explained.

"Ooohh," Buffy said. She studied him, questioning, "So, you're probably, like, old. How old are you, anyway?"

Spike's response was a dare. "How old do you think, pet?" he queried, wondering if she was smart enough to guess his age.

Buffy said, "Maybe two hundred?" Spike looked insulted.

"'Two hundred?'" He echoed. "'M more modern than that!"

"Hundred and sixty?" Buffy tried again. The revenant smiled.

"Have to say now: you're close," he responded. "Next week'll be my hundred an' twenty first birthday."

"A hundred and twenty one?" Buffy repeated, her eyes widening with shock. "Really?"

Spike crossed his unbeating heart and replied, "Honest injun."

Buffy wrapped her mind around that one. What did one get for one's hundred and twenty first birthday? Why did she even want to know? She looked at the clock in the gym just then and stood.

"Wow! That's...OLD!" The comment slipped out from her lips. Spike gave her a look; Buffy straightened up a moment later.

"I have to get home and start dinner," she said.

Spike got up, his disappointment not showing on his face.

"Din't mean to chase you off, pet," he said.

"You didn't," Buffy tried to assure him. "Mom is still weak from her brain surgery, and Cordy sometimes studies really late. Besides, if you tasted my older sister's cooking, you'd wanna be staked because of food poisoning."

Spike laughed, saying, "You do know I don't need to eat human food, right?"

"Yeah, but irregardless," Buffy said, "you still don't want to subject yourself to her food."

"Next time, I'll introduce you to some of my banana bread," he promised. Buffy's brows drew together.

"You can cook?" she asked.

Spike nodded, telling her, "'S mostly for Wesley, an' for any other guests, like your Mum. Sometimes, I mix the food with my blood for variety. Besides, there's somethin' about Rachel an' Nigella that gets me goin'."

"Mom likes Rachel Ray, too," Buffy said, adding, "but she can't stand Martha Stewart."

"Tha' makes two of us," Spike commented. Buffy walked out of the gym to the front door.

"It's a date," she said, then as his glowing eyes shined brighter, corrected herself by saying, well…not a date date."

She took the rest of her paraphanalia and walked through the front door.

"I read you, kitten," he said, his face showing total amusement. "Till nex' time, then."

Buffy tugged her jacket slightly tighter. When Spike closed the door and she was halfway down his driveway, it occurred to her that she had not asked for any payment from him.

**Oh, well,** she thought, smiling broadly as she walked, next time.

She strode on, finding that she was able to reach the boundary between Williamstown and Sunnydale more quickly than her mother had. Buffy entered her tiny house pleased for the first time in a long time at the lessons she had learned.

CHAPTER TEN

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Rupert Giles reached his appointment at the top of Summitt Hill the following day. He went inside of the huge domed edifice, a playhouse-turned-museum which was privately owned and funded.

Giles went across the exhibit room which had tomes from the Shakespearean era in glass cases and sought the theatre where, in days long gone, people would perform works by the Bard or by some other well known playwright.

"Ahh, Rupert, there you are!" a scholarly British man greeted the younger Giles. The man gestured to some plush velvet seats at the middle section of the theatre.

"Please, sit down," he invited. Giles sat, wondering why he had been called.

Usually, whenever the White Council called him, it involved something serious: a mankind-will-die-unless-we-act-now situation. He regarded the person beside him. For Devon Myles-Smith, anything and everything was an emergency. Rupert had a feeling that if the man's alarm clock had not woke him up that morning Devon would have regarded that as a cataclysmic event tied into magic evil forces wreaking havoc with the Space-Time continuum.

At seventy, Devon Myles-Smith was still the picture of elegance. His snow white hair was perfectly curled at the ends, and his beard was neatly trimmed. His blue grey eyes never missed a trick, and his mind was still rapier sharp and able to detect falsehood or remember even the most minute details about people.

Although he walked with a cane, Myles-Smith didn't scrape or make a dragging noise; he glided. His dove grey silk jacket and blue ascot were meticulously arranged, and the handkerchief in his right pocket was not stuffed in, but was neatly folded and was a perfect match to his eyes.

"What is occurring that you wished to see me?" Giles asked.

Devon stared at Rupert sadly, saying, "One of our number has been eliminated. Merrick was destroyed, and you know his significance in the scheme of things."

Giles sat up straighter. This time, Devon Myles-Smith was not exaggerating the magnitude of what could occur.

"Merrick was to be the Chosen One's advisor," he said. Myles-Smith looked at him with agreement in his eyes.

"He had the training; he had the skill, and then the ground fell out from under us," Myles-Smith said in a grave voice. "Now, evil is gaining. To that end, you have been chosen. You are the next in line to assist her, and her Hunter."

Giles considered and, although he knew that a great responsibility had been thrust upon him, he was excited at the prospect of being the Advisor to the one chosen to stop evil in its tracks. He and Willow knew that she resided somewhere close, and that sooner or later, the locator spell would find her and the man destined to be her Hunter.

"We managed to pierce the evil influences which have clogged our attempts to find her," Devon was saying, "and we finally found a name. Elizabeth Anne Summers."

"Buffy?" Giles asked, his brows furrowing with worry. "But that's impossible. She's just a girl."

"And, it was deemed by the Powers that a girl, and those who are destined to receive her power, will stand against the Forces of Darkness," Myles-Smith was telling Giles. The older White One was in his element whenever he got a chance to make a speech.

"A girl was Chosen because of her innocence, and her purity. Her companions were also Chosen to make certain that she…" Devon reminded Giles.

"I know, I know, 'retains her human conscience'," Giles finished saying. "And the Hunter is chosen so that, if the Slayer dies young, he will be able to assume her place. He also fights by her side."

"Yes," Devon said. "You must alert Miss Summers to the fact that she is Chosen to do this! You must tell her as soon as possible! It is by the White Council's command, and it is her destiny!" Devon stood up and, having said his piece, left the museum.

Giles thought about Buffy and what this would mean to her. He knew she would not exactly be thrilled to have this information, especially given the fact that she might have to destroy Spike. He sighed as he ruminated over the best possible way to break the news to her.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Cordelia Summers went home the next night after an ordinary day with both excitement and apprehension in her veins. She had performed a rousing cheer for the game played that day in honor of those swim teammates who were still missing. She gave it her all; true, she wasn't the police (who were finally involved in the search,) and she wasn't the most popular girl in school like her friend, Harmony Blake, but no role was too insignificant if it helped boost morale at the University.

"Cordy, are you sure you don't want us to walk with you?" Harmony asked. Cordelia shook her head.

"Look, I'm not anywhere in town, and none of the beast sightings have been here in the parking lot. Besides, my home isn't that far away, you know that. You live in the other direction," Cordy told her.

Harmony shrugged, saying, "Well, if you're sure…I'll see you tomorrow, and after class, we'll go try on the cosmetics we got at my house! I'm having a slumber party!"

Cordelia was ecstatic. She always loved a party, particularly if Harmony and her blonde friend's exclusive, country club clique were going to be there. You never knew where Mr. Big Bank Account would show. It wasn't that she only thought about hooking a man with money. The senior also thought about how she could make her fortune so that she could help Buffy and her Mom financially. She just didn't want to do it for 10,000 years, working behind a counter at McDonald's or the Piggly Wiggly.

Cordelia wanted the fast, easy way to untold riches, and she knew that her looks and her outgoing personality were definite assets in achieving her goals. If a good looking male just happened to be at Harm's party, and if he just happened to be lonely enough to want to date and lavish some money on the brunette for her and for her family, well, so much the better.

"I wouldn't miss that for the world," Cordelia told her friend.

Harmony turned around and went in the opposite direction, looking dubiously back at her best buddy. When Cordelia kept on moving (albeit quickly,) the blonde thought, I guess she'll be okay. Harmony turned back around, walking toward her townhouse in the affluent section of Sunnydale.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not too far from the University parking lot, C. G. Springfield and another cop were looking at the scant information they had gotten from Police Chief Walsh's vehicle.

"I dunno, sir," Reginald "Tater" Edwards, C. G.'s right hand man, was saying in his usual slow way. "The Chief's never missed a sick day, and if she was on leave, why didn't she phone it in?"

C. G. ran a gloved hand along the window, trying to see if he could spot anything the other cops might have missed. "Maybe there was something which demanded her total attention, and she couldn't phone," he said, trying to put his fellow lawman's mind at ease. The Deputy Chief decided that he would go to the pathology lab and communicated that to Tater. It was time to get some answers.

Dr. Nancy Wong bent over the body of the latest victim of the vampire beast. On another table, in a body bag, was a previous victim who had died only two nights before. Usually, the pathologist could bend under pressure and handle the burden of discovering any evidence that might help the police, but now, the forty-year-old plus sized forensic scientist was baffled.

**Maybe I've been working too hard,** she thought.

Her mind wandered for just a moment to the house in Marina Bay that she and her husband had purchased. At moments like these, the desire to visit there, perhaps even permanently live there was stronger than ever.

She heard the footsteps before she smelled the familiar clean scent of C. G. Springfield. Dr. Wong had never had a brother before, but she supposed that if she were ever in the market for one, the Deputy Chief would be more than adequate.

"Hi, Nancy," C. G. greeted with a grim voice. The raven haired pathologist murmured a similar greeting.

"Anything?" he asked curtly.

Doctor Wong unzipped the body bag of the latest victim, a young, blond man who had the arrogant look even in death of someone who had the world in the palm of his hand.

She motioned to the Deputy Chief to follow her, and they stood in front of the victim's neck. Wong pointed to two marks side by side on the upper portion of it. "Complete results haven't come back from this latest feast of the perpetrator, but the point of entry and the size of the marks indicate that both bodies came more than likely from the same killer." She put her hands on her hips, saying, "Frankly, I'm stumped."

C. G. gave her a look. "What do you mean? It's obvious that we're dealing with some sort of animal, like a mountain lion or something," he guessed. When Dr. Wong returned his look, C. G. frowned.

"Why, is there something you're not telling me?" he asked. Doctor Wong went to a table and got a plastic mold of fangs.

"Okay," she explained, "this is the cast of an adult mountain lion, which have sometimes been spotted in the area." Wong got an enlarged photograph from the same table.

"And this is a blow up of a computer photo of an x ray of the female victim from two days ago," she told the cop. He peered at the cast and the photo and looked at the doctor. "As you can see, the marks on her are not consistent with the marks which would be made by a mountain lion, or, according to the computer search I did, with any animal possessing teeth of this caliber."

C. G. waited patiently for her to divulge more information. "The bites are slightly wider and not as deep as a lion's or tiger's or some other animal. In addition, there were inconsistencies in the blood samples taken from both bodies with that of the creatures I described.

"Skin samples taken from the girl indicate a human factor," the doctor confirmed. "In addition, the blood lifted from around the dead girl's neck indicates a human killer who had apparently been in contact with several types of blood."

C. G. pondered the information. His grimace told Wong that he was not pleased with the results. "Could he have used an unsterilized fork from a hospital or butcher's shop with blood types on it or some other stabbing weapon on the victims?"

Wong shook her head saying, "Not possible. I sent the results to a fellow forensicologist in the area who specializes in metallurgy. There were no traces of any kind of metal having been used, and as I pointed out before, the markings are too close together and not deep enough to have been caused by a fork or other carving or pruning weapon. As for the different types of blood around the victim's neck, your guess is as good as mine as to why the killer had traces of so many."

Before C. G. could respond, Doctor Wong said something else in a voice so low he had to strain to hear it. "Not only that, but here is the clencher," she said. "Although there were different types of blood at the point of entry, the female victim was missing several pints from her body and there are no other marks on her body large enough to have caused this amount of blood loss."

She and the Deputy Chief exchanged worried looks between them. "I can get the results from this victim…" she pointed to the male body at that remark, "but having studied some computer records from both I can tell you that the data on the latest will be the same."

The cop could feel an ulcer coming on. He reached into his uniform and withdrew a tablet for stomach upset from his pocket. Swallowing it, he asked, "Is there anything else to go on?"

Dr. Wong responded, "The saliva samples extracted indicate that we are dealing with a Caucasian male, age unknown, and, based on the angle and point of entry, one who is approximately between five foot ten and six foot three inches tall."

"So the sample of saliva wasn't enough to give an approximate age…" C. G. mused, "but surely there must be a ball park figure."

Wong shook her head. She wore a confused, frustrated look as she said, "Normally, you would be right, but I put that through every test we have, and I even contacted a medical cousin of mine to cross check the information. Guess what?"

When C. G. gave her a blank look, Dr. Wong continued, saying, "The records indicated a young male, but the saliva indicates a young, DEAD male. "

"Explain that," the cop instructed.

"Normally the human mouth contains about 8 million human cells in its saliva, along with bacteria, electrolytes, enzymes, and other materials," she lectured. "In this sample, however, the cell count numbered less than 100,000 cells. Also, the amount of enzymes that were secreted in his DNA sample were too low to belong to anyone alive."

C. G. stared at the pathologist as though she were insane. "What are you saying?" he asked. "Are you telling me that although you removed an active culture of saliva the readings confirmed that the chemical compound of said sample was INACTIVE?"

When Dr. Wong nodded, commenting, "That, and the other factors are what make this case so baffling. I have studied and cross checked every piece of data at least three times, and it keeps coming up the same!"

C. G. asked in a gravelly voice, "So you're saying that there could very well be an actual vampire on the loose?"

Wong gave him a censuring look, saying, "I'm not alluding to anything of the sort, but if there is not one, let's just say that the killer is doing one helluva imitation of one."

The Deputy Chief could not believe the information he had just received. He also realized his job had gotten much harder.

He knew about vampires, and had even studied them on the side as a hobby in college, but the police man had never wanted to believe in their existence. He had always thought that they were the stuff of legends or fantasies. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Had the media been correct? WAS there a vampire beast? If so, maybe HE was the one who'd taken the one person from him that he cared about more than his own life.

Then again, maybe he was crazy.

"All right," he ordered the forensic scientist, "dig deeper. You find anything else, it comes directly to me. I don't want anyone else to see it."

Dr. Wong didn't ask about Chief Walsh. She knew that C. G. wouldn't have asked for her report without good reason. Nodding her assent, the doctor turned to the male body.

C. G. acknowledged the doctor's curt nod with one of his own and went upstairs. Tater was waiting at his desk with a manila folder.

"C. G.!" he exclaimed. "Records on the male blond who checked in downstairs. File states his name was Jacques Maracques, the son of one Stefan Maracques of the cosmetics firm in Paris."

The Deputy Chief murmured sarcastically, "Great! Now all we have to do is keep the paparazzi from finding out about the kid, which is next to trying to buy real estate on the asteroid Pluto."

"I thought Pluto was a planet," Tater told his superior. When C. G. glared at him, the bigger cop withdrew, saying, "Right, well, I'll hold down the fort if you're finished here."

"Looks like I am until we get more info," C. G. said with frustration in his voice. He got up from his chair and put on his jacket, saying, "Call me if Dr. Wong gets any more info."

"Will do, boss," Tater promised. As C. G. left, the second-in-command of the Sunnydale P. D. hoped that Chief Maggie Walsh didn't run afoul of the killer, vampire beast or not.

Cordelia continued walking quickly through the parking lot at the University, feeling the hairs on her neck stand on end. She didn’t know why she felt as though someone was following her.

The young college student had checked several times and could see no one, so why did she think there were creatures after her?

**C’mon, Cordy,** she told herself mentally, **get a grip.**

A shadow flashed out of the corner of her eye. Cordelia cursed all the heavens that she didn’t think to borrow the family car instead of Buffy or her mother.

She decided just then that sprinting to her house might not be a bad idea and she started running. Footsteps could be heard going in her direction. The brunette was running even faster now, hoping that someone would be out on the street. She turned a corner…and ran right into Xander.

“Xander!” she shrieked. “What is your deal, sneaking up on people?”

Xander Harris looked at Cordelia, his eyes drawn to the little spot on her throat that was pulsing with her fear. He smiled, fixing her with a brown eyed stare.

“Sorry, Cordy,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Cordelia relaxed for a moment. She saw that, for someone who had been missing, Xander seemed to be okay. She banked down the sensation that something was very wrong with this picture and smiled, grateful for her ex boyfriend’s appearance.

“Can I walk you home?” Xander asked her.

Cordelia nodded, glad that anyone had shown up. She linked her arm through his , noting that he wore a jacket, which was a dark chocolate leather that she had never seen before. Her past beau also seemed more confident and less shy by the way he eyed her.

They walked out of the parking lot and into darker territory for a moment before Xander spoke again. “You really shouldn’t be wandering around late,” he cautioned.

Cordy looked at her watch, commenting, “It’s only seven thirty. It’s not late at all.”

“But still,” Xander advised, “you never know what might come up to bite you.”

“The Vampire Beast?” Cordelia asked derisively. “I’m not saying people haven’t seen something in this town, but don’t you think they’re imaging things? I mean, vampires just don’t exist.”

It was then that the brunette noticed three things: 1) Xander had stopped walking; 2) they were in an area of town that she didn’t recognize; and 3) and most important, her ex was now sporting a face with ridges, yellow eyes, and fangs.

“Beg to differ, Cor,” he told her.

Cordelia could see that there were two others with Xander all of a sudden. She recognized them as two more of the missing guys from the swim team.

Xander laughed as Cordelia shrieked. He reached out and grabbed her waist. The young woman shrieked again. “Aww, come on, Cordy!” he chided. “Is that any way to behave? Whatever happened to letting bygones be bygones?”

Cordy found her voice. “Y-you’re a vampire!” She shouted. Xander’s teammates laughed as they shifted into game face.

“I thought you said we didn’t exist,” Xander responded. He looked at his fellow classmen. “She said that, didn’t she, boys?”

“Yep,” one Caucasian boy said, his brown hair hanging just below his neck.

“Sure did,” the other boy, a raven haired Cherokee Indian said, smacking his lips at what he would taste.

Cordelia started to turn away before she realized that, just like the ocean, one should never turn their back on a vampire. Xander grabbed her arm again before she could pull away and forced her to look at his eyes. Harris used his penetrating stare, but the dark brown haired young woman still struggled.

“Aw, man, she’s not cooperating!” the brown haired boy complained.

“Yeah, you're right, Bob,” the Cherokee Indian whose straight hair hung to his waist, grumbled. “she’s supposed to be enthralled!”

Xander gave his ex an appraising look, jeering, “I don’t even know what I saw in you! You refuse to come quietly, so I’ll do this the hard way. Me and my pals here always wanted to hunt something since we’ve been like this, and you’re just the right prey.”

“Prey?” Cordelia echoed, slightly miffed. “I’m SO not prey!”

Xander looked at his watch, saying, “You’ve got five minutes; then, it’s open season on ex girlfriends.” Cordelia backed away, running in the opposite direction.

Harris looked at the other young men, asking, “Do you think we should give her the full five minutes?”

Before they could answer, Xander shook his head, saying, “Nah!” They gave chase as Cordelia went tearing through the city streets. As fate would have it, her current path took her right to where C. G. was walking toward his car. They bumped into each other.

Cordelia struggled, looking back at her enemies.

“Whoa! What’s going on, here?” the cop asked.

“Let me go!” she shouted at the top of her voice. “They’re after me!”

“Who’s after you?” C. G. queried. He then saw her pursuers, and their faces.

Hurriedly, he opened the car door to his 1989 Trans Am, shouting, “Get in!”

Cordelia needed no further urging. She got into the back seat of the car. He slid into the driver’s seat and prayed that the car would start. C. G. was rewarded with a roaring engine. They sped down the street just as Xander and his cronies caught up.

The Chrokee boy, (whose name was Blackfeather,) swore as they got into his car, a slightly more modern black Toyota Camry, and tore after them.

“Cool! I love this part!” the Caucasian boy exclaimed from the front passenger seat. His glowing yellow eyes shined with pure lust as he thought about biting Cordelia. “We should have become vamps sooner!” he yelled.

“Yeah! Remind me to thank Darla and Dru!” Xander responded from his rear seat.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Inside the Trans Am, C. G. scanned the city streets, looking for any sign of a place that could provide a safe haven. He drove for a couple of minutes until he made a right onto Cherub Drive, then he smiled as he recognized where they were heading. His passenger took to scanning the rear window to see if her hunters were gaining on them.

“I don’t see them!” she shouted. C. G. grimaced, keeping his hands in a vice like grip on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, well, just because you don’t doesn’t mean they aren’t here!” he returned. He neared their “safe house” just then.

Cordelia kept her eyes on the back window. Her face fell as she saw the black Toyota with its three occupants. “Oh, no!” she gasped. The brunette young woman faced the front.

“Can’t you make this trash heap go any faster?” she asked. C. G. took exception to that.

“How’d you like to be in THEIR car, Miss Critic?” he snapped. He steered left.

“Sorry,” Cordelia said in a tone that indicated she was anything but.

Her brown eyes widened as she saw what they were approaching. The building was as majestic as it was old, a symbol of belief and trust in the one thing that could give them a respite from their foes. She made a mental note to visit it on Sunday if they ever escaped unscathed.

C. G. didn’t slow down, but drove as though he were going to go straight through the stained glass windows of the edifice entitled, Church of Brompton, which was the next town over on the Eastern side of Sunnydale. Cordelia didn’t know which was worse: the crazy, albeit good looking, cop who had rescued her; or the insane vampires who wanted to make them their next entrees.

“What are you doing?” she shouted.

The Deputy Chief smirked and did just what she thought he was going to do. He drove through the windows, shattering the sacred glass into a million pieces.

In the other car, Xander and his pals skidded just short of driving inside the church. “Jeez!” the Caucasian pal wailed. “Now what? We can’t go in there!”

“Maybe we can,” Xander said. “Follow me.” He got out of the car. Blackfeather turned off the ignition and upon exiting his car with his friend, went after Cordelia’s former main squeeze.

Inside the chapel, Sister Abby Thomas ran downstairs as fast as her old lady’s legs could take her. “What on Earth?” she asked as she took in the devastation. Cordelia peeled out of the Trans Am, followed by C. G.

“Earth’s got very little to do with it,” the cop told the nun, holding up his badge. Sister Abby inspected it, then waited for him to tell her what was going on.

“If you could vacate the premises, Sister,” C. G. said, “that would be a big help. I’ll see that you get full compensation for the damages, and I’ll explain all this later.”

The nun’s eyes followed the evil looking young man in the brown leather jacket who’d just walked in. She decided that perhaps it was time to say her prayers in the nursery the nuns visited sometimes which was way off the premises. Xander had just gotten closer to where Cordelia and C. G. were when he felt the worst pain imaginable. His friends winced in pain as they felt themselves burning slightly.

“Xan!” Bob said. “We can’t do this!” Behind him, Blackfeather moaned.

“Idiot!” Xander rebuked. “It’s the belief in this stuff, not the building, and I know that my ex doesn’t believe!” Suddenly, he heard a loud bang and could feel a hole in his chest. Cordelia’s former boyfriend looked up to see C. G. smirking.

“But you forgot about ME, perp,” the Deputy Chief said, holding his gun aloft.

Xander collapsed on the floor, temporarily stunned. The other two, not wanting to face the determined cop without their leader, fled in the Indian boy’s car.

Cordelia captured C. G. in a bear hug, shouting, “My hero!” C. G. stared at the young vampire that had been Alexander Harris.

The dark brown haired college student peered at Xander and queried, “Is he…?”

“Not yet,” he answered Cordelia. “Bullets don’t kill them. They just slow them down! We’ve got to get out of here!”

The blondish brown haired Welsh cop went into his vehicle and called for his team to meet him at the station. He said to the girl, “I’ve got some rope in back. Get it, while I secure that one with handcuffs.”

While she grabbed his keys and opened the trunk, he whipped out his handcuffs from his pocket while Cordelia got the rope from the back of C. G.’s car. The cop went over to the altar, grabbing two clear hued bottles.

“Tie it as tight as you want,” he ordered. “Circulation is not a problem with them.”

Cordelia nodded, going over to the inert body of her ex boyfriend. She bound his body with the rope and together, they lifted Xander and deposited him in C. G.’s trunk.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Cordy asked.

“I have an idea,” the policeman responded. He started the ignition and the pair rode off.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Later, C. G. and Cordy walked back from Sunnydale Cemetary toward the former’s Trans Am. They had left a swearing Xander buried inside a coffin under soil moistened with the contents inside the bottles the Deputy Chief had grabbed.

“You know he’s just gonna free himself,” the young woman said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t doubt it,” C. G. returned, grinning. As he let Cordy into the passenger’s side and he slid into the driver’s seat, he added, “but if he does try to escape, he’ll receive one of the worst nighttime sunburns in history!”

Cordelia stared at the policeman and mentally reiterated her thoughts. **Yep!** She told herself. **He’s crazy, all right!**

“Where do you live?” the Deputy Chief asked. When she provided the address, C. G. muttered, “Oh, you live just around the corner from me.”

When they stopped at a red light, Cordy took that time to study her perfectly manicured nails, thinking, **at least they’re okay.** C. G. studied her for a brief moment before driving on again.

**Thank God I get to let Little Miss Vain and Pretentious off soon!** He thought. Aloud, he asked, “So what’s your name?” His mind conjectured, probably something fluffy, like Ariel, or something.

When she responded, “Cordelia,” the cop couldn’t think of a comeback for that. He decided that her name wasn’t too bad. The young college student reached for her compact out of her purse and started primping. Lia, he decided, suited her: a pretty name for a beautiful, probably spoiled, girl.

He shook his thought away as he heard her ask him, “So, what’s yours?”

“C. G.,” he answered. Cordelia put away her compact, her pretty lips pouting.

“Is that it?” she wondered aloud. The Deputy Chief snuck a look at her before turning his attention to the road.

“That’s all you’re gonna get,” he said.

As he pulled up in front of her house and drove off after checking to see that she reached her door okay, Cordelia walked inside but stared out at the Trans AM pulling away.

“Obnoxious dolt,” she said as she slammed the door.

Inside the house, Buffy was waiting for her. She took in Cordelia's appearance and wondered what happened. Cordelia looked around for their mother.

"Where's Mom?" She asked Buffy. Her younger sister's hand jerked toward the stairs.

"Lying down upstairs," Buffy reported. "What happened to you?"

Cordelia didn't know how to tell Buffy about Xander. Sensing something was wrong, the younger Summers grabbed her sister's arm.

"Hey!" Cordelia shouted. "You don't have to pull my arm out of it's socket!"

"Sorry..." Buffy apologized. "Tell me: did something happen?"

Never a good liar, Cordelia said, "Xander's back with friends, and they're of the undead variety!"

Buffy gasped for a moment, then she took on a determined expression. "Do you think he's the beast?" She asked suddenly.

Cordelia shook her head, remembering Xander as he used to be: a boy who'd idolized her once upon a time.

"I don't know," she finally said. Buffy hugged her sister, whispering comforting words to her. The nineteen year old swore that if Xander was the beast, or was somehow connected to him, she would get Spike's training and advice and somehow make things right.

"Spike?" Buffy called out as she went to the usual spot in the gym they met in.

Even though it had only been four days since they'd first met, she found that she was looking forward to their sparring matches daily. Buffy was slowly coming to realize that she had found the other half of herself in Spike. She didn't know why she felt that way with her vampiric sparring partner, but she couldn't ignore the feelings when they were so strong.

"Spike?" she called again louder.

Buffy searched the rooms where she knew Spike would most likely be: the kitchen, the rec room, the main living room downstairs, the basement. Still, there was nothing. The nineteen-year-old was worried. What if something had happened to him?

Then, her mind hit upon a plan. Buffy remembered the movie she and Riley had seen the other night. It had been a vampire flick where the woman was called by her supernatural mate by telepathic means. Riley had laughed at that notion, despite all of the hoopla about the Vampire Beast. But Buffy was thoughtful when the soldier drove her home. She wondered if, given the strong attraction they felt for each other, she could just reach out to him mentally.

**Silly,** she mentally chided herself, but she tried nonetheless. After all, what could she lose?

Buffy breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling, until she connected with something. She didn't feel Spike's thoughts, but she somehow knew he was near. He seemed to be content in whatever he was doing, and he was all right. She walked through the outer grounds, not really paying attention to where she was going, until she found herself in a greenhouse.

The greenhouse wasn't too large as most went. There were a few plants and flowers which, while sparse, were lovingly tended. The windows, while allowing sunlight to filter through, were somehow shielded against the heat of the rays, as Buffy felt when she stood in the band of light streaming in. She walked past gladiolas, ferns, and other signs of plant life she didn't know, following the sensation of Spike's presence.

When she walked further inside the nursery, Buffy heard a soft voice singing in the back. The young woman turned a corner and saw the vampire, whose knees in the soil. Spike lovingly tended some rose bushes. Her mind seemed to float as it connected with his haunting melody. So, Buffy noted, did the pink roses. When he sang, they bent in his direction, attuned to his music. The bumpy faced vampire stopped his ministrations and turned when he sensed Buffy.

"Buffy…" he began. She sidled closer, studying him.

"Don't stop what you were doing," she said. Spike smiled a fangless grin.

"Which one?" he asked. "The singing or the gardening?"

Buffy kneeled beside him. "Both," she answered.

He started singing a song about a beautiful dreamer. She listened, enraptured by his quiet, medium pitched voice. It was so melodious to her that she started humming along with him. Spike broke off his singing; she stopped humming suddenly and opened her eyes which had been closed.

"What?" she asked.

"You've got a good voice, pet," he told her. He set to work again, removing the petals which had fallen to the ground.

"You garden every day?" she asked. When he didn't answer, Buffy continued, saying, "My mom gardens, too. Me and Cordy though, don't have a green thumb. If I even looked at a plant, it would die."

Spike stopped his work and studied her. "There you go again, puttin' yourself down," he said. He handed her a gardening tool and some gloves, ordering her to make herself useful.

Buffy looked down at the tools, guessing, "You gonna teach me gardening?" At Spike's nod, the girl violently shook her head. "No," she said flatly.

"C'mon, Buffy," he encouraged, "you can do it." The girl was empowered by his enthusiasm, and she finally nodded her agreement.

They got to work, removing the old dirt and replacing it with fresh dirt. He showed her where to trim the rose bushes, smiling when, just like with the fighting, Buffy demonstrated she was a fast learner.

"Tha's it, kitten!" he praised. Buffy got off her knees and the vampire followed. They sat down on a nearby workbench.

"You seem to love the roses the best," she remarked.

"Yeh," he confirmed.

Buffy looked at him quizzically. "Why?" she wanted to know.

The beastly looking vampire's eyes took on a faraway look like the one he'd had when he had discussed his past.

"They were my li'l sister's favorite flower," he answered. "My Dawnie used to tend them almost everyday."

"You loved her a lot, didn't you?" Buffy asked. Spike nodded as tears gathered in his eyes.

Buffy ventured softly, "How did she die? Old age?"

Spike didn't answer the question, just staring ahead lost in his memories. When he spoke again suddenly, Spike talked in a whisper.

"Loved flowers, the Littlun did," he said. He thought back just then as he told Buffy a little about his past.

(England, 1880, The Pratt House)

Dawn Augusta Pratt was cutting the roses off of her bushes, singing "Early One Morning" as she worked. She got up, smoothing the dirt off of her yellow morning dress. It had a long skirt with delicate, pink flowers on it. Although the youngest of the Pratts tried to make it presntable, she could tell that the dress her mother had given her last year was ruined.

"Dawn?" William Pratt called to his sister. He took in her long skirt ruined by soil, and smiled.

"You know Mother's going to be in an uproar all morning since you ruined your dress," he teased, none too angry as he added, "although if you had not, I would have eventually." Both older brother and younger sister laughed heartilly as Dawn's pretty blue eyes strayed to her brother's clothes.

William had no problem keeping his clothes tidy. His brown jacket and vest were neatly pressed, and his white shirt beneath had not a sign of dirt. His shoes were also newly polished, and his brown, curly locks were not in the least bit tousled. On his nose rested a perfecly cleaned pair of spectacles.

By comparison, Dawn's longer, darker brown hair was all over the place despite her having a huge yellow bonnet to restrain it.

She launched into one of her many tirades befitting a seventeen-year-old girl. "I do not see why I cannot dress in breeches like some girls do! You men have all comforts in the world!" She complained. "You do not have to wear corsets that pinch and skirts that make you perspire in the summer time!"

"But we also don't look as pretty as you women," William soothed. "Tis our loss." Dawn smiled at that.

William smiled back as she said, "You always know the right thing to say. That is why I know everyone will love your poetry reading at the gathering tonight!"

The elder Pratt considered his poetry and felt a moment of doubt. "Do you really think it is any good?" he asked his sibling. Dawn gathered up her flowers and walked ahead of William into their modest country house.

"I think it is VERY good!" Dawn chirped.

William playfully ruffled her hair as she removed her hat. He looked about for any servants and, seeing none that could give them away, he motioned her to the stairs. The pair might have gotten away with squirreling the younger Pratt upstairs if their mother had not seen them.

"Dawn Augusta Pratt!" Anne Pratt, their only living relative other than a distant Aunt, shrilled at the top of her crisp, British lungs.

**Caught!** Both brother and sister thought as they stared at each other. Anne marched up to them as William struggled to find his voice.

"Mother," he said, "t'was not her fault. I wanted the roses, and I…" Anne wasn't buying it. She whirled on her son who backed down in the face of her wrath.

At age fifty, Anne Elizabeth Pratt was a tower of strength. She had weathered the death of her husband of over twenty years of marriage at the hands of consumption, and she had also dealt with the loss of her brother the month before to the ravages of war in China.

While most women would have been committed in the face of such tremendous hardship and also "spoon fed" a daily diet of morphine, the only living elder Pratt would not allow herself the indignity of despair. She had gotten a job teaching at a highly respected university and, thankfully for her, she had selected a very able bodied business manager to look after her husband's estate, which had been enough for the family to live on comfortably if not wealthily.

She also sold jams and jellies, which were made in her own shed in the back yard. The people she did business with couldn't get enough of her peach preserves and her strawberry jam.

Like her son, who took after her in looks if not temperament, she had golden brown locks which were slightly graying but still were curled in the latest style from France. Her dress, a dark brown affair, had the high collar and lace décolletage with a cameo at its center. She turned a pair of dark green eyes on William and Dawn.

"When shall you ever learn?" she asked her daughter.

Before William could defend his sister, his mother looked at him. "And you! You encourage her!" Anne accused. William shrugged, his head bowed and his blue eyes staring at the floor.

"She is to meet suitors who are of good character and good provisioning," she told her son. William nodded, facing his mother. He had heard countless lectures before. The elder female shoved her daughter to the stairs.

"I will attend to her," she told her son. "You should practice your readings for tonight." As she climbed up the stairs, Dawn looked over her shoulder helplessly at her brother, then she disappeared.

William's eyes followed his sister's as he thought, **Some day, Nibblet, it will be you and me. I will make a name for myself with my poetry somewhere, and I will take us both to a faraway land where we can live as we want, with no mother to tell us what to do.**

The only male Pratt went into the drawing room to compose some poetry….

(Spike's memory ends. Spike's house, the Present…)

"Get out!" Buffy exclaimed. "You do POETRY?"

"I did poetry," Spike told her. "Haven't written a poem in some thir'y years."

Buffy got off of the bench and walked out of the greenhouse. Spike steered her to a room connecting it to another door leading to the main house. As they walked, Buffy asked, "So?"

"Wha'?" Spike responded with a question.

"Aren't you gonna show me your stuff?" she wondered, intrigued.

Spike heard the echoes of laughter in his head, but willed them away as he answered, "No."

"'No?'" Buffy repeated. "You're telling me 'no'?"

"That's right, pet," he responded.

They made their way to the gym and Buffy went into a nearby bathroom to change. Later, she emerged with tight jeans, a tank top, and her play weapons, her hair up in secure hairpins like it usually was when they fought.

As she came after him with a high kick which Spike deflected, she said, "How's about we make a deal? I defeat you in the first two rounds, you show me at least one poem?"

Spike returned her question with another kick. "Okay," he finally agreed. "But if I win, you have to give me somthin', too."

Buffy staked him with the blunt edged object perfectly in his unbeating heart. "I accept," she conceded. They continued sparring until they had reached a draw.

"It's…" Spike started to state the obvious.

"I know," Buffy said, "a draw." She muttered, "bummer." Spike chuckled.

"Don' worry, kitten," he told her when he saw her troubled expression. "I won't make you cluck like a chicken or strip down naked, though heaven knows I want to!"

Buffy blushed as he continued, "Bu' we have plenty of time for seein' each other's unmentionable parts!"

Buffy's response was to snicker a little as she went into the bathroom to towel off. Spike walked to the den where he kept his poetry and, after a moment of scanning what he considered his best poems, selected one about a maiden.

When he returned, Buffy had washed her face and applied fresh makeup. She had also changed into a slightly less casual sweater: a wine shade that complemented her perfectly. Spike thought about a poem concerning Buffy all of a sudden. He mentally went over the words before noticing that she had grabbed the piece of paper and started reading.

"'My maid is like the turn of the dawn,'" she read before Spike could grab the paper back. She turned away, keeping just enough of an arm's length away from him so that he couldn't snatch the poem from her.

Buffy read aloud again, reciting, "'Her presence is so comforting. Her cherry lips and fragrant scent spur me on. I am no longer languishing…'". She handed the sheet back to Spike.

He braced himself for the torrential flood of laughter which usually followed one of his poems being read out loud, but she didn't laugh. He was glad Buffywasn't laughing; even Angelus had snickered when William had written something criticizing the ones who had ruined his life.

"Ye'll be takin' my advice, Spikey," Angelus had purred with his not-quite-gone Irish brogue to the younger vampire when William had been first turned, "you might want to bury that mess straight away."

Darla had laughed, saying, "Or BURN it! A fitting end to such God awful poetry!" Only Drusilla had the presence of mind not to laugh.

"You aren't laughin', pet," Spike ventured in the present. "People usually do." He braced himself for the onslaught of laughter. Maybe her lack of it was just a delayed reaction. **Any moment now...** he told himself. But instead of rolling on the floor, Buffy just shrugged.

"Well, considering it's the first poetry I've ever really heard, I think it's okay," Buffy responded truthfully. "And," she added, "it's not as long winded as some of that Browning crap or boring like the 'Niebel-something' stuff Cordelia usually brings home from school."

Spike rewarded her with a smile full of fangs. He closed the distance between them and stood behind her when she went to check her hair in the bathroom's mirror. The reflection caught her slightly mismanaged hair, and of course, it didn't show any signs of him. The younger Summers didn't react; he was a vampire, after all.

"Thanks, lion cub," he said softly.

Although she couldn't see him, the essence she had felt from all around her grew stronger with a vengeance. Buffy sensed him, could feel waves of desire from him, his total devotion to her engulfing her. She decided she liked what she felt.

Spike breathed in her soft, Vanilla smell tinged with sweat and found himself staring at her hair. Slowly, he removed the hairpins, letting the golden mass tumble free. He was looking at his Golden Goddess, and he was totally smitten.

"What are you doing?" Buffy breathed.
"Jus' makin' you look more presentable," Spike responded. "You have gorgeous hair. My brown haired sis would have been envious."

His cool, calloused hands skimmed her neck. Buffy moaned In response. Her pulse seemed to want to join his hands, or at least beat its approval of his touch. Her heart pumped faster.

He fingered a lock of her hair, marveling at its softness. "You truly are a golden vision," he purred.

Buffy turned slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. She started to lean back into his chest but then pulled forward. Spike's breath caressed her ear as his nostrils caught a whiff of her desire for him.

"Buffy," he said, winding the hair around his fingers. "Short for Elizabeth."

"Yeah," Buffy said slightly hoarsely, seemingly not able to say anything else. The blood was thumping, aching for him to pierce the tender skin in her neck. She knew Spike sensed it, too.

"Your Mum give you that name?" he asked in a husky voice.

"My father, actually," Buffy answered. "It kinda stuck over the years."

"Buffy's a child's name, way I reckon it. Do you know how I see you?" Spike queried.

Buffy turned back to the mirror. "How?" she wondered, curious.

"You look like a 'Beth' to me," he responded, slowly turning her so that they faced each other. "Beth is a more grown up name." Buffy frowned.

"I'm not crazy about it," Buffy told him. "Riley calls me 'BethAnne', and I really don't like that." Spike wasn't quite sure why Riley called her that if she hated it but he told himself that Spike would not call Buffy that.

"Anne?" Spike asked, remembering his parent.

Buffy nodded, confirming, "Yes, my middle name is Anne, after my maternal grandmother."

Spike had never believed in heavenly signs before, but he could not have seen this maiden in his future if he'd tried. The mere fact that she had the same name as his mother (but hopefully none of the personality traits,) proved that Buffy was no ordinary girl. He didn't know if she was the one to save him from Drusilla's curse, but he knew he would love finding out if Buffy could.

"Did you like it when people called you 'Bill', or 'Billy'?" she asked. Spike winced.

"No," he said with all conviction. "I see your point, lion cub. Buffy, it is, then."

"Spike it is, then," she told him, adding, "or I could call you 'William'".

"I much prefer 'Spike'," he replied. "Seems better, don't you think?"

Buffy looked into his beautiful orange eyes, but then remembered that he had not asked for his favor. "I got my wish: you read some poetry," she responded. "What did you want?"

Spike pulled her closer, saying softly, "This…".

He kissed her; a kiss that, despite his coldness, was warm and tender. She lingered through his kiss, wrapping her arms around his bumpy neck. His lips grew bolder then, his tongue thrusting through them and into her waiting mouth, caressing her teeth. Buffy sank her tongue into his mouth, not thinking once about her dream-Spike with his handsome face. Every moment of her life was here, and now. She would have been more aggressive, but the vampire pulled away.

Buffy put her hands to her lips, breathing, "Woah!"

Spike opened his mouth, but no sounds came out. "Guh…" he finally said.

Buffy seized the initiative and kissed him once more: thoroughly, passionately. The vampire was overwhelmed by her scent, her touch, her presence. He knew that if he didn't end things soon, he was libel to taste her sweet blood and he wouldn't stop until he'd drained her dry.

"Buffy…" he said between kisses, "…enough." Buffy broke away, frowning.

"You didn't like it?" she asked, wounded.

Spike took in gulps of air as he thought of a suitable response. His eyes fell on the huge clock and as he noted the time, he was glad he had a way out.

"S' almost six," he told her.

Buffy's eyes followed his, and she swore softly as she stared at the clock. Scooping up her bag, she told him that she'd better go. After she left, Spike went outside and, catching a squirrel, drained it of its blood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Wesley returned home that evening, Spike was sitting in the dark, his face still covered in blood. After switching on the light, the college student placed the pig's blood he had bought in a cup and warmed it in the microwave. Spike didn't move.

Windham-Pryce sat down next to his friend on the couch, handing over the mug full of blood. Spike drank greedily as Wesley finally noticed his condition.

"What happened?" Wesley asked, worried. Spike turned haunted eyes on his friend. Wesley blanched, saying, "Oh, no! You didn't…I mean, you didn't kill somebody, did you?"

"Jus' a squirrel," Spike told Wesley.
The younger Brit breathed a sigh of relief but then his eyebrows drew back, confused.

"Then why the long face?" he wanted to know.

Spike rose from the couch crossing over to the kitchen. He threw the plastic cup with the smiley face on it into the sink and turned on his faucet full force. After a moment, Spike switched off the water and stood in front of his couch, facing his "brother".

"Because it was all I could do not to kill someone, or turn 'em," Spike ground out bitterly.

Wesley waited until the vampire related the events of the day. It took all of the college student's self control, but he managed to not show or relate any emotions or sensations to Spike.
"I'm sure it's just a momentary thing," Wesley tried to soothe. Spike grimaced, sitting back down on the couch. Wesley got up slowly.

"Anya and I will find out what it is," he said. Spike looked up hopefully at Wesley, not even bothering to tell the college student about Anya. The younger British man went upstairs, leaving Spike with his thoughts.

When Wesley got into the room, he pressed the automatic dialing function on his cell. When Anya picked up, the college student said, "Ana? I need to talk to you right now. Meet me in the Magic Shop."

He heard the former Vengeance Demon responding in the positive. Wesley hung up his cell and, after returning back downstairs, he said to Spike that he needed to get some books he had forgotten for studying, he hurried out. Spike growled lowly but turned on his telly, hoping to get a re-run on a cable channel of his favorite soap, Passions.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

XXXXXXXXXX

Wesley jerked the door open to the Magic Shop as he ran inside. "Ana!" he shouted his pet name for the former demon as he turned the "open" sign to "closed".

"I need those books on breaking the Curse right away! We may have to escalate our time—" the British college student stopped short as he took in the devastation to the tiny store. Books were all over the floor, urns and vases were upturned, and worse yet, his girlfriend was nowhere in sight.

Wesley was about to phone 911 when he saw a tall, good looking vampire in full game face come out from the shadows. "Don't be so modest, Wes! Tell us all about the time table!" Angelus chirped.

Drusilla drew in closer to Wesley and stroked his cheek. "Ohh, look, brother!" she said. "College boy is all afraid!" She smiled with hunger etched on her vampire face as she heard his rapidly beating heart.

"Hmm…" Angel purred, "you're right, Dru!" He studied the skinny, geeky younger man who was controlling the urge to pee.

"He is a thin one, but maybe we should taste him right now," Angel suggested.

"No!" Darla cried as she joined the pair. "I have plans for him, and for the demon."

Drusilla drew away from Wesley and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Oooohhh!" she squealed. "We get to play! We get to torture them later!"

Angelus fixed the college boy with a cruel stare as he mocked, "Guess what, Wes ol' boy: you've just been invited to a party in William's honor!"

Wesley's bravado came to the surface as he said, "Why don't you just kill me and have done with it, you pillocks?"

Darla gestured and the four of them found themselves in a basement, where the Library Science major saw an unconscious Anya chained to a wall.

"You know as well as I do, dear boy, that live bait works best!" the blonde vampire responded.

Angelus savagely grabbed the smaller man by the neck and shoved him against another wall. Before Wesley could fight back, he found himself chained.

His eyes fell on a third set and he wondered who the other victim might be, and what the vampires had in mind for all of them once the terrible trio was done.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy came home and saw Riley and her mother in the living room with Doctor Giles. Joyce was laying comfortably on her living room couch; Giles and Riley were quietly talking, and Buffy heard the television blasting from Cordelia's room upstairs.

"Hey, BethAnne!" Riley greeted cheerfully, using the name Buffy hated. "I came by to see your mother and she was here with her doctor. She is getting better, isn't that great?"

"Wonderful..." Buffy said quietly. She wondered why Riley couldn't have called her by her full name, like Spike did. Buffy also asked herself why she found Spike's Cockney more appealing no matter what he called her. Noticing her distress, Riley frowned.

"You don't sound too happy about it," he observed. Buffy looked at her boyfriend and her mother's physician.

"I've…got a lot on my mind lately," she said.

"You mean work and stuff?" Riley asked. Buffy nodded.

"Yeah," she told the Commander.

Riley hugged her, planting a wet kiss on her lips. It was all Buffy could do not to gag. Her mind cast its thoughts to a different male kissing her, his lips cool, dry, and full of passion. When Riley had kissed her, his tongue felt like sandpaper. Spike's was soft, and yielding where she sought dominance; yet hard and unrelenting when it plundered her mouth and took all she had to offer.

Buffy wanted so much to hold him, her vampire, not Riley, and this time, she welcomed those feelings. She moaned and deepened the kiss which, of course, Riley thought was directed at him.

Instead of welcoming it, however, Riley whispered, "Buffy, this really isn't the place....Your mother and Giles, remember?"

Her eyes fell on the physician and her mother, then back up to Riley. White hot annoyance coursed through her. Buffy didn't know why Riley had to be such a prude! It wasn't like they were in public. Even if they were, she thought, why should she hold herself back from the one she loved? Buffy didn't let herself examine that question, since she was starting to rethink her choice of a boyfriend just then and it scared her more than anything.

"I've been telling Giles the good news, Beth," Riley was saying as she looked at him, "and I want to tell you." He took a small velvet box out of his Army jacket pocket. Behind him, on the couch, Joyce stirred.

"Oh, Riley," she said, causing Buffy and Riley to turn toward her. "I'm sorry I conked out." Buffy's mother's eyes fell on the soldier.

"Did you tell her?" she asked. Riley shook his head.

"Not yet," he responded. He kneeled down in front of Buffy, taking her hands in his and putting the ring box into her left one.

"BethAnne Summers: will you marry me?" he asked. Buffy's jaw hit the ground, even as her mind screamed, NO!

Aloud, the youngest of the Summers women said, "Wow! This is quite a…proposal!" she yelled.

Riley got off of his knees as she opened the box to peer at the engagement ring, its tiny diamond resting in its gold casing. The Commander took out his cell phone and hit the photo option on it.

"Before you answer me, take a look at this!" Riley exclaimed. Buffy saw the picture of a huge house on the California coast. It was large an ostentatious looking, big enough for twelve and not very cozy like Spike's house was. The young woman decided that she really hated it on sight.

"Like it?" Riley asked, waiting patiently for her to answer.

Buffy knew she should say something at least half way decent. "It's really…somethin'," she told her beau, the man she was really starting to think of right now as an ex beau.

"Isn't it, though?" Riley responded, totally cheerful. "I put several down payments on it, and in two more months, it will be OURS! I've got everything arranged. There's even a room for your mother and sister, and many guest rooms! I also am in line to be a Captain, so you can stop working two jobs!" Buffy didn't see Joyce's reaction behind her. Her mother was clearly upset about something, Giles noted.

"Really?" Buffy asked. Giles crossed to the front door.

"Well, you need to talk about many things," he said, but Buffy restrained him.

"No, since you heard this before I did…" she gave Riley a scathing look because he had told Giles first about the marriage proposal, "you can stay."

Riley and Joyce started to protest, but Giles said, "yes, I will, thanks. Perhaps I could offer all of you some tea?"

Joyce responded, "That would be wonderful, thanks." When Giles meandered to the kitchen, in effect leaving the soldier and the two women alone, Joyce looked at her daughter, her eyes indicating that she wanted to talk to Buffy about something.

"Honey," Buffy began, putting on the ring and steering Riley to the door, "I'm so, so glad that you're thinking about me, and about my family. But I need to think about this. It's a major change, and it's my future, and I need to deal."

Riley said sympathetically, "I understand." He pulled her into a hug, and Buffy thought that, while she liked Riley's cologne, she liked Spike's clean-with-a-hint-of-musky scent better.

He kissed her and left. Once Buffy and her mother were alone, Joyce gave her daughter a disappointed look.

"What is it, mom?" Buffy asked.

Joyce shook her head, saying, "Why did you lie to me, and to everyone?"

Buffy was totally confused. "Lie?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

Joyce stared at her as though she had stolen a cookie out of a jar. "I called Mr. Piedmont at the retail store. He said that you quit your job three days ago," Joyce reported. "Is it Riley?"

"No," Buffy told her mother.

"Then what is it?" Joyce asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble? And, why did you act that way with Riley as though you almost despised him?"

The younger Summers mind flew to Spike and their shared kisses, but she answered, "I don't hate Riley, and I'm not in trouble! Why would you think that?"

Joyce was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything! But why did you leave the second job and not tell anyone?" Her mother inquired.

When Buffy couldn't come up with a suitable reply, Giles emerged from the kitchen, saying, "Oh, Joyce, believe me: Buffy's intentions were honorable. She merely wanted to surprise you by saying she got a higher paying second job working for me. I told her to keep it a secret until I came by to visit. I figured we could tell you and Riley together." Buffy's eyes met Giles, and she smiled, grateful for his quick thinking.

"Why didn't you say something earlier, Rupert?" Joyce wanted to know. The tea kettle whistled just then. Buffy went into the kitchen and turned off the stove. She set the kettle on the side of the burners.

"I came to say something tonight, but Riley beat me to it with his more important news," Giles answered.

Joyce looked at her daughter, her disappointment evaporating in the wake of her pride that Buffy would take the initiative to seek a higher paying position, and with Joyce's doctor! "I think that calls for a celebration," her mother said, rising. "I'll just walk over to the Gourmet Market and get us some meals. I hope you all don't mind: they have great food and I don't feel much like cooking tonight."

"Mom, are you sure you should…?" Buffy wondered, her eyes meeting Giles to see what he would say.

"I don't mind, sweetheart, and it's not too far," her mother replied. She put on a light jacket and opened the front door, saying, "I'll get us some Beef Lasagna and come right back." Joyce left the house and got into her car.

Buffy heard Cordy's TV being turned off. Giles went into the kitchen and, after arranging two cups on a tray along with the various things that went into Earl Grey tea, he brought the items into the living room.

As he served Buffy and himself, she asked him, "All right. How did you know where I was, 'cause I know you do somehow, and why did you lie to my Mom and Riley?"

Giles drank a huge mouthful of tea without milk or sugar, then said, "Because I need to discuss a very important matter with you, and I need to do it alone." The doctor's grave expression told the girl she'd better sit down for this one.

"What kinda a sick joke are you playing?" Buffy asked Giles when she heard what he said.

Giles shook his head adamantly, insisting, "I assure you: it is no joke. Now, more than ever, the Forces of Good need you."

"No, they don't," Buffy asserted. "I'm just a nineteen-year-old girl who can't even balance my checkbook, for Chrissakes! Now you're telling me that there I'm the Chosen One, and I'm the one who has to fight the Big Bad Vampire Beast?"

Giles tried again, his eyes beseeching her to believe him. "I know it is a big responsibility, and it is a lot to take in, but the fact remains, and the Prophecy bears me out. Like it or not, you are the First in a long line of Slayers," he told her.

Buffy stared at her mother's physician. He didn't look like a loony person. In fact, he was probably the sanest person she knew. She glanced at the engagement ring on her finger, thinking about the future which lay ahead.

"But…I'm getting married," she protested, then after a beat, added, "possibly."

Giles said sheepishly, "Yes, well…you might have to curtail your engagement activities until we can work all of this through."

The look Buffy gave him indicated she wanted to stake him rather than a vampire. "Are you crazy?" She shouted, lashing out and pinning the doctor to a wall. The young woman was instantly abashed and released him a second later.

"There!" Giles said triumphantly. "You see? You wouldn't have been able to do that if you were not the Chosen One. It's the raw power, the strength that lies within you that enabled you to do that!"

Although Buffy wanted with all her heart to deny it, deep inside, she knew Giles was right. She had always felt different; hadn't she told that much to Spike the first day they'd sparred?

**Spike…**she thought.

Her mind remembered his soft caress, his cool, yet infinitely satisfying lips. She also remembered what he'd told her the first time they had trained.

"C'n sense you, kitten. Your energy's so powerful, it's downright scary!" the vampire had told her.

"Well, then, if I am Chosen, then I can be Un-Chosen! I resign, I abdicate, I hereby christen someone else to be the Chosen One!" Buffy cried.

Giles weathered her storm. It would do to have a little patience, even if time was of the essence. The physician and White One chose his words carefully.

"Buffy, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Whether you decide or don't decide to act with your powers you have been given is irrelevant. The fact remains that you are the Premiere Slayer, the First in a long line of Chosen Ones who will fight with a male Slayer, called a Hunter, against the forces of evil."

Buffy seized on what he had just said. "Good! Great!" she exclaimed. "Let's just find this 'hunter'. If he is the Male Slayer, then he can do the fight-y stuff, and I can…can…". She tried to search for a suitable word, but none came to mind.

Giles was frustrated, and beyond that, annoyed. "Do what?" he said a little unkindly. "Go back to your makeup and fashions and the telly? Go back to your ordinary life? Won't that be grand? I'll tell you what: do that, and within an hour when the world ends and we are all sucked into a Hell dimension to answer to Evil's whim, you can berate yourself for all eternity that you could have prevented such a thing!"

Buffy looked at the older British man in shock. Never had Giles raised his voice to her, and never had he been so mean. She didn't say a word, but she flung open the front door and went outside into the cool, night air. Giles followed, hot on her heels.

"Buffy!" he yelled. Buffy walked on at a thunderous pace.
"Buffy!" he yelled louder. Buffy stopped and put her arms around herself. Angry tears were in her eyes.

"Why me, Giles? Why do I have to do this?" she asked, not looking at the White One. After a moment's pause, she said, "You know, when I was little, and the other kids used to laugh at me because I was too strong, I wished that for once, just once, I could be normal. I used to play dress up whenever Cordy went out to play and Mom wasn't in with Mom's old wedding dress, pretending that I was married, and that I was living an ordinary life."

She turned back to Giles, saying softly, "And I told someone recently how I wished I knew what my place was in life, how I wanted to have my own destiny rather than being in other people's shadows."

She turned back away, saying bitterly, "Guess it's true what they say, huh? 'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.'"

Giles reached out and enveloped her in a fatherly hug. He had, through his association with Joyce, grown closer to the mother and her daughters. From the little he had seen about Buffy, he knew that she was strong, yet kind; tough yet merciful when she had to be.

He had never had children, but he knew if he had ever wanted a daughter, it would definitely be Buffy. "We'll sort this out together," he told her. "I promise."

Buffy looked at the ring on her finger and sniffed. "Guess I'll have to give this back to Riley, huh?" she asked as Giles and she walked back inside the house.

"Maybe," he said. "I know I said you might have to curtail your romantic entanglements, but we don't exactly know his role in the scheme of things."

They went inside, and Buffy told him, "It's okay. I was gonna give back the ring anyway."

Giles regarded her quizzically, asking, "Why?"

Buffy shrugged, saying, "I don't know. Not really. But I don't think I love him." She gathered her thoughts together and then amended herself. "I mean, I love him, but I'm not in love with him. I can't marry a guy I only like, right?"

Giles shook his head, saying, "Certainly not."

Buffy smiled just then, happy that the older man understood.

"So, what kind of powers do I have, anyway?" She wanted to know. "And, I only have a Hunter to help me? What about other people?"

Giles tugged on his glasses slightly and adjusted him correctly on his face before launching into a technical explanation. "According to every book on the subject that I have perused, you have superior strength rivaling that of a vampire, incredibly fast healing abilities—within reason, of course; agility, and the ability to master any weapon," he said.

Buffy thought about how she had learned the defensive moves Spike had taught her with relative ease. She was still apprehensive, but she decided that if she had all that, she could grow to like her situation in time.

"What else?" she queried.

Giles responded, "You have an inner mechanism which enables to you sense demonic creatures."

"Like vampires," Buffy mused.

When Giles nodded, she thought about the previous day when she had known that Spike was okay, and that he was in the greenhouse. She wondered how deeply that sensing mechanism was ingrained. Could she read his thoughts eventually? Did she want to?

The younger Summers girl smiled and let her thoughts drift for just one moment, fantasizing about the unattractive revenant. True, he would never be on an issue of Teen Boys N' Grown Men, but she found that being less and less of a concern for her.

Vampire Spike was courageous, talented, and oh, boy, did he know how to kiss! It wasn't his fault that nature had made him look like, well, something out of a horror movie. He was chock full of goodness, better than Riley, in fact.
And therein lay the problem. What would he do when he found out that she would slay his kind; that she would probably have to kill him?

"Giles, do I have to kill all vampires?" she asked. "I mean what about good ones? Would I have to make with the stakeage on them?"

Giles considered for a moment. He knew what, or rather who, she was talking about, and he wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't. Damn the Powers that Be! He thought. He knew his sacred duty, and he knew he had to tell the girl the truth.

Sighing, he responded, "Of course, if a vampire has not killed anyone, or if, somehow, he is good as you say, then I would not see any reason to stake him or her."

When Buffy was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he cautioned, "But I wouldn't count on that, Buffy. Vampires are…well, they're little more than demons wearing human form. They have no conscience, no soul. Sooner or later, even if they do not kill at first, the hunger of the demonic force inside takes over. They are driven to kill without pity, without remorse, or they are driven to create more of their kind. There has never been known to be an exception to that rule."

Buffy's pleading expression tugged her future Advisor's heartstrings. "Then, look for something! Giles, I know that you know a little about Spike. He's a good man, a-and I care a lot about him. I'm not saying that I love him or anything, but I also don't want to have to reduce him to being something you can stuff into an urn," she begged.

"I'll see what I can do, Buffy," he said. "Perhaps he can help find the Beast."

Buffy reached out and touched his arm, saying, "Thanks."

Giles pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and handed it to her. The young woman flipped through the pages, noting his writing and a chart at the beginning of the book.

It showed several rectangles like one would see in a family tree. At the top where the first rectangle was drawn, the words, "Premiere Slayer" was written inside of it. Next to that box, there was a line connecting her rectangle and the one labeled "Premiere Hunter". Other lines were drawn from the two boxes so that they formed a pyramid of rectangles, with all the subsequent boxes labeled as either "Slayer" or "Hunter".

"Homework," Giles instructed. "This book is a compilation of all things you need to get started. It details your 'family tree' of sorts: how your powers will be channeled into the other Slayers around the globe via my magic and that of other White Ones. It indicates your heritage, and how you should apply your talents."

Buffy took the book, flipping to another page, which showed the Slayer's rectangle again. This time, there was a group of circles leading out from the Slayer's rectangle. The lines connected her shape to two circles with "Advisor" in their center, along with "White One" in one, "Hunter" in another, and "Assistant" in a third.

"So, what's this?" Buffy wondered. Giles glanced at the book.

"This is another list of those who will aid you, the Slayer, and the other Potential Chosen Ones in their Quest to rid the world of evil," he explained. "The White Ones, who are wizards and sorceresses for Good, direct the Slayer's and the Hunter's power center and send it to all other Chosen Ones, wherever they may be."

"Sounds so Lord of the Ring-y," Buffy commented.

"Quite," Giles agreed.

The jingling of keys told the pair Joyce had returned with at least three full grocery bags.

"Sorry I took so long!" Joyce apologized. "There was a long line, and I lost track of time! I got us some linguine. They were out of lasagna." She looked at her doctor.

"Do you like Italian?" she asked.

Giles helped Joyce with her bags by grabbing one. "Yes, I love it," he said.

"Well, I got enough helpings for seconds, at least, as well as some other things we need," she said, walking into the kitchen.

"Giles," Buffy warned, "don't tell Mom about all this."

"You know I won't," he reassured her, his voice a whisper. "Besides, she wouldn't believe me."

"I'm still not sure I believe you," Buffy said, following behind. She set the table, calling to Cordelia upstairs.

Cordy ran downstairs, her hair slightly messy.

"What's up?" the college student asked as she came into the kitchen. Her younger sister looked at Cordelia's wild hair and smirked.

"New look?" Buffy joked. Cordy glared at her.

"I fell asleep while I was reading that Shakespeare crap!" she responded, getting some plates out and setting the table for dinner. "I have a 'Romeo and Juliet' test coming up, and I have two words for that obviously stupid play which tells us that women can only be happy with a man to keep them company: bo-ring!"

"This from a girl who has boyfriends way into the double digits," Buffy teased. Cordy's response was to stick out her tongue.

"Girls, stop it!" Joyce scolded her daughters. "Doctor Giles will think we have lost our minds."

"He knows we play around like this," Cordy said, not in the least willing to apologize.

"It's quite all right, Joyce," he said, looking at the curly haired older woman.

"You're very kind, Doctor," she said.

"Rupert," he said softly, pulling out a chair for Joyce at the head of the table. When she sat, she smiled up at him.

"Rupert," she repeated.

Giles smiled back. Joyce never noticed it before, but was he always this handsome?

Buffy and Cordelia pretended not to notice the two older people as they put several items wrapped with aluminum foil on the kitchen table.

The four of them helped themselves to a dinner which they all agreed was 'delicious' and 'totally fab'. When the youngest at the table helped herself to some more salad, Cordy got a look at Buffy's ring.

"Buff!" her older sister exclaimed. "Where'd you get the sparkly?"

"Oh, this?" Buffy responded nonchalantly.

"'Oh this'"? Cordy mimicked sarcastically. "Obviously someone forgot to give me the 4-1-1 on the diamond mine on her finger!"

"Buffy!" Joyce rebuked her daughter after drinking some sparkling dark beverage. "You didn't tell your sister about Riley's marriage proposal?"

Buffy shrugged, saying, "It's no big." Both her sister and her mother looked at the newly chosen Premiere Vampire Slayer as though she was totally nuts.

"No big?" Cordy repeated. "Well, next time the Midwestern Donald Trump saunters by, can I ask him to propose to me instead, since you obviously don't seem to be gushing over his pre wedding present?"

The youngest Summers' green eyes met Giles' brown ones, imploring him silently, **help me!**

**Don't worry!** The older man's expression directed to Buffy.

Aloud, he harrumphed, saying to the darker haired older sister, "Yes, well…she um…probably wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, Cordelia, such as when she had decided whether or not to actually accept Riley's proposal."

"But she's wearing his ring!" Cordy shouted, while Joyce said simultaneously, "Delia, there's no reason to shout."

"I'm only temporarily trying it on for size," Buffy announced, looking at her mother and sister, "until I'm sure."

"Buffy," her mother admonished, "you didn't lead me to believe you had doubts…".

"Well," Buffy said sheepishly, her eyes downcast, "it's all so much. I'm totally wiggin'. Major league wiggin', in fact."

"I understand," Joyce said sympathetically. "If you want some advice, I'm always here."

"Thanks, Mom," Buffy said, "I appreciate that."

Dinner conversation was somewhat subdued after Cordy's outburst and Buffy's confession that she had misgivings. For several moments, there was the clicking of forks and knives, but nothing else. When all the trays were drained of their contents, Cordelia wiped her mouth and rose from the table. Giles did the same.

After depositing her plates, silverware and glass in the dishwasher, Cordy announced that she was going back upstairs to study. Giles, sensing that Mother and daughter needed to talk, said "good night" to both after he thanked Joyce for the wonderful dinner.

When they were alone, Buffy asked, "Mom, how old were you when you married Dad?"

Joyce remembered her husband, Hank Summers, and his crooked grin. She still thought of him after all this time, despite the fact that during their marriage he couldn't seem to spare even one minute to think about her. He had attended the same high school and made certain that after seeing her for the first time, he put her on a golden pedestal.

(High School, the Seventies)

"But I'm no one special," Joyce had said when Hank said he wanted to get to know her better.

"Don't be so modest," he had told her. "You interest me like no other woman has."

Joyce could feel her heart pounding in her chest. That the Class President would notice her was nothing short of a miracle, or a fantasy.

"So, eight o'clock, at your house?" Hank was asking. Joyce nodded eagerly.

A first date with the female budding art student led to date number two, then three; then, at age eighteen, Joyce was pregnant with Cordelia.

Amidst the insistence of both sets of parents, the 24-year-old man had done the honorable thing and married her. They moved from Colorado to start a new life in San Francisco. As her first daughter grew inside of her, so did Joyce's hopes that they could have a fantastic life as a married couple. But Hank had other pursuits.

He had his career, his friends at the tennis court, and other issues—one being the stenographer Kimberly Rhodes in his office.

Joyce had thought as many women did that when she had Cordelia he might suddenly sit up and take notice of her. Joyce was wrong. Although Hank seemed overjoyed at the birth of his first daughter and even stopped seeing Kimberly, his joy was soon replaced with Diane, a lawyer he had met in his job as a financial systems analyst.
Joyce had put her foot down: the couple would see marriage counselors, priests, and even Buffy's friend, Bubba, who had been married to his high school sweetheart for over fifteen years.

But nothing could save the doomed relationship. When their second child Elizabeth Anne Summers was approaching her sixth birthday, Hank and Joyce were approaching divorce court.

(Buffy's sixth birthday…)

"You can't go now, Hank!" Joyce had snapped, her eyes showing her anger. "It's your daughter's sixth birthday! At least wait until the right time!"

Hank turned on his wife, grounding out, "And when is that gonna be, Joyce? When she's ten, when she's twenty? Face facts, hon…this marriage was a train derailment waiting to happen, and I'm getting off before it gets any worse!"

Joyce found some potpourri and threw it at her soon-to-be ex husband. "Fine!" she shouted. "Go! And once you leave, don't even think about coming back!"

Oblivious to the stares from the mothers at Buffy's party and the other children, Joyce went upstairs, sinking down by the toilet in her bathroom. She cried great tears of anguish, and then her stomach hurled her eaten birthday cake into the toilet. It wasn't until she had flushed it that she heard Buffy coming into the room with Cordy behind her.

"Mom…?" Buffy's small voice asked. Joyce didn't trust herself to answer. She just held her two daughters and cried silently.

Ever the leader, Buffy said soothingly, "It's gonna be okay. Daddy'll come back, I know he will, and you'll work it out."

Joyce smiled a sad smile. She wanted to believe her youngest daughter, but she knew that Hank would not be back, except for when they were in front of a judge.
Two weeks later, the father of two sent for his things….

Once Hank left for parts unknown, the only contact between himself and Joyce were the child support and alimony checks that he sent religiously. The mother of two wondered if she would be able to be the sole provider for her two growing children. But at the wise old age of 27, Joyce was a survivor. She got a job in an advertising firm and made enough money to purchase a house in Sunnydale by the time Buffy turned twelve. Joyce had never looked back.

For seven years, Joyce had worked hard and saved to provide her daughters with an education. All that had changed when after numerous headaches a CAT scan indicated a brain tumor. Joyce had stopped working, and Buffy had dropped out of school to take care of her mother and help her sister stay in school.

The surgery had been a resounding success, but Joyce was worried. After all, they had said such things to her father, Steve Emery, when he had his brain tumor removed. The process was "revolutionary", and there were no guarantees, but when he had showed up looking like the picture of health after the operation, Joyce hoped that he would live a long and happy life.

That wish was shattered by his death after a brain aneurysm took her father from her family six months later. When Joyce had her operation for the same type of tumor, she also felt the same demons telling her that she was not long for this life coming back to call with a vengeance.

That was why she knew that although her youngest daughter was only nineteen and therefore, too young, Joyce had to see to it that Buffy, and by extension Cordelia, were taken care of. If Riley could do that, and Joyce's instincts told her that he could, so much the better.
Buffy repeated the question.

Joyce's mind snapped back to the present. "I was only eighteen when we got married," Joyce answered. "I never told you?"

"Uh-uh," Buffy replied. She switched on the dishwasher and joined her mother on the couch.

"Well, your father is a sore subject, sweetheart," Joyce said. "I thought he was my Knight in Shining Armor. Too bad the armor was tainted."

"I know that things didn't go well since you two got divorced," Buffy acknowledged, "but it seemed like you split as friends."

"Only on the surface, honey," Joyce told her daughter.

"Was it because of us?" Buffy asked. "Was it because of me?"

Joyce adamantly shook her head, saying, "Oh, no, sweetie! Our being divorced had absolutely nothing to do with you, or with your sister! It was all Hank and me, really! I was a poor judge of character, and it was just a bad marriage."

"So why do you want me to get married?" Buffy wondered aloud.

Joyce took a deep breath as she thought about how she should respond. She didn't want Buffy to think that her mother was farming Buffy out, but she wanted the best for her daughter. Perhaps, Joyce reasoned, lightning in the form of a bad marriage wouldn't strike twice.

"Because Riley seems like the perfect man," Joyce finally said. "He loves you, he can provide the things Hank didn't want to, and he wants to take care of all of us. That's important! Not only that…". Joyce's voice was a whisper when she said her next words.

"You remember what I told you about my father, Steve?" she asked Buffy.

Her youngest daughter nodded, saying, "Grandpa died young, right?"

"Yes," Joyce responded. "He was only fifty-seven. Not too young...but not too old, either."

"But he had a heart attack, right?" Buffy questioned.

"That's what I told you and your sister," Joyce answered. She looked at Buffy with tears when she said, "But what I didn't tell you was that he died from a heart attack caused by a brain aneurysm."

The Premiere Vampire Slayer bolted from the couch as she cried, "What? Grampa died of something like that and you didn't tell me?"

Joyce felt instantly guilty. "I couldn't tell you, sweetie," she said apologetically. "It was too painful. I just…I didn't know how to say that part of it. Can you ever forgive me?"

Buffy didn't know if she could. She felt such overwhelming anger that her mother would hide the truth behind her Grandfather's death. She also could feel the walls of destiny and fate crashing down around her. Between her mother's confession and the fact that Buffy was the Chosen One, she didn't know if she could bear much more.

"Does Cordy know?" the younger Summers girl asked. Joyce shook her head.

Buffy looked resolute as she said, "Mom, you have to tell her."

Joyce agreed with a nod of her head. Buffy went to the front door, telling her mother, "And, I have to think about what to do."

Before she went out of the front door, Joyce's voice stopped her for a moment. "No matter what I want, you've got to do what's best. If that means no Riley, then I'll support whatever decision you make," the mother told Buffy.

Buffy's eyes met her mother's with a look that was neither scolding, nor welcoming, but somewhere inbetween. "Let's hope it's the right decision," she said, walking out the front door.

The young woman ran to her mother's car, started up the engine, and tore down the street. She needed to hit something, to stake something, and damn the consequences! Maybe then, Buffy could face her mother again.

Maybe then, she would know whether she should marry Riley or….Her brows drew together thoughtfully as she thought about talking to Riley about this. But no, Buffy reasoned. Riley would tell her to do the honorable thing, and she couldn't take any of his high handed morals just now.

Buffy also couldn't take Giles telling her to just drop Riley in favor of being a Vampire Slayer. As she found herself turning down the exit to Williamstown, she thought about the one being on Earth who could help her sort things out.

CHAPTER 15 PART ONE

Spike woke that afternoon, feeling a lightness that he had never felt before. Usually, he didn't allow himself to be plagued by the happier emotions. After all, he didn't have many things to be happy about. But each day he saw HER, the beastly looking vampire found that he thought less about his demonic self, and more in touch with his alter ego, William.



There was no doubt about it; Buffy brought out the best in him, so much so that he decided that today would be the day he would ask her to be with him. Oh, he knew his demon raged within him to make her his childe, his Mate for all eternity. But his inner William wanted Buffy the way she was. He wanted her innocence in tact, and her willingess to accept him without judging him. It was the thing that called to him unlike any other force imaginable.


Spike started toward the table with his poetry, then he stopped. His eyes strayed to the other pasttime he had. Like his poems, he'd not touched his guitar in a long time, since maybe Woodstock, he guessed. But today, he was full of the energy one finds with creating something.


Setting up his amplifier and turning the dial to the fullest setting his speakers could manage, Spike strummed through the piece of music that he’d been struggling to finish, ending the chords with perfect precision. He played his electric guitar that day like he had never played before in his entire unlife.


As he put the instrument down and shut everything off, he couldn’t wait to play the tune for the woman who had inspired him. He knew what he would call his new piece of music: it would be title "sunshine", for the one woman who took his dark, lonely days and nights away, bringing back the sunshine he desired.


His hearing picked up Buffy’s voice. Spike ignored his trepidation, striding confidently to the gym. He grabbed the young woman and was about to plant a sizzling kiss on her when he smelled the saltiness of her tears. Spike frowned, the moment of indecision evident in his hesitation to go to her.


Buffy sat there on the bench by the dumbbells, not dressed for sparring and looking so haunted, and when her eyes found his, they bore straight through him. Spike growled, the demon in him rising, its lust for vengeance building inside for whoever had hurt his girl. The vampire wasn’t surprised that he had started to think of Buffy as “his”. He just wondered if she considered him to be hers, too.


When Buffy heard Spike’s growling and saw the fierce look on his beastly face, she stopped crying. But the vampire would not be swayed. He knew Buffy was still greatly upset by whatever had happened.


"Buffy, pet, are you okay?" He ventured, even though he knew what her answer would be. "'S there anything I c'n--"


It was when she brushed the tears off of her runny nose that he saw the engagement ring on her finger. His eyes never left the huge stone or its glowing presence. Spike's jaw twitched; his orange-yellow eyes grew hard as the implication of the stone that twinkled there was all too clear.


Spike snarled, his demon revealing its displeasure. So, someone had staked a claim on his territory, had they? Well, he would deal with that someone soon enough.



He grabbed Buffy's hand, forcing her to the wall, his next word a declaration as he whispered, "Mine."


The young woman seemed to have lost her voice as she stared into his unyielding face. She wasn't angry; in fact, part of her wanted to be Spike's on some level. She just didn't know if she could give ALL of herself to any man, or anyone.


"MINE," he repeated, flinging her hand back to see what she'd do.


"Yours..." Buffy said softly, though Spike heard a slight hesitation in her voice. He forced the demon back as he wondered what Buffy's moment of indecision meant.


His mind was full of questions. She wasn't happily proclaiming her being with another man, that was certain. Maybe, Spike reasoned, or rather William did, this person had forced her to marry him. Was he holding some piece of blackmail material over his Buffy? Had he, in fact, raped her then insisted upon pain of death that she marry him?


Spike started reacting again, but he found to his relief that his nose told him no, his sweet Buffy had not been sexually violated. But even if she hadn’t been touched, Spike decided that he didn’t like the fact that she would soon be wed to another. He didn’t like it at all.


“You’re late, kitten,” he said quietly, his eyes still staring at her ring. Buffy lowered her hand from her tear stained face.


Buffy tried to sound normal, but Spike could hear the catch in her voice. “Sorry, she said, "but I had things to do at home today and…” , trailing off.


Spike’s angry orange yellow orbs “Obviously,” he spat, his eyes judging her and condemning her.


He thought about his past love, Cecily, just then. Spike also thought about Drusilla, the one who'd changed his life for all eternity. When push came to shove, they'd turned on him, too, like Buffy appeared to be doing.


The demon would NOT stand for being abandoned. When it found the man who'd proposed to his girl, it would show him once and for all who was Buffy's mate. Spike thought back to the conversation they'd had, and to the only man Buffy had spoken about: the one who called her "BethAnne".


Spike growled again. Buffy was getting annoyed at her vampire’s tone. True, she shouldn't have taken Riley's ring, but Spike didn't even give her a chance to explain things to him. This whole "me Tarzan, you Jane" thing had to end, she decided.


“What’s the hell is WRONG with you?” she responded hotly, forgetting about Riley’s ring on her finger.


“Nothin’, pet,” Spike replied caustically. “Absolutely nothin’ at all. You've made things all too clear! Are congrats in order, then? Did you jus' come by to receive your dosh and clear out with Captain Cardboard?"




The last words had been sneered at Buffy. She did what came naturally, letting a slap sting his cheek.


"How DARE you?!" She said. "It...this...was NEVER about doshing! I'm not with the doshing!"



"You don't even know what it means!" the vampire retorted.



"I don't HAVE to know," Buffy flung back, "when the guy who's saying that speaks to me the way he is!"


"Fine!" Spike shouted. "Then I'll just get my stash of cash and pay you so you c'n be on your way!"


Buffy's eyes widened as she realized what Spike was talking about. It sounded to her like he was breaking up with her. The young woman's lips curled with determination. She was through crying! If Spike was going to act like a child, then who was she to stop him by telling him the truth behind Riley's proposal? She ignored the other voice telling her that yes, she was three types of idiot for accepting his ring in the first place.


"So," she asked finally, "what are you saying, Spike?"


The vampire looked at the woman he'd wanted more than his own life. He considered begging her to stay, but he would not put his unbeating heart on the line again.


With a small voice, Spike said, "I think we should call it quits for awhile.”


Buffy felt her heart tearing in two just as easily as one of Spike’s ripped and discarded papers with smatterings of unwanted poetry.


“Why?” she whispered, her voice anguished.


“Why not?” Spike countered, trying to sound like her broken voice didn’t matter to him. He hoped he could get Buffy to leave him before he got down on his knees, begging her to forgive him.


When Buffy didn’t say anything, the revenant said in a cold voice, “'looks like your life is goin’ in a different direction from us being together. Tell me, did he kiss you an’ whisper sweet nothin’s in your ear? Did he promise a fairy tale? Cause I gotta tell you, pet, that bloke did me a tremendous favor!”


Buffy stared at Riley's accursed ring. How could she, a courageous Slayer of demons and vampires, be so cowardly at the same time when it came to telling her boyfriend “no” to his proposal?


“It’s not…” Buffy faltered. “I just…I accepted it, but I was gonna give it back to Riley and tell him that I didn’t want to marry him.”


Spike snarled at her and ground out bitterly, “An’ when were you going to reject him, Buffy? On your honeymoon?”


“No!” Buffy shouted. "It's complicated. With my mother there, and everyone else, what was I supposed to do?"


She tried to pull the vampire into her warm embrace, but he roared, pushing her away.


“Don't hold me!” Spike cried, “You DON'T get to touch me! 'Thought we were friends, but in the end, I’m jus’ a vampire to you, right?”


“And I’m just a Vampire Slayer,” Buffy said hotly.


Spike turned, his eyes blazing with anger and hurt. As soon as the words were out, the Premiere Slayer wished with all her heart that she could take them back.


“So tha’s it?!” he asked. “You agreed to marry him because he told you that you were a Slayer?”


“He didn’t tell me!” Buffy insisted. “Rupert Giles told me! He’s not only my mother’s doctor; he’s a White One, and he told me!”


“Oh, I see,” Spike yelled. “So, you got together all three o’ you, an’ you planned to hunt me down like the Vampire Beast that I am!” He made a pretense of thrusting his arm over his forehead and looking out into the gym.


“Where is everyone else?” Spike mocked. “’M surprised you didn’t invite a mob to my home to lynch me!”



“It’s not like that!!” Buffy screamed through gathering tears. “I don’t want to be with Riley! I want to be with you!”


“You sure have a funny way o’ showin’ it, LIZZIE!” Spike whispered in a furious voice.


He started to leave, but Buffy attacked him from behind, knocking him down to the floor. The vampire recovered, knocking her down. They hit each other with angry blows; Buffy punching him in the eye, Spike knocking the wind out of her.


Buffy got back up in record speed. She rammed into him, taking him down so that he was beneath her. Spike's eyes drilled into her, as she said, "Listen, you IDIOT, to what I have to say!"


Spike took an unneeded breath as he said, his voice oozing sarcasm, "This ought to be good."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PART TWO

When Buffy pinned him beneath her, holding his arms with all of her Slayer strength, Spike took an unnecessary breath.

"Let me up, Slayer bint!" The vampire snarled, trying to make her angrier than she was. Buffy, however, held her ground. She glared at him, but then rolled her eyes.

"Ohmigod," she said, "Drama King, much?! Now listen, you stupid vampire! I'm not saying I didn't do something dumb. You were right; I shouldn't have accepted his ring in the first place, but at the time it seemed so great that he would want to take care of me."

She paused, letting Spike up. He didn't respond, but the expression on his face spoke volumes to her. Buffy knew he still didn't quite understand the depth of her feelings just then.

"You don't know what it's really like to be Supergirl all the time," she said softly. "It SUCKS, all right?! I mean, I'm only NINETEEN! I should be...I dunno, painting my nails and shopping at the mall, and my friends should be cheerleaders and popular girls, not vampires and old guys. I guess I just wanted to be normal, like everyone else. But, somehow, I keep pushing everyone away."

Buffy's eyes were tearing. Spike held her close, murmuring soft words of comfort as his hand stroked her back.

"'S okay, lion cub," he said, softly, kissing the top of her head. "We're a pair, I reckon. Too strange to fit in, yeh?"

And Buffy realized then that Spike was just like her, and he did understand. Even so, she needed to tell him exactly what she felt.

Nodding her head, she pulled away, saying, "Yeah, I guess we ARE a pair. I've got my Calling, and you've got your curse."

Spike looked down, ashamed and not without a great deal of envy. He wished with all his unbeating heart that he could be like Riley: young, and handsome, or at least human looking, since he didn't really know what the man looked like.

"So," Spike asked her, "is he a handsome bloke?"

"Riley?" Buffy responded with a question. "He IS easy on the eyes."

The revenant couldn't keep the jealousy from his voice. "Knew it," he said. "Bet he knows how to provide for a bird like you, too? I mean, let's be frank. 'Couldn't exactly see me workin' at a Piggly Wiggly, now could you?"

"I know what you're trying to do, Spike," she said, "and it's not gonna work: feeling sorry for yourself!"

"'M not..." Spike said defensively.

"Yeah, you are!" Buffy retorted. "You know what? When Giles told me about my Calling and about all the things the Slayer is called upon to do, I knew in the back of my mind that I couldn't go through with it! On the way over here, I had already decided to tell Riley 'hands off'. I knew he just wasn't right for me. He can't love me the way I want."

I can't marry someone I don't love, especially when I care so strongly about someone else," she told Spike.

Spike looked at her with awe. Could she love him? Did she love him? He wondered, and he hoped.

"So, you're sayin' you love me?" he asked her.

Buffy considered that. There was still very much she didn't know about Spike, and she also didn't know if she loved him.

"I care about you, alot," she said. "I feel connected to you, like the long lost friend I never had."
When Spike gave her a stony look, Buffy said, "That didn't come out right."

"No, it din't," Spike responded in a disgusted tone.

"It's just…" Buffy responded, "I'm trying to figure this all out. I'm trying to make sense of what I feel for you; how I feel about you. Until I know, I can't say that I love you."

Spike gave her a long look, then he said in a emotionless voice, "Well, you might want to suss out your feelings for me when I tell you about my Curse."

Buffy stared at the vampire before her. She wanted to say something to reassure him that she didn't care how he became what he was, but words failed her. "Cursed?" she repeated.

"Yeh," Spike replied. "An' my sire could be the beast who's harmin' everyone for all I know. Haven't sensed her, but that doesn't mean she isn't nearby."

"H-her?" Buffy asked.

Spike nodded. He sat next to her but both didn't say anything for a long time.

"How did she…?" the Slayer wanted to know.

Spike's glowing eyes never left Buffy as he began to tell his tale.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

(England, 1880, Night…)

William made sure that all of the poetry he had written to his one true love was in his leather case. He also made certain that he looked resplendent tonight, with both his brown tailored jacket and matching vest over his freshly ironed, white shirt. His hair with its princely looking curls was combed back, leaving only a slight trace of them falling in soft waves over his forehead. His gold glasses were set upon his angular face and were not askew.

Dawn bounded down the stairs, followed by William's mother. Anne crossed over to her son, taking in the bowtie that was hanging loosely around his neck. She gasped as she regarded its condition.

"William!" she cried. "Do you wish to cause a sensation? Do up your tie in a proper fashion!"

The mother tied the tie so tight that William could feel himself choking.

When he coughed and protested, "Mother! I cannot breathe in this confining thing!"

"Better to choke a little than to be vulgar!" Anne responded.

When he didn't fidget and the tie sat upon his neck properly, his mother beamed a smile of approval. William decided that he could always lose his bowtie at the party.

"I thought it looked better the other way, Mother!" Dawn was saying. Anne gave her a scolding look.

"There will be some important people at this gathering," Anne reminded her children for the umpteenth time so that, this time, Dawn was mouthing her mother's next words when Anne turned back to look at William.

"It will be the single most important time in William's life when he manages to secure a patron to endorse his poetry!" Anne said.

William's thoughts, however, were millions of miles away or at least with a young woman who he wished could be his patron in matters of poetry and his love in everything else. He could not wait to entertain Cecily Underwood, the love of his life, the One he wished to enchant with the poetry he had been working on for the better part of a month.

"Please take me with you!" Dawn pleaded. "I long for a party!"

William kissed the top of his sister's head, saying, "When you're eighteen, Nibblet. Not before."

The future poet's younger sister went back upstairs, grumbling, "Probably won't be out until I am thirty!" A moment later, Dawn's music box playing the tune "Early One Morning" could be heard.

Both Mother and Son turned back toward the front door when they could hear the pulling up of the carriage. Before William left their house, his mother said, "Do not disappoint me in this, my son. If you fail, it shall be the workhouses for both of us!"

William looked at his mother as he opened the door and stepped out into the night. "I have a feeling that this evening will contain surprises for all of us," he prophesized.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that night, at the party, William drank a modest sized glass of port with the men. His blue orbs scanned the room for any trace of Cecily. A megasized grin lit up his face when he saw her. She wore a beautiful, white dress which the future poet decided suited her looks to perfection.

Cecily was with a friend of hers, a dark haired beauty whom William had discovered was named Anya. Anya whispered something into her friend's ear and Cecily laughed. William was thinking of all the rhymes he could come up with for the word "perfect".

As they drew closer, William took a deep breath and said to Cecily when she was in hearing range, "Good evening, Miss Underwood. It is truly a pleasure to see you at this gathering."

The light brown haired woman didn't respond. William cleared his throat and tried again.

Cecily turned, looking at him with disinterested eyes. "Did you say something to me?" she asked in a bored tone.

"I said, 'good evening' to you," William responded, but by that time, Cecily had moved on with Anya.

"Poor Prince William," a voice cooed from behind him.

It was a Cockney accented voice and it had a singsong quality to it. William turned to see a raven haired beauty, with dark eyes set in a round face. Beside her were a blonde woman who wore the same disinterested expression and a dark haired man with a pronounced forehead.

It was the raven haired woman that grabbed his attention. As he stared into her eyes, he saw the promise of dark adventures, and of sexual enticements. He also saw the hint of insanity.

"My Prince William has no subjects to bend to his will," she said.

"I'm not a prince," William told her. The woman growled in his ear. William drew away.

"But you could be, with me as your Princess," she purred.

William regarded her and her family, or friends, he did not know which.

"I am flattered, Miss…?" he asked.

"Drusilla," the dark haired temptress provided.

Her pale, alabaster skin was reflected in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window behind her. William didn't know why, but he suddenly felt a chill in his spine as he studied the trio.

"As I was saying, I am flattered, but I must withdraw," he told Drusilla. "They are expecting me to read tonight."

"Tha' should be interestin'," the man said with a pronounced Irish brogue. William moved on from the odd trio.

In the living room, where at least twenty five or thirty people were gathered, the host of the house announced that William Pratt would entertain with his wondrous poetry. William went into it, taking sheets out of his case and fighting his nervousness. Cecily sat on the couch, surrounded by several potential suitors and Anya. The women fanned themselves as they waited for William to read.

He looked at Cecily with love in his blue eyes. "This is for a woman who has captured my heart," he told her.

He looked at the paper and began to read the first few lines. When he paused to gauge her reaction, Cecily looked uncomfortable. People stared at him with shocked expressions on their faces. Anya smothered her mouth so that he could not see her laughing. A woman tittered, then laughed unceremoniously. Men joined in.

One man said amongst his uproarious guffawing, "Well, William, I must admit it takes great courage to read poetry of that magnitude!"

"Tis true, Ethan," a man to his left agreed. "Our young William Pratt must have nerves of steel to read that disgusting rot!"

"Yes!" another man exclaimed. "'Twill be a great article for the papers tomorrow: the Great Love of Cecily Underwood, and his bloody awful poetry!"

"Let's all hear it for 'William the Bloody'!" Another man cried.

As the audience joined in, the exceptions being Cecily, who was escaping the room as fast as her booted feet could take her, and Drusilla, who looked smugly pleased that William had stunk so bad with the young woman so that the raven haired female could have her way with him.

The poet joined Cecily in the foyer, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry, Miss Underwood," he apologized. "I will do better next time, you will see!"

The woman's angry eyes found his. It took all of William's courage not to shrink away under such censure.

"There will be no 'next time', William Pratt!" she snapped. "To THINK that I allowed my father to talk me into coming here tonight to hear you! And I knew from rumors I had heard that your poetry was not to be repeated in polite society, but I never dreamed that it was that horrible! Why, it is worse than being tortured by a man-eating night creature, or forcing myself to listen to my doddering old history professor's ramblings about the Battle of Hastings!"

"But my own, I only sought to tell you how I really feel about you," William told her honestly, his heart shattering.

"And you sought to make me into a laughingstock!" she shouted. "Leave me alone! I do not wish to see you in my presence again! If I do, I shall contact the authorities and have you locked up!"

Cecily stormed out then, followed by her mother who still was laughing, and her brother, who stared at William with an icy look of utter contempt.

William followed out moments later, still stunned. How would he break the news to his mother, and more notably, his sister? Maybe he could grab whatever fortunes the family had and run away now, this very evening, he decided suddenly. He was about to hail the carriage when he felt a presence behind him.

"Poor, poor William," the woman Drusilla was saying in a sad, yet mocking voice. "If only there were something I could do to ease the pain." William willed his eyes to not shed tears in front of her.

"Leave me be," he said softly, hoping that in the weeks that followed, he could create the prefect poem that would earn Cecily's forgiveness.

"Perhaps there is something you can do, Drusilla," the blonde haired woman said.

Drusilla smiled in William's direction. He had never seen such an evil smile before. His eyes darted to Anya, who was just leaving the party, her still laughing form exiting the front door.

"No! I don't want your help!" William shouted. "I do not wish to be seen by anyone! Just LEAVE ME BE!"

The poet ran then, not waiting for the carriage, wanting to be swallowed up by the darkness, wishing he was dead.

(In the present…)

Buffy listened to the story with rapt attention, not wanting to say anything lest Spike stop telling what he so obviously needed to share. She wanted to kiss him when she could see his hurt, his sadness, and his anger welling up and bubbling over the surface. But she remained silent as he continued.

"My evenin' was bad, the most horrible evenin' of my life," he told the Slayer. "Bu' as bad as it was, it was gonna get a whole lot worse. You know, pet, that sayin' 'be careful what you wish for, you jus' might get it?'"

Spike didn't wait for Buffy's response as he went on talking.

(England, 1880, later that evening…the Pratt house)

All was quiet as William went into his hallway. He lit the gas lamps and cried out, "Mother?"

William didn't relish the account he would have to give his parent. He walked into the sitting room his mother favored and was about to light the gas lamps in it when the moonlight streamed into the window. His boots slid along the wooden floor as William became aware of a liquid substance on them. It was then that the dimly lit room gave him the first of two ghastly visions that would haunt him the rest of his life.

Anne Pratt's body was bathed in a pool of blood, her eyes opened and staring at the ceiling; her right hand outstretched on the section of the room that was carpeted. William blinked in shock, his mouth wide open, staring at the lifeless form of his mother. He scrambled to the lamp, lighting it to get a closer view.

Surely, given the horrible events at the party, his mind must have conjured up his mother's death. He shined the lantern on the floor and saw what the moon half hid. William groaned when the truth hit him with stark reality. Her throat had been slashed with razor sharp claws, and her body had been ruthlessly dumped on the floor after the killing. He backed away, running into the kitchen, vomiting into the sink. He had hated his mother on several occasions, but he had never in his wildest dreams thought that anyone else hated her enough to want her dead.

"Dawn…" he murmured as his thoughts turned to his sister. He started to run upstairs to his sister's room, yelling, "DAWN!"

It was then that he heard her music box, playing "Early One Morning."

William backed down the stairs when he realized that the sound was coming not from upstairs, but from the garden. He grabbed a gun from his father's prized collection, not pausing to check the firearm's condition. After loading it hastily with bullets, William ran into the garden.

To anyone else viewing the body of Dawn Augusta Pratt, it would have looked like she had fallen asleep amongst the roses she loved taking care of so much. But as he neared the body, he saw her figure, completely naked, her body artfully draped with roses on her chest, private parts, and legs.

Her eyes were closed, her lips parted in a silent scream. William could not move for a moment, the sound of the music getting more distant in his mind. He didn't register the closing of the box at first, his eyes unable to look away from the sight of the one person who had believed so strongly in his poetry, the one light in his life extinguished before her life had ever had a chance to begin.

William held up his arm, firing the gun once into the silent night. "Where are you?" he cried angrily, banking down his terror that he could be next. He fired his pistol once again.

"Come out and get a taste of what I have to give you! I am not afraid of you!" he snarled.

"Got to admit, boy, you've got a set o' them," he heard an Irish voice jeering seemingly from all around him.

William stared out into the night, but didn't see anyone.

"He does have courage, doesn't he?" another voice asked, this one female, and American sounding.

William saw that it belonged to the blonde woman he had seen behind Drusilla at the party earlier that night. He also saw that she had the most ghastly visage he had ever beheld on a female, her yellow eyes glowing, her face sporting ridges.

"I begin to see why you want this one, Dru," the Irish man with the pronounced forehead commented.

William saw that like the blonde female, he sported the same ridges. His mouth was open, and William saw a perfect row of fangs.

"What…?" William exclaimed in perfect astonishment. "What manner of creature are you?"

He saw that the man had gone, and felt his monstrous grip snagging the poet from behind. William struggled in vain, hearing a singing voice in his left ear.

"We are what you will become, my Prince," he heard Drusilla's voice saying.

William then felt a sharp pin prick on his neck. Was something biting him? He heard a sucking noise and felt the sensation of being drained. A smooth, coppery feeling was present in his mouth. He didn't know what it was, but he could hear a voice telling him to drink. As he did, William felt the lightness of an endless sleep overtaking him, as his soul drifted from the confines of his body.

He could feel a change, but before he was able to identify it, William realized that the life he had known was leaving him, and a hellish presence was taking over. The poet slumped to the soft ground as he heard a voice saying, "Now, the transformation will begin…".

XXXXXXXXXXX

The first thing William felt was the need to shake the ground off of him. When that was accomplished, the second thing he felt was a symphony of sounds he should not have been able to hear. He heard the stirring of crickets, but their chirping noise sounded a thousand times greater; he heard the distant stream which was miles away from the house running over rocks. He could hear the fish and wildlife in the stream, as well as the people who walked by it whispering quiet words that he could distinguish clear as a bell. He smelled the dewy, fresh odors of the soil, and he also smelled the living death of three other figures who stood nearby.

"He is alive," he could feel Drusilla saying, even before he saw her.

His eyes, which were bursting with sights he had never seen before of the night creatures slithering on the ground, registered the dark beauty before him in all of its infinite glory.

"What have you done to me?" William asked, horrified.

"Changed you into what I am," Drusilla cooed. "A true Prince of the Night, my William. A being who will not know sickness, or aging or death,."

"But you will know the hunger, eh, Willie, boy," the man said, "unless you feed."

William saw Drusilla cutting her arm. Her blood spilled out, calling its siren's song to him.

William turned his head away, screaming, "No! It cannot be!" He ran inside to his house, which thankfully was not far from where he had just been.

He flew past the looking glass in the foyer when his mind processed a terror producing sight. There, in the mirror, was the wall beyond reflected in the glass, but William's visage was nowhere to be seen.

He backed away from his reflection-less image; at least, he felt himself backing away. "Poor boy's spooked," the blonde was saying from all around him. She waved her arms, producing a dark mist around William.

"This is the image of who you were," she told him. William's glowing eyes stared at his human form as the blonde woman continued.

"And this is who you are now," she said. William saw his glowing, yellow eyes; his slightly shorter hair, and his face, which sported ridges. His torso was human, muscular, and well formed, just as it had always been.

He concentrated, finding that he could will himself back into the form he wore as a human male. The poet was astounded for a moment by his newfound ability.

"Got to admit, Darla," the man commented, "the newest member o' our family catches on quick."

William became aware of the scent he had smelled earlier as the cloud Darla had produced had dissipated. Drusilla's blood was enticing; it called to him to take a taste. He tried to run away again, tried to fight the overwhelming hunger.

But as she held out her arm to him, William was powerless as the pangs of hunger overtook him. His blue eyes never left the woman who had given him this new life. He could feel the ridges forming on his face, transforming him from the human to the demon.

His legs propelled him closer to the nourishment Drusilla offered, and he bent over her arm. Without hesitation, William drank. As the first waves of the salty liquid rolled over his tongue, offering its succor, William thought he'd never felt anything as delicious as the blood. It gave him new strength, and a new sense of purpose. Drusilla withdrew her arm, smiling and showing her canines to him for the first time. It was her revealing of his new nature that gave William pause. Despite his demonic side raging from within, despite the terrible hunger threatening to seize control yet again, the newest family member yanked himself away.

"I will not!" he screamed to Drusilla. "Kill me now! I would rather die than be your Prince, or whatever you want me to be!"

Drusilla frowned, then became angry. She clapped and the branches coiled around William's arms, trapping him when he would have run away again.

"Naughty, naughty boy Prince William!" Drusilla scolded. She stared at her newest acquisition, the dark haired man and Darla watching with fiendish gleams in their eyes as William looked on, paralyzed by Drusilla's stare.

"I'll have to teach you a lesson about rejecting gifts from those who are your betters," the raven haired sire of William pronounced. She considered a moment, then brightened as she conjured up the perfect punishment.

"This spell I pass, this Curse is thine, until such time you declare you are mine. The form of a beast shall thy form take until such time this spell I break. And with each passing day that dies shall your humanity succumb to the beast inside. I speak these words, and will the Dark Light to make this so!" Drusilla cried.

Darla cruelly showed him his now bumpy, ugly self. William screamed, crumpling to the ground when the trees let him go. Angelus had looked bored, and Drusilla was smiling and holding out her hand. The former poet decided that he had to get away; he buried his ugly face in his hands, and ran, determined at any cost to leave the family he wanted no part of….

(In the present…)

"So she made you into the beastly form you are now?" Buffy asked.

"Yeh," Spike said sadly.

"I could beat her up then stake her!" Buffy declared. Seeing the look of fear in Spike's eyes, she asked as she changed the subject, "how did you get the house?"

"Got what few monies I could an' I managed to seize control of a ship that was bound for the States. When I got to America, I searched for the perfect home that I could call my own, an' I found this deserted house. Since I've been here, I've been searching for all o' my life as a vampire for a cure, trying to break the curse before my beastly nature overtakes me completely. Haven't seen any o' them since the night I escaped."

"And that's why you pulled away from me when I tried to kiss you the other day?" Buffy guessed. "You were afraid of hurting me."

"I couldn't do that to you," Spike told the woman he knew he loved. "Couldn't change you into the monster I am, or kill you. I would rather have you stake me before lettin' anything happen to you. It's only from sheer will that I din't feed on you, your mum, or Wesley, or anyone else. But as each night passes, it gets harder an' harder to not give in."

Before Buffy said anything, Spike continued. "Tha's why, though I wanted you to before, you can't stay here," he said. "Thought I could make it work…thought I could resist you. But I can't, Buffy. 'M not strong enough."

Spike gave her a pained look as he came to a momentous decision.

He said in a low voice, "go home, Buffy. Forget you ever saw me. Marry Riley, or whoever, an' have a great life as the Slayer. Make me proud an' kill as many o' my kind as you can."

Buffy cried out. "No! I won't let you do this!"

Before Spike gave her a counter argument, she exclaimed, "Giles is a White One, right? And I'm assuming they have powerful magic, right? He can break this Curse, or somebody can!"

"Kitten," Spike said, "it's useless. I've been like this for over a century. There's no way this Curse c'n ever be lifted!"

Buffy would not be deterred. "Sure it can!" she shouted, desperately grasping at any straws she could. After a moment, the Slayer declared, "I know! I'll find this Drusilla, and I'll kill her! That should break it, right?"

Spike grabbed Buffy just then, saying, "No, Buffy! Dru is a Dark One, full of negative magic energy from the First Evil! You are a newly chosen Slayer! It's too dangerous to go up against her! You'd be killed right away, an' I couldn't bear that! Promise me you won't stake Dru, at least not until you have been the Slayer for awhile!"

"Giles will fix this! I know he will!" Buffy insisted.
"Dunno if he can, pet, but in any case, I still want your promise that you won't go get Drusilla," the vampire said.

"But…" Buffy faltered.

"Promise me!" Spike repeated.

"Okay, I promise I won't stake or attack Drusilla until I am ready as the Slayer," Buffy insisted. When Spike let her arms go, Buffy considered his actions of the past few days. His wanting to be with her; his willingness to let her go, even if it cost him greatly…she had to know, she decided, the true motivator behind the things he did for her.

"Do you love me, Spike?" she asked the vampire.

He thought about lying to her, thought about simply not answering the question. But he knew that he could not hide what he felt inside from her. "I love you more than my own life…my own happiness, Buffy," he told her with all sincerity.

Buffy pulled him to her, hugging him, wishing that she didn't know about her destiny, or about his Curse. She had promised she wouldn't go after Drusilla, but Buffy also knew that she would not rest until Spike was freed from the beastly curse that the evil Dark One had imposed on him. Buffy also knew that if she denied Spike his request for her to be happy he would only do something foolish. Oh, she would never marry Riley, but she had to put her desire to stay with Spike on hold for now if it kept the vampire safe.

"I guess I'd better go, and leave you in peace," she said, deciding to call Giles the moment she knew Spike couldn't hear her. The Slayer turned away, starting to leave the gym and the man she cared about more than anything when Spike touched her on her shoulder.
"Buffy," he said when she turned around. She gave him her undivided attention once more.

Spike ran upstairs and, seeing the Star of Samara that Wesley had given him on Spike's nightstand, gave the stone to Buffy.

"A li'l keepsake. I don't really believe in its power, but it might bring you luck," he told her.

Buffy smiled and tucked the gem inside her pocket. A moment later, she frowned, saying, "I don't have anything to give you."

"A quick kiss goodbye, Slayer?" the vampire suggested. "I think I can control myself this time."

Buffy's answer was to kiss him tenderly. For several moments, the more-than-friends-but-not-quite-lovers kissed softly. When Buffy was about to pull away, Spike lowered his face to her neck, nuzzling it. The revenant was about to withdraw, but Buffy pulled him closer.
"Buffy, I can't…" he said into her collar bone.

"Just one taste to remember me by," she said. When he started to protest again, Buffy urged, "Please, William."

William couldn't deny his love's request. He stroked her neck, whispering, "You're sure?"

Buffy response was to pull him to the spot where her pulse was beating. Spike buried his canines in her neck, drinking slowly at first, then more rapidly. Buffy sighed as she could feel herself drifting on waves of passion. The demon in him was in heaven. It panted for more…more Slayer blood, the most potent of all blood, or so Spike had learned from the books he had read about the future Slayers. Buffy mewled, her pleasured sounds urging him on. Spike drank as much as he dared. When he withdrew suddenly, the vampire earned a protest from the Slayer.
He sealed the puncture wound on her neck, saying, "Thank you. I'll never forget this."

Buffy stroked his cheek, banking down her disappointment. "Neither will I," she said.

Both were unable to move and deal with the reality of being by themselves, of being apart. Buffy and Spike hugged and held each other tightly for what seemed like forever, each conjuring up their own fears of what lay ahead.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

C. G. was preparing to look at "Letterman" when the phone rang. The cop picked up the receiver, his instincts telling him that this was THE call that would be life altering for him.

"Hello?" he asked.

"C. G., the hospital called. Chief Walsh was picked up and she requested your presence there," Tater Edwards' voice was saying over the phone.

The Deputy Chief breathed a sigh of relief that for once his instincts had been wrong, and that it wasn't THAT call. He had lost many that he respected on the force; he couldn't stand another death of someone close to him just yet.

"I'm on my way," C. G. told Tater. When he asked if he could accompany C. G., he responded in the negative.

"Besides," C. G. finished, "there can't be too many visitors at the hospital, and we don't want to excite her. I'll go there first and if she's up to more visitors, I'll let you know."

At the Police Station, Reggie "Tater" Edwards cursed inwardly. He knew however that his coworker and friend was right. Even so, the Dallas cop just KNEW something was wrong, and his instincts were correct most of the time.

"Okay," Tater agreed, "but call me irregardless."

"Will do, Tater," C. G. promised. He got into his Trans Am and drove to Sunnydale Hospital.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Presently, the Deputy Chief walked down the quiet corridor on the Fifth floor to Chief Maggie Walsh's room. He was stuck by the lack of activity on the floor, but then, it was a little later than the normal time for visitors. He was glad that the Chief had pulled some strings on his behalf so that he could be with her. Maggie was like a sister to him, C. G. realized just then, and her health and happiness meant everything to him.

"C. G.," Walsh greeted from her room. The television was on in the background. As C. G. entered, he took in the IV unit and her gaunt appearance. She looked a little under the weather, he decided, but otherwise, she at least seemed coherent.

"Sorry I didn't bring flowers," the male cop began, smiling.

Walsh grinned back, saying, "It's okay, Angler. I just wanted you to be here, not any petunias that would be dead in 48 hours."

The male cop asked his boss, "What happened to you? You look like hell."

Walsh told him, "I ran afoul of some hoodlums, and I ended up here, but as you can see, I wasn't shaken up too badly. The doctors just want to keep me here for observation, then I can go."

"The boys and girls at the Station can't wait to have you back," C. G. responded.

Walsh grinned again, saying, "And I can't wait to be back!" She motioned for C. G. to come closer.

"Do you want me to fluff up your pillow or something?" the Deputy Chief asked.

"I just want a hug," Chief Walsh responded. When C. G. looked as though he was going to protest, she went on, saying, "I know, I know…I usually don't go for that sort of thing, but given that we aren't in the Station, and that we're practically friends, I just thought that a hug wouldn't exactly be out of line."

When Maggie held out her arms expectantly, C. G. said, "Sure."

He bent over to hug her. As he touched her, he was instantly struck by how cold she was. His eyes darted to the heart monitor and the cord attached to it which was still plugged into the wall. The male cop pulled back, horrified, when he saw that there was no indication of a heartbeat.

He stared at Chief Walsh. The woman no longer sported a human appearance, but had ridges and was growling at him with a perfect set of canines.

"Oh, no…" C. G. whispered.

"Oh, yes!" the former Chief said.

C. G. whipped out his gun in lightning fashion, but the Chief threw off her covers and yanked the tube out of her arm. C. G. shot her; she collapsed to the ground. He slammed her door shut, looking for anything in the corridor that he could use as a barricade. The cop saw a metal chair and shoved it against the door.

He ran down the hall looking for something stronger and bumped into Riley and two of his men. "For once, I'm glad to see you!" C. G. told the Army Commander.

"What happened?" Riley asked when he saw C. G.'s blood spattered shirt.

"Chief Walsh, she's been…" C. G. said, unable to process the information for a moment.

"What?" Riley asked. He commanded his men to be ready for anything. Two more men walked up and down the corridor.

"She's one of them," C. G. said, his hands clenching into fists. Riley gasped. They both turned at the sound of the door to Maggie Walsh's room buckling. The chief burst through the door, her glowing yellow eyes staring at them.

"Riley," Walsh greeted, "so glad you came in response to my telephone call." Her eyes took in the men who walked up and down the hall.

"You brought your men!" she squealed with delight. "I always wanted to meet, or should I say eat your men!"

"Not on my watch," Riley said in a menacing tone.

He stared at the formerly human Chief, looking for any advantage that he could use to attack her with. Meanwhile, C. G. backed away and went down the hall looking for any kind of a makeshift stake. Riley and the Chief fought for several moments when suddenly, former Chief Walsh exploded into a cloud of dust at the hands of C. G. and a long umbrella with a sharp metal tip on its end.

"Thanks," Riley said, adding, "not that I want to make a habit of this. You rescuing me, I mean."

C. G. responded in a teasing tone, "Don't worry. I won't. Next time I'll let them get you." The pair walked down the hallway when Riley's communicator bleeped.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Sir," Private Jones' voice drifted over the device. "You'd better come and look at this! Rec Room, third door on the right."

Riley and C. G. ran to the room, and both men stared at the bodies of the medical personnel and patients on the floor and on the battered couch, their eyes open with the horror of a grizzly death, or closed forever.

"Shit!" C. G. exclaimed.

He whipped out his cell phone, calling for backup as Riley told his men to not let any personnel or visitors on the fifth floor.

"Also," Riley commanded his troops, "search the other floors. Make sure there aren't any other surprises waiting for us." The men dispatched as C. G. closed his phone. Ever the detective, the cop went back into Walsh's room to see if he could spot any clues.

A moment later, he emerged from the room as Riley stood beside him, saying, "Look at this."

Riley saw the paper with the address to the warehouse on King Street on it. "So?" he asked C. G.

"This warehouse is defunct," the cop reminded him. "No one has used it for years. You wanna bet that some undead elements might be there, and that Chief Walsh could have spent some time there before she ambushed us at the hospital?"

Riley needed no further urging. "Private Jones," he said into his communicator.

"Sir!" Jones said.

"Secure this hospital. We're going to the source!" Riley said into the device.

"Yes, sir!" Jones responded. Riley and C. G. left the hospital and went to the Commander's jeep. They took off in a cloud of smoke.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy and Spike looked at each other as they pulled apart from another embrace. The Slayer's ringing cell phone broke the silence.

"Hello?" Buffy asked into her receiver.

"Hey, Buff," a voice said into the phone. "I know we haven't met, but I've heard so much about you."

"Who is this?" Buffy asked. She heard the man's laughter, a mocking, cruel sort of laugh.

"Just a well wisher who wants to throw a party in your honor…" he said, adding, "oh, and William's, of course."

Spike saw Buffy's frown and asked, "Buffy? What is it?"

Buffy didn't say a word, but she lowered the phone. Spike grabbed it, asking who it was.

"Oh, Willie boy? Is that YOU?" the man's voice asked.

"Angelus," Spike grunted. "Where are you?"

Angelus tsk-tsked, saying, "Now, is that any way to greet your older brother, PRINCE William?"

"'S the only greetin' you're gonna get, you wanker!" Spike spat back. "Where are you?"

"You know the warehouse on King Street downtown?" Angelus asked.

"Yeh," Spike said.

"We're waiting for you, along with some friends that I believe you and the Slayer know," Angel teased. "Now while they are future entrees for us, they're known to you as Wesley, Anya, oh, and Willow."

Spike told Buffy, "He has Wesley and Anya, an' someone called Willow."

"She went to the same school as my sister, Cordelia," Buffy supplied. "I don't know her very well." She grabbed the phone from Spike, asking into the receiver, "Who else do you have there?"

"Find out, Barbie doll," Angelus told Buffy. "Come alone with BILL, and no tricks, or we won't wait for you to arrive before we snack on the human appetizers."

Angelus terminated the call. Buffy looked at Spike, who shared her determined expression. The decision had become academic: they were both going into the lair of the Beast.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN, PART ONE

Xxxxxxxxxx

After loading up with the weapons and supplies they'd need, the Vampire and the Slayer were off in Spike's car: a black DeSoto with completely blackened windows.

"How do you see out of this thing?" Buffy wanted to know.

"Superior vision, pet," Spike told her.

He gazed at her, hoping that she was up to the challenge she would be facing. Her training was far from completed, and even if she could defeat one of his vampire relatives, there were still the other two to be dealt with.

Buffy felt more than a twinge of fear as she thought about her first "assignment". Although Spike had trained with her, they had only been fighting for—what, a week, at the very outside? She didn't know what powers she had, with the exception of the super strength and the ability to heal faster. The teenager hoped that she would be able to live long enough to celebrate her twentieth birthday in a few months.

"Spike?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeh?" he responded.

"What other powers does a Slayer have?" she wondered aloud. "Giles told me I could sense demons and vampires. Will I be able to sense specific vampires?"

Spike thought about what he had read from the books either Wesley had managed to get for him, or from his own, ever growing library at home.

"Yeh, because ev'ry vamp or demon has their own signature. You'll be able to spot it," he answered. "One day, you'll be able to tell the difference between, say, a vamp like me, and one like Angelus without thinkin' hard about it. Remember the garden?"

Spike turned down the road toward the sign that would lead them to Sunnydale. As Buffy thought about the time she was able to sense that Spike was in his greenhouse, he went on.

"Like anythin', it takes lots of practice," he said. "Maybe Giles can teach you when you train more."

Inwardly, Buffy prayed that she would be able to train with Spike, or with Giles on many more occasions. Her mind wandered to her family; she wondered if she would ever get to see them again. True, Cordelia wasn't exactly the most perfect sister in the world; they were as different as night and day, but Buffy loved her with all of her heart and soul.

As for her mother, the girl would do anything to see her mom again, especially since it had seemed doubtful the past few weeks whether or not Joyce would survive her brain surgery.

"Pence for your thoughts, lion cub," Spike's voice cut in. "You're much too quiet." The revenant turned on the exit road leading to Sunnydale.

"I was just thinking about…" Buffy started saying, then an alarming thought occurred to her. She took her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Dr. Rupert Giles' phone number.

Although he kept his eyes on the road, Spike inquired, "Pet? Wha' is it?"

Not bothering to answer, Buffy murmured, "Home…please be home…". When she heard Giles' baritone, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Giles, don't talk, just listen," Buffy commanded. "I need you to look in on my mother and my sister."

"Buffy," Giles asked, his voice rising with concern, "what is it? You sound perturbed about something."

"I got a phone call from one of them," she told the White One. "Spike says his name is 'Angelus'."

In his flat, Giles grew white with fear. He had studied numerous books about the 'Vampire with the Angelic Face', and he knew about a lot of Angelus's antics.

"Buffy, listen to me!" Giles entreated the girl. "I promise I will look after your family, but you mustn't succumb to his summons! To break his foes, he strikes at the heart of what they care about the most!"

The girl felt a moment of uncertainty. She didn't know if she truly was the one to take Angelus or his family down. But if she couldn't, who could?

Determined, Buffy told the Advisor, "Giles, he has Spike's and my sister's friends, I can't just sit back and do nothing. Spike is with me; he'll show me what to do, right?"

Giles said sternly. "Have you considered that this is what Angelus wants? He is using the capture of your friends to draw you, and I'll wager Spike, into a battle you are not yet prepared for! The consequences could be disastrous!"

Spike jerked his head in the direction of the phone. He had heard every word. He was waiting to see if Buffy could handle what Giles was saying to her. The vampire wanted more than anything for Buffy to be on her game as the Slayer, even though another gentler side of him wanted desperately to protect her.

"Decision's yours, pet," Spike whispered. "Wha'ever happens, you are the Slayer, not him."

Buffy felt stronger by Spike's words. She WAS the Chosen One, and despite her fear, she felt that if she, Spike and whoever was called to assist her had a game plan, things would turn out okay.

She told Giles quietly, yet assertively, "We can't just let them die. We've gotta do what we can, right?" she yelled. "Besides,they have Willow! Isn't she your nurse? Suppose they use her magic, or something, to do an apocalypsy thing?"

Giles cursed inwardly. For Angelus and his vampiric family to have come so far was devastating news indeed. He thought a moment about Willow and what could happen if the vampires harmed her, or tried to harm her.... A memory of the lessons he'd learned when he had first chosen the path he was on surfaced. Giles grinned.

"Giles?" Buffy prompted over the line. "The quietness is so not helping!"

"Buffy, understand that I have the utmost confidence in you. However, at this moment, you must do as I say! Neither you, nor Spike are to face Angelus alone! I will try to summon some superior help!" he said, hanging up.

"Giles!" Buffy shouted. "Giles!" She heard the phone line go dead.

"Doesn't want us to go, huh?" Spike questioned. "Typical White Ones! Always want to run the bloody show an' never quite explain things to anyone!" If he had his way, Wesley, Anya and Willow would be released within the hour and his "family" would kiss the sun.

"Well, I can't just sit back and do nothing!" Buffy snapped. Spike nodded in agreement.

"So what's the plan?" he queried. "Can't jus' roll in an' try to beat their arses; they'll be expectin' us to do something foolhardy like that."

"Tell me about Angelus, and the others. Don't leave out a thing!" Buffy instructed.

Although Spike didn't say it, he thought, **too bad we don't have a soddin' year to talk about my poofy sibling! His doin's could fill up a bloomin' book!**

"Well, for one thing, he's got ninety plus years over me," Spike began. "The wanker's about 240 if he's a day."

"Giles talked about him toying with his foes," Buffy mused. Spike nodded again.

"'E does," the benevolent vampire confirmed. "Gets his jollies from torturing them. Look a' me. Instead of jus' killing my mum and sister, li'l bit, he makes 'em suffer an' then puts them where I could find them, especially Dawn. Remember I told you how he arranged 'er?"

Buffy shook with anger as she remembered the account Spike had told about his sister's corpse buried under roses in a specific position.

"I'm trying to forget," she muttered.

Spike commented harshly, "I'll never forget every sodding detail of who he is! He doesn't just hunt an' feed like other vampires; everythin's a game to him! When he kills, he needs to show his cleverness. I remember one time when I traveled with him, Darla an' Dru before I raised enough capital to sail to the 'States. There was this female victim o' his. She was married an' not very bright.

"They had just fed on her, but instead of just throwing her sorry bum to the ground like most vamps do after feedin', Angelus places her in her husband's bed an' arranges her so she's holdin' a chrysanthemum in her hand no less, knowin' full well that the bloke would come home soon."

"Did he kill the man, too?" Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head, saying, "No. The sorry git watched wi' us from the shadows in the bedroom as the husband returned. He saw his wife on the bed. Didn't know she wasn't breathin' at first. But when her husband came closer an' shook her, he knew she was dead.

"The poor bloke screamed an' then ran out of the room. I tried to do somethin', but Darla held me fast with her magic smoke. I couldn't do naught for the husband. When the human came back with a pistol an' blew his brains out, the Irish sod just laughed along with Darla an' Dru."

Buffy felt her stomach turn with grief for the couple Spike told her about and intense hatred for the vampires who had caused it all.

"All the more reason to make all three of them the next candidates for a Dustbuster!" Buffy shouted.

"Not that easy, pet, but I like your resolve," Spike commented.

Spike pulled up a few blocks away from the warehouse. Buffy started checking their weapons and supplies. The revenant told her more about Angelus, Darla, and Drusilla, saying that he and Buffy shouldn't announce their presence by driving up to the evil trio's dwelling.
Buffy's only response was to grunt as she ran off the list of things they had. Spike's confirmed that they had all they needed. Wordlessly, Slayer and Vampire went closer to what was their first and could be their last battle.

XXXXXXXXXX

During the time Buffy and Spike were on the road, Joyce stared up at the moon through her big window in her living room. She wondered if her doctor would let Buffy off early that night so that they could have a quiet dinner.

The mother of two made a wish that her family and the town would survive the terror that was the Vampire Beast. She had seen the news reports of yet another victim, and the police department was up to its neck according to the latest report dealing with the disappearance of the police chief, Maggie Walsh. Joyce hoped rather than believed that she would be all right.

The middle aged mother went to the phone and dialed Buffy. Her daughter's cell phone rang, but she was not picking up.

When the messaging function came over the receiver, Joyce willed her voice to be calm as she said, "Buffy, baby…I need to know you're okay. I'm just…I'm worried about you. Please call me when you get this message."

Joyce sat on the couch, turning her back on her window. She reached for her glass of water on the table by the door when she felt it wobble a little.

**That stupid leg! I really should've gotten this table fixed a while back!** She admonished her inner self.

She ran her hand under its base to see if maybe she could lock the leg back into place at least temporarily until she could take it to a carpenter or a furniture repair shop. As the woman's hand skimmed under it, Joyce felt a cool metal object.

Removing her glass of water and setting it on her coffee table in front of the couch, Joyce turned the smaller table over. Her eyes were confused as she saw a foreign device resembling a disk attached to it near its leg.
She went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the utility drawer.

She ran the knife under the table until the object pulled free. Staring at it, Buffy and Cordelia's mother saw some faded writing on its side. Before Joyce could see what the writing meant, Cordelia came down the stairs.

"Mom! Do we have any more of the leftovers from the time Giles was here?" Cordy wanted to know. She spied Joyce out of the corner of her eye and came closer.

"What are you doing?" Cordelia asked, peering at the device in her mother's hand.

"'Delia, could you get me the magnifying glass in my desk by the computer?" Joyce requested.

"Sure," Cordelia told her mother. Presently, the dark haired beauty returned with the magnifying glass and handed it to her mother.

Joyce ran it along the writing, and gasped when she saw who had made the device. Property of the United States Army, the writing read.

Riley! Joyce thought. She said in a low, broken voice, "Why didn't he tell us about this?"

"What are you talking about, mom?" Cordy asked. Joyce held up the device so that Cordelia could see it more closely.

Her mother answered bitterly "It's a bug that happens to belong to the Army. Riley must have bugged the room the last time he was here, or maybe even before that. He's probably been listening to everything said in here!"

Cordelia shrieked, saying, "WHAT? But…isn't that illegal? Can't we get a habeas corpus, or something and sue his butt?"

Joyce thought about the action they needed to take. Her eyes blazed with fury as she considered how Riley had treated her, and her family, with no respect for their privacy, and no respect toward her enough to at least ask her about bugging her home.

And Buffy was going to marry someone like that; someone who didn't believe in people handling their own problems without having someone else horning in. She decided that when her youngest got home, Joyce would advise her to keep looking for a decent man.

Anyone who would do what Riley had done, the mother decided, was capable of anything devious, and Buffy would avoid him with a ten foot pole if SHE had anything to say about it.

"I need to contact Riley, and talk to him about this!" Joyce said, visualizing the earful she would give Riley when next they met.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXX

On the opposite side from where Buffy and Spike were, Riley and C. G. sat in the Commander's jeep. He took out his cell phone and dialed the base.

"VHIP. Dr. Jenkens here," a scientist replied.

"This is Riley, code RF 7926, Password: Flotilla sunrise speaking," Riley said.

"Commander! Nice to hear from you," Jenkins responded.

"Never mind the pleasantries," Riley said. "I need you to contact my men. I can't get through to the hospital; it's a dead zone, and you're closer to that location. Tell them to meet me ASAP at this address and bring a hostile transport vehicle." The Army soldier gave out the information.

"Will do, sir," the scientist assured Riley. The latter ended the call. C. G. got out of the vehicle and checked on the weapons in the back.

"We should see if there is a nest of vampires in there," C. G. advised. "They tend to be quite communal."

Riley followed the Deputy Chief and started unloading guns, knives, and some dynamite. C. G. looked at the explosive and back at the Army Commander.

"I'm pulling rank here," he told the cop. "That sicko vampire isn't going to get away with any more deaths. We're gonna blow up the place, then sift through the wreckage."

"You can't just blow up that warehouse," C. G. said. "We have to see if there are any hostages first."

"I know that!" Riley snapped. "Once it is established that there are no hostages, that place will be totally destroyed!"

"But we may find a clue as to where the Vampire Beast is exactly!" C. G. argued. "We can't just go in half cocked."

"That fiend killed several people, including your superior," Riley ground out. "We have to hit them low, where it hurts, since the element of surprise is on our side."

"You don't have jurisdiction," C. G. responded hotly. "You also don't command me. I'm a civilian, and I don't work for you."

"But you still represent a branch of the Government, at least as far as law enforcement is concerned," Riley bounced back, "and I am a commander, so I still outrank you."

"Look, we have equal power in this situation," C. G. said, "and we have to work together on this. We don't know how many may be in there; we don't know how many victims if any are there. We're fighting blind, and this beast has always been one step ahead."

Before Riley could retort, a voice said, "Great opposing P.O.V.'s, but if we could get on with the fighting and killing, this would be so much better!"

The cop and the soldier turned to see three vampires coming closer to the jeep, their fangs extended, salivating at the prospect of a kill.

"Yeah, by all means, let's get down to business," Riley said. He kicked one vampire in the chest. The first vamp went down as C. G. threw knives at the second and third.

"You missed, retard!" one shouted at the cop.

Before C. G. could attack any further, the vampire exploded into dust. "But this didn't," a female voice said.

Riley jerked his head briefly as he went to work on the third revenant. He saw Buffy with a determined expression surveying the ground where the remains of the vampire were.

"Buffy..." Riley said, shoving the third vampire to the ground. C. G. wrestled with the second, who was a little shorter than the other two.

"Hey..." she greeted as the third vampire got up. It sniffed the air as if smelling something foul, then it turned its glowing yellow eyes on the Slayer.

"Slayer," the vampire said in a low, menacing voice. Buffy kicked it so that it was on the ground again.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" she asked. "Because I gotta tell you, I'm not with the fear on this end." The third bounced back only to meet the end of Buffy's stake. It vaporized into dust as Riley frowned, thinking on what the night creature had said.

**Slayer?** Riley thought. **What's a Slayer?**

He decided that once they finished routing out the vampires and their lair was history, he would find out what a slayer was.

"Guys, I think we have a problem..." C. G. said as more vampires came to stand behind the third one.

Buffy said, "They're the ones who have the problem: me."

The scene outside the warehouse dissolved into punches, shoves, jumping, fighting, and dust as vampires were shot or staked by Riley, C. G. or Buffy. Eventually, the trio took the battle inside as the remaining revenants ran into the building.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

While the trio was fighting its enemies in a different location, Spike entered the south side of the warehouse through an open window. He knew that he was probably fighting a losing battle against his sire, and Spike's undead sister and brother; but he'd rather be dust than let Wesley, Anya and Buffy die.

The revenant put all of his senses on maximum overdrive to see if he could spot Angelus or the others. The room he had entered was musty smelling and stank of the living dead. Whatever of his kind had been here, they were still in the area.

"Angelus?" he cried.

There was no sound. Spike trained his superior vision on the wall to the far right. He turned on a light switch but no illumination occurred.

"Where are you, you wanker?" he asked. "Come out where I c'n see you!"

From the dark he heard the older vampire's voice. "Oh, come now, Billy Boy! Wouldn't be sporting to let you know my whereabouts," Angelus jeered. Spike spun around, trying to localize his vampire sibling's voice.

"Stop playing games!" Spike roared. "Where are Wesley and Anya?"

"Safe, for the moment," Angelus answered. "Where is the Slayer?"

When Spike didn't answer, the other vampire said, "I can sense her. She's near. If you think you can hide her from me, it won't work."

"I know I can't hide her from you," Spike responded.

A flying leg knocked Spike to the ground. The younger vampire leaped up since he was not injured too badly. There was a flash of metal, but Spike managed to jump over the sword he had seen in the darkness.

"That the best you can do, you sod?" he asked.

Another sword movement sliced through the air. Spike unsheathed his sword and the two vampires' metal weapons clashed against each other. With each thrust of his sword, the younger vampire could feel the bloodlust pumping throughout his body. He yearned for Angelus' destruction. Spike would behead his uncle and see Angel burn in Hell before the elder vampire sliced anyone with his sword.

Spike growled a feral, animalistic sound. Angelus laughed, saying, "Looks like you don't have control of the inner beast anymore."

Spike willed himself to calm down. He wouldn't let Angelus goad him into crossing a line the evil vampire wanted Spike to cross. "I c'n control it," he said, swinging his sword. Steel clashed with steel again.

"But for how long?" Angelus asked. "I must admit, you've done well for almost 120 years, but you're slipping. Well, actually: you've slipped."

"No, I haven't, and I won't," the platinum haired vampire promised, his glowing orange eyes becoming brighter and more intense with his determination.

"Think about who you are; what you are, Bill," Angelus said, nicking Spike on the right side. "When your friends and the Slayer see the real you, they won't want to be around you. They'll fear you and they'll either destroy you or, best case scenario, you'll be forced to kill them. Either way, it's a win-win situation."

Spike's ire rose with each passing second. "They would never turn on me!" he shouted.

The younger revenant growled again, smirking with satisfaction as smelled Angelus' blood where his sword connected.

"Yeah, right, pull the other one," Angelus said softly. "Why don't you turn the tables on them? Especially the Slayer. You want her, don't you? I want her, too. We can take turns, feasting on her and bathing in her blood when we're done."

Spike pushed into Angelus so hard the other's sword fell to the ground with a clang. Angelus kicked his weapon to the side and the two traded blows.

"You don't TOUCH her!" Spike ordered, roaring. "She's MINE!"

"The Slayer's yours," Angelus mocked. "Go ahead and take her! I'll hold her and bang her while you have fun draining her dry. Here's a thought: I'll drive her insane, then make her one of us. Two Drus for the price of one!"

"NO!" Spike cried. Throwing his sword to the ground, the junior vampire wrestled Angelus to the floor.

The elder vampire bounced back, raining punches on Spike. Angel's fist connected with Spike's eye, but the punch had not blinded him.

A voice screamed in the younger vampire's mind that Angelus was winning; that, somehow, he had Spike exactly where the junior vamp was destined to be. Spike snarled, oblivious to William's inner prodding. He would not let the sodding git Angelus walk.

He punched Angelus several times in the gut and in the face. The elder vampire fell to the ground as the younger revenant pummeled him with fists. The former William the Bloody's hands were smothered in blood as he beat his older sibling to a pulp.

When he felt Angelus's consciousness slipping away, Spike growled at his success. He knew Angel wasn't dead. The demon in the junior revenant wanted revenge, but it resisted killing its family member. Despite his being an arse, Angel was Spike's uncle, and he could not kill the prick. Even unconscious, Angel's power over him was palpable. But even if Spike found it difficult to deliver that final blow, his inner devil would seek satisfaction elsewhere.

Spike would maim; Spike would torture; Spike would devour as his demon within was now fully unleashed. It had been dormant for far too long, restrained by nothing more than the inner William's force of will all these decades, but now, it would not be deterred any longer.

After leaving the bloodied remains of Angelus to whatever fate awaited him, Spike stalked through the corridors, howling, looking for anything to strike back at. He knocked down any doors that were in his way as he smelled his own kind not far away.

**Perfect,** Spike thought. He made his way down the hall toward his prey.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Running into the biggest room inside the warehouse, a new vampire had managed to escape the Slayer and her buddies. She'd managed to dust quite a few of his friends, and the humans fighting at her side had proven to be better than he'd thought. He swore loudly to no one in particular, picturing sinking his incisors into the Slayer's throat and tasting her blood.

The new vampire's ears twitched as he heard a beastly roar not three feet from where he was. The sound was followed by a pair of orange yellow eyes, set in a horrible, bumpy face. The vampire felt no fear, however; this one was one of his own. His eyes took in the feral look of the older, advancing vampire. The younger vampire's face had the look of recognition. Maybe they could take out the Slayer together.

"I know you," the new vampire said to Spike by way of greeting. "William the-"

The former William the Bloody growled, then took his fist and in a deathstrike plunged it through the new vamp's heart. The disintegration of a fellow vampire didn't register in his lustful eyes. Spike felt almost cheap; the newer vamp had not been a challenge, and he needed another to kill.

Spike sniffed and smelled humans not too far from where he stood. Making his way toward a smaller room, he tore the door off of its hinges, and paused. He saw Wesley, Anya and Willow chained to the wall. Their skin looked extremely pale and their figures were gaunt.

A closer look verified that Angelus, Darla and Drusilla had been beside them recently. The evil trio had taken the humans' blood. They weren't deceased, however; he could hear their faint heartbeats. Spike also didn't sense that they were dying the death of humans before they become vampires. As his eyes fell on Wesley, Spike purred softly. He instinctively knew that they needed help, but he didn't know what he needed to do. Spike bawled loudly, trying to wake the three humans like a dog trying to rouse its master.

XXXXXXXXX

In the room Spike had vacated, Angelus felt his bruises healing rapidly. He smiled evilly as he thought, **now we have you where we want you, Willie.** He laughed then left the warehouse.

Outside, Angelus pulled out his cell phone and dialed Darla's number. When she answered, Darla's childe said, "Baby, we've got the beast by the tail! Mission accomplished!"

In the apartment she, Dru and Angelus shared, Darla smiled a grin of ultimate triumph. **Phase one complete,** she thought. **Now, for phase two.**

"Dru, get ready," her sire commanded. "We're going out for a night on the town."

Drusilla clapped her hands, asking, "Prince William is home again? Will he be in our castle tonight?"

Darla morphed into game face and responded, "I guarantee it." Both female vampires left the apartment. They held up their arms and, letting their black magic fog surround them, teleported to their next destination.

XXXXXXXXX

Spike yowled in Wesley's ear. The young college student's eyes blinked open slowly.

"Spike...?" Wesley asked in a tired voice.

His vision started coming into focus as he beheld his friend. Although the vampire looked virtually the same, his eyes glowed with a totally beastly look. His fangs were extended, and he licked them in anticipation. The library science major took in his friend's appearance and Wesley knew instantly that Spike had changed.

He had become that which he and Wesley had always feared: a beastly vampire, with little to no memory of the man behind the demon.

Spike stared at the three captives, his mind struggling to work through the mental haze he had been engulfed in. He saw the remnants of the blood flowing through the holes his family had created in their necks. He felt his demon howling to drain the humans.

"Food...?" Spike asked, lowering himself toward Wesley. He was about to sink his canines into his friend but something held him back.

Though he lusted to taste human hemoglobin, Spike knew that he should not harm them, even though he didn't know why.

"Friend?" Spike asked curiously. Wesley nodded as much as he was able. Beside Wesley, Anya stirred.

"What...happened?" the former vengeance demon ground out.

Spike snarled menacingly at her. Wesley raised his head as much as he was able in Spike's direction. He reasoned that if Spike was remembering Anya's part in his Curse, the vampire would take matters into his own hands, and that would not be a good thing.

"Spike..." Wesley said with as much energy as he could muster. Angry, eyes turned in the younger man's direction. Spike growled; he didn't want to be distracted from his vengeance on Anya.

"Don't...hurt her," the college student told the vampire. "She's a...friend, too."

Spike sniffed Anya, much to her mortification. He smelled Wesley on her. That was enough to halt him from draining her.

Beside Anya, Willow started waking up, and as the White One saw the chains and the angry vampire she forced her mind to remember the unbinding spell that would release them from their bindings before Spike could change his mind.

Unfortunately, Riley and C. G. found the room with the humans and vampire in it. While the policeman searched for a way to free the hostages, the commander's eyes stared at the beastly looking vampire with contempt.

From his pocket, Riley took out a taser gun and fired on Spike. The vampire howled and started to advance on the army man when Buffy ran into the room. She took in the scene, horrified that she had not gotten to the room sooner.

"Buffy...Spike..." Wesley said, trying to communicate what happened. "Beast...".

Looking at the platinum haired menace with loathing, Riley thought, **I KNEW it! He's behind this, and he WON'T get away with it!"**

"Beth Anne, get out of here!" Riley said as he aimed another taser charge at the vampire. Spike fell to his knees just before three more soldiers ran into the room.

"Riley, don't!" Buffy shouted, as Riley simultaneously commanded to his men, "Take her outta here!"

C. G. crossed to where the hostages were. He unlocked the chains with a lock pick he extracted from deep inside of his pocket.

Buffy flung off one of Riley's men effortlessly but when Spike saw the woman he loved being attacked, the revenant saw red. He recovered rapidly and jumped on top of the soldier, scratching and sinking his fangs into the private's neck.

"No, Spike, don't!" Buffy yelled.

"Slayer…" Spike said, not taking his eyes off of the private. "Mate."

C. G. heard Spike's declaration, but as he examined the captives, he saw that they needed help...fast. Figuring that Buffy could more than handle herself with the vampire. When the Deputy Chief saw that the chained humans looked like they had lost significant amounts of blood, C. G. took out his cell phone and called the station. The policeman described the situation and told his men to call 9-1-1 and dispatch medical aid to the address he provided.

Reggie offered to send backup, but the Deputy Chief ordered his right hand man to stand by.

"Will do," Reggie's voice said on C. G.'s cell. He reluctantly hanged up, waiting anxiously for C. G. to tell him when he should act.

There were sounds of running footsteps as several more of Riley's men ran into the room. Spike, meanwhile, had continued his assault on the soldier. The private slumped to the ground, unconscious. The vampire now set his sights on Riley, but before the revenant could attack, he felt the pain of several stun weapons going off simultaneously.

Buffy tried to fight the army men, but she had pulled her punches so that they would not be seriously hurt. It was the pulling of her punches that resulted in her being stunned by one of Riley's men from behind by the man's taser.

The Slayer fell to the floor, knocked out. Riley backhanded the soldier, snarling, "Idiot! She's mine!"

Across from Riley and Buffy, C. G. carefully removed the chains from their wrists, and then gently laid Wesley, Anya and Willow on the ground. Not having the strength to cast any spells, the titian haired White One passed out again.

Meanwhile, Riley looked down at Spike, thinking, **now, you'll pay, beast!** He looked at one of his subordinates.

"You brought the truck?" the commander asked one of his soldiers. At the younger man's nod, Riley smiled.

"Bind him, and then dump him in it," he ordered. "Take this hostile to the base!" The soldier saluted his superior.

"No..." Wesley gasped before losing consciousness. Beside him, Anya was moaning non-coherently.

"What about this one, sir?" asked another soldier, Private Jones, as he indicated Buffy.

Riley's eyes fell on his fiancé. "Put her in my jeep," he said. "She's riding with me."

C. G. cursively scanned Spike's unconscious form as the soldiers chained him, then dragged him outside. Buffy stirred before one of Riley's men could carry her to the Commander's jeep.

"Don't worry, Beth Anne. I'll see to it that this beast never sees the light of day," he told her.

Buffy regarded Riley for a moment before saying, "You've got the wrong man...well, vampire. He didn't do anything." Their eyes fell on the unconscious trio.

The army man snorted, saying, "He tried to make a midnight snack out of those three guys. He won't live long enough to crow about it." Buffy still felt slightly dizzy even though she was starting to regain control of her body via her quick recuperative abilities. C. G. decided then that he should make Riley see reason.

The Deputy Chief piped up, saying, "You don't know that. He could have taken them, but we saw other vamps here. It also could have been any one of them."

Riley stared at C. G. with an incredulous look. "You saying I should let him go?" the commander asked the cop.

The cop responded, "No, but you're treating him like an animal. He may look like an animal, but for the human he once was, you should at least investigate what's happening."

"Not on my to do list," Riley snapped. "We've found our beast. End of discussion."

Buffy stared at her fiancé. She couldn't believe that he would act like this! When had Riley turned from the perfect man into this egotistical, patronizing, arrogant, presumptuous jerk? Her mind was racing as she considered Riley's actions towards Spike. The commander had killed the other vampires easily enough. Why was Spike any different? More important, where was the army taking him?

The Slayer had to find out. She had to rescue him somehow. She knew she could use her superhuman strength and force Riley and his men to release Spike into her care, but that would raise too many questions, and she wasn't quite ready to be reveal-y girl just yet.

Riley went outside, followed by his men and C. G. The Vampire Slayer also walked outside as Riley's men loaded a stunned and bound Spike into the waiting truck. An ambulance pulled up suddenly. Medical persons put Wesley, Anya and Willow onto stretchers.

As the command was given to move the injured, Riley put his arm around Buffy and gently pulled her toward his vehicle. C. G. got into the back and mentally attacked the angles of what had happened in the case that was forming, just like he always did. Something just didn't make sense about what Riley was doing, and the cop decided as soon as he reached the station that he would find out what was truly going on.

Buffy pointedly said to Riley, "We're gonna have a talk as soon as you take me home."

Riley told her, "Once that monster is taken care of, I'll call you and we'll get together, okay?" He strapped her in after she had climbed into the front passenger's side.

As the commander drove her home, the Chosen One's anger reached an all time high. How dare he refer to Spike as a monster without verifying all the facts? How dare her former fiancé treat her like she needed protecting like she was a damsel in distress?

In that moment Buffy had an epiphany when she examined her life since the army man had entered it and realized that Riley had always been that way. She stared at the engagement ring and saw that the commander was like the diamond which twinkled in its setting.

Oh, it shined and gave off its own brilliance, but beneath the surface, it offered no warmth, no life. Something inside of her twisted and any fire she might have had for Riley turned ice cold.

Buffy wished suddenly that she could unleash the strength she knew she had on him. She wished she could inflict the pain on Riley that he had visited on Spike. He had treated the noble vampire as though he was a bug to be squashed.

That, she could not forgive. For his crime, the Slayer wanted Riley to feel the vicious sting of justice, and the agony vengeance left in its wake. She had loved the soldier as a young girl but now, it was time to let the woman emerge and put away the dreams she thought she would fulfill at his side.

Yeah, she promised Riley, Spike, and all the gods that were, I'll set things right and do what I should have done before! You are so out of my universe as of now!

When she reached home, Buffy decided, she would talk to Giles and if warranted, to her mother and older sibling. Together, they'd find a way to rescue Spike and punish Riley. They HAD to.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The moment Riley's jeep pulled up to her house, Buffy bounded out, not even bothering to kiss the army commander like she always had. She wanted desperately to punch her ex fiance into next week, but Riley was not her concern, and Spike was.

Riley was stunned, but he forced himself to concentrate on more important matters.He had a beast to teach a lesson to, and he would start right away.

He drove away vowing that as soon as the whole situation at the base was over, Riley could have some Buffy time and rekindle their relationship.

Buffy unlocked her door and slammed it behind her. Joyce saw her disheveled condition and said, "Buffy, what on Earth…?"

The Slayer went over to Giles. "We have to talk right now!" She insisted. When her mother called her again, the teenager snapped, "not now, Mom!"

Joyce yelled, "You DON'T take that tone with me, young lady!"

Buffy responded by steering Giles into the back of the study and locking the door. Joyce sputtered, her temper rising.

Emerging from the bathroom, Cordelia asked, "Is that Buffy I heard with the door slamage?"

Joyce nodded once. NEVER had her youngest shouted at her before, and she didn't quite know how to take that. Her instincts told her that something was going on between her surgeon and Buffy; something that was more than just a job. The mother of two didn't want to intrude on her daughter's private life, but Buffy owed her an explanation!

"Delia, run upstairs and grab my key to the study!" Joyce ordered.

As Cordy ran upstairs to grab the key, her mother had a slight moment of indecision. She felt somewhat guilty about Riley all of a sudden; she didn't want to persue her course of action. Riley COULD have had a reason for bugging her house. What he'd done wasn't right, but if he did such a thing because Buffy....

Joyce focused all of her attention on the study. Cordy came back downstairs momentarily with a bunch of keys on a chain.

"It's the one shaped like a diamond, honey," she told her daughter.

As Cordy looked for the key, Joyce wondered what Riley could do to her if she confronted him. Suppose, her dark side told her, Riley didn't take too kindly (to put things mildly,) at having been exposed?

And, what was Buffy's involvement--if she WAS involved--in all of this?

**In for a penny; in for a pound,** Joyce thought.

She glanced at her eldest as Cordy held up a round, gold key the size of a mailbox one. Joyce held out her hand, telling her, "No, that's not the one. I'll get the right key ring. You see if you can listen in and find out what Buffy's saying."

Cordy's curiosity won out over her morals. She went into the kitchen and, spying a glass, held it up to the door. She could hear Giles saying something, but his voice was muffled.

"They sure don't make glasses like they used to!" She commented.

After several moments of muffled voices, Cordelia heard Buffy yelling."…taken Spike there!" She lowered her voice lest her mom and sister burst inside.

"We've GOT to do something!" the youngest Summers said.

Attempting to placate her, Giles said, "Buffy, above all, you-you must be calm. You are the Chosen One after all, and it would not do for you to become upset,"

Joyce came downstairs with another key chain, this one smaller than the first. As she looked for the key, she and Cordelia shared the same thought: **what's a Chosen One?**

They refocused their attention on the conversation while Buffy was heard arguing,"So we just sit back and do nothing?! Giles, they're gonna KILL him, if they haven't already! And if they have, I'll make them pay!"
"

""BUFFY!" Giles' sharp retort rang throughout the room. He lowered his voice just then.

"We mustn't do anything rash. You are the Slayer; however, if there are several soldiers at that army installation we must go in when we are certain of our advantage. Besides, we don't know where Riley has taken Spike, and I don't think the army has an advertisement posted in the papers as to where they are," Giles said. "And, need I remind you, he IS a vampire?"

"Soooo..." Buffy's voice said slowly, "we just leave him there because he's a vampire?"

"Because he IS a soulless demon!" Giles pressed his point, forgetting to lower his voice.

Just then, Joyce and Cordelia burst into the study.

"Mom," Buffy greeted, trying to be nonchalant. "What's goin' on?"

"You tell me," Joyce said. "What IS going on? Is this a meeting about your job? And, why would you need to save Spike?"

The mother folded her arms and glared at her youngest daughter. Buffy didn't know how to respond. Her mother's look changed to one of censure and disappointment that her youngest daughter had kept something major from her.

"What job exactly are you doing, Buffy?" Joyce pressed. "And how would YOU be able to save him?"

Cordelia joined in, asking, "Yeah, and what's the deal on this 'Chosen One' stuff?"

Buffy and Giles exchanged a look. Giles sighed, telling Joyce and Cordelia, "I suppose the truth is a little hard to hide, particularly since Buffy lives with you both."

"We SO don't have time," Buffy responded, tapping her watch. She walked over to the door, then saw the glass in her older sister's hands.

"Eavesdropping with glasses. Figures," the youngest Summers muttered. Buffy tried to exit the study, but she found that Joyce was blocking the door.

"Mom, get out of the way!" Buffy yelled. Giles simultaneously said, "It might be prudent, Joyce, to do as she says."

Joyce shook her head, saying, "I'm not doing anything until you confess! I want the truth, and I want it now."

"And while we're sharing, an innocent being is suffering!" Buffy countered. Wordlessly, Joyce stepped out of the way. She went to the coffee table in the living room and, before the Slayer could grab the car keys, the mother yanked them out of Buffy's reach.

"Mom!" Buffy protested.

"I'm driving," Joyce said in a tone which brooked no argument. She looked at Cordelia.

"Do you have the printout from the computer?" she asked her oldest daughter.

"Yeah," Cordelia said. She scanned the data and brightened, adding, "the base is nearby."

"Perhaps you should divulge where it is," Giles said, holding his hand out for the papers. Cordelia walked past him and went out of the front door.

"Why don't we discuss what a Chosen One is AND how Buffy can rescue Spike on the way to the base? Call it a mutual exchange of information, since I also have business with Riley," Joyce said, smiling sweetly and staring at the White One.

Giles sighed in defeat. He knew when he was beaten.

"Very well," he said. Waving a cautionary finger at Joyce, he added, "But, you both shall stay in the car when we get there, and Buffy and I shall handle this! I don't want her to have to worry about you while she is attempting to locate Spike."

Cordelia opened her mouth to retort, but Buffy advised, "Don't even think about it!" When her older sister saw Buffy's thunderous expression, she wordlessly climbed into the back of the car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spike threw himself at the glass cage he found himself in, trying desperately to escape. He roared at the passing scientists, but they paid him little attention.

"Was that the latest hostile?" one scientist asked his coworker.

The other, taller scientist nodded, "Yep," she confirmed.

"So, should we get ready for the operation?" the first scientist asked. His coworker shook her head.

"Commander Finn wants us to hold off on this one," she said. "He has special conditioning in mind for him."

The scientists continued talking as they rounded the corner. They failed to see the dark mists gathering above their heads. When they had left completely and Spike was alone, the mists gently floated in front of his cage and turned into the shapes of Darla and Drusilla.

"Poor Prince William!" the insane, raven haired vampire sorceress said. "'He plays alone! No other children will play in his sandbox."

They stared at Spike's futile attempts to break the glass. Darla spoke as she saw his bruised hands.

"Of course, we might save him if he does one small favor for us," Darla said, looking at Spike.

His eyes fell on Drusilla and he snarled. As his mind processed what his grand sire had just said, he looked at the blonde vampiress.

"Kill the Slayer," she said simply.

Spike growled, trying to get out, his feral mind processing what it could. He didn't wish to hear any more of Darla's request. He thought about the tiny blonde girl, his Goldilocks.

"No!" he roared. "Slayer: MINE!"

"Oh, well," Darla said, sighing. "Have fun in Casa de Army Base. I can't wait to see what tortures they have lined up for you!" She walked on, but stopped when she heard Drusilla wailing.

"Nooooo!" Drusilla protested. "My Prince has her light in his heart! He doesn't want to join the tea party! I want my William back."

"Never…yours," Spike grunted, still trying to escape his prison.

Darla regarded him for a second, then turned to Dru, saying, "He has got a point."

"Nooo!" Dru wailed, tearing at her hair. Darla looked at her with disgust.

"This is getting real old, real fast, Dru!" she cried. "Don't make it necessary for me to alert them to put YOU in a cage!"

Drusilla's wails became silent tears as she jerked back. She turned mournful eyes on Spike, but as Darla became a mist again and floated out of the base, Drusilla did the same.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When they reached their home and changed back into their vampire shapes, Drusilla smiled insanely as she saw a vision. She could see him, as handsome as her William, and fiercely loyal to his Sire.

**Another Prince will come to snatch the dollies from the chest, just as the pixies told me!** She thought. **Then, brother, mum an' me will dance a' the ball as the end of days begins!**

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Riley and some of his men let themselves into VHIP headquarters via the secret door. He saluted some soldiers as he passed by. They in turn saluted him and the scientists behind the army commander. The Midwesterner turned left upon reaching the subterranean base and went to a non-descript room. Riley pressed his hand to a plate and gave his name, rank and serial number into the vocal response microphone beside the scanner.

The door slid open to reveal several senior officers. A fifty-ish woman stood up and saluted Riley, her grey-blue hair framing her square face. She wore general's stars and the plaque behind her proclaimed that she had been decorated several times over for bravery and ingenuity.

"Commander Finn," the general greeted, "it's good to see you. When we were debriefed on the situation concerning the hostile known as the 'vampire beast' and several other demonic operatives, we were thinking you'd be among the missing."

"It takes more than a hemoglobin drinking revenant and his followers to bring me down, General Atwood," Riley responded. One of the officers, a Colonel, offered Riley a seat. The Commander sat in it, basking in his being offered a seat by a superior officer. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the top brass noticed him and the operation they'd given him cartes blanche over.

"We understand that you have him tucked away in the maximum security cell," the Colonel said once he sat down.

Riley nodded, saying, "I felt that it was best. This is no ordinary vampire, and it would be folly to put him in just any cell."

"What about this...experimental treatment you've got planned for it? Will it work?" another Colonel asked, his Tennessee drawl extremely pronounced.

Before Riley responded, the Tennessee Colonel said, "We wanna verify that the taxpayers' dollars are bein' well spent."

"Of course you do, sir," Riley agreed wholeheartedly. He scanned all of the occupants of the room with his dark eyes and pushed a button on the table.

A screen slid down, and the Commander advised everyone, "Please, take your seats. I think you'll find this demonstration...enlightening." The junior ranking officer then commanded the film to be shown. A cage was shown, not unlike Spike's.

"This is the next step in technology, and we're very lucky to have it," Riley told his superiors. A pink skinned demon was brought in. He was bound in chains and temporarily stunned. The military personnel deposited him down on the floor, then walked away. The scientists removed the demon's chains and gave it a shot, then all left the creature alone in the cell. Two other lab technicians rolled over a small machine to the glass.

Inside the cell, the demon awakened to find that he was a prisoner. He roared, throwing himself against the glass and trying to reach toward the scientists. One scientist turned on the machine; the other pressed several buttons.

"Begin," a scientist said. He concentrated, then extended his hand in a stabbing motion. Though nothing was being held, the demon jerked and clutched his chest as though he was being stabbed. The scientist then made a shooting motion with his hands. The demon jerked and twitched, grabbing his chest as though he was checking to see if he was bleeding.

"What's going on?" one senior officer asked. "Why is that creature acting like that?"

Riley shook his head, responding, "I'd rather not disclose that at this time. Suffice it to say though that this is what I would like to try on the vampire beast Hostile 18,. The lab boys will film this live so that you receive every image." He regarded the Colonel from Tennessee, saying, "You asked how the tax dollars were being spent. Now, I can show you."

The Colonel nodded, telling Riley, "Go ahead, Commander Finn. Show us this new technology in more depth."

"Yes, sir; thank you sir," the Commander replied, switching off the projector. Riley left the small room. It was time to kick some butt.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Once he was healed, Angelus and two of his children made their way to the docks. They waited patiently for a box wrapped in black burlap. The crane hoisted it from the ship and as soon as the box was placed on the docks, the elder vamp ran up to the loader and clapped him on the back.

"Hey, Jace!" Angelus shouted. "How long has it been?"

The man frowned, saying, "Long enough for you to have forgotten my name."

"Oh...so, sorry," Angelus said apologetically. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Jax," the man said. He whipped out a pad, saying, "OK...one package from India, sans customs. I went through a lot of trouble to both steal it and meet you here. I don't even know what's in it, but when some dingbat broad asks for it to be delivered here and pays me triple what it's worth, I usually excuse the craziness and do it."

"How very enterprising of you," the senior vampire praised. A small sliver of moonlight illuminated all three vampires who were fully in game face.

"What...what are you?" the man asked, horrified. All three vampires snickered.

Angelus turned evil, yellow eyes on the human victim, saying, "hungry." The three descended on the hapless man and drained him of his blood before he could scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

C. G. had run into the precinct after Riley had dropped him off. The 28-year-old policeman punched some buttons on his computer. Reginald "Tater" Edwards came into the Deputy Chief's office.

Tater studied his friend. Never had he seen C. G. looking pissed before. The leader-cop had always been the type to be cool under pressure, but now he looked like he was out for blood. Reginald's blue eyes showed worry and concern. Had his friend found the vampire beast and was he going to confront the revenant?

"C. G., what's going on?" Tater wanted to know.

C. G. continued typing. "A little detective work," the brownish blond haired cop said. "I'm punching up the locations of the sightings of vampires in the past few weeks and the areas where the murders took place."

"What good'll that do?" Tater asked. "There've been a lot of sightings ever since the beast made his mark. Besides, I thought you had told me when you called me from Riley's jeep that the army caught him."

"I don't think they did," C. G. mused, still typing. "I think they just decided to pin the murders on the most convenient suspect."

"What makes you say that?" Tater asked, peering at C. G.'s entries.

"Well, first of all, the pathologist told me that the victims were attacked by a man who was 6 feet tall or more. The perp Riley and his men carried out was possibly five seven or eight, nowhere near as tall as the one Nancy described. Another thing: if the creature I saw was the one who did it, why didn't he finish the job? Most vamps usually drain their victims dry, or they turn them. There's no in between."

"Maybe he was playing games with you," Tater suggested, "if he was even a vampire at all." C. G. printed out a map of the general area where the vampires had been spotted.

"Perhaps, but I don't think that we're dealing with the same guy," the Deputy Chief said. "I'm probably crazy, but I think that monster is innocent."

"You're right: you are crazy," his best friend agreed. "Listen to yourself! Someone is pulling a prank, and you're talkin' about vampires as though they're really real."

C. G. studied the map, but then looked up at Tater. The older cop didn't want to tell him about the things C. G. had found out from Nancy, including being at the warehouse and not gathering any evidence about the revenants he saw there. He knew that if he told Tater his real reason for being so gung-ho about investigating these sightings, C. G's best friend would have the cop committed.

The Welsh policeman tried a different tack. "There's just something that doesn't wash; something that Riley did that doesn't make sense." C. G. mused, describing the army commander's actions.

"He might be taking him into custody at a government facility, but I think he isn't," C. G. continued saying thoughtfully. "It's just a gut feeling, and one I can't prove, but I believe that Riley has gone off the deep end and he's playing for keeps."

The older law enforcer drew dots at the locations where the sightings and murders had taken place and then connected them. He looked at the land in the center and studied the topography.

"Tell me something, Tater," C. G. asked. "Why would the vampires attack all around this small area, but totally avoid what's in the middle? What's keeping them away?"

Reggie peered at the map and shrugged, saying, "I dunno. There doesn't seem to be anything there." C. G. punched a request into the computer to provide more details on the area in the middle of the map. After tabulating the data and scanning it, the computer spewed out two lists. He scanned the names of the streets on both lists, but paused when he got to the next to the last one.

"Where the hell is Topkin's Field?" he asked Reggie. "Doesn't seem to be on the more recent listing."

Tater leaned over C. G. and punched up specifics on Topkins Field. He printed the info out, then grabbed the papers from the printer.

"Here, C. G.," Tater said after a moment. "There was a Topkin's Field in Sunnydale around the year 1945; however, when the land surrounding it was purchased in 1953, the owner changed the name to Steinway Avenue, to keep it sounding like the other areas." Reggie pointed to several names with "Stein" in their titles.

"So, it was just a big field?" C. G. responded by way of a query. "Why would someone just buy acres of nothing?"

Tater went to the printer and looked at the information. "The place was sold cheap to one Harry Stein by the Government. Apparently, they sold it because word got out that there were some unorthodox experiments going on at a military base there. When the experiments were quietly ended due to pressure from some humanitarian organizations, the base was shut down. According to this, it was never demolished, just abandoned. Stein agreed in a handshake deal to take the land off their hands for a ridiculously low price. In exchange, Stein would keep his mouth shut about the Government's shady deals," Tater reported.

"Wanna bet that the experiments concerned night creatures, like revenants and demons?" C. G. guessed.

C. G. tugged on the black leather jacket that was on the hanger behind him. He postulated his theory, asking, "you also want to bet that the Government has reestablished that base and it is probably continuing that work there, and that maybe, just maybe, the vampires and demons heard of it? Would make the revenants stay well enough out of the army's way to avoid capture, wouldn't it?"

"So if there actually were vampires at the warehouse and if Riley captured one of them, particularly the one he thinks is the vampire beast..." Tater started surmising.

At C. G.'s curt nod, the younger cop grimaced. "Oh, man!" he exclaimed. Tater couldn't wrap his mind around the concept that a real live vampire could have been caught, and that the being was more than likely being experimented on by the U. S. Government.

"Where's the proof?" Tater asked his friend.

C. G. didn't respond, but instead requested that Tater get his knapsack from the outer area. When Tater left his office, C. G. hid the weapons in a long paper bag, and went outside to the nearest squad car. Reggie handed the sack to C. G. The Welsh cop threw the sack and the long paper bag on the back seat and put the siren on top of the car.

"C.G.?" Reggie Edwards' muffled voice asked through the window.

"Yeah?" the Deputy Chief asked, rolling down the window. "What is it, Tater?"

"Do you want backup now?" he wondered. C. G. considered asking for help, but he didn't want to risk the lives of the police since it was obvious that there were several revenants about and not just the vampire beast. He also wasn't quite ready to field questions about night creatures and their existence to the other members of the Sunnydale Police Department. Of course, even with knowing what he faced, C. G. wasn't suicidal.

"Get two officers," he ordered Reggie, "and tell them to follow me, but instruct them to do exactly as I say!"

"You got it," Tater assured his friend. "Be careful."

"Aren't I always?" C. G. asked, rolling up his window. He backed out of his parking space and went to what he hoped was the location of the Army base.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley woke up in the type of room he had been familiar with for most of his adult life. He knew it was exactly like the place where he had brought many a sick patient to to recover. He didn't think that he would be using a room like this, though. The young British man's mind was swimming in and out as he tried to remember why they had brought him here.

He remembered being in a warehouse before; and prior to that, he remembered three figures looming over him. They tortured him! His hand flew to his neck as he recalled one biting him.

**Darla!** He thought suddenly as he remembered the being which had drank his blood. **Darla, Angelus and Drusilla. Oh, my word!**

He knew Drusilla's name well since he had heard Spike using it. He remembered Spike telling him that Drusilla was his sire, and that she was the instrument of the vampire's Curse. Angelus and Darla were their family, at least in the vampire communities. He recalled that Spike did not want to admit to Wesley that he had any ties to the vampires he had talked about, but Spike could no more be dishonest with his best friend and brother any more than the vampire could lie to Buffy.

When he had gone to Anya's Magic Box Shop, Wesley's fear of what Spike might do and a desire to research the prophecy involving Slayers and Hunters had warred within him. He could see the beast in his friend that was rising and begging to be set free. Wesley knew that it was only a matter of time before Buffy was on the receiving end of Spike's true vampiric nature.

Because of that, the younger British man had taken his research and, as a result of wanting to hurry instead of considering the feasibility of his actions, went to consult with Anya. The end result was that Angelus, Darla and Drusilla had cornered him and had eventually left him at the warehouse to trap Spike.

He could still remember the taunts and slurs of Angelus when he, Anya and Willow had been captured.

(YESTERDAY...)

Angelus walked over to a table with several knives on it. Eyeing Wesley, Anya and Willow, the vampire selected a cutting knife.

"So, Wes ol' boy, got up and got dressed for tonight's gig and told myself, 'self, let's see how long it'll take someone like an intelligent, book read college boy to cry out in pain,'" he jeered.

"I'm betting on a minute," Darla had said, throwing some money down on a table.

"Ohh...a minute twenty until the squire calls for the Prince!" Drusilla said, throwing some more money on top of Darla's.

Angelus lovingly ran the knife against a leather belt to sharpen it. "Oh, I don't know...these young bucks have stamina," Angelus said. "Although I think he'll be hollering in thirty seconds."

"So, now, you'll mar me for life, is that it?" Wesley said from his chained position on the wall.

"Leave him alone!" Anya's voice popped up. The evil male vampire's eyes swam to her.

"What's that?" he asked the former demon.

Anya swallowed as she mustered up courage. "I said, 'leave him alone'," she repeated, trying to sound more assertive than she really was.

Angelus boldly strode over to her, asking, "Or what?" Anya's eyes drifted to Wesley then back to Angel again.

"Or...I'll curse you!" she said. Beyond the pair, Willow was trying to remember a teleportation spell.

Oh, really?" Angelus sneered. "I don't sense any demonic energy in you anymore."

He leaned in close and ran his cool fingers over the top of her dress. Then Angelus brought the knife up and cut down the middle. Anya's chest was partially exposed.

"Nice to see you still have the goods, babe," he leered. "I'll bet your blood is still as sweet as--"

"Don't!" Wesley shouted, his voice shaking with anger. Darla chuckled.

"Dear human boy," she said, "you've got a thing for her, haven't you?"

Angel chortled, agreeing with his sire. "That he does, Darla," he said, "that he does."

He looked at Wesley and said in a husky voice, "don't worry, Wes. I promise to return her to you after I'm done!" Anya turned her head away. She certainly didn't want to have Angelus bang her.

The male vampire smiled a superior grin at the three hostages. He focused on Wesley next.

"Now, if I were a vengeance demon, I might do something like, oh, I dunno..." he said, taking the knife and holding it close to where Wesley's genitals were inside of his pants, "a Bobbit on a man."

For a few tense seconds, no one did anything. Then, Angelus moved the knife away, eliciting a sigh of relief from Wesley and the others. Willow moved her lips in an effort to recite the incantation.

"Of course, we don't have any men present other than myself, do we, girls?" he asked Darla and Drusilla.

Darla was getting bored. "Let's just get on with torturing them!" she snapped.

Angelus grabbed a whip from the table of weapons. "Now, now, Darla..." he chided softly. He looked at Wesley and said, "She always was the impatient one in the bunch."

He winked at the British man and smiled, ripping the front of his shirt. Buttons went flying as he saw Wesley's perfectly muscled chest. Angelus snared Wesley's neck with the whip, jerking it forward. The evil vampire used his knife then and, with perfect precision, nicked the side of it. The young Englishman didn't scream; he wouldn't give his attacker the satisfaction. The blood trickled down his shoulder.

Darla crossed over to Wesley, saying, "Look there…he's got a little boo-boo!" She vamped out and said, "least I can do is kiss it better."

Grabbing the whip from Angelus, she jerked Wesley's neck even closer to where her fangs awaited. Hungrily, Darla buried her fangs in his neck and drank. Drusilla clapped, while Angelus smirked.

Willow meanwhile was chanting softly.

Drusilla closed the distance between herself and the magic woman. "Naughty, naughty!" she said in a singsong voice. "Miss Edith doesn't want you to do interrupt the King of Sorrow's games!"

She came closer to Willow's face, then Drusilla's ridges were in full view. "Mummy, may I taste now?" she asked, looking back at Darla.

"Why not?" Darla asked. "Go on."

Drusilla's game face appeared. She faced the benevolent sorceress. Willow tried to shut her eyes, but Drusilla's held hers in their hypnotic grasp.

"Be with me..." she said. "Be in my eyes." Willow looked at the vampiress.

"You'll give me a taste?" Drusilla asked. Willow turned her neck willingly.

"A White One's blood!" the insane vampire cried happily. "Such a nummy treat!"

"No!" Wesley shouted, earning a whipping from Angelus.

The vampire casually tossed the whip aside and crossed to Anya. He ripped off her dress and tasted Anya's blood from her chest. "You still taste sweet, my sweet," he mocked as he sealed the wound he had made. "Just like old times!"

The three drank from their victims. As Wesley felt himself being drained, he promised revenge on the vampires, especially the one with the angelic face...

(IN THE PRESENT...)

Wesley still didn't know how he had gotten to this hospital. His mind raced as he wondered what game the evil trio of vampires was playing.

**Why did they release me and not destroy me or the others?** His mind wondered. **Where are Anya and Willow?**

He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't feel the change coming upon him. Wesley still knew so little about vampires, even with having Spike as a housemate. Deciding it was time to find out about the hospital he was in, the college student buzzed for a nurse.

"You rang, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" a young, blonde nurse asked, coming in to check Wesley's chart.

"Yes," Wesley told her. "I was wondering what I'm doing here."

"I would rather you talk to the doctor about that," the nurse said. She went outside to fetch a physician.

Presently, she came in with a tall, somewhat fatherly looking man in a spotless lab coat. He had salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

"Doctor Baines," the nurse said, "Mr. Wyndham-Price is awake, and he has questions."

The doctor bent over Wesley and looked at his chart. "Hmmm..." he said. The medical practitioner looked up presently and commented, "you seem none the worse for wear, Mr. Wyndham-Price. Your vitals are all right; however, you're definitely anemic. We're keeping you here for observation. If you check out okay, then you should be able to go when all the lab results are in."

"Did someone else bring me here...I mean, besides the ambulance drivers?" Wesley asked.

"Commander Finn handed you three over to us for observation," the doctor reported.

"You mean, Anya and Willow are here, too?" Wesley asked. "Where are they? I want to see that they're okay."

Doctor Baines shook his head, saying, "Sorry, but that's not permitted. You took a significant loss of blood. Now, good news is: you won't need a transfusion. The assailant didn't drain you to the point of a coma or death, but you still aren't ready to do the bugaloo out of here, either."

"You said I could leave soon..." Wesley reminded the physician.

Doctor Baines turned from him slightly and, sight unseen, withdrew a syringe with a yellow liquid from his pocket. He then turned back, the needle concealed in his hands.

"I DID say that earlier, didn't I?" the doctor asked. "But it might take some time until we achieve the results we're after."

Wesley noticed the sinister tone his voice had taken. "What...what do you mean?" the college student asked, his voice revealing his fear.

The doctor lifted his hand with the syringe and checked the dosage. Wesley struggled to rise, but found he didn't have the strength.

"Now, now, Mr. Wyndham-Price," he said in a calm voice, "There's nothing to be afraid of, I assure you. The military just wants to know how much information you have about the supernatural elements that attacked you at the warehouse, oh and their cronies, of course. You will all be questioned separately, and when the Army is satisfied, you will be released."

Wesley knew that he had to do something, anything, to protect his friends, especially Spike. He forced himself to remain calm despite his growing agitation.

"What are you talking about?" the younger man asked Doctor Baines. "We were there, but there was a gang of drug crazed men, not anything like ghosts or goblins."

"Not what I heard," the doctor countered, tapping the needle with deliberated slowness. A nurse came into the room, her face dwarfed by the pad she was holding.

Doctor Baines turned around to the nurse, saying, "Nurse, please make certain that we're not disturbed." He turned to regard Wesley. "He's not up to receiving visitors just yet."

The nurse nodded and left to do the doctor's bidding. It was during that time that Wesley lifted himself as much as he could. He grabbed the doctor's hand and, in a show of surprising strength, managed to make Doctor Baines drop the needle.

The doctor pressed a button. Two orderlies rushed in, but unlike Wesley's smaller frame, these were large, Quarterback sized attendants. They held the British student down as Doctor Baines grabbed the needle from the side of the bed where it had fallen.

The physician injected the contents into the IV bag. One attendant covered Wesley's mouth so that he couldn't scream; the other checked to make sure that no one from outside the room disobeyed the doctor's request for privacy. "The military made this drug for people like you...bleeding heart radicals who abscond with Hostiles," Doctor Baines said coldly.

Wesley felt his muscles growing heavy. He couldn't move, much as his mind wanted to. A warm euphoria engulfed him. Doctor Baines saw the restrained man's face start to shift from fear to an almost drowsy look. The doctor studied Wesley's eyes. They were dilating.

Perfect, the medical practitioner thought, smiling. To the remaining attendant, Doctor Baines ordered, "Go outside and help Ralph. Make sure no one can enter this room!" The other large man went outside. Wesley tried to resist whatever was making him feel like taking a nap.

"Wha'...what did you do to me?" He slurred.

"Nothing significant. Just something to calm you down; make you lose your inhibitions," the doctor reported. "Commander Finn wants to know about the Hostiles. He wants the truth out of you."

Wesley blinked very slowly. He had to do something, his mind reasoned, but what? He couldn't think straight as he felt himself relaxing.

The doctor began. "The one we caught," he began. "We understand that you have strong ties to him," he told the Englishman.

"I told you..." Wesley responded with an inebrated voice, "...I dunno any creatures, or whatever. 'Was all per-fect-ly normal. Just some druggies."

"Oh, come now," Doctor Baines chided, "You can do better than that! Tell me about the vampire. Was he the one that killed all of the victims? Does he have some hypnotic power over you?"

Wesley tried to process the doctor's inquiries. Doctor Baines waited patiently. Wesley frowned. He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the drug was overpowering him. "He didn't kill anyone. He doesn't use mind control on me."

"But he DOES have the ability to use it, doesn't he?" the physician asked. Wesley turned drowsy eyes on him. The British man giggled, then became serious.

"I don't know," he responded. The doctor grew impatient.

"Do vampires have the ability to enthrall their victims, or not?!" the medical practitioner snapped.

"Why are you cross with me?" Wesley slurred. "Vampires have the ability to enthrall their victims."

Doctor Baines was writing down everything Wesley was saying. The door opened, and a titian haired nurse walked in. She held a chart on a clipboard in one hand; a pen was in the other. The physician grabbed the pen and signed the pad. He turned back to his patient, eager to continue questioning Wesley.

"You said he didn't kill anyone," the doctor started saying. "How do you know?"

Wesley declared, "Because we're good friends. Spike wouldn't kill anyone, except in self-defense."

Doctor Baines snorted, but he kept his observations to himself. How anyone in his right mind could be friends with any of the hostiles was beyond him, but he knew he had to get as much information as possible for his Army superiors before the quick acting drug wore off.

"You said his name was Spike, and that you were—" the next word the doctor spoke was laced with disdain for Wesley—"friends. Tell me everything you know about him."

Before the patient opened his mouth to answer, the nurse slammed the metal clipboard against the doctor's temple. Baines slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Wesley!" His eyes focused on Willow Rosenberg. He slowly brought up his hand and waved it in her direction.

"'Ello, Willow!" he greeted cheerfully. Willow looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner," she said sadly. "It was all I could do to find the right incantation to purge that stupid stuff from my system!"

"'S okay," Wesley slurred. Willow murmured something in what sounded like Latin. The English college student felt his mind clearing, and his senses growing more alert.

"We've got to get you out of here," she said, handing him an orderly's uniform. Fully recovered thanks to the White One's magic, Wesley sat up and put the white coat with the badge on it over his clothes.

"Where's Anya?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. He hoped that the staff in hospital didn't use the drugs on her.

"She's okay," Willow said. "I fixed it so that she couldn't tell them anything useful, then I healed her, too. She's getting our transportation ready."

"Good," Wesley said. His eyes fell on the doctor who was unconscious.

"Can you make it so that he forgets what I told him?" he asked. Willow nodded.

"I can, but we have to hurry," she responded with urgency in her tone. Doctor Baines murmured as he started regaining consciousness.

When Baines was fully awake, Willow looked at him and said, "Forget everything you heard for the last hour, and sleep. When you wake up, you will be relaxed and go about your usual rounds."

The doctor muttered, then slumped to the ground. Willow turned his face toward her so that she could see his expression. He was smiling.

"He's under," she reported. Wesley had finished tying his shoes and joined the titian haired sorceress by the door.

"What about the guards?" he asked nervously. "Did they see you?"

Willow opened the door and said, "Not at all. They're taking a nap right now."

"Spell?" the British young man asked. Willow shook her head, holding up a needle.

"Hypo," she responded. "I didn't inject Baines 'cause there wasn't enough, and I needed to find out how much he made you say anyway."

When a quick scan of the hall revealed only a nurse and very few doctors, Willow and Wesley calmly walked into the corridor. His companion went to the elevator and pressed the button. When it dinged, Wesley was the first to enter. Willow was about to get on the elevator when one of the guards she had injected staggered out of the closet.

"Stop those two!" he shouted. A doctor started running toward Willow. She took off at breakneck speed down the corridor, desperate to find a good hiding place.

XXXXXXXXXX

(At the Army base…)

Spike slumped to the ground in defeat…at least for the moment. He had exhausted himself by trying to break from his mortar and glass prison. He wasn't certain how long he had been locked up, but he knew from the hunger pangs he felt that he had not fed for far too long.

The beastly looking vamp concentrated on getting his mind back in shape. He forced himself to calm down. He controlled inner demon once more. Spike thought about the love of his unlife just then. He felt every nuance that was Buffy with perfect clarity; her hair, her scent, and most especially, her kiss.

He imagined her dressed in the dark colors of the night, not black necessarily, but a deep, rich plum, as she climbed willingly into his bed. Her sinful, berry shaded lips were teasing his chest, bringing tingles that he had not felt in a long time. They surged throughout his body.

He dreamed that she alone had relieved him of his Curse. Together, standing against the dark hordes of demons, he and Buffy had kicked some serious arse. Angelus tasted the point of a long stake, and so had Darla. Drusilla was hanged, and as the last ashes of her remains drifted away on the wind, Spike had mourned her passing. Buffy and Spike had shut down the remnants of this hellish demon prison camp.

Later, he dreamt he and Buffy claimed each other in a very private and very intimate ceremony. Afterwards, all of their friends were there: Wesley, Willow, even Anya. They cheered, along with Buffy's mother, for her good judgment in choosing a mate.

A moment later, Spike snorted, thinking, **sod all! Gettin' too romantic in my old age!**

Besides, hadn't he told Buffy to bugger off? Maybe he hadn't said it quite in those terms, but he had said that she needed to find a human bloke; that he couldn't give her the life she deserved. He had meant what he'd said. Only her happiness mattered. He realized deep in his unbeating heart that it mattered more than anything.

He had to face facts. He was a demon, plain and simple. He didn't deserve the company of friends. Even so, he wasn't going to let his captors do anything to him. Spike told himself that he would not die like some dumb animal in its cage.

The revenant saw that there were several glass structures across from him. Like Alcatraz or some other prison block, there were two levels of cells. Some were empty, but he had a feeling that they wouldn't be for long. Spike saw a vampiress in the cell straight ahead. She wasn't too healthy looking; her pale skin was even paler, and her blue eyes were hollow.

The female revenant didn't have any markings on her, but she resembled what he knew he would be if he didn't secure his freedom: a weak, hungry shell of a night creature, willing to do anything for his next meal.

A green and grey skinned, short demon with several tattoos was in the cell next to hers. He didn't seem too emaciated. His eyes bulged out of his head, and his mouth was crammed with teeth. Suddenly, two scientists came in front of the demon's cell. It jumped up and down, frantic to get out. The humans in front of its transparency had a machine resembling a sound board. Without any preamble, they shut the device on. The demon stopped jumping and cooed like a contented puppy.

"That's better, hostile 10," Spike heard one say. "We've got a special destination in mind for you. Man in Saudi Arabia wants you for his private collection."

The second scientist grabbed a silver chain and opened the door to its prison cell. The demon didn't struggle, but let the scientists chain it and calmly walked with them to its' ghastly fate.

**So tha's it!** He thought, afraid and yet repulsed.

Before he could fully process the magnitude of what was going on, a man wearing a black Navy commander's uniform was walking up to his cage. The vampire could see that it was Commander Riley Finn, and he looked like he wasn't just there to sell Spike to some slave trader or other such rot. From the fiendish look in the Army man's dark blue eyes, the revenant knew Finn was out for blood.

The sadistic Army commander never took his eyes off of Spike while he said, "So, the Vampire Beast has come to call," he said in a low voice. "Good! I can't wait to try out our latest toy on you." His eyes flicked to the other prisoners next to Spike's holding cell.

In Riley's hand was something resembling a cross between a cattle prod and a riding habit. He tapped his hand with it as he said, "The other hostiles will be leaving soon. It'll go easy for them. Sorry to say: it won't be easy for you!"

"If you're gonna kill me, Commander Cardboard, jus' be done with it!" Spike shouted. "I hate long waits!"

Riley motioned to three scientists in lab coats. They wheeled in another device, but this was only about the size of a tiny laptop computer.

"Spunk…I like that," Riley said in a cold voice. "But you'll find, that you'll beg for me to end your life when I've finished making you suffer." The scientists switched the device on and waited for it to power up.

Spike braced himself to withstand the onslaught as he promised he'd spring himself if it was the last thing he ever did and wring Riley's neck.

Riley instructed the scientists, "as soon as the device is powered up, let me know." His eyes fell on Spike as he coldly added, "I want this to be as personal as it gets."

One of the scientists spoke up, asking, "Are you sure that's wise, Commander? I mean, this device is experimental. We don't know how long it will last. What if the hostile…?"

Riley tapped the riding crop device in his hand gently against his side. He held it up for emphasis, saying, "That's why I also have this. The top brass want a full demonstration of our latest development, and I intend to give them what they came for."

His eyes fell on Spike as he mentally promised, **when I'm finished, you'll ask me for permission to blink, let alone for anything else!**

When one of the scientists indicated that the device was ready, Riley ordered, "Begin."

Spike's glowing orbs narrowed. He had heard every word. He knew he would not submit to their games. He had survived his Sire's and his sodding brother's tortures before leaving them for good, and he would never be in the position of victim again.

The last thing he saw was Riley's lips making a kissing motion as the military man put his fingers to his mouth and blew. Suddenly, the vampire could feel himself losing consciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Anya started up the getaway car. She backed it near the back entrance where the hospital stored supplies and waited for Wesley and Willow. After some moments passed, the former vengeance demon was getting annoyed, and worried.

"Humans have no concept of time!" she muttered to the dashboard, even though it couldn't answer back. She wished that she had her powers. If she did, she decided smiling, the Army men would never know what had hit them!

So it had been since the beginning; so it would have been now. Anyanka remembered countless males who had suffered from her magic while she was wielding the power of the wish. In Spike's case, Anya had made him pay by revealing something about him which would provide an advantage to his foe, Drusilla.

Anya felt a momentary twinge of guilt at what she had done in the past. She had put the unsuspecting victim William Pratt into Drusilla's hands by telling her his address; by also letting nature, or probability, take its ugly course.

When Drusilla had said in passing, "I wish tha' Prince William would be mine," Anya's softly whispered command had set the wheels in motion so that the unsuspecting bad poet would be where Drusilla was that night. And, because of Anya's partial participation, an innocent human life had been ruined.

She hadn't thought about the consequences of her actions. After all, he was just a MAN, wasn't he? And all men were guilty of SOMETHING, weren't they?


Although, she reasoned now, there was an advantage to Spike's being a vampire, the best of all possible scenarios being that Buffy got to have orgasms with him even if he could send even the most powerful woman running away in terror at his beastly appearance.

**Stop worrying about what you can't change,** the sensible side of her reasoned. **What's done is done.**

A much better thought crossed her mind as Anya imagined Wesley's muscles rippling just then while he touched her in the most intimate of places, his blue eyes lighting up for her in excited anticipation of what she could give him in bed.

**If they've harmed Wesley so that I won't experience any sexual bliss with him…** she thought.

But what could she do? It wasn't as though she was even a witch anymore. The 1000+-year-old woman thumped the dashboard, completely frustrated. D'Hoffran and his minions really screwed her in the worst way.

She was about to get out of the vehicle and see what was going on when she saw two military men come out and stand guard at the back entrance. Their faces were grim. Anya could see one speaking into a communication device. She only wished she could hear what he was saying.

**Damn this human body and its limited hearing!** She thought, rolling down her window. The former vengeance demon couldn't hear anywhere near what she had wanted, but as she saw another soldier meet the first, Anya's ears picked up some words.

Her lips curled into a smile when she heard some crucial words that one of the soldiers was saying, "All this for a nerdy British guy!"

**Wesley!** Her mind supplied. Willow must have gotten him out.

"I could almost kiss her!" Anya murmured. "I wonder what it would be like, kissing a woman?" She returned to the business at hand, focusing on the soldiers and what they were doing.

Her elation turned to fear as she saw one of the men guarding the back door walking toward the car.

"Uh oh," she said, wondering what he was going to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Spike woke up inside a long corridor. The hallway had no windows and no doors. The walls were smooth and grey, and they seemed to extend forever.

**Where 'm I?** He thought.

He looked at the walls and tried to get his bearings. The platinum haired revenant tried to focus on his internal clock to sense how much time had actually passed.

Spike remembered that one of the earliest lessons he'd been taught by his nocturnal family was that a revenant didn't just have superior senses in the five realms of see, hear, taste, touch and smell. They also had a heightened internal clock that could measure the exact timing of the sun so that a blood sucker would always know down to the second when sunrise and sunset would occur.

Because that sense of time was so finely tuned, even upon first waking up as a vampire, a blood drinker could also measure other instances of time as well, provided they practiced enough. He told himself that too much time couldn't have gone by; Riley, presumably, wouldn't stand for letting his victim out of his sadistic grip for long.

Using the skills he had mastered, Spike tried to figure out the length of time that had passed between the Commander's blowing him a kiss goodbye and his being wherever the hell he was. When all of his other senses abandoned him, the blond vampire reached out with his mind.

"William," a soft voice laced with Cockney called suddenly.

"Drusilla?" Spike responded. "Dru, where are you? I hear you, but I don' see you."

He kept going on toward the sound despite his reluctance to be with his Sire. The vampire reasoned that even an insane Dark Mother was better than the Army blokes.

"'M here, my Spike," her voice said. "Keep coming. I'm waiting for you."

Spike kept following, but the walls remained the same, dull grey, with no variations at all. His sallow fingers reached out to touch them, hoping that he could feel any kind of vibrations or mental impulses of any kind that might lead him to the one who had given him unlife.

"C-can't feel you," Spike said, his voice growing more agitated.

He could see everything, he knew that, but without being able to feel her, he felt like the blindest person in the world. "Can't sense anythin'," he told the empty hall.

"Reach out wi' your mind, my William," Drusilla bade gently. "Touch me wi' it."

Spike tried again, letting his mental fingers probe for wherever she was. "'M trying, but I can't…" he said softly after a moment.

"Slow, idiot childe!" Drusilla's voice sounded deep in his mind, even if she wasn't visible. "Now there will be no time for tea! Bu' I have someone better. Miss Edith has replaced you!"

"Wha'…?" Spike asked, still confused from his lack of control of his sensations.

The younger vampire forced himself to try harder, letting his thoughts drift on the mental currents, making the walls and every corporeal thing around him slip away. After a moment or an eternity,

Spike saw a shadow directly in front of him. He knew this one; her diminutive back became visible to him. She didn't move, didn't speak, but he still heard her calling to him. This time, as his hand reached out to her, Spike felt her fingers in his larger hand. He felt the smallness of her, and her raw power at the same time.

"Buffy?" he queried. "What are you doing here? Where's Dru?"

Her face was encased in darkness, cloaked against his superior eyesight. But she looked up at him, and then he saw what he feared most.

"Spike," she said, showing him her beastly face, her glowing eyes, her ridges, and a perfect set of canines.

"Fancy my gift to you, my Prince?" Drusilla's cruel, mocking voice said from all around him.

"No!" he yelled. "She's the Slayer! You can't have turned her!"

**I'm in my cell…** Spike kept telling himself, forcing his conscious mind to believe it, **'S all in my head! I'm in my cell!**

A moment later, vampire Buffy and his Sire faded as he felt his neck being jerked back. Spike felt the stinging leather lash of the whip the Army Commander held in his gloved hand on his back.

"Where are you, you git?" the vampire roared, swiping the air for any sign of his tormentor. He tried to hone in on Riley's location, but Spike still could not sense anything. A blur came toward the blond seemingly out of nowhere.

Spike then felt nothing but a boot kicking him down. The vampire stayed down for the moment, his eyes blazing with fury. Spike knew that he had to pretend to be defeated so that Riley would slip up and the Commander could be overpowered.

The blood drinker also knew that he had to find out if Buffy and Drusilla had been captured. Was Riley using them in some fiendish experiment to try to get to him?

Were they actually there, or were they just images conjured up by his mind playing tricks on him as he'd thought? The vampire started to rise, but then was brutally slammed back to the floor by his invisible assailant. Spike felt himself being caught in a vise like grip around his neck.

"Did I say you could get up yet, you ugly, disgusting beast?" he heard Riley's voice ask.

Moments later, Riley let the revenant go. Spike coughed, getting slowly to his feet.

"Been gettin' up on my own for over a century without you havin' a say in it, mate!" the blond vampire whispered, coughing again.

He rose before feeling another kick to his side. Feeling weak because he still had not fed, Spike grabbed the air with no success. He felt an electric jolt just then, not nearly enough to kill, but painful all the same.

Spike prepared himself for another attack, but the assault never came. While the vampire still tried to reason why he couldn't sense anything, on the other side of the transparency, Riley smiled.

"See?" Riley cried triumphantly to the generals and colonels who were watching. "I can do anything I want with Hostile 18. It's the ultimate technology, the next step in controlling the vermin!"

"No' bad," the Tennessee Colonel said over a PA system, "but you still have a long way to go before this one's house broken, ah'll wager."

"Oh, this was just the appetizer," Riley told his superiors. "Wait until I REALLY get started!"

Another voice, this one feminine, asked, "But what exactly did you do to Hostile 18?"

Riley faced the room where the other officers were looking through a glass window in a control booth.

"I would rather not reveal that yet," he told them. "I want you to see the full extent of the experiment, and then I will answer any and all questions from the floor."

Several murmurs of "impressive", and "let's see more" reached the commander's communication device.

"If you think THAT'S good, wait until you see the other surprise I've got planned! I will have it ready by 14:00 hours tomorrow," Riley said to the Colonels and Generals. Once they departed, Riley looked at the scientists. As one switched off the machine, the second handed him a folder.

"Before stopping here, I received this information for you," the second scientist told him. "I believe you wanted any and all data on the Slayer."

Riley eagerly took the folder and scanned its contents. His eyes flew back to one of the technicians.

"You've been following this individual since reports of a Chosen One were initiated?" he asked.

"The VHIP has been along with other agencies. Apparently, this Slayer is a girl: one who is chosen to defend the Earth against the demons and vampires," the first doctor said. "According to everything we've discovered, she's supposed to be activated sometime within the next few days."

"How? Do we have an ident on who she is?" Riley asked, using the Government's language for "identification".

One scientist nodded, saying, "We don't know who is pulling the strings behind her actions, but we have been following the activities of several girls around the world who fit the criteria of the data we've been collecting. One thing is certain: one of the girls is in Sunnydale. The FBI's External Services Department's records indicate that she is the Premiere Slayer."

Riley looked at the list of names, which was considerable. It was the name on the sixteenth page which jumped out at him. It was the only bolded one, and it was highlighted. His eyes widened as he considered the possibility.

**No, it can't be!** His mind screamed.

But the more the Commander thought about Buffy's strength, her prowess with weapons and her fighting ability when they sparred, and her ability to heal at a fantastic rate, the more it seemed to be the only explanation.

He looked at his prisoner who still seemed to be trying to fetter out where he was. Perhaps, Riley decided, he could put the experiment to better use. He knew that his contacts in Europe and Saudi Arabia might pay handsomely for a Slayer as well as a Master Vampire so long as they weren't damaged too badly.

There was also the satisfaction of teaching the girl a lesson for even thinking kindly toward the vampire and rejecting Riley, to say nothing of wiping the arrogance right out of Hostile 18.

Seeing Spike slip into a troubled sleep, Riley thought **now, to handle my other problem.** The commander took out his communicator and punched in Buffy's cell number.

"Sweetheart? Beth Anne?" he asked, his voice tender.

"Riley?" Buffy's voice came over the line. "What is it?"

"I was thinking: I don't want you to hate me!" he said. "If you come to the base, I promise I'll explain everything!"

"But you've captured Spike," her voice accused him. Riley banked down his anger at the woman he had wanted to give his name to. He'd suspected she had feelings for the hostile, and Riley'd been right, apparently.

**Maybe she lied to you the whole time about this Slayer business,** his thoughts told him. **Maybe she and the vampire played you from the start!**

His brain presenting the wisest course of action he should take, Riley said, "I was ORDERED to! I didn't want to take part in any of this! Enslaving any creature is wrong, very wrong. I know that! But when you were at the warehouse, my soldiers were too, and one of them would have told my superiors! I captured him in order to save him from them! If I hadn't, they would have captured him and killed him, or sold him. This way, I can buy him some time until he's rescued!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

Inside the car, Buffy thought about what her former fiancé had just told her. On the one hand, he could be lying, but on the other, maybe he was being forced to participate in this ugly mess. If that was the case, she had to get both Riley and Spike out of there before further harm was done.

Before she could utter a single word, Riley said over the phone, "If YOU come, you could convince my employers. You're the Premiere Slayer! No one would doubt you!"

He paused for a moment. Buffy felt herself caving when he went on, his voice soft, "I don't know what Spike means to you, but he means something. I get that, and I'm not angry. If you add your voice to mine, together we can convince my superiors that he's—" Riley tried not to gag as he uttered his next few words—"good, and he should be freed!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In her mother's car, the Slayer got her bag with her weapons, her mind made up.

"I'll come," she said simply, ending the call.

Buffy got out of the car and started toward the base. Giles' voice called out of its open window to her before she got far. The petite blonde turned back toward her Advisor.

"What is it?" she yelled.

"Buffy, what's going on?" Giles wanted to know.

"Riley wants me to see the base for myself," she answered. "He said he was forced to capture Spike. I've gotta see what I can do to help both of them!"

Sitting behind Joyce in the back seat, Cordelia put in her two cents. "Pull the other one!" She said. "What if this is a trap? You can't do that! Even if you're this...all powerful Supergirl, you can't go in there by yourself!"

"She's right, honey!" Joyce shouted out from the front. "At least let us come with you: after all, there's safety in numbers!"

"I can't do that, Mom!" Buffy protested, willing them to try to understand. "I can't look after you guys and go in to face Riley! If we all go in together, he'll smell a rat! I have to do this alone. I promise I'll be careful!"

Giles started to leave the car, but Buffy put her hand against the door on his side so that he couldn't open it.

"Giles, stay here!" she ordered. "Look out for my family, okay?"

"Buffy...it is pure suicide to do this!" Giles shouted. Buffy's eyes pleaded with the older man.

"Give me 20 minutes," she said. "I'll sneak in and see what's going on; I'll be Stealthy Girl! If I don't come out by then, come in however you can without getting caught."

The doctor and White One frowned, but he knew she was right. As the Slayer, it was Buffy's duty to go in and fight; and he, Joyce and Cordelia were so much baggage that diminished her effectiveness. Giles withdrew a bracelet from his pocket and handed it to her. Buffy turned the golden arm band over in her hands. In its center rested an amber colored stone.

"What's this for?" she asked, puzzled. She released the door and looked into Giles' intense eyes.

"It's an Ankya stone. It's to protect you," he clarified. Buffy put on the bracelet, not entirely sure how it worked.

Giles cautioned her, "only 20 minutes." Buffy nodded, going toward a side entrance.

"Riley's expecting me," the Chosen One said, giving one of the two guards by the entrance an I. D. The private nodded.

"Come this way, Miss Summers," he said, leading her in.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

C. G. drove toward what he hoped was the Army base, the squad car following close behind. He knew that he would have a battle on his hands, but he also reasoned that if he could collect solid evidence that the Government was up to something illegal, the cop could spin the wheels in motion that would shut down the operations for good.

He parked the Trans-Am a block away, instructing the uniformed officers to wait for his signal.

"Roger that," an Officer said. C. G. withdrew his sack and pulled a map out of it. He kept walking until he spotted a loose looking tuft of grass.

**Trap door?** The Deputy Chief mentally mused. He pulled back the grass to reveal just that.

**Pay dirt!** C. G. thought, trying to scan the lock with his dark eyes.

The blond cop started to see just how the mechanism worked when he became aware of a shadow looming in front of him. An officer in Army fatigues looked at the policeman, his face giving nothing away.

"What are you doing here?" the private asked.

C. G. shrugged, saying, "I saw that piece of grass and it looked strange, so I was just curious as to what it was." He showed his badge and an I. D. The soldier looked at both, then handed them back to C. G.

"It belongs to a top secret facility," the man responded. "You need a special pass to get in here."

"Really?" C. G. asked. "What kind of pass?"

"One from the Judge Advocate General's office or a search warrant," the private said in a voice that told the Deputy Chief he was not welcome there. C. G. backed off.

"Sorry for the trouble," he apologized, holding up his hands.

The soldier resumed his standing-at-attention mode. When C. G. was out of sight of the solder, the cop opened his knapsack and put on some Army fatigues. He combed his curly hair back so that it didn't stick up and put it under a military hat.

The trap door opened suddenly. Two uniformed officers emerged, saluting the soldier C. G. had spoken with. The policeman fell in behind them. Keeping his face partially hidden, the Welsh Deputy Chief saluted the soldier and walked calmly down the stairs. The door closed with a violent hiss behind him.

**Into the lions' den...** C. G. thought wryly. He walked ahead, inwardly cursing himself for the mess he was getting into.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are you doing here?" the private asked Anya adding, "this is an Army hospital, and it's restricted." The former vengeance demon shrugged, trying to affect a look of nonchalance.

"Just waiting for my friends," she told the man. "They are with the military."

He grimaced at her, ordering, "Let's see your driver's license." Her brown eyes strayed slightly toward a door where Wesley and Willow were exiting. So far, they didn't seem to be in any danger; however, the soldiers could corner them at any time. Her only hope was to create a diversion. Anya's look was one of pure indignation just then.

"Why would you need to see that?" she asked. "You are not a policeman, and I was just sitting here."

"Now, look, Miss, are you trying to cause trouble?" the private asked.

"No," she said, finally handing her license to him. "It's just...I look like 'Night of the Living Dead' on mine."

The officer chuckled. He handed it back to Anya, but she dropped it. While he bent to retrieve the license, Anya made out Wesley and Willow slowly going toward an entrance on the building's left side.

"You don't look so bad, Miss," the soldier told Anya, while he handed it back to her. "You should see mine."

He showed her his I. D. badge that the Army photographer had taken. Anya glanced at it and made a face.

"You look like a creature from a black lagoon!" she teased. A memory surfaced of the glory days when she'd turned a man much like this into a Black Lagoon creature.

Anya perused him, saying in a casual voice, "I think you look okay."

"Thanks," he said, unaware of the redheaded girl and the British young man making their way toward the vehicle just behind Anya.


The soldier smiled as he told her, "All right, you can go."

After the soldier went back to his post, Wesley and Willow snuck into Anya's back seat when they were sure the coast was clear. Together, the pair breathed a sigh of relief as Anya pulled off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy walked through various white walled corridors, her eyes looking for Spike. When she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, the Slayer used the sense she had utilized to find the vampire when he'd been in his greenhouse. She could feel him, she knew that, but he seemed distant to her.

Riley came up just then, his arms extended. "Buffy!"

he exclaimed, capturing her hands in his. The girl realized just then how moist and unattractive his sweaty hands were. She longed for the touch of her vampire's cool, elegant fingers. Buffy also discovered that the more she thought about the physically unattractive platinum haired revenant, the more she wanted him to be hers and only hers. But Buffy decided that she would justify that feeling later, since she couldn't deal with that now.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Riley was telling her. Buffy concentrated on what he was saying, her hearing alert for any news concerning Spike.

"So," she said in a voice she hoped was unaffected, "you wanted to show me what the what is on this place. Is Spike the only vampire you have?"

Riley shook his head, responding, "No, there are others. Some of them are no longer here. I couldn't stop their deportation, but as I said, if anyone can convince my higher ups about vampires being good, you can."

They continued walking on until they reached some lab doors. The doors were painted grey as were the walls. Buffy saw some chains on tables in front of the doors, and she saw some devices with indicators going up and down.

"Those chains…" she started, not sure what she should ask.

"Well," Riley explained sheepishly, "in the past, we used to use them to restrain violent demons. But now, we just use our chips." The Slayer fought down the bile gathering in her throat as she remembered Cordelia's reading the printout which explained the chipping process in no small detail.

"Isn't that just as bad?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her voice level. Inside, the Slayer felt her anger rising. "Is it painful?"

"Oh, no," Riley lied. "It's just to keep them relaxed. It doesn't hurt. We've refined the process."

He led the Slayer to some cells just then. The girl's green eyes flew to a cell marked "Hostile 15". Inside was a young female vampire in full game face. Her glowing eyes were terrified as she saw Buffy and Riley. She wore a dress that was two sizes too large, and her hair was matted. Her complexion was a pale yellow, as though she didn't have enough to eat.

"What about her?" Buffy asked. "And, what's with calling them 'hostiles'?"

"They are hostile until they are rehabilitated. We have to keep our guests on a simple regimen," Riley said. "If we feed our charges too much, they could overpower us."

"So, you starve them?" Buffy asked, unable to contain her fury any longer. Her eyes never left the prisoner.

Riley stared at Buffy, wondering what he had seen in her! To think, he'd actually bought a house for them to start a new life in, and she betrayed him this way! But he knew he couldn't give anything away, not until he had what he wanted. He gave the Chosen One an apologetic look.

"You're right," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "One of my doctors must have forgotten to feed her. I'll make sure she's given some blood." Riley's eyes found the prisoner's just then. They looked at her sternly, telling her that if she so much as cried "boo", her next word would be her last.

"You don't mind if I go over and ask her something…alone?" Buffy queried. Riley backed away.

"Of course," he said, "I don't mind. Be my guest. I'll be nearby." Buffy waited until he left, then she faced the girl.

"Is it true?" Buffy wanted to know. "Do they treat you okay, or are they lying?"

The girl bit her lip so that blood rushed out. She licked it, drinking her own hemoglobin to make up for the hunger gnawing at her. The vampiress glared at the Slayer, the young revenant's senses telling her that an unwelcome presence was in front of her.

Buffy could tell, though, that she was having trouble focusing. She seemed to be drifting in and out, as though the girl was having trouble seeing the Slayer, or sensing her.

"Can you hear me?" Buffy wanted to know. "What's your name?"

The girl reacted to that. Her yellow eyes looked at Buffy as she responded, "Remmie."

"Pleased to meet you, Remmie," Buffy said honestly. The girl relaxed a little.

"How old are you?" the Slayer asked. Her eyes told her that the vampire was young, not older than her age, if that.

"59," Remmie said. Buffy came closer to the cage.

"Oh," she told the girl. "I'm nineteen, myself. I'm gonna be twenty soon…next week. When's your birthday?"

The girl concentrated, but she couldn't suddenly hear what the Slayer was saying. Her eyes blinked rapidly, as though she was trying to see through her
transparency.

"What's wrong?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"DON'T trust him!" Remmie shouted. "The Commander is bad, evil! He's worse than we ever were! He hates our kind! You trust him, you'll end up DEAD!" Riley came in just then before Buffy could question the girl further.

"All set to see more?" he asked. Buffy shook her head.

"I want to talk to this one a little longer," Buffy responded.

Riley said, "Sorry. Can't do that. My employers believe limited contact with the people who would be victims of our charges is the best way for now to rehabilitate the vamps and other Supernaturals. The demons and vampires tend to get agitated whenever they have too much contact with humans. Makes them long too much to be free before they are trained not to harm people."

**Don't you mean broken into submission?** Buffy thought, wanting to accuse Riley. She knew something was off about Remmie, and if the girl was out of sorts, what about Spike?

"She looked as though she couldn't sense me at times," Buffy mused. Riley looked proud just then.

"Yes, well, they are put into a sensory deprivation tank, or SDT" he said. "It's just a precaution. Once they prove they can fit into society, they're put into a much nicer facility where they are taught to integrate themselves amongst people."

"'Sensory deprivation tank?'" Buffy repeated. "You mean, like the ones the military uses on enemy soldiers when they're captured so that they can't see or hear the ones who locked them up?"

"Nothing quite as bad as all that…" Riley told her. He snapped open a can of coke and started drinking some. He handed it to Buffy, who took a sip then gave it back to him.

"I told you: it doesn't last long. After all, if they can't sense anything, how would they be able to survive out there amongst us?" he asked.

"You tell me!" Buffy said hotly.

Riley took another swig of cola, offering Buffy some more. The Slayer declined, not wanting to accept anything from her former honey.

"You render them deaf, dumb and blind, even for a moment so they don't know which way is up, then you say it's NOTHING?!" Buffy cried. Riley came up behind her.

"Relax, Buffy," he said, "if it really bothers you, then I think it's time that we get this over with." The Commander took out his cell phone and pressed a button, turning on a device which looked like a security camera.

"Riley," Buffy asked, yawning a little. "What…gives?"

She yawned again. She then realized a couple of things, the most glaring being that she had never told Riley about being the "Premiere Slayer". The second was that somehow, someway, her former boyfriend had drugged her.

"Sorry honey, I DID lie," he said a little smugly.

Buffy found to her horror that her muscles had stiffened up and she couldn't move. Riley grabbed her arm, steering her to the main cell block as he told her, "it's really amazing what they put into soda these days! Good thing the Army innoculates its soldiers against many forms of chemical warefare! Too bad they didn't do that for you, Sweetie!"

Buffy saw all of the prisoners in the block, including the one she had been looking for, blinking his orange eyes slowly as though in a haze.

**Spike!** Her mind supplied. She would have tried to get to him if she were able, but she was still paralyzed and unable to walk without Riley's assistance.

"Wakey-wakey!" Riley commanded Spike. The vampire saw Buffy outside of his cell. He tried to escape his confines, but a second later, he couldn't see anything.

Riley's voice sounded softly in her ear, "See, SLAYER," he said with disdain, "I promised my bosses a big surprise by two tomorrow: you. Can the sense of a Slayer overcome our patented Sensory Deprivation Tank, to say nothing of the other device I'm planning to use on you? How long will the whole proceedure take? My superiors are dying to know!"

With all the courage she could muster, Buffy whispered, "I'm so gonna bust your ass, Riley! I'm gonna get all of your captives out of here, and you're gonna pay, big time!"

Riley dumped her into the cage across from Spike's marked, "Hostile 19". It was the same cell that recently-deported Hostile 10 had occupied.

"Uh, huh…" Riley said coldly, her threats not registering. "I'm going to enjoy this!" He heard Spike growling all of a sudden and faced the vampire.

"What is it, Hostile?" the Commander asked tiredly. Spike channeled all of his remaining strength so that his orbs found his enemy's.

"When I get out o' here, I'll rip your fucking heart from your chest," Spike promised, "that is, assumin' you have one! You let her go, I might show mercy."

"Do you even know the meaning of the word, you putrid thing?" the military man sneered.

Spike said coldly, "do you?"

Riley willed himself not to be angry as he regarded Buffy. He pressed another button on his cell, and some gas hissed in her cell. Buffy collapsed into unconsciousness. When the Commander was satisfied she would be no threat, at least for the moment, he turned back to Spike and fixed him with a deadly stare.

"Wha' will you do with her?" the vampire asked, banking down his fear. "Don' harm her."

"'Don't harm her'?" Riley echoed. He punctuated all of his next words, saying, "That all depends, vampire, on how well you perform."

XXXXXXXXXX

Angelus opened the door to the underground hideout to admit four vampire minions carrying a wooden crate. It was at least six feet long, and it was marked with all of the ports of call it had been shipped to on its way to the United States.

Next to the elder vampire was a badly burned Xander. The burn marks on his face were starting to heal, but the effort to escape from the holy water doused grave had taken its toll.

Xander was pissed, that was for sure. He stood behind Angelus, and behind both male vampires were Harris's friends.

"I don't get it!" Xander complained. "Why aren't we going out and getting the Slayer and her idiot friends? I've got a score to settle with her cop pal!"

Angelus whirled on the boy and glared at him. "Now you listen to me, boy! Darla told us to wait, and we're gonna park ourselves here!" He snapped.

Blackfeather spoke up next. "But, Sir…every moment we spend here is another moment for the Slayer to win!" he protested.

The third boy, Bob, put his opinion into the mix. "We should have ganged up and killed them!" he shouted.

Angelus sighed; fledglings could be so impatient! He had to admit; he didn't know why Darla and Drusilla had let everyone who was even remotely a threat live, but there had to be a compelling reason. He waited for his Sire to enter the room. When Darla came in wearing a gold lame dress, Angel's eyes lit up with unbridled lust.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why are you dressed like we're going out to party?" Angelus asked.

"We're expecting an important guest," Darla told him, nuzzling his ear. When Angel would have returned the gesture, she pulled away.

"Hey, guys! Wronged party, here!" Xander yelled. Both elder vamps stared at him. Xander now sported some minor burns on his face, but nothing significant.

"I don't know what I saw in you," Darla said finally. "I should order you to kiss the sun, but HE wouldn't like that."

Xander inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that he'd live to get his revenge. He didn't dare ask who Darla was talking about; he'd made her angry enough as it was. Drusilla, resplendent in a red dress, laughed hysterically.

"The Lord of the Dark approaches," she said, her eyes glowing red. "He wishes to speak."

Drusilla suddenly went slack. Her eyes closed for a moment, but when they opened, they were a blood red hue.

"Darla, my favorite," a male voice sounding like Satan said from the raven haired vampiress' mouth, "you've done well."

Darla bowed reverently. Dru walked slowly toward the blonde vampire and took her hand.

"You have my remains?" his voice asked.

"They're here," she said. "They will be arranged and ready for your awakening."

"Excellent, my childe," the male voice said. Drusilla's head turned as she regarded the other vampires in the room.

"It has been foretold, and now, it shall come to pass," the voice said, "that 'as the Era of the Chosen Few dawns, so shall the Age of the Demons. And the Master shall rise, and with the blood of the First Chosen and her intended, he shall be reformed, and he shall begin a reign such as the world has never seen. The demon hordes shall rule the Earth, and they shall feast on the blood of the innocents forever!'"

The Master's eyes looked around, and then Drusilla snarled with fury at what they saw.

"Where is the SLAYER?" he roared. The insane vampiress backhanded Darla with a vicious slap. Before she could recover or her family could move to protect her, Drusilla grabbed Darla and hefted her off the ground.

"I asked you a question, idiot childe!" the Master's voice yelled. "Answer me: where is the First Slayer?"

Darla trembled in her Sire's hand. "I don't know where she is," Darla reported, mortified to have to give the vampire who had bestowed the best gift any Creature of Darkness could bless a mortal with THAT kind of response.

"WHAT?" Drusilla's now-male voice thundered. "She is not here amongst us?"

He dropped Darla like a sack of wheat to the ground. The Master's childe sniffled, but was otherwise silent.

"We know who she is," Angelus piped up, wanting to protect Darla. Drusilla turned to him and looked at him the way one might look at a dimwitted person.

"Angelus," the Master's cold voice said. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak."

Sensing the power emanating from his sister's body, Angelus bowed his head, irritated to have to cow tow to the Supreme Master Vampire, but not being stupid enough to risk being killed by said Master.

"Drusilla will find out where she is," Angel responded.

"Yes, yes…" Darla said, seizing on any idea that would get her back under the Master's good graces. "Or, I could."

The Master's red eyes turned on his childe. He cast her a baleful look, saying, "It shall be for this shell to find her and the other sacrifices! In the meantime, take my bones from the box and place them on a table."

"You heard him, Xander," Darla snapped, "and do it carefully so that none are missing!"

Still fuming, Xander lifted the lid on the box. Inside were the bones of a long since dead body. Although it had been deceased for seemingly decades, signs of decomposition weren't evident. His two friends and the other minions arranged the bones so that they resembled a human skeleton.

"The bones are all here, Master!" Darla said.

Out of the corner of her yellow eyes, she saw her vampire father leave Dru's body. Drusilla would have crumpled, but Angelus and Xander grabbed her and pulled her up. The raven haired vampiress concentrated, then smiled.

"What is it, Dru?" Angelus asked, impatient. "What do you see?"

"The toy soldiers have Cinderella and the Fallen Prince at the ball!" she said. "They'll make the Golden Princess of the Sun dance to their merry tune." She swirled to non existent music just then.

"They've got the Slayer at the base with Spike," Darla said, grinning.

"Well, then, by all means, we need to go get 'em!" Angel said. "'Master needs his sacrifices, doesn't he?"

Xander was ecstatic! He and his buddies would finally make some of the cop's friends pay for what they did. The policeman would be beside himself, and the previously nerdy human would laugh as he drained all of the mortals dry. The best part would be that his kind would bask in the Master's darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inside the car, Giles grew more and more worried as the twenty minute window drew to a close. Buffy had not reemerged from the Army base yet, and try as he might to sense her, the Advisor couldn't poke through the blackness that was around him. He had managed to block knowledge of where Buffy was from the negative energies gathering, but their adversaries would penetrate his mystic spell eventually, if they hadn't already.

Something's approaching…he mentally pronounced, some powerful evil we've not faced yet. He thought about the books he had read concerning the Premiere Slayer before coming to meet Buffy. Giles remembered some of the prophecies outlined in the books.

"Cordelia," Giles requested, "I need to see your portable machine."

Cordelia logged in and then she handed it to the physician, saying, "Here. You break this laptop, you bought it."

Giles looked at her for a brief moment, muttering, "Yes, quite."

He turned his attention to the tiny screen, punching in Prophecies concerning the Premiere Slayer. At least ten web pages appeared. Accessing the electronic copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide, Giles found what he'd been searching for in a few moments.

"Oh, dear," Giles intoned as he read the screen. "This does not bode well."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Darla carried the Chalice to where the Master's bones lay. A dagger, elaborately jeweled, was on her Sire's right side by his head. On the left side was a book of spells.

Drusilla took the book in her hands, even as Darla lifted the knife. Both vampiresses pointed each instrument downward toward Hell. After repeating this action two more times, the pair knew that all was ready.

Angelus covered his mouth, stifling a yawn. He had never loved rituals, even when he'd been alive. He knew, however, that if he had actually yawned, Darla or Dru or both would have ended his life (not that he wouldn't go without a fight.)

Angel wished that he could be back fighting Spike. That was what really got his undead heart going. He wouldn't admit, even to himself, that William the Bloody was the most worthy opponent he'd fought in over a century.

His lips turned upward as he considered Dru's blond childe, his…cousin? Brother? Grand nephew? He knew not which. All that mattered was that soon, with William's, Barbie doll Buffy, and the other human sacrifices, the Master would be free, and then things would truly rock!

Drusilla turned the page to the devil's number as she prepared to read. Darla was about to slit her wrist when one of the younger vampires spoke.

"So we're gonna, like, see this Master dude rise?" a Caucasian vampire asked.

Darla turned angry golden eyes on him. "What's your name?" she inquired.

"Luke," he responded. "Why?"

"You, I want to remember," she responded flatly, turning back to the dagger and the chalice. When Luke smiled a superior grin that his Vampire Mother would remember him, Darla seized him by the throat, tearing it apart and causing some of his blood to drip into the chalice.

As Luke turned to dust, she said, "you should be proud, being the first to go."

She looked at all of the other males and asked, "any more questions? Comments?"

Xander and the other boys were silent, trying to keep their inner fear under wraps and failing miserably.

Angelus thought, **young ones, always the same: stupid!**

Drusilla's eyes clouded for a moment as the Master's voice impatiently barked from inside of her, "Well? Get on with it! I MUST rise! I WILL have my world to rule!"

Dru laughed wildly, then held up the book. All eyes turned on her. She looked at the clock, waiting for the hour of twelve.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the car, when a silent, terse moment passed where everyone thought about what Giles had said, Joyce asked him fearfully, "What do you mean, 'this does not bode well'?"

Removing his glasses, the medical man explained, "Something I read. Apparently, the-the head vampire, the true master of many of the smaller ones, will be taken from the ground in some sort of ritual."

"'Taken from the ground?'" Cordelia echoed. "As in, his bones will be taken from the ground?" When Giles nodded, Cordy commented, "may I say 'ewww' now?"

"But what would whomever did this want with the bones of the master vampire?" Joyce wondered aloud, knowing that she wouldn't welcome her doctor's reply.

Putting his spectacles back on, Giles answered, "It says in the spirit book that the master vampire is due to rise during the Age of Demons, in the Era of the Chosen Few."

"And I'm guessing that that's not when Mom turns sixty five," Cordelia said. Joyce shot her a look.

"No, it's tonight," Giles replied to no one's surprise. "The book goes on to say that they need human sacrifices by midnight, along with the Chosen One and her Hunter. It is what brings the Master back from the lower realm to assume control of the world."

"Oh, my!" Joyce exclaimed. "Buffy! Doctor Giles, we have to do something!"

"I second that," Cordelia put in. "She may be a pain in the neck, but she is my younger sister, and family is family!"

Giles flung off his glasses again, his frustration showing. "That's just it!" he countered. "There's nothing that we can do! The vampires will feed to increase the energies flowing in and around the Master. When they have enough blood, his body will reassemble and he will be the most powerful demon. He and his forces will vanquish all of mankind's attempts to stop him, resulting in the dark forces ruling the world."

His eyes fell on the Army base in front of them. "If the Slayer and Hunter are trapped inside that building and if the Master finds them at the precise time and drains them of their blood, he will be unstoppable!" Giles predicted.

Joyce got out of her car, shouting, "Not if I can help it!"

"Mom, what can we do against those things?" Cordy wailed.

Joyce said determinedly, "I don't know, but we'll think of something to rescue them!"

Getting out of her car, Giles said, "Yes, yes. We shall do whatever it takes to either help them or save them!" He grabbed a sack out of the trunk of the car.

Cordelia said, "And, uh, I'll stay here and…guard Mom's car."

"Use that machine of yours to look up the schematics of the base so that we know where we are headed," Giles said. Cordelia fished out her cell phone from her purse.

"Okay," she said. "I'll call you guys as soon as I know anything." She punched up the code she had cracked at home for the base.

"Shit!" she cursed a moment later. Joyce didn't bother to correct her as she told them, "they must have changed the code since we broke in earlier! I can't access the information!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pinning Riley with a baleful stare, Spike snarled, "'d rather dust than perform for you, you worthless piece o' shit! I'm a demon, no' a trained seal!"

Riley smiled, responding, "I kinda knew you'd say that." He removed his remote control device and switched on the power.

"So," he told both vampire and Slayer, "I took out a little insurance. The gas that's been pumping into your cell, odorless to you, has a…shall we say…substance in it that will make you more feral. You'll attack the first thing you see."

Using his control to paralyze Spike, Riley signaled to two guards, who threw a slowly reviving Buffy into Spike's cell. "And, when she wakes up, so will she," he said softly.

While an immobile Spike watched, Riley kissed Buffy mockingly on her soft lips. The vampire tried in vain to break the invisible restrainer.

"Save your strength for her," Riley told him. When he left to join his superiors in the viewing booth, Spike saw movement out of the corner of his orange eye: Buffy.

Turning to face her, the vampire saw her expression. He looked at her animalistic face, her lips turned downward as she growled.

"Buffy, luv," he cajoled, "gotta fight it, lion cub." But the Slayer didn't hear him. Buffy kicked Spike with all her might.

The fight had begun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where should we go?" Anya asked as she stopped at a red light. Wesley studied the mountains in the distance and pulled out a map.

"We should go to the…" he stopped as he felt a strange sensation. In the back seat, Willow felt it as well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Drusilla continued to read from the book while Darla let her blood flow into the Chalice.

**Number three**…she thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Anya's eyes turned red as she felt something overtake her. It was a male presence. Her last conscious thought as she drove toward where the evil vampires were was, **never can trust a man unless you copulate with him!**

Wesley and Willow mentally tried to resist the unholy voice, but all three were powerless as Anya drove them closer to their doom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

C. G. walked further along a corridor at the base, confident that he'd figure out how the girl he'd rescued had intruded into his mind suddenly. The policeman had to admit, Lia was a beauty, from those eyes, which he regarded as chocolate flecked with gold, to her shapely butt as she'd exited his car. He forced himself to think about his mission.

He had to stop Riley, to arrest him and somehow get a Federal judge to try him for crimes against…what? Innocents? The vampires and demons certainly weren't that. But, he knew that not all of them were evil.

He knew from experience of a personal kind that, like men and women, they were simply trying to find their place in the world. C. G. owed it to some of them, especially the one Riley now held prisoner, to at least listen to their side of the story.

Securing his specially designed Bluetooth device, C. G. pressed the tiny button to activate it and whispered, "Tater? Are you there? You copy?"

A moment's pause, then: "C. G.? Yeah, I copy."

The cop looked around him and saw some doors marked, "hostiles" on them.

"Looks like this is it," he said. Whipping out a cell phone with a camera, C. G. instructed, "trace this signal, the faster the better, before they tap into it."

Tater's voice assured him that he was starting to trace the signal; then, there was silence.

"Tater?" C. G. asked. Then, slightly louder, C. G. asked again, "Tater? Reggie, you there?"

He didn't see the shadow behind him. By the time he saw movement, it was too late.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The air around the Master's remains swirled, a blood red vision to anyone near his bones. Angelus, Xander, and the other vampires had to admit, this was impressive!

"And now…" they heard the Master's voice boom from all around them.

The world gasped, and it waited for its moment of evil to begin. For now, it looked as though there was no one to save it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

C. G. woke up inside of what could only be deemed a factory. He had thought that he was inside the real army base and that he had found Spike and managed to get some evidence against those who were trying to capture the vampires and demons, but as he focused his dark brown eyes, he knew he was mistaken.

The Deputy Chief found himself inside a room. It wasn't a cell, he reasoned. There were no bars anywhere, not that he could feel, anyway. C. G. hoped that he would be able to escape to contact Tater. If the other cop wasn't captured, he would find C. G. and bust him out. C. G. knew he had to find out where he was and escape.

**But how?** He wondered.

The room was bathed in darkness and he could tell that it had not been used in quite some time from its musty smell. The air seemed to be getting thin, too, despite the scent, as he found it hard to breathe suddenly. He felt ahead of him; then his hand connected with a cool object. C. G.'s hand roamed along the walls until he felt a light switch.

Turning it on, he recoiled a moment later when he discovered that the thing he'd touched was the body of a young girl.

She was no more than fourteen or fifteen, the cop guessed. She had long, sable colored hair and her eyes, open and staring into nothingness, were a deep winter green color. He reached down to see if she had a pulse. The policeman jerked his hand away when it became clear that she was dead.

He checked the other figures in the room and found that they were all in the same condition. C. G. backed off, hurriedly scrambling for a door or a window. Wherever he went, he saw other bodies, perfectly preserved like the ones he'd checked but definitely deceased. Some were dressed in army fatigues; some were dressed in jeans and t shirts.

On a wall, the policeman saw an exit. He looked at the door, gauging whether or not that was a trap. He figured his captors were too smart to put him in a room where the escape route was easily accessible. The cop looked for something he could use as a weapon and saw a rock that had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, C. G. crept toward the door. He opened it carefully, not making any sounds.

The Welsh officer flung open the door and went outside. He hadn't been in the corridor two minutes before several vampires, in full game face, were coming toward him from all sides. He tried to go back inside his room when the dead bodies he'd seen slowly rose off of the tables, growling and snarling. A male one smacked his hand and the rock sailed down to the ground again. The newly risen undead people brought C. G. to a table where another vampire awakened.

Their leader, who was the girl that he had seen, spoke to him just then. "So, you have found our little community," she began, laughing.

To C. G., the girl's voice sounded like dead leaves crunching on the ground or like a male demonic presence. Her face, which in life had looked like a normal girl's, was now shriveled and ancient, bearing the fully demonic look of the long since dead who had abandoned all human appearances.

"I commend you, mortal," the girl went on; then, she/he changed her mind, saying, "actually, I don't praise anyone but myself."

The other undead people raised their arms and bowed to the girl. "All hail to the Master!" they shouted. "Give tribute to the MASTER!"

C. G. tried to fight his way out but the hoard was too strong. They grabbed him and brought him close to the girl. Her foul breath tickled his nose. She reached out a long, cold finger and caressed him.

"Who are you, mortal?" She asked. C. G. stared at the red eyes shining out from her face.

"I'm C. G. Springfield," he told her.

"Why have you come here?" She queried, her hand moving lower on his person. It took every ounce of self control for C. G. not to vomit. She dropped her hand a moment later.

"Tourist?" He asked, faking a laugh.

The girl smiled, flashing some regular teeth, but superimposed on them were long, sharp canines.

"A sense of humor," she/he said. "I love a sense of humor."

Turning to an older woman—a creature who looked to be about twenty five or so—the girl commented, "I think this one will be by my side just to make me laugh!"

"'By your side'?" C. G. echoed.

"Yes," she/he said. "You see...".

The Master/girl snapped her fingers. Some other vampires brought forth the still forms of Tater and the two other cops. C. G. discovered though that they were still alive from their rising and falling chests.

"I need all the sacrifices I can get before midnight," she told the cop, looking straight through him, "and I need my faithful children." Her hand savagely grabbed his curly hair.

"You will become one of us," the Master's voice said, a deadly promise uttered.

"Over my dead body!" The Deputy Chief told the girl without realizing the pun he had said. The other vampires snickered.

"That is precisely what will happen," the girl told C. G. The Master/she jumped off of the table and yanked him down so that his neck was close to her.

The cop's hand went inside of one of his pockets, desperately searching for any weapon that would give him an advantage. He wished that he had his knapsack with him, but the army officer/vampire had nabbed it when the cop had gone further inside the base.

C. G.'s hand shifted slightly but not enough to make any grand movements. If they chained him or even held his arms down so that he couldn't attack them in some way, he didn't stand a chance. His only option for the moment was to keep her/him talking.

"The others called you 'the Master'", C. G. prompted. "The Master of Vampires, I'm guessing?"

The Master rolled his/her eyes. Humans could be so dimwitted! This one would be his jester or some other insignificant instead of one beside him, the Master decided.

"That's correct," the Master/girl answered.

"And this isn't the true army base," C. G. finished. When the Master slightly dipped his/her head in confirmation, the cop asked, "But why go through all this trouble? Why take over an army base near Sunnydale?"

The Master's perfectly manicured nail swept the length of the small room. "Look around you, foolish human," the head vampire said. "You know the mortals have an underground facility where my legions have been bound, chained and tagged like so much fodder for the humans' enjoyment?"

"Yes, I thought this was it," C. G. answered.

"As did all these people in the army and in other positions of authority," the Master said. "I purposely worked all things to my design so that the conversion would begin here and eventually engulf Sunnydale."

"Why there? Why not a penthouse view in a place like, oh, Las Vegas," C. G. asked, fascinated despite himself.

The Master gave the Deputy Chief a "you really are stupid" look as he/she responded, "Do you know what a Hellmouth is?"

C. G. looked back at the vampire with deadly calm as he said, "It's an opening to a dimension created and manipulated by Hell from which all kinds of demonic energies flow."

The Master didn't register surprise often, but the cop saw the flash of astonishment in his/her glowing red orbs for a millisecond before they became normal looking again. He would, upon becoming this one's sire, ask about the wealth of his knowledge concerning vampires, the Master decided.

For now, however, the Maaster/she responded by saying, "Sunnydale is the Grand Central Station of Hellmouths, you might say."

Another vampire sighed, saying, "Master, let's just kill this one! He asks too many questions!"

The Master's eyes found the male vampire. "You think I have been talking with this one too long?" he/she inquired softly. "You wish me to end his life?"

"It would be an honor to kill him for you, Master," the vampire answered enthusiastically.

The Master's long talons beckoned to the undead man. "Come here, my childe," he/she said.

The vampire came forward. The Master caressed his childe, then his hand twisted the other vampire's neck, breaking it. "You do not think for me; I do the thinking for YOU!" He snapped to the pile of dust that was in front of him/her.

C. G. never took his eyes off of the head vampire, but inside he felt revulsion. "Now, then, oh foolish one, where was I?" the Master asked the cop.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy punched Spike in the face. "Bloody hell!" He yelled.

The vampire saw stars, but he circled Buffy, trying his best not to return any punches with his vampire strength lest he hurt her. He kicked Buffy in the knee, sending her to the ground. While she grabbed her injured knee, Spike shook off the sensations he felt.

"Dr. Jacobson," one of the officers watching the ensuing battle said.

"Yes, ma'am?" The only scientist who was in the viewing booth asked.

"Why is the male thing not affected? He seems in control of his faculties," she wondered aloud.

Jacobson confirmed, "I haven't seen this development before. I think, however, that even with the behavior modification chips, some hostiles may be able to shirk off the programming. Most interesting."

The female officer said, "But the Slayer, and the other species of demons seem to be much more susceptible."

Riley looked at Jacobson, who nodded his white head in total agreement.

Riley took up the slack, saying, "For some reason, our research indicates, maybe because they are influenced by the one who sires them or for some other reason, vampires don't seem to take to our attempts to condition them as much as the other hostiles."

The Southern general erupted from his seat, shouting to Riley, "Good God, Commander Finn! We're not paying you to make mistakes! You'd bettah fix this right now or we might have to replace you!"

Riley wasn't allowing fear to cloud his reason. "This will be corrected. It's only a temporary glitch."

His eyes fell to the scientist. Dr. Jacobson wanted to tell the truth; to say that there were no guarantees, but he knew what would happen if the Commander or the other military officers got angry.

He wasn't looking forward to being put into a cage with one of the crazed inmates and tortured to death, or worse, sired so that he'd be a prisoner.

"Yes, sirs and ma'ams," the doctor piped up. "This will be corrected. If nothing else, we can use the research gained from the battlefield and modify the chips."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Although Spike was trying to focus all of his attention toward Buffy, his orange eyes wandered up toward the booth. He couldn't hear all of the conversation, but the way the general had bounded up from the chair gave the vampire the information he needed. Something was going on: something not good for the army gits, but possibly great for him and his captured fellow demons and Buffy.

The Slayer was rising, albeit slowly, as her healing ability kicked in. She somersaulted over to where Spike was, trying to land a punch to his chest. Spike deflated it just barely.

For several moments, Buffy and Spike traded blows. "Pet, you've gotta resist this!"

When Buffy smacked him hard across the face, the revenant tried again.

"You're the Slayer! You're one o' the most powerful birds I know! Use that healing ability jus' like you did for your knee and fight back! Don't let them control you!" Spike told her.

XXXXXXXXX

In the booth, Riley's hand pressed down on the red button on his control.

XXXXXXXXX

Spike grabbed his head as he felt waves of searing pain. "Don't disappoint me!" Riley told the vampire. "Fight her, now!"

The platinum haired, beastly looking vampire felt himself losing control again. "Neverrr!" He growled. But he sensed himself being consumed inside the demon. When Buffy went for his throat, Spike grabbed her hand and jerked her to him. He hugged her tightly, trying to cut off her air.

The Slayer gasped, her face becoming red with the effort of trying to free herself. Spike lowered himself to her neck, his incisors coming closer to her delicate jugular vein.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Giles and Joyce went toward the base, an axe from Buffy's arsenal clutched in her mother's hands. When she didn't hear her companion's footsteps, Joyce turned around. The Advisor appeared to her to be praying.

"What are you doing?" Joyce whispered forcefully. Giles opened his deep blue eyes and looked at her.

"I am giving us a cloaking spell. To any military men, we shall appear to be officers," he whispered back. "That should help us until we can get some real military clothes."

Joyce smiled. She was glad that Giles seemed to be two steps ahead of the soldiers. With him on their side, she knew Buffy would win. Joyce hoped that her daughter was safe. She also hoped that Cordelia would be all right in the car.

Buffy's mother pulled out her cell phone and placed a call to her daughter. "Hurry if you are calling Cordelia," Giles urged. "This spell shan't last long."

Joyce nodded, her hands sweating as she gripped her axe tighter. "Delia, are you okay?" she asked her daughter.

Inside Giles' car, the older Summers responded, "I'm fine, Mom. I've managed to crack that code and, boy, did those military guys plan well!"

"Cordelia!" the Advisor snapped. "The way in, if you please."

Cordelia's voice said, "Yeah, right. Uh, as I said, they either planned really well, or were so really stupid! I mean, suppose there's a fire or something? There's only one way in or out: the side door, about 50 yards on the Western side of the base. Pretty dumb, if you ask me. How would their people get out in time?"

Joyce urged her daughter, "Delia, focus!

"Once you get in, use this code for the elevator: 1125/BBH," Cordelia's voice told the pair. "That should get you downstairs to a set of tunnels which, if you follow them, will lead you to the underground cells. I'd wish you luck, but you taught me never to lie, Mom."

"I've got to go, Delia," Joyce told her. "I love you."

Hearing Cordelia say the same, then turn off her cell phone, Joyce went toward the side of the base with Giles close behind her. It was extremely quiet as they got closer to their goal. When they reached the side door, Joyce leaned in close to Giles.

"Doctor," she whispered urgently.

"What?" Giles asked.

Joyce felt a moment of trepidation, not only because of the peril they and Buffy and Lord-knew-who-or-what-else was in but because of her emerging feelings for the man beside her. She didn't know if she was in love, or if it was just simple attraction, but she did know that she felt something much more than she'd ever felt with Hank.

"If we don't make it out of all this..." she began. Giles stopped his perusal of the lock and turned slightly to look at her.

"Don't talk like that," he said, though the words of the prophecy were etched in his brain.

"But if we don't," Joyce told him, "I just wanted to tell you that I really like you." A beat; then she said, "a lot."

Giles blinked several times at that. "Reciprocated," he told her without hesitation.

Joyce leaned up and placed a kiss that was half chaste, half suggestive on his cheek. The Advisor hoped that he would get to return those feelings; hoped that they wouldn't become the evil vampires' slaves.

"Why have you broken the Commander's instructions?" A voice rang out. It was female and belonged to a sergeant, Joyce and Giles noticed as they saw her stripes.

"We thought we saw some movement in the bushes and we were going to check it out," Giles said smoothly. The officer studied both of them, then waved them on.

"Well, that went well," Joyce said, breathing a sigh of relief. They were about to work on the lock to the base when they were thrown violently back.

Giles and Joyce saw three officers and three others; one in complete game face. "Well, look, Ma: no hands!" Angelus teased as he came out from the darkness.

Joyce's eyes widened in horror when she saw the clothes melt off of the "officer", revealing a glassy eyed girl.

"Anyanka, why don't you bring our guests over closer to me?" Darla instructed.

Anya, Wesley and Willow thrust guns in Giles and Joyce's faces, their stares vacant. Drusilla came forward with a struggling Cordelia in her hands. She thrust her into Wesley's waiting arms. Willow used a spell to contain Giles so he couldn't move and Anya kept her gun trained on Joyce.

"You wicked, evil..." Cordelia began saying. Drusilla slapped her hard, scratching her face with a long, painted nail.

"You won't talk to Mummy or Brother that way, dearie!" She yelled.

Darla chuckled, saying, "She's only saying the truth, Dru." The blonde vampire walked over to Cordelia. "Soon, though, you won't care about anything but giving the Master what he wants."

"Well, considering the way you all look, I hope he wants a trip to a plastic surgeon for you guys," Cordelia joked, trying to be brave even though her heart was pumping a mile a minute.

Angelus looked at her, commenting, "Trying bravery on for size? Your heart's saying otherwise. I know you're scared. But don't worry. I'll stop your fears with a well placed blood drain. A little from me; a lot from you, and you'll be seeing things in a whole new way!"

Cordelia screamed, as Angelus taunted, "That's right, baby! Lemme hear you sing!" He grabbed her neck but didn't squeeze. Cordelia stopped screaming.

"I take your blood, you'll become like me," he said. "Ooorrr...best case scenario, your blood goes to the Master's bod and he rises! And the world goes on a'spinnin'...with vampires in charge!"

"Enough of that, Angelus," Darla commanded, snapping her fingers. The favorite childe of her let go of the dark haired Summers then stepped forward. As he left her side when others grabbed her, he gave her a slightly mournful look.

"Hold those three until the guests of honor arrive," Darla commanded. Her eyes looked toward a window which was very high off the ground as she thought of drinking her father's blood again once he revived totally.

XXXXXXXXXXX

C. G. was wondering why the Master seemed accommodating enough to answer all of his questions. The cop knew he was building a demonic army at this other base, one large enough to carry out their threat on the headquarters where Riley and the other army officers were stationed.

Then, the vampires would move on to the next base, and the next, and the next, until everyone was either their slave or out of the way. The humans wouldn't be able to defend themselves. C. G. had to stop them; it had to end here. He touched the object in his pocket. If he could pull it out without the vampires knowing it... C. G. still watched the feminine Master.

"I grow tired of your endless prattle," the Master finally said, bored. He/she grabbed C. G.'s t shirt and ripped it, exposing his heaving chest underneath. He/she started crowing to his cronies.

"Ahh, children, this one is well formed," the Master said. "You will love being a demon, when your body is preserved forever!"

The cop slowly took the thing in his pocket out, his hand curled around it in a death grip, as the Master came closer to claiming his prize.