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Author's Chapter Notes:
CHAPTER 23: 'Ere the Flowers Unfold

CHAPTER RATING: T/M (Sex & Violence! Sex & Violence!)

CHAPTER PAIRING: Willow/Tara, Spike/Buffy, Giles/Drusilla

TIMELINE/SPOILERS: AU after AtS "Not Fade Away"

DISCLAIMERS: All BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just fixing their mistakes! Ha!

CHAPTER CREDITS: n/a

CHAPTER NOTES: This chapter features my thoughts on the whole 'champion' thing that ran through both BtVS and AtS. I had Dru tell it, so hopefully it isn't too convoluted. Some serious action is brewing, and I wanted to give you a bit of a lead-up before it all blows sky-high. Things are going to get dark again in the coming chapters. I dedicate this chapter to cavemenftw!
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"Okay, so where should we start?" Dawn asked, braiding Buffy's hair.

"L.A."

Dawn squinched her face up, even though her sister couldn't see. "I don't wanna go back to California."

Buffy understood, definitely. "I know, but it's the last place he was seen. Someone's got to know something."

By someone, Dawn knew exactly who her sister meant. Angel. "Couldn't you just answer your phone instead? I mean, it's not like he's not reaching out."

The older sister began to shake her head until the tug on her hair reminded her that Dawn hadn't finished. "No, I want him to say it in person. That way I can be sure that he tells me. And I can see if he's lying."



Drusilla's visions didn't lie. Perhaps she did, but what she saw...that was something so incredible even the Watcher's Council had documented it whenever they could. Perhaps unwittingly, she had helped quite a few Slayers with her premonitions, allowing them to prepare for near-apocalypses or even her and Spike's own bloodshed. Giles wondered if the Council had some secret plan to utilize Drusilla and that was why she had survived for so long.

Or, he could be completely wrong and simply under her thrall. Which, considering the past 24+ hours spent in bed with her, could be true. Especially since his desire to stake her had completely dissipated.

"Oh, you 'staked' her all right," Ripper snickered. "Nice staying power, old man."

Giles pushed the voice back and heard Dru again. She was rocking him gently in her arms, telling him the most unbelievable story. When she first began, he thought she was talking to an imaginary Miss Edith, but then he slowly realized that the visions she was describing were from a prophecy that was even more archaic than the Shanshu. It was something he had discovered back in those early years in Sunnydale, when Mr. Flutie was still principal at the high school. The wording of the prophecy was so strange that all the scholars he consulted not only gave him different translations but also discounted it as poetry. But there was something about this one that made him continue his research. Granted, he hadn't been able to fully break the code (which is what he was convinced the odd wording had been), but, still, he kept it in the back of his mind for when he had a free moment.

The scroll itself was lost in the destruction of the high school, so Giles was completely in awe that Drusilla even knew it existed let alone was able to fill in details. She couldn't have been simply reading his mind, because he hadn't figured out any of these things. She knew, and from what she was describing, she knew well before Giles had even located the scroll, well before she and Spike had even come to Sunnydale.

He listened intently now, not even noticing her thin fingers caressing his cheek or the supple breast that his face was pressed against. She described the roles of both Spike and the Slayer in this prophecy, and he could clearly hear the pang of loss in her voice as she did so.

"We can try to keep them apart, but it's fated," she lamented softly, petting him like a small animal.

He learned that Drusilla kept cheating on Spike in order to push him away to this destiny. But she didn't want to give him up, and so she slipped a few times by returning to Sunnydale. When Spike earned his soul back, she knew that she had lost him forever.

"My dark prince, my sweet William," Dru cried, still clutching the Watcher.

Giles rested his hand on her stomach then, a strange tinge of compassion spreading through him. He felt guilty for betraying his fellow Watchers with this display, but he couldn't help it now. He had pitied her back when he heard the story of her turning, but she was a demon and what was done was done. But now, after all this, after everything, he was finally understanding that there was more to it. These three vampires—Angel, Drusilla, and Spike—were showing him that the person didn't abandon the body to the demon. No, the demon just overpowered the person. And, in their cases, only sometimes.



Motorists driving along the Detroit-Shoreway area would have seen a strange black blur rush past them and assumed it was from someone's exhaust.

They would not have known it was demon-powered Spike rushing back to his apartment. Tara had sent him a telepathic S.O.S. when she had transported herself back to Willow's side. The sound of her voice echoing in his head told him that there was no time to spare.

...

Willow's eyes had been flickering black as the M'Fashnik approached her, and she pleaded with Tara for help. She was afraid that if she let loose even one protection spell here on the Hellmouth, she'd never stop. And it wasn't helping in the least that this demon made her think of Warren. Tara hovered around her girlfriend but was effectively useless.

Please hurry!

Ryk moved closer to the prone witch, noticing that she was somehow weakened—no doubt from Spike's sampling, he was sure. His sharp teeth glittered in the room's light.

A squeal erupted from Willow when he yanked her off the sofa and into his rough grip. Her feet dangled in mid-air as he sniffed at her. She smelled sickly-sweet, almost too sweet for his tastes, really...but he was already here, so why fuss over it?

Tara panicked on four different planes, trying to work some sort of spell. She couldn't even penetrate his mind. Helpless, again.

The demon brought his face to Willow's throat, lapping at the tears that had collected there. Her skin was such a creamy white that he couldn't wait to watch himself tear apart that snowy flesh. That strawberry blood would be such a treat. But what he hadn't anticipated was having a flaming blanket (or what was left of it, at least) tossed on him.

The shock of the sharp heat caused him to release Willow, and she fell to the floor in a painful crunch. Tara surrounded her immediately.

Spike looked like he had third-degree burns, but that barely slowed him down. He stomped on Ryk, perhaps to put out the flames from the blanket so as not to burn down his apartment. But he did not relent even after the risk of fire had faded. When Ryk flailed his scaly arms to free himself from the woolen trap, Spike reached down and dragged him up. Ryk raised his forearm, managing to slice through the angry skin on Spike's bicep.

The vampire hissed, but the pain only served to empower him more. He was due for a nice spot of violence. How convenient that it made house calls.

Ryk was seething now, eying up his opposition. He knew there was a possibility that he'd run into the vampire when he broke into the apartment, but he honestly had expected him to be sleeping the sleep of the undead. Still, he was a mercenary; this was just another day at the office.

Spike struck out then. He wasn't in the mood for analyzing the situation. This fucker was in his house, messing with his property (Now, now, they aren't yours, his soul started to argue before his demon head-butted it down)...

"Don't know what you're playin' at, mate, but you picked the wrong bloke."

Ryk's arm moved to backhand him, but Spike was too quick. He grabbed the M'Fashnik's offending appendage and cracked it against the corner of the wall. Ryk howled and raked his other hand down Spike's burned face, eliciting a similar reaction.

Willow huddled against the sofa, sure that she had broken something in her fall and scared to death for Spike.

She shouldn't have been, though. Not with the feral look in his eyes, the face of the demon clearly visible despite the sun's damage to his skin.

Ryk was looking for something to distract Spike while the vampire restrained him. But Spike was still quicker. The half-empty wine glass beside him would work nicely.

"Checkmate," Spike hissed before smashing the rim of the glass against the wall.

Ryk's wide eyes watched the ragged edge head towards his throat.



"You're my Rook," Drusilla cooed, peppering the Watcher's tired face with kisses. "You're the fortress that will keep this secret safe. Even Daddy couldn't break those walls."

Either Giles was going insane too, or being Dru's captive for this many hours had given him some strange skill at translating her non-sequiturs. "That's why you came to me?"

The vampire nibbled on his lips then, pleased. "You're the only one who can save my prince now. And now that you know..." She stopped, suddenly looking fearful. "Promise me. Promise you'll do it for princess."

Giles looked at her curiously. "But the Powers-that-Be... if they took the curse from Angel... He's their Champion."

Dru shook her head, a twisted smile morphing from the momentary fright she'd had. "Oh, no. Not Daddy. That was so my William could prove himself."

Now Giles didn't understand. Dru began to sway atop him, but he grabbed her wrist to bring her back to the matter at hand. In her odd sort of way, she explained to him how Angel's curse was lifted not as a gift but as another punishment. Angel's half-hearted redemption was an affront to the Powers-that-Be. In response, they removed the curse so as to show him that even with every chance at a 'normal' life, Buffy would still choose Spike. Spike, who had proven himself to be the true Champion. Not Angel, the cause of the Slayer's doubt and misery.

"But, I don't understand what this has to do with me."

Drusilla looked deep into the Watcher's eyes, stilling him not with her thrall but with her sudden lucidity. "He's coming for her. He's coming, and all I see is ash and burning. Bright light. Screaming green light."

Giles was sure about so little at that moment. But the look on Dru's face was not one of madness or revenge, hunger or trickery. If she was here as a portent, he knew, somehow, that he needed to heed it.

"Protect them. Protect the prophecy."





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