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Giles watched the blonde Slayer wrap and arm around Buffy’s shoulders, the delighted smile that lit her face leaving no doubt in his mind as to just what kind of relationship they shared. He heaved a sigh. What was it about the newer generations of Slayers that demanded they fall in love with the very creatures they were destined to destroy?

When Buffy and Angel had first started their relationship, he’d been mistrustful and suspicious even at the best of times. After they discovered the happiness clause and Angelus lost his soul; well, to say that he wasn’t surprised wouldn’t be accurate, but his fury knew no bounds. That his Slayer had given herself wholly to a man, even a vampire, and then to have it thrown back in her face… He’d had a few choice words in mind for destiny or fate or the Powers for that little stunt.

Now though, seeing her snuggled contently against the current Slayer, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Chosen One could love anything else. Certainly no human partner could hope to withstand the force of their unleashed passion; a lesson Buffy had learned well when she made the mistake of dating Riley. But a vampire? The demon could both match and surpass a Slayer in strength of body and mind, if they so desired. Perhaps they were made for one another.

Drawn from his thoughts by the arrival of a tall, dark-skinned man, he rose with a polite smile. As Wood introduced himself, Giles realised that this was the voice that had so calmly asked for his aide against an old foe. Looking at the well-hidden tension in the other man’s body, he realised that the Watcher was far more desperate than he appeared. He didn’t want his Slayer to die. Was that why he had accepted Spike and Buffy’s relationship? A vampiress was a fierce protector for the young man.

Clearing his throat when the small group settled, he leaned forwards and addressed directly the subject that had first drawn him here. “As you know, Buffy and I have had dealings with Angelus before. I have discovered something that may be of use.” He paused, studying Buffy carefully as he continued. “I have discovered the means of restoring Angel’s soul.”

Wood remained impassive, though his eyes closed in relief. Buffy’s face brightened in expectation. Spike, however, jumped up angrily, rounding on the elder Watcher. “You think I’m gonna let you restore the Poof to his former glory an’ then set him free to destroy whole populations when he next gets a happy? Think again, Watcher.”

Leaving a confused Giles, a bewildered Wood and a stressed Buffy behind, he stormed out into the night.

****

Fear and jealousy churned inside of him like a great tidal wave of emotion, ready to suddenly rear up and drown him in darkness. He’d seen how Buffy had reacted to the news that her first love might be soon back in control. What would happen then? Did their new relationship mean so little to her that she would throw it away just for the chance of being with the man who’d hurt and abandoned her?

He was so wrapped up in his insecurities, he didn’t notice the tingling warning that danced on the back of his neck. A split second after he noticed the Slayer-senses going haywire in his body, pain exploded in the back of his skull and everything went black, the sting of fangs in his throat going unnoticed in the sudden embrace of oblivion.

****

She wasn’t sure what, exactly, made her do it. Her face shifted effortlessly, her fangs elongating as her eyes hardened to eerie silver. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she closed her eyes and opened the ties to her vampiric family, the sudden rush of memories not enough to overwhelm the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Darla was out hunting; nothing new or bothersome there. She saw for a moment through her Grandsire’s eyes, felt the snarl rumbling in her throat as she growled at herself. It was a surreal moment, if nothing else. Shutting off that link firmly, she took an unneeded breath and cautiously reached out for her Sire. He was pacing restlessly in his room at the mansion; the minute he detected her presence in his mind, he stopped and sneered, pulling forth memories of the many tortures he’d inflicted on her. Buffy shied away from him violently, severing the communication between them.

Frowning, she sought the tie to Dru. Settling herself in the crazed vampiress’ mind, she shuddered. The ecstasy of Slayer’s blood fizzed through her system, igniting her veins as she slipped her fangs from his neck, his heartbeat still strong though the blood oozed from his wounds. Buffy/Dru giggled, leaning down to run a possessive tongue over the crimson trails.

Dru! Buffy barked angrily in her sibling’s mind, Get your filthy hands off my Slayer.

No no no, sunshine. The naughty Slayer belongs to Mummy now. Miss Edith says the sunshine will burn and burn until there’s nothing left, but I want the puppet. As the human part of Dru’s unhinged consciousness was overtaken by the demon, Buffy relaxed the hold on her own darkness.

He is marked as mine the Buffy-demon snarled.

He is ours now; we’ve had a taste of his blood. Unless you are prepared to fight for him?

A wary growl rumbled in her throat as demon and Slayer answered as one. We would die for him.

Good. Come to… An image flashed in Dru’s broken mind, the dank basement of the burnt-out Sunnydale morgue. …We will duel as our ancestors did. The Ritual will determine who is to keep him. Now get out!

Buffy regained her senses, her pale face drawn tight with grief and anxiety. The foreboding sense of doom from her Slayer dream dowsed her in cold realisation. The demon snarled as the remembered images of the previous night’s dream again drifted to the forefront of her mind, the knowledge that had previously eluded her now nudged clear by the reminder from Dru’s demon.

The Ritual her sibling had spoken of was the oldest of vampiric traditions. The opponents resolved an argument over rank or property in combat that only ended when one conceded or was defeated. They were encircled by a wall of flame to stop them from fleeing, which sprang to life when the Ritual of Krethin was invoked and only faded when the battle was ended. Armed with nothing but fists, fangs and wits, they duelled for the right to dominance.

The last time a member of the Order had been involved in a Ritual had been the Master himself, when a younger vampire had challenged him for leadership of the Clan. That had been years before Buffy was even born, and since then nobody had had reason to call on the god Krethin and summon his power for the Ritual. Buffy gulped down sudden nausea.

Then she remembered Spike’s tender smile as he held her in the haven of his arms; she remembered his care when she’d been sick; she remembered what he’d sacrificed for her to carry on existing. Her resolve hardened and she pressed two fingers to her lips, then to the skin over her heart, before lying down and willing herself into sleep.

If she was to participate in the Ritual the following night, she would need all the help she could get.





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