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*1630, Rovello Drive, later that night.*

Cordelia Chase was not as dumb as some people though her to be. She had climbed to the very top of the high school hierarchy when she was just a freshman, gathered a group of devoted, albeit weak-minded followers, and in general succeeded in everything and anything she had set out to accomplish. She was already envisioning getting out of Sunnydale and taking LA by storm.

Her world had changed drastically since Buffy Summers had come into it, though. Initially she’d thought of the other girl as a worthwhile opponent, but she soon discovered that almost nothing that interested one interested the other. Sure, they could talk about boys, clothes, status, and cheerleading, but Buffy was never truly interested in those things, they were just on the surface; almost like a cover.

And Cordy had learned very early on that what interested Buffy was what could get the rest of them killed. That’s not right. She looks into what can kill us to save us. That’s why, in a way, Buffy Summers was the single most important person that Cordelia needed to keep close to. Or at least keep tabs on.

It was why she’d accepted her with open arms during her ‘pause’ from Slaying, letting her become a part of her crew, although she knew Buffy could usurp her position in a heartbeat. Not because she was prettier, or smarter, or better dressed, but because there was something within her that made others pause and listen. Maybe it was the Slayer part of her, maybe it was due to how she was before her Calling—by her own admission she’d been a ‘Cordelia in training’ back then.

But Cordy never actually felt threatened by the person that spent every waking moment trying to protect everyone from demons and the like. She actually felt grateful for the blonde’s presence; although that was something the brunette would never admit to out loud.

Now that Buffy was back to Slaying, and more importantly, choosing to hang around with a vampire again, her social standing had plummeted once more. That didn’t make Cordy step away, though. In fact, it made her see the other girl as worthy enough to waste her Saturday cooped up with a couple of nerds, a librarian, a teacher, and Buffy’s parents, waiting for the Slayer to come home from her ‘date with a dash of slaying’. After she’d helped her get ready for it. Talk about ‘above and beyond’!

Even if she was expected to lord over her minions and do her queenly duties, she still preferred spending the time in a place that looked so much more like a study date than what it really was—the brink between life and death.

“When is she coming, already?” That didn’t mean she had to like waiting around, doing nothing.

“Nobody asked you here, so either shut up, or get out!” Xander sneered at her.

The fact that Alexander Harris had the gall to talk to her like that grated on her, but she decided to just sneer back. “I at least helped her get ready, what is your use, again? Waste of space? Doughnut disposal? Human shield?”

“Children!” Joyce’s voice cut through the tension rising in the room and demanded everyone’s attention. “I understand we’re all under a lot of stress, but if you can’t behave, you can all just go home.” She then seemed to think it over again. “Although going alone so late on the night of ‘Saint Vampire’ without Buffy might not be the best idea.”

Cordy just nodded once, making a show out of leafing through a fashion magazine.

She liked Joyce, and in a way would have liked her own mother to be more like her. Especially when it came to the men in their lives. Joyce and Hank were acting better around each other than her parents had in years. Maybe it was the divorce that diffused their tension, maybe they were better off now, as exes trying to deal with things while at the same time not having to make their dying relationship work.

Not that her parents had a dying relationship. In fact, if she were to be honest with herself, she’d have to admit that her parent’s marriage was just as dead as the Summers’. Only without the piece of paper making it official.

One thing was certain, though: her parents weren’t up waiting for her to come back, like Hank and Joyce were waiting for Buffy. She doubted they even knew she wasn’t home.

She resented the Slayer just a tiny bit for it. Resented and envied. Just a bit.

Then the door opened, and she was reminded that envying a Slayer is not something one should do.

~~~***~~~

Rupert Giles had thought he’d seen everything before he’d been sent to Sunnydale. He’d had his wild days, his study days, and his exemplary Watcher days. When he’d been charged with taking over the newest Slayer’s training, he’d thought he’d known all the answers to all the questions that could possibly arise.

Then he’d actually met Buffy Summers and his world had been thrown into chaos.

He’d seen more and experienced more in little over a year acting as her Watcher than in all the other years he’d been alive. Every day had been an exercise in adaptability, something he never had excelled at.

Yet all his experiences with her still hadn’t prepared him for sitting across from three Master vampires—one being the Master of the Hellmouth, while the other two had souls.

He’d sent his Slayer—metaphorically, since she’d actually gone against his wishes—to take on an ancient vampire, one of the oldest in recorded history, alongside another vampire who had recently almost killed her, only to have them return with Angel and—shock of shocks—Drusilla ‘the Mad.’ Only Drusilla was no longer mad, and was instead apparently bringing a message from the Powers.

He smiled warmly at Joyce when she placed a tumbler of whiskey in front of him. The tea he’d been drinking up until then was nowhere near strong enough for the discussion at hand. Only Buffy would require her Watcher to write a Journal the size of a bloody tome in one night. He took a sip to tame his fraying nerves, then raised his eyes to the undead seer.

“So you say your lucidity wasn’t instant.”

She smiled sadly. “I was soulless a long time, Mr. Giles, and mad a bit longer than that.”

Spike glared at the back of Angel’s head, from where he was standing behind the couch holding the vampire couple. Giles wasn’t sure if Angel could read the slight amusement on his face at the tableau.

“It took my soul and my mind a while to reconcile what had happened and everything I’d done with who I am and how I feel.”

“So you assume responsibility for your actions?” Giles was jotting down the responses in his journal as fast as he could, but his hand was already showing signs of fatigue.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes, I know what I did since I was turned and have made my peace with it.” Her back was straight, her head held high, but there was a slight waver in her voice that betrayed she was indeed remorseful.

“Astounding. And you, Angel?”

“I’ve told you, the overbearing guilt that the curse had weighed me down with is gone, and I’ve come to terms with my actions while Angelus.”

“And would you repeat any of them?”

“Of course not! I have a soul, Giles!” He sounded hurt by the idea.

“So do serial killers.” He wasn’t sure himself why he had said it, but maybe it had been the sight of Spike wracked with guilt over almost ending the life of a Slayer—his natural enemy—that had prompted Giles to delve a little deeper into the philosophical divide between good and evil. Or maybe it had been the business with Buffy’s former schoolmate, the one that tried to trade her life for his turning that had gotten Giles to his new conclusion. Souls were highly overrated.

Angel’s face betrayed surprise. He had received a pretty warm welcome the previous time, once he’d revealed his status as a souled vampire. This time there were questions, and inquisitive looks, and a room full of people within inches of weapons and that weren’t showing any signs of being willing to welcome him as the conquering hero. At least that is how Giles would have read the room. Of course, Angel couldn’t know the Watcher himself was feeling under scrutiny. Joyce and Hank were standing to the side, flanking Buffy and watching him with hard stares. Ever since Hank had come to town Giles had been put through the ringer for all the decisions he’d made that had led to even the smallest amount of physical or psychological harm to Buffy.

Maybe that’s why the Council takes the Potentials from their families. They can’t handle the parental Inquisition on a daily basis.

In turn, this had made Giles all the more cautious with where his trust could be placed. While he had been placed on a sort of notice by Buffy’s parents, it was his time to re-evaluate and determine if Angel was worthy to still be in her presence.

In fact, of the three vampires before him, the soulless one was the only one practically assured a continued role in his charge’s life. If only I’d known it would come to this.

“Spike is soulless and he’s not being run through the ringer.”

“Angel!” The one word from Drusilla was enough to shut her companion up. She turned to Giles still looking slightly upset. “Mr. Giles, we haven’t just received our souls, we were purged of the evil within us. He had Angelus simmering under the surface, and my mind was twisted in a way—” She shuddered, apparently appalled at herself. “We are no longer what we were. We aren’t even what was before the demon. We were made new and we were given a mission.” Maybe sensing Giles’ next question, she continued. “A mission from the Powers to do good.” She turned her head slightly to look at Buffy. “Part of that mission was helping you with Kakistos, another part was the warning: your sisters are coming and danger wears different masks.”

The words sounded simple enough, but in Giles’ experience, nothing that concerned Buffy Summers was benign. “Yes, ah, quite. If you may be so kind as to expand on that.” He sounded stuffy to his own ears, but he was fighting a losing battle with the questions in his head. The more he found out, the more seemed just out of reach of his understanding.

“They didn’t give me many details, just that Buffy’s sisters will arrive and care must be taken, lest they fall astray.”

“Care by whom?”

Drusilla looked abashed. “I do not know for sure, but I think by you.” She let her eyes roam over everyone in the room. “All of you.”

“And by ‘astray’ do you mean they could start to actively work against Buffy?” Giles looked at the vampire while thinking about the grooves the pen would undoubtedly leave on his fingers. Focus, Watcher! Watch and record.

“It wouldn’t be a warning for Buffy if it didn’t involve her, now would it?” Drusilla was showing the first signs of impatience since she’d arrived, which Giles had to admit was quite a feat. She’d been enduring his questioning for what seemed like hours, going over the same points again and again.

“As for these masks you mentioned?”

“Never judge a book by its cover comes to mind.” She smiled sweetly, but Giles just frowned more.

~~~***~~~

Angel could tell most of the teenagers in the room were approaching the point where they’d scamper away home, leaving the grown-ups to make a sense of things. He also knew that he would go through another round of the Watcher’s questioning, or maybe it would be the Slayer’s father this time. The man was itching to put his interrogation skills to use.

The vampire suddenly found it all terribly tedious. He needed air, if not to breathe, at least to clear his head a bit. He also knew there was someone else just as anxious for a break as he was: Spike’s interval between cigarettes had been enormous, by the younger vampire’s standards.

“I’m going to stretch my legs on the back porch.” Angel announced to the room. He noticed how Buffy tensed, no doubt debating if she should stay with Drusilla or accompany him outside. For a brief moment Angel found himself amused by the thought she was probably going to go with him, not out of friendship, or any remnants of their almost-relationship from earlier that year, but because she wouldn’t allow him to go outside where he could potentially make plans with some would-be allies lurking in the shadows. The amusement turned biter in his mouth.

“I’ll go with. Could use a smoke.”

There was a look that passed between Spike and Buffy that could be interpreted in many ways, but Angel was sure it had meant the two blonds had agreed to split responsibility for keeping everyone safe. Buffy trusts him more than she does me. The thought should have given him a pang of something—regret? Jealousy? Resentment?—but instead it left him half-smirking. She’d found someone to support her, and if he knew William as well as he thought he did, he would prove worthy of her trust.

Angel looked at Jenny for a second, debating if he should reveal her role in his curse, but thought better of it. It was her secret to keep or not, not his. Dru and he would be having a private chat with the teacher later, away from the Slayer’s family. He turned and walked out of the living room, through the kitchen, and out the back door, sensing the other vampire shadowing him the entire way.

No words were spoken as they each leaned on the wall, and Spike lit up his cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the first drag of it with a heavy sigh. Here it comes!

“By rights you should be dust.” The blond vampire was talking while keeping Angel in his peripheral vision. It was an old trick of his that apparently hadn’t changed in almost a century. If the elder vampire were to attack, he’d find himself hitting at air, while spike would be right behind him, tripping him up. “A few months ago would have ended you before you had the chance to fake breathe.”

“You could have tried.” Angel was certain he was the superior fighter, but only by a hairsbreadth.

Spike smirked but didn’t contradict him. “Only you’re not the old Angelus, are you now?” He inhaled deeply. “And she’s no longer my Dru.”

Angel almost answered by denying she had ever been his, but thought better of it. “We’re still what we were, in a way. In other ways we’re nothing like our old selves.” He gave the other vampire a measuring look from top to bottom. “Then again you’re not the same Slayer of Slayers, though, are you?”

“I’m my own vamp! Finally.” He threw the cigarette away viciously. Without pausing, he fished another one from the pack and lit it.

“There’s a house full of still-alive humans behind us that contradicts that. And a live Slayer to boot.”

“I decide what and who I want to kill.” The tone in his voice reminded Angel of the young fledgeling that wouldn’t stay put, instead attracting way too much attention for Angelus’ liking with his brawls.

“You don’t actually want to kill her though. You want her.”

Spike was quiet, the ticking in his jaw the only movement. “Loving her. It changes you.”

Love? That was a fast U-turn. Angel squashed his pettiness. They were both with who they were supposed to be, so the way and speed they each had gotten there with was irrelevant. “I know.”

There was nothing to say for a while, possibly the first companionable silence they had ever shared.

“So when are you leaving?”

Angel smirked. Leave it to Spike to put getting rid of him above all else. “As soon as Dru says we should.” He could see the briefest evidence of shock before the other male covered it by taking another deep drag of his cigarette. For a moment Angel contemplated bumming one for himself.

“Since when is the great Angelus listening to anyone other than himself?” Spike’s eyes were fixed on the hedge surrounding the back yard, but Angel could tell his senses were on high alert, despite the casual stance.

“Since—” He’d been waiting for this question, had prepared for it, but faced with it out in the open he found himself at a loss. How do you explain something that you couldn’t quite define yourself? “After your ritual I was nearly desiccated, and she nursed me back to health.”

There was another flash of shock and maybe even a bit of betrayal on Spike’s face. Angel understood why: she probably would have left Spike starve half to death before she threw him any scraps, if that.

“It wasn’t really her decision. Or at least not a conscious one. The vision she saw told her she needed me to be able to fight alongside her, so she made sure I could.” He lowered his voice, still ashamed of himself and what had happened. “She didn’t really know what to do, so she kept bringing me things that held blood.” A shudder passed through him when he remembered the little frightened children he’d almost devoured in his weakened state. “She even tried to feed me earthworms at one point.”

The other vampire snorted and almost choked on the smoke in his lungs. Angel just shrugged in self-deprecation.

He’d felt the Slayer’s father hovering behind the closed door since they’d stepped out, but apparently his revelation mandated the man to finally come out, pretending he wanted to smoke a cigar himself.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the fresh air.”

The two vampires shared an amused grin.

“Anyway, worms aside, it was a revelation. I hadn’t expected her to be able to hold to a plan, much less understand she couldn’t kill after the first night.” He shrugged again, noting the weary way the human was watching him. “And she kept talking about her vision, on and on.” He addressed Spike directly, deciding to ignore their audience. “Only you could normally interpret what she was saying when she was gripped by one of her visions, but she was making more and more sense as time went on. By the end, I could do nothing but follow her to Africa.”

“Why there?” Hank couldn’t keep quiet any longer, it would seem.

“Some of the oldest and most powerful magics come from Africa. It’s not humanity’s birthplace for nothing.” He left the thought hanging, leaving Hank to draw whatever conclusion he wanted from that.

“So you got there, fought whatever it was you had to get through, and made sure you could be a good puppy. That it?” Spike had finished his cigarette and was playing with the pack, no doubt on his way to light up another one.

“Something like that. It involved a sort of deity and some wishing, but in the end, we were both cleansed.” Just the memory of the feeling he had after the pain and suffering washed away was enough to fill Angel with a warmth he previously hadn’t felt since being turned.

“Cleansed how?” Hank was watching him intently, all pretense gone. He had probably intended to just observe at first, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to do his own questioning.

Angel though for a moment how to phrase his answer. “I can’t explain a rainbow to the blind.” It might not have been the best answer, but it was far from the worst, and it was as close as he could come to explaining what had happened. Still, he decided to try to describe at least part of it. “Imagine being shown all your sins, and then being forgiven for them, being allowed to forgive yourself, while understanding why you should never repeat them; and that was just the beginning.” He felt goose-bumps form on his skin at the memory.

“So you got a clean slate. Still doesn’t explain you listening to Dru.” The second cigarette had been lit and Spike was speaking while exhaling the smoke in his lungs. It made him look even more demonic than he was.

“I also got a purpose. It wasn’t just a clean slate, it was a new chance at life, a new way to be. And she’d led me to it. The greatest moment since my birth and I owed it all to that woman.” He glanced at the door, his vampire hearing faintly picking up her voice. He already missed her.

“But she was mad. She told us, it took her a while.”

Habit made Angel expect Spike to rebuff Hank for speaking ill of Drusilla, but habits had all been broken months ago, and the blond vampire was silent as the grave.

The message was clear: it was Angel’s job. “She was what I made her, until she wasn’t. She woke up from her nightmare and she was glorious.” He heard his own voice waver in reverence. He didn’t much care. “We both had been given purpose, but she already knew the path.” He pinned Hank with his eyes, trying to convey the truth of his conviction. “I had no choice but to follow her, and she brought us here.”

Spike cleared his throat and threw away the cigarette he’d been holding. “And what’s that rot about other Slayers coming?”

Angel frowned. “She never said ‘Slayers,’ she always says ‘sisters.’ Still, from what we understand, when Buffy was in the Master’s lair she died briefly, before you saved her. The next Slayer got Called.”

“So now there’s two Chosen birds.” A statement, not a question, because Spike had learned decades ago not to doubt Drusilla’s visions.

“Yeah, and the other one will make her way here at some point.” He lowered his voice, but kept it loud enough for the person without vampire hearing to still be able to understand. “Probably the one after her, too.”

“So the other Slayer, whomever she may be, will die? Will it happen here, will we have to—?”

So at least they were listening. “Nothing is written in stone, but the plural, and the warning seem to indicate that at least one would die, and at least one could become a threat. But that’s all we know, so it could be different Slayers.” He shrugged.

“And the second part of the warning?”

“You and I both know that even the most innocent face can hide the most hideous of killers.” Angel was thinking of Darla when he said it, and he could only guess who Spike had in mind. Probably the same.

“Is it really all?” Hank was looking at him so intently that Angel thought he could see his soul.

“Yeah, really.”

Spike growled loudly. “Sodding Powers, giving us half-messages and leaving us to suss out what to do like rats in a maze.”

Angel had to agree with that. “It’s their favorite pass-time, I guess.”

No other words were spoken, and all three males made their way slowly inside.





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