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His vision was flooded with tiny white flecks, like television static, rushing by and hissing as they went. He could not smell anything or feel anything. He could not hear himself speak. He began to think of himself as an overgrown amoeba, streching his senseless way through primordial ooze. He had a silent laugh. Perhaps none of this had actually happened. Perhaps he had died almost three hundred years ago and this whole bit about him being a vampire and saving the world had been the fanciful dreaming of his death throes. What would he dream next?

Then, all of a sudden, Spike was alive.

He slammed to the earth without feeling it. Everything was still stark white, so he might not have known anything had changed except that he had developed a throbbing headache. Bollocks, but he thought he was free of headaches. He rubbed his forehead fiercely and, after clearing his throat, said, "Ouch."

A smooth dark face came seemingly out of nowhere and crowded his vision, scrutinizing him. "Well," said the face, turning away, "he can talk now."

"Fantastic," said another voice, further away, and British. "Maybe now he can tell us how he got here." He began to enunciate to clearly. "Sir? Can you hear me? My name is--"

"I can hear you just fine," Spike said, his head clearing. He looked around and found the source of the voice, a man standing solidly within himself, looking every inch the watcher-cum-demon-hunter he had always fancied himself. Spike winced; his head was throbbing. He also noticed that he was naked. "And I know your name already. Wesley Wyndam-some-such. I've seen your... you were her watcher. Where the bloody hell am I?"

The black man and Wesley exchanged a glance. "Your reputation preceeds you," the black man said to Wesley, shrugging.

"Oh, I remember you, too," Spike said, nodding at the black man. "You used to run an anti-vampire vigilate gang in downtown Los Angeles. Dru kept tabs on you. Some very masculine sort of name..."

"Gunn," the man said gruffly, glaring now.

"Well, that's very nice. Very street." Spike found his balance and stood up. "Now, is one of you blokes going to tell me where I am?"

"There will be no demands," Wesley said. He did not blink, and while his voice was calm, it had a threatening edge. Spike's mouth snapped shut. "We will tell you what you want to know if we decide to let you know it. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Spike crossed his arms and breathed -- yes, breathed -- deeply. "My name is William. I am known by many names but most people called me Spike. In 1877 I was killed and then sired by Drusilla, a vampire in the line of Aurelius. Many years of mayhem followed," and Gunn looked ready to attack, so Spike added quickly, "for which I am profoundly sorry. During my exploits, I met a girl about yay high, carries a stake, name of Buffy, and for reasons known only to her and me, I fell in love with her." He took another deep breath. "Yada yada yada, I went to Africa to regain my soul, hoping to win her love... but while I did get my soul, I was still an insufferable git and Buffy could never love me. Meanwhile, Sunndale was suffering from a slight case of apocalypse, so I did what I had to do. That is to say, I died saving the world, and so the PTB comes to me and says I can san-something, which is a fancy word that means come back to earth as human. Redemption, et cetera. So here I am... ah... the end. What do you think?"

Gunn and Wesley stood frozen, absolutely silent.

"C'mon, admit it... it's a good story."

Gunn turned to Wesley and said softly, "Angel isn't going to like this."

Spike drew back and rolled his eyes. "For once, could this be about me? I mean, I died, I saved the world, and I got the sanshu. Not Angel."

"We noticed," Gunn snarled. Wesley nodded. "Angel has been working towards Sanshu for four years, you know. It doesn't seem right that you just happened to be in the right place at the right time and you manage to stumble into something that he's been working at for so long, does it?"

Spike sniffed at this. He had been about to ask for a cigarette, but he reconsidered.

"Now, let's wait just a moment," Wesley said. "We can't just take this on faith. All we know is that this fellow popped into our offices out of--"

"So that's where I am, then?" Spike asked eagerly.

"--and he claims to be a rather infamous vampire, now human," Wesley continued blithely, "but we can't be sure he is. He is human, we know that. But as for being William the Bloody... well, I never met Spike, but I saw sketches, and frankly, you don't look anything like him."

"That probably on account of my hair," Spike said, grinning. "You see, platinum blonde was not my natural color. Believe it or not. What color is it now? Brown?"

"Actually," Wesley said carefully, "it's orange. Carrot orange. And... you have freckles." Wesley searched his pockets for a mirror, which he kept around for vampire hunting. He offered it to Spike, who snatched it.

Spike stared into the mirror for a long time, brow furrowed, before he spoke. This was a strange turn of events. The face looking back at him was Irish, fair skinned, carrot-topped, and wide-eyed. "Well," he said finally. "It has been a pretty long time since I've looked at my reflection, but I can still say with reasonable certainty that this is not me."

He tossed the mirror back to Wesley, who caught it and stowed it. "You understand our position, then?" the watcher asked.

After a deep shaky breath, Spike took a moment to consider this new development. He had been looking forward to being human, but he had not expected to return to earth looking like a Weasley. Although, in the abstract, he was not a bad looking red-head, and the freckles were alright. But there were no rockstars with freckles, and he had always fancied himself something of a rockstar. Oh well. He looked down at his feet and realized that he was taller, and also, he was glad to see, fairly well endowed. By the feeling of the skin around his eyes, he also was several years younger.

And then it dawned on him, the opportunity this presented. This was a new beginning. He smiled. It had been impossible for her to forget who he was. Now she wouldn't even recognize him. Maybe... He looked at Wesley, then at Gunn. "I think I'll call myself Malachi," he said. He laughed. "Don't I look like a Malachi?"

Unsure of how to respond, the pair of them continued to stare at him.

Laughter shook him; his new body was so weak. What would he do? Should he go to her now? She wouldn't be too hard to find, he thought. He could throw himself at her feet, a fresh new worshipper at her mercy... but there was something he had learned about her that he couldn't shake. Something he had told that Finn boy. And this time he was only a man.

He strode towards the exit before Wesley or Gunn could stop him. "If you'll give me some clothes, then, I'll be off. And if anyone's looking for me," he said over his shoulder, "I'll be in Africa."

Wesley and Gunn didn't know how to respond. Gunn shrugged, and looked at Wesley, who shrugged back. "He's a regular guy now," Wesley said. Gunn nodded. "We have no right to stop him." They let it go.

* * *

The slayers Buffy and Kennedy were eager to go, and Xander was eager to please, so the school bus was making excellent time. They were already in Omaha and would reach Cleveland within a day. Famished, Willow had insisted that they stop at the first place they saw, which happened to be a small American-style eatery called Rick's Cafe Boatyard, apparently the only eatery on the Omaha River.

Xander had taken so long deciding what to order that Buffy had been close to hitting him, but he had wised up and was now eating his food quickly, if fearfully. Buffy didn't mean to be so impatient, but the call within her was too poweful to wait. She was jumping to be off.

Kennedy was bouncing her leg and looking around anxiously. She was more impatient than Buffy was. Meanwhile, Willow was going crazy because Kennedy was even snippier than usual. Willow could never understand how slayers felt. She looked alone and irritated, staring off across the river, eating her food slowly. Buffy had to hold herself from slapping her.

After wolfing down her food, Buffy took a moment to look around the cafe. Immediately she recognized a girl sitting alone at the counter, a soft skinny creature with red-brown hair, as one of the potentials who used to live at her house. The girl tossed money across the counter and scurried out the door.

Buffy caught up to her and, unable to remember her name, yelled, "Hey!" and the girl turned around. "Where are you going? Why are you here? Wait, stop!"

She girl shook her head and jumped into her car. Buffy caught the words "can't wait" and "Cleveland" before she skittered away. Which was exactly what Buffy was feeling on the inside.

Buffy watched, mouth open, as the girl's car peeled out of the parking lot and zipped off at a dangerous speed. After a moment, Buffy closed her mouth and considered this incident. Willow would want to know, of course, but she wouldn't understand. Buffy decided that it didn't matter. There had been plenty of weirdos in that bunch of potentials, anyway, and they would meet up again soon enough. Buffy would keep this strange encounter a secret.

She stormed back into the diner. "Alright," she shouted, drawing stares, "time's up, everybody out!"

Xander swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and grumbled, "But Ma... " before getting up. Kennedy popped out of her chair eagerly, slapping Xander on the back of the head. Meanwhile, Willow was holding her tongue, but she couldn't hide her irritation. She glared at Buffy, then at Kennedy, before standing up.

Buffy ignored them. There was no time to waste with pep talks. The world she had worked so hard to save might end at any moment. She just knew it.

"Can't talk, can't wait," she mumbled, her heart tugging at her. "Must get to Cleveland."

* * *

The whole city smelled like Drusilla; Angel could sense her immediately. Every day on the news there was another murder in her style. What Angel couldn't figure was that most of these killings were taking place in broad daylight. And what was worse, Angel could tell she was just biding her time.

One would think that the people of Cleveland would be scared, and while many were leaving, he had noticed a strange trend. For the past few days, busloads of young girls had been travelling to Cleveland. Every day dozens more starry-eyed girls had been coming to Cleveland with purpose in their eyes. It reminded him of Hollywood. He had asked a bus driver about it, but the man couldn't explain it. He said he had never seen anything like it.

Somehow, Angel suspected, it was Drusilla's doing.

He followed a lead to the east bank of the Flats, where a few of the murders had taken place. Everything was unfamiliar and he realized how comfortable he had become in Los Angeles. It was a bare city, and he couldn't make sense of it. He stopped in front of a place called the Harbor Inn and considered asking directions.

"Excuse me, sir?" said a small voice behind him. He turned and saw a girl with long black hair and bright eyes, pretty and confident, like a young Cordelia. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "There's something about you I can't explain"

"I get that a lot. Do you know how to get to Clifton Boulevard from here?"

She shook her head and took a step closer. "I feel like you might know something about what I am, and why I'm here," she said. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Angel blinked. "No, actually."

"I know it sounds crazy," she said, laughing, "but I saw you standing here in the shadows, and I was drawn to you. My life has been really confusing lately. Something has happened to me that shouldn't be possible. For some reason, I thought you could explain it, maybe."

Angel shifted. "Why me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. An instinct."

"Well," he said. "Start off by telling me why you weren't afraid to approach a large man lurking in the shadows? I'm new to Cleveland, but I'm told that's never wise."

She smiled, grabbed both of his arms, and pulled them effortlessly behind his back. She then nonchalantly pinned him to the wall. Even with his vampire strength, he struggled for several moments before wiggling free. "You see," she said, "I've become suddenly strong for my size. That's the weird thing that's happened to me. One day I woke up and I was really, really strong. That's one of the things I was hoping you could explain." He had wheeled to face her, and she considered him. "You're stronger than I expected," she added.

"That's because I'm a vampire," he snapped, flexing his sore arms. "What are you?"

She jumped, then shrugged.

"Well, when did this... start?"

"About a week ago," she said. "I just woke up feeling, like, I don't know... like a superhero, I guess."

And then Angel's heart dropped. He looked into this young face, a face about as old as Buffy had been when she had been called, and he told her, "You're the Slayer."

"The... what?"

Angel didn't answer her. His mind was racing. The world had not ended, but here he was, face to face with the new chosen one. Could it be? Had Buffy died? Or, maybe Faith? Neither thought warmed his heart.

The girl was waiting for him to explain it to her. He said, "The Watcher's Council will contact you shortly and explain everything. What's left of them, anyway. It's too complicated for me to explain now, but... ah... I need some time..." and he started to walk away. His world spun; Buffy was dead.

"Will the Watcher's Council explain why we've all been drawn to Cleveland?"

He stopped. "We?"

"Yeah," she said. "Two days ago I jumped out of bed and got on a bus to Cleveland. I don't know why, but I knew I had to come here. The bus was full of other girls, and they were all strong like me, and they all had the same feeling. Will the Watcher's Council explain all of this?"

This was getting stranger by the minute. Angel no longer suspected that Buffy was dead, but he still knew something was wrong. Somehow he knew that Sunnydale was at the heart of all this. And in the back of his mind, he thought Drusilla was important as well. He still couldn't figure how or why.

"No," he said at last. "This is too much for the Watcher's Council. It's too much for me, too, but I know someone. Give me your name and I'll contact you when I get in touch with her."

"My name is Lori Prior," she said carefully, "but how will you find me?"

Angel smiled and walked away.

* * *

Cleveland looked like a hellmouth, dark and boring and dirty, but as soon as Buffy arrived, she felt immediately calm. The world had not ended, and her inner need had faded. She felt satisfied. Kennedy also looked cooler, as though she had finally eaten after two days of hunger.

Then Buffy knew something was wrong.

"Willow," she said, "do you think this could have been a trap?"

Willow looked at her, her face tired and long-suffering. She sighed and said, "Yes."

"But who would want to trap hundreds of slayers?" Kennedy asked. "It seems like covering yourself with blood and swimming with sharks."

"Maybe," Willow said.

They called around and found rooms at a Hostelling International in a cheap part of town. The outside reminded Buffy of Faith's old digs, and she half-expected to bump into the dark slayer in the lobby. She did not expect to meet who she did.

"Angel!"

He had been waiting for them, she was sure. He must have called home to find out what had happened to them. She dropped her bags and ran to him, a familiar brooding figure in a long black coat, and jumped into his arms. "What a surprise!"

He was not rude, but he did not return her embrace. She had forgotten how cold he felt. Ever so gently he pushed her away. And there was something more, something unsaid, like a barrier between them. She let out a long breath.

He looked at them so icily that none of them dared speak. Then, arching a brow at Kennedy and the others, he asked, "What happened with the First?"

"Oh, it was totally chill," Kennedy said, suddenly bubbly. "Willow cast some mojo and turned all of us potentials into full slayers. Then we kicked the First's butt."

"I think that's being generous," Buffy said quickly. "We were facing heavy casualties until Spike used your amulet, Angel."

Angel tried not to wince at the sound of Spike's name, and he made sure Buffy didn't notice. Jealousy was a petty concern next to this, the thing he had feared most all day. He turned to face Willow, smoldering. "How could you do something so... dangerous?" he said, quiet but accusing. "I thought you were past your reckless phase."

She swallowed but stood her ground. "The world was ending," Willow said. "Everything was dangerous. And now we have thousands of slayers. We all decided, where one is good, hundreds are better."

"Thousands of slayers," he repeated. "Hundreds of super-powered teenagers with no Watchers and no idea what to do with their new strength. Brilliant. And you thought Faith was dangerous."

Willow caught her breath. They all stared at each other silently for a moment, and for the first time they saw the thing for what it was. Buffy felt ill.

Angel stared at them sternly, letting it all sink in, because he spoke again. "Tell me," he said, "why are you in Cleveland?"

This made them all look even more uncomfortable, and Buffy thought she just might throw up. Of course it was a trap. Buffy said, "I had a... a feeling."

Angel did not react, but said only, "That's what Lori said, too."

Buffy suppressed the urge to ask who Lori was, and said only, "We are thinking now that it might have been a trap."

He said, "I'm inclined to agree." She looked like she was going to melt, and he softened. "Alright, there's no point in pointing fingers now. We need to figure out who has led you here and why. I don't know why, but I have a good idea about who."

They all looked at him expectantly, but his eyes were only on Buffy.

"Drusilla," he said.

This revelation was too unexpected for them to digest at first. Buffy returned his gaze without blinking before looking at Willow and Xander. Willow shrugged. Xander grimaced and said. "Drusilla? I keep forgetting we haven't killed her yet."

"Who's Drusilla?" Kennedy asked.

"And while we're at it," Angel said, "Who are you?"

"Oh, Angel, this is Kennedy," Willow said, smiling back. "My girlfriend; she's a slayer." Angel tried not to stare, and he kept his mouth firmly shut. But Angel never thought Willow would swing that way. She took his gawking in stride and continued. "Kennedy, Drusilla's a cooky and perennial nemesis of ours."

"A vampire. Also, Spike's sire and sometime girlfriend," chimed Xander.

"One of my brood," Angel added. At this, everyone fell silent and looked to him. "I don't know what she's planning," he said, "but I think we can rule out a night watch. Remember the last time we all rubbed elbows, she tried to end the world."

Willow nodded and looked sympathetically at Buffy, who shrugged.

"We need more information," Angel said. "I'm going to check this out, ask around at the local demon haunts, see if anyone knows anything. Meanwhile, I'll send Lori and any other new slayers I meet over here."

"And what are we supposed to do while you're out on the town?" Kennedy demanded.

Angel ignored her and again stared meaningfully at Buffy. "Stay here," he said, and with that he swept out of the Hostelling International lobby.

Buffy waited, silent and still, until he was gone. Then she rolled her eyes and motioned to the Scoobies, who were waiting to follow her. Angel didn't seem to know her anymore. She had no intention of "staying here." She was the original slayer, and she did not take orders.

* * *

"They have arrived," Amy said, opening her eyes, catlike in the dark. Drusilla barely responded. She had been distracted today, listless in her hunting and joyless in her feeding. Something faraway had changed but only Drusilla could feel it. Amy hoped she would get over it soon.

Drusilla nodded and continued to stare vacantly, humming softly. "They're all returning to me," she said, and then reclined on the couch. She had been languishing all day, saying nonsense like "my pet has returned" and some such.

"So, are we going to kill them now or what?" Amy whined. Drusilla did not respond at first, and Amy huffed. There were moments when she loved and admired her sire; this was not one of those moments.

Drusilla suddenly sat up. "Not yet," she said. "They may know we are here by now -- the puppy will have told them -- but they won't know what we're up to. We can bide our time while our army becomes..."

At that Drusilla nodded at the bodies of four young girls lying prone on the floor. They appeared dead at the moment, but in a few hours they would all wake up as raised vampires, young and biddable. Amy's eyes lit up as she recalled her own kill, an insipid yuppy thing named Lori Prior. Her blood had been warmer and sweeter than anything she had ever imagined, and its supernatural power still flowed through her veins, heightening her senses and amplifying her own powers. She could hardly wait for more.

Drusilla smiled. "I can see what you're thinking," she said excitedly.

"Oh yes?" Amy said, smiling back.

"Yes indeed," she said. "And I approve. Good girl. Back to the hunt."

Amy nodded and without wasting a moment, she lit another fire in her cauldron. A blue flame jumped out of the pot and into the air. Drusilla winked at Amy and then skittered after the blue light, which was already wheeling out the door. Amy, more sedately, followed.

It was almost nighttime, dark enough for Amy to walk outside without bursting into flames but light enough to make her itch. She wondered, if she drank enough slayer blood, would it make her invincible like Dru? Perhaps, but it was unlikely that the Dru would let her drink that much; so far Amy had been given only the scraps. Lori had been the exception because Amy had caught her alone, in the early morning, while Dru had been moping.

"It's slowing down," Dru said, clapping. "Does it fancy someone local, you suppose?"

Amy nodded, stalking silently. At any moment, a superhero might jump out and attack them, and that made her a little more nervous than it made Dru. The first girl they had found had known what they were on sight and had almost staked Amy before Dru bit her, and Amy had taken that lesson to heart.

They found the slayer, lost and alone, waiting in line at a Jack in the Box. When Amy and Drusilla slipped into vamp face, the other patrons ran, but not the new slayer. She had brand new powers and she wasn't afraid. She fought bravely as Drusilla and Amy herded her carefully out of the restaurant and into a dark alley. All things considered she put up a good fight. She landed a fair number of slayer-like kicks and punches, even knocked Drusilla to the ground once, before Amy swooped in from behind and sunk her teeth into her neck. Dru winked and then bit into the other side of her neck. They drank deeply, then let her collapse to the ground.

There was a clatter of metal, and Drusilla spun around, catching the smell of human fear. Whoever it was had run off, but Drusilla seemed calm. "I know that smell," she said, licking her bloody fingers. "He was the one without any powers."

Amy tested the air and nodded. She recognized it too. "Xander," she said. "He knows now. We could catch him, and kill him?"

Drusilla shook her head. "This one makes five," she said. She cut her finger and let the blood fall into the dead slayer's mouth. Spike hadn't let her turn his slayers because he was afraid of their power, but she knew about the bond between sire and brood. That bond could never be broken; it was something she still felt with Angel, despite her best efforts. Therefore she insisted that all of the slayers drink her own blood, even the ones that Amy killed herself. "When these ones wake up, it will be enough. He will warn Buffy, but we will overpower her. Let him go."

Amy was a loyal young vampire, and she accepted this. Slinging the dead slayer over her shoulder, she followed her sire home.

* * *

"I've been waiting for you."

Buffy spun around, stake first, and saw Angel standing behind her. She had been patrolling the area, getting the lay of the land and considering her options. He had caught her unprepared in the dark; her senses were finer than they had been four years ago, but he had grown stealthier, and he could still sneak up on her. She put down her stake.

"You knew I wasn't planning on staying put," she said.

"Counted on it," he said, grinning. "I needed to talk to you alone. That Kennedy girl... she's Willow's girlfriend, huh?"

"A lot's changed in four years, Angel. Do you have news?"

He shook his head. "It's not that kind of talk. Just, last time we talked, you were a little busy... "

"I'm always busy."

"Yes, but... some things have... well, I noticed you didn't bring... Spike... on this mission?"

She nodded. "He's dead."

He blinked. "But I thought..."

"That amulet was a death wish," she explained. "It saved the world and all, but Spike's dust. Wait, don't tell me you're sorry. It's a relief, really, now drop it. What's up?"

"Easy, Buffy," he said. "The thing is, I've got emotions to let out."

"I'm not an easy person."

He looked very sweet and vulnerable all of a sudden, and she was sorry for saying it. She found she instantly forgave him for criticizing her so harshly about the slayers. She also found she wanted to grab him and squeeze him really hard. He looked almost exactly as she remembered.

"I'm out of practice, you know, what with the curse. You need to be patient with me.... I've been thinking about you a lot this week, and it's crushing me. I left you because I thought it was best for you, and I still think that, but I wanted you to have something that maybe you can't have..."

"That's a lot of words all at once, Angel," she said gently.

"You shouldn't have come," he said, "but I'm glad to see you.

He reached out and touched her. She stared at his hand. Something wasn't right, and she felt strangely uncomfortable. This conversation was playing out before her, like someone else's dream, and she was outside it. It was happening so fast.

He continued. "I think I was over you. There was so much going on, with Darla and Cordelia and everything else, and I thought I'd left you behind, until I saw you again. Now you're all I can think about, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I'm better for you than Spike is... was. Do you know what I mean? If you're not going to have the life that I wanted you to have anyway then maybe there's no point in denying you, that is, me... are you listening to me?"

She nodded. Life was weird.

He took a deep breath. "I love you," he said.

"No you don't," she said suddenly, "but thanks for saying it."

Buffy eyes widened, and she shook her head. Angel had said exactly what she had wanted to hear, well, mostly, but Spike's words had jumped out of her mouth? They left a sour taste. "I didn't love him," she said to herself. "He knew I didn't love him. I couldn't."

Angel waited.

Buffy looked into his dark eyes. "I love you," she said. "I know I do. I've been thinking about you all week, hoping you would say something like this."

"You're over me?" Angel suggested.

"No," she insisted. "I've missed you every day, even when I was with Riley, and that never stops. I'm empty and miserable and alone. But..."

"I know," Angel sighed. "Cookie dough?"

Buffy knew that was bullshit, but it was easier than explaining what she really felt. She leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his cold lips. He kissed her back, so soft and caring and perfect. But she felt nothing.

"What's happened to us?" he asked.

"Are we are still the same people that we were four years ago?" she asked him. "I think I want to be that person. Are you still the same?"

It took him a long time to respond, but when he did, he said, "No."

She shook her head. "Me, neither."

Silence.

"Hell," he said eventually. "Willow's gay. We can't have changed that much."

Buffy looked at him dubiously. She said, "I hear you have a son."

"Not really," he replied sadly. "Not anymore."

She looked at him with big wet eyes. "I still love you. But it's the you I knew four years ago."

"Maybe if we just..."

"But is it worth it?" she said. "We still can't... I mean, we can spend lots of time together again and grow to love each other again but then what? It's the same thing. Except this time, we can walk away. You know it's true."

"Is that what you want to do?"

Buffy took a moment, and then shrugged. She felt her eyes watering, the tears spilling over her cheeks, but it was more disappointment than anything else. Angel was not the answer. She wasn't in high school any more.

He was crying too, a little, but Buffy could tell he was relieved. He did love her, but more than that, he had wanted to love her because it made sense, and because so much in his life had vanished. First Doyle, then Cordelia, and now Connor. He didn't want to believe that their passion, so seemingly eternal, had vanished too.

But it had.

"Do you need me this time?" Angel asked, as she was about to leave. "Drusilla can be tricky."

"Maybe, but I've got a new slayer sidekick and the good witch Glinda on my side," Buffy replied. "Please, go home."

That was it. He let her go.

Buffy ran back to the hostel as fast as she could, letting the wind on her face dry her eyes. It's over, she kept saying to herself. I can't believe it's over. It was as though the last four years were finally sinking in. Her love with Angel was gone. It has disappeared with the seasons and with new love and with time. She didn't know whether to feel sad or relieved. And there was still a hole inside her.

The four of them had gotten a room on the first floor, and the other three were waiting for her there with long faces. "Buffy," Xander said when she entered, "I know what Drusilla is doing."

Willow looked at her face and asked, "Have you been crying?"

Buffy ignored her and looked at Xander. "Tell me."

"So, what do you get when you cross a crazy vampire, a hellmouth, a power-hungry witch, and a boatload of fresh slayers?" he asked.

Willow responded. "A whole bunch of slayer-vamps and a brand-new apocalypse?"

Xander nodded. "Or a WB sitcom."

"Speak in laymen's terms," Buffy said.

"Drusilla has teamed up with Amy, that witch we knew in high school," Willow explained. "They seem to be calling all the new slayers here and turning them into vampires. We don't know for sure, but we figure they're planning on using them as an army."

"Did it say anywhere in the rulebook that slayers make extra-powerful vampires?" Xander asked. "Which reminds me, Drusilla looked a little extra-powerful herself. Which suggests--"

"--that Drusilla was a potential." Even after Buffy said this, it took a while for it to sink in. The world was closing in, and every moment that passed made their decision to raise the potentials seem like a worse one. She turned to Willow. "Can you undo the spell?" she asked.

"The slayer spell?" Willow asked, confused. "Well, yes, but..."

"No way," Kennedy said. "Just because one potential turned out to be a vampire doesn't mean we have to undo the spell. Those magicks did a lot of good!"

"Sound like someone is afraid of losing her powers," Xander said.

"This from the guy who doesn't have any!"

"People, please," Buffy said, and their was quiet. "I just want to know if it can be done. Willow, do you think you could undo the spell?"

Before Willow could answer, a bolt of lightning crashed into the room. Kennedy flew across the room as though she had been shot out of a cannon. She slammed against the far wall, sizzling like a piece of steak on a barbecue. She screamed once, and then died.

It happened so fast. The three of them wheeled around to face the danger, and Willow didn't make a sound. Her mouth fell open but nothing came out, and she began to shake. Buffy more than half expected Willow to become a ball of fire and swallow the world. But her eyes remained clear. There was a long moment, before Willow cried out in frustration, "I'm cut off!"

Seven pale figures stormed in through the whole in the wall, long coats swirling everywhere. They were surrounded. "It's clever isn't it?" said a familair voice, and Amy emerged, glaring at Willow. "Even though I'm not half as powerful as you, I can still shield you from the source of your magicks, leaving you powerless. It's a nifty trick I learned. Impressed?"

Two of the vampires moved in on Willow, grabbing her. She struggled but could barely move. "You can't cut me off," Buffy said, and she jump kicked the first vampire in the head as hard as she could. The girl flinched, then came at her, punching her awkwardly in the chest but still sending her flying across the room. Buffy rolled out of it, but before she could get to her feet, another vampire had grabbed her by the leg and flung her against the wall.

Two more vampires rushed in from behind her and began kicking her in the soft part of her back before she could recover. Xander rushed over, yelling, "Leave her alone," but they dropped him to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and he was out cold.

Meanwhile, Willow had wriggled free from her captor and was trying to help, but Amy caught her in a binding spell. "Not so fast," she said, "you're mine." Willow hung in the air, helpless. Amy motioned to one of the vamps, who walked over to the witch and open-handedly knocked her out.

In moments, five vampires surrounded Buffy, who had not managed to get up. They were even faster and stronger than the uber-vamps, and she couldn't even get her wits together long enough to fight back. Before she knew what was happening, one of them was about to bite her, and she felt the sting of fangs on her neck.

"Not this one!" she heard that familiar voice yell, the lilting accent carrying the order over the chaos. She clapped her hands, and the vamps withdrew. Drusilla appeared, gazing down at Buffy with a seeming scientific interest. "This one is my own."

No longer held down, Buffy popped up onto her feet and assumed a battle stance. She was badly beaten, but she had felt worse.

Drusilla laughed. "Oh, did you want to go again?" she asked. "Because you think that maybe I will be easier to beat than my poorly trained monkeys. Not so, slayer. Best to come quietly so that you can entertain hopes of escape for the next twelve hours while I torture you to death. Come?"

"I don't give up easily," Buffy snarled. She punched Drusilla fast and hard in the nose, throwing her back, and then kicked her in the stomach. Drusilla groaned and stepped back, the other vampires watching. Buffy then grabbed the back of Drusilla's neck in an attempt to throw her down and disable her, but at the point Drusilla stiffened and Buffy could not budge her. Startled, she did not notice that Drusilla had moved to trip her, and she fell suddenly to the ground.

"Good night, poppet," she heard Drusilla say. Then she felt her skull shatter, and everything went dark.





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