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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here is another installment. The differences from OTL are going to become more and more major.
*Docks District, five days later*

An outside observer would’ve thought nothing was happening. Dalton knew better. All around him Spike’s strike team was advancing, silent as ghosts, but more lethal than anything else in Sunnydale. Five vampires, the Master of Sunnydale, the Slayer, and Dalton. There were representatives from various demon clans that had sent their best and strongest, too, each helping in their own way. Some were beneath, blocking the access through the maze of tunnels under the town. Some were keeping an eye on the sky, in case of flying machines, or unexpected portals. A couple of witches—the Slayer had brought them with—were raising invisible barriers.

All in all, he was taking part in a full-blown attack on the hideout of the rogue demon hunters. His own flight of fight systems were making his blood boil. Of course, he wouldn’t take part in the actual attack, he would be part of the second wave, there for mop-up, intelligence gathering, and interrogation. The Watcher next to him was going to come in at the same time. Various family members of the missing demons were also present. If everything was going to go according to plan, it could mean the creation of an alliance of races that could very well keep control of the Hellmouth for generations.

Dalton was startled out of his musings by the door to the abandoned loading dock they were targeting splintering open. He hadn’t even seen who, or how it was opened, just that there was a gaping hole where the door had just stood.

Dalton watched with trepidation as his Master and the Slayer led the way in. Penny was part of the first wave too wave. Never in his life—unlife now—would he have expected someone like Penny to even notice him. She was like a whirlwind. He counted his blessings every single time she looked at him that way. Hell, he hadn’t even known someone could look at him like that before her.

He had Spike to thank for that. His Master was to thank for everything good that had happened since he’d been turned. In fact, his human life hadn’t been anything to brag about to anyone either.

So when the screaming started, Dalton left his post to rush in and help before he was even able to think about it. An instinct he didn’t even know he had took over. So he went to help everyone that meant anything to him.

He didn’t get very far.

Before he’d made even half the distance from his half-hidden position, the Slayer and Spike came out of the building. At least they looked in one piece.

The couple went to the side, where the Slayer started dry-heaving.

“Breathe, love. We’re going to—”

She got up from where she was leaning against a wall and looked him straight in the face. “You bet we’re going to.” She took a deep breath. “I kill vampires and demons every night. I’ve killed some of those species in there, before. But I never knew there were so may… pieces.” She turned and slammed her palm on the wall she’d been leaning against before. “I couldn’t even recognize some of them.” Her voice was wavering, but there was still steel behind it.

Dalton was feeling like a voyeur, but he couldn’t step away. He’d always been too curious for his own good. It’s how he’d been turned, after all. Spike’s voice brought John back from his memories.

“I could. And that’s why I will find them. I will find them and when I do-” Spike turned the Slayer towards him. “They’re mine. I have every right, according to the pact.”

“I know.”

“And one more thing. You can’t be anywhere near me when that happens.”

She went to say something, but he didn’t give her time to start.

“It will be ugly. I will have to do things that I was taught a long time ago, by a right mean bastard. Things I hate doing.” He ran a hand through his hair and lit up a cigarette. “This was a message for us. For the demon community. So I’ll have to send a message back. Both to the community, and to whatever group decides to do this thing next time.”

She turned away again. “I know that too. Just—” It was obvious she was struggling with something. “Just tell me when it’s done.”

“I’ll still need your help to track them down. We only found them now because of your red-headed friend. Who knows where they’ll haul up next? Could even be in a bleeding church for all we know.”

The Slayer’s straightened her back. She looked every bit the Valkyrie Spike described her to be. “We’ll find them, then. Wherever they hide, they have to leave a trace. Either you sniff them out; or word carries about them doing this someplace else; or they do whatever it was that Wills found this time.” She turned her head and watched as people moved in and out of the building.

Dalton did the same. Some of the humans and demons were trying to find clues as to the identity of the group. Others were just there to find their loved ones. Or what was left of them.

“And then—” Spike was only looking at Buffy.

“Then we’ll go in and rescue whomever they’ll have captured until then.” She met his eyes. “Then I leave and you do whatever you have to. That’s the deal.”

“Deal.”

They both turned to watch the entrance. Cries of dismay could be heard from time to time. Names shouted in a way that emanated grief.

Dalton started feeling anxious. He felt the need to see Penny again. He wanted to touch her, to reassure himself she was still there.

As if she’d read his mind, he saw her coming out of the building. He’d never seen her look so pale. She was turning from side to side, searching for something, and when she saw him, she launched herself into his arms.

That was not something they usually did in public. She was too cool for such displays of affection whenever there was an audience. This time though, whatever it was she’d seen in there—and Dalton was sure he wanted to wait for the victims to be taken away before he stepped food in that damned place—had made her cling to him for dear life.

However much he liked the feel of her, he still wished she’d been one of the ones left at base. By the way Spike looked at Buffy, he was thinking the same thing about his girl.

~~~***~~~

*later that night, Giles’ flat*

Rupert Giles was about to break with tradition. Again.

Since he’d become Buffy’s Watcher, he’d sent weekly reports to the Council via the post office, as Watchers had done throughout the modern times. In this instance, however, he decided to call Quentin Travers himself. The previous time he’d done it had been to discuss the prophecy from the Pergamum Codex. The one stating Buffy would die. The one she’d fulfilled, yet cheated at the same time. The one that had brought Spike into their lives.

The things he’d seen at the docks warranted another call, though.

Steeling himself for the coming breach of protocol, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Mr. Travers’ office, how may I help you?”

“Good afternoon. This is Rupert Giles for Mr. Travers.” He was quite proud of his voice for having been so firm.

There was a slight crackle in the line, a ringing tone, and then Quentin answered. “Mr. Giles, to what do I owe the pleasure, so early in the morning for you? Or is it late at night?” The greeting couldn’t have sounded more artificial had it been spoken by one of those infernal automated answering machines that keep asking you to press a button to represent your choice.

“Good afternoon. I’m terribly sorry for the rather unorthodox means of communication, however the situation we find ourselves in has forced my hand.”

“Oh? What exactly is the situation? Has your Slayer expired? Again?”

The words, though somewhat expected, felt like lashes. Giles had always felt guilty for not doing more to prevent Buffy’s—albeit short—death. Prophecy or not, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what exactly would have happened had he joined her on her way to see the Master. Maybe she never would have been thralled; maybe he could have stopped the ancient vampire from half-draining and half-drowning his charge; maybe he could have revived her; maybe the whole situation with Spike would have been different.

Although Giles had to admit, in his heart of hearts, the current arrangement between his Slayer and the Master of Sunnydale was among the better options.

With a start, Rupert realized he’d not answered his superior’s question. “Ah, no. Buffy hasn’t died again.”

“What’s this about, then?”

Just this short exchange was making Giles realize that submitting one’s reports via air-mail also meant one wasn’t subjected to speaking with the leader of the Council, on top of it being traditional. Still, he’d called for a reason and, after he grit his teeth for a second, he went about tackling that reason. Even if it meant a more lengthy discussion. “My Slayer is involved in a search for a rogue human demon hunting group. I’ve already exhausted every means of identifying them I could think of, but their identity is just as unclear as when we first heard of their presence.”

“Yes, I seem to have heard something of the like from some of my subordinates. Have you decided you required more Council resources in this—whatever this is? I was under the distinct impression the Slayer’s job was to protect humanity from demons, not the other way around. Or am I mistaken?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that the demon hunters were attacking and torturing some of the more peaceful races, which has incensed their spirits.”

“They are only marked as non-combatants through our mercy. If any individual or organization takes them on, it is of no concern to us. Is that all?”

Giles felt a bit of Ripper seep through his thoughts, but pushed down the torrent of expletives scrolling through his mind. “My charge feels it is her duty to protect the innocent, which some of the victims actually were. It is also a concern of ours that the Slayer herself might be endangered by some more uninformed demon hunters, as seems to be the case by the way they chose their victims.”

“Have you anything to back up this claim?”

“Not yet, but surely—”

“Have you had any contact with these demon hunters?”

“They have proven quite elusive, but we have found an abandoned base of operations. It was littered with portioned demons.” Giles was getting quite uncomfortable with the questions and the tone of his superior. They reminded him of an old schoolmaster from back in the day.

“Have you had any independent confirmation that it was indeed their base, and not some other demon clan’s?”

Giles thought about the flimsy digital trail Willow had found. He hadn’t understood nearly half the words she’d used, but he was quite sure even she wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was the right place. Except that they had found the missing demons. “No independent confirmation, but there was strong indication—”

“So all your information is circumstantial at best, and probably mostly provided by some sort of demon, or other, am I correct?”

“That is not how things are, exactly, in fact—”

Travers interrupted him again, his voice raised just enough to show his outrage. “So what you are informing me of, through the use of a telephone, is the involvement of an unknown group of demon hunters, with equally unknown reasons or purpose, and that your Slayer, under demonic influence, has decided to pursue these persons without success.”

“In a manner of speaking. That is to say—”

“I think I understand quite clearly, Mr. Giles. In fact, I have decided your Slayer is in dire need of some assistance, and therefore will send you the new Slayer, the one that was Called during your charge’s temporary expiration last year.”

Giles was stunned. He’d never heard of two Slayers being active at the same time. He was also outraged he hadn’t been notified of the existence of the other Slayer. Surely such an event would have required research. Research which had probably taken place without him knowing anything about it.

He’d been kept in the dark. Furthermore, the other Slayer was going to be sent to clean up after Buffy. Quentin hadn’t worded it as such, but the intent was clear. Also clear was the subtext of what the Head of the Council was saying: Buffy and himself were regarded as inferior to the new Slayer, despite their seniority. The implication tasted like bile in his mouth.

“I was not made aware of any other Slayer existing. Has there been any prophecy activated, or is there any theory as to how this was possible, to my knowledge, for the first time in history?”

“The appropriate research has been done. That is beyond the scope of this telephone conversation, however. Any questions you may have, you are free to ask of the current Slayer’s Watcher, Miss Gwendolyn Post.”

“And might I inquire the name of the new Slayer?”

“Yes, quite. Her name is Kendra Young. She had been identified as a Potential from birth, and has been under Council supervision ever since. I’m sure after you meet her that you will agree with me in describing her as the perfect example of a Slayer.” There was a brief pause in which no man said a thing. “If that will be all.”

Giles was left listening to the busy tone coming from his receiver. He had a lot of information to process. The more he considered the situation at hand, the more one thing became crystal clear: things were about to become very complicated, as soon as Kendra and her Watcher arrived.





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