A Judgement of Paris

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by A. Lite : A. Lite - God Touched Series : A Judgement of Paris

God Touched Series : Part 13

Summary: The new order makes the gang face some past ghosts.

AUTHOR: A. Lite
EMAIL: a_lite_2000@yahoo.com
PAIRING: implied - Buffy/Spike, Buffy/Pike, Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz, Willow/Angel, Willow/Jeremy, Anya/Xander, Faith/Xander, Cordelia/Doyle, Cordelia/Angel, Cordelia/Oz, Drusilla/Spike, Harmony/Spike, Jenny/Giles
RATING: PG-13
SETTING: Takes place over a two week period starting a few days after Apocalypse How? This part happens three days after Spike left Sunnydale. Assume several things about Buffy at Hemery High: As per the original novelization, she and Pike go to Las Vegas at the end. As per Joss, she burns down the gym to stop the vampires. As per the movie, most other events did happen.
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB. Star Wars is not mine and the lyrics are from "Grey Sky Morning" by Vertical Horizon. Remember that the original movie is owned by 20th Century Fox.
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There is a side of Las Vegas the tourists never see. Past the Strip and the glitzy casinos, it is there. It's a place where the lights don't touch, a place of endless housing developments, each looking suspiciously the same. Here is where the people who can't afford the vacation package live. Moves to Vegas that are supposed to be temporary can last forever. Some people move out, some disappear, and some die.

This particular street was deserted, no surprise considering the aforementioned condition of the neighborhood. As the twilight approached, it was strangely still. Eerie, in fact, for not a dog barked and no one on the block stirred from their homes.

The homes were too quiet, almost as if no one was alive. Perhaps something was in them after all, awakening with the night. A rising malevolence was there, targeted on a certain brownstone situated in the middle of the street. It was time when only the foolish would dare venture out alone in the open street.

A black De Soto drove up and parked on the curb. Turning off the engine, a pale blonde man stepped out, alone. He removed a small piece of paper to compare house numbers. That brownstone was the place.

With unhurried steps, he went up the sidewalk to the porch and knocked three times on the front door. From behind the door, he heard a scuffle of some type. While he waited, the man calmly surveyed the scene around him. Someone had thoroughly thrashed this place: the yard was torn up and the boarded over windows were painted black. This was not the place to hang around after dark, and more than anyone, he was well aware of the danger closing on the house at break-neck speed. He hoped this would be fast.

The door opened a crack, and two eyes peered out. "What do you want?" a masculine voice asked.

"You Pike?" a British accent answered.

"Might be. Why are you here?" The eyes asked warily.

"I've been sent by a mutual friend. You may recognize her," the man flashed a photo at the eyes. It was a gorgeous blonde girl who had a slightly sad expression. "You gonna be polite and invite me in?"

"Prove she sent you." The voice replied, making no motion to let the man enter.

"Her note says for me to say, 'We have a problem. I have a bag full of solutions.'" The man produced a wooden stake from his sleeve. "Good enough, mate?"

"Come in," The door moved barely enough for the man to enter.

As the man entered, the door closed behind him, and he was faced with what could have been seen as a vampire's worst nightmare. Stakes, crosses, explosives, sacred objects, and garlic littered nearly every surface.

"I'd say you are a tad superstitious, Pike," the man offered the young cross-wearing man who stepped out from behind the door.

Pike nodded, replacing his cross inside his shirt, "You could say that." He judged his guest critically. How could Buffy have sent someone who appeared to be slightly younger than his own twenty-two years? He prayed there was some real weaponry beneath his guest's long black trenchcoat.

"I'd wager you are pinned in this house as well. Looks like they kept trying to come in. Who'd you stake to piss them off so bad?"

"Their sire," Pike acknowledged that Buffy had sent him someone with at least some vampire know-how.

"Bad break there, kid. And no doubt they figured out that they didn't like having an apprentice Slayer on their hands," The man shrugged, examining Pike with his blue eyes.

*Kid?* "So she sent you to help me?" Pike walked toward the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

"No," the man said not leaving the front room.

"You sure?" Pike offered again, "I've got holy water and milk."

"I don't need to drink. Anything."

Pike paused with his head in the refrigerator and took a deep breath. "Okay, you don't want anything." He drew a stake, which had been a ruler in its previous life, from the depths of the fruits and vegetables drawer. "I guess I don't want anything, either." Shoving the stake in his back jean's pocket, Pike walked back to the front room, finding his guest had not moved from his place by the door.

"Nice place you have here," The man jerked his head toward the crosses nailed to the boarded up windows.

"Discourages party crashers," Pike told him.

"Uninvited guests can show up at such inopportune times," The man said with some experience.

Extending his hand, Pike decided to greet his guest properly, "I should introduce myself. I'm Pike, formerly of Hemery High, Los Angeles."

The man reached forward and shook, "I hoped so."

Pike blinked a few times. Not only was his visitor's hand cold, he had the uneasy feeling of being stared at through his skin. Recovering his composure, he said, "I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I didn't give it."

"Oh," Pike tried to remain calm, casually reaching into his back pocket for that stake. "You would be-"

"I think you figured it out for yourself," the man eyed Pike's change of position, "And I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'd hate to have come all this way just to kill you."

Freezing where he was, Pike said slowly, "You're not going to kill me? You are a vampire, right?"

"Well, I am, and I do. Kill people that is. Kinda my raison d'etre, but not everyone." The man smiled, "I kill you, and the Slayer's gonna hand me my spleen on a stake."

"You have to be for real. That's her all the way. The chosen guy and all that stuff," Pike lowered his hands and looked at the vampire sharply, "Why are you here, helping me?"

"Actually, I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse," The vampire morphed to and then from his demonic face. "Though if you do refuse, I still have to rescue you."

"An offer?" Pike was horrified with the implied choice of becoming a vampire.

"Not that offer." The vampire explained. "It's a job offer." He glanced behind him at the door. "I'm supposed to be friendly and helpful, but there are about fifteen vampires forming a bon voyage party on your lawn, so I need to get chopping."

"How do you know?"

"I don't have time to explain," He threw a look over his shoulder, "Get off my car! Don't you dare touch my stereo." The man refocused on Pike, "Back to that offer."

"Sure, what do you want?"

"It's not what I want. It's what the Slayer wants. It's kinda like this. Really, it's exactly like this: you have two choices. I rescue you, and you do nothing for repayment afterwards. Or I rescue you and you come with me to help the Slayer prevent the coming apocalypse."

Pike swallowed, "You said 'apocalypse,' right?"

"Got that right, mate."

"And that's all. Do nothing or help Buffy save the world?"

The man crinkled his brow, "Basically, except the part where by helping save the world you face pain, torture, death, maiming. You know, all the fun stuff."

"I'm in."

"What?" The man seemed a bit surprised by that. "You don't want to hear more details, like the odds or opposing teams? I know I would."

"It won't matter. If Buffy needs me, I'll go." And that was from the heart.

"This could easily be a very elaborate trick played by a sadistic demon to lure you out of your house. Sure you trust me?"

"If she trusted you, I will too."

"Last chance, mate. I meant that sadistic demon part. No matter what happens, you'll have to go with it."

"I make it." Pike saw the look on the vampire's face and wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," The man shrugged. "Hold still. This should hurt." His arms shot out and gripped Pike's throat. Without any preamble, the man buried a pair of sharp, pointed fangs into Pike's jugular.

White-hot pain erupted as Pike felt the tortured wrench of blood being drained from his body. It was like a floodgate opening, letting everything flow from Pike and into the feeding vampire. His instincts were screaming at him to struggle to fight, but his body refused to respond. The world swam, and Pike honestly believed he was going to die.

Then the pain stopped. Pike stared at the vampire, who had removed his teeth from Pike's skin. His lips were blood red (duh), and oddly enough, his hand was cut, his blood mixing with some of Pike's on the floor. The vampire tensed for a moment, and Pike's vision pinwheeled. He staggered while the vampire said, "Yep. Looks good. Nice stunned prey look. Keep it up and you might make it through this alive."

The vampire swung Pike up in his arms, carrying Pike in front of his chest without any visible effort whatsoever. Kicking the door off its hinges, the man watched in satisfaction as the crowd of vampires oustide scattered briefly.

Pike was barely able to see through the fog in his head, but there were certainly more than ten vampires on the lawn. They were vamped out, hissing at Pike's captor, standing directly between the house and the car.

"That's ours," A brunette Pike vaguely recognized as his next-door neighbor whined.

"This doesn't look like it. In fact," The blonde vampire pressed the holes in Pike's neck, getting some of the blood and licking it off his fingers with obvious glee. "I think I've pretty much claimed this meal."

"He killed our sire," Another growled.

"Boo hoo. I can't tell you how much I don't care." Pike's vampire bit out. "I promised a friend of mine that we'd dine on her ex-boyfriends."

Panic boiled up in Pike. Was it possible? Could Buffy have been a vampire and this was all a trick by a sadistic demon? He tried to move, but the unforgiving hands kept him still.

"We claimed him as ours before you ever came here. He's ours to kill," a female said as the rest of the vampires began to circle the porch steps.

Unperturbed, the man replied, "I guess I wasn't clear enough. Let me resort to English." His voice hardened, "I don't give a damn what little vengeance ceremony you where hoping for." He shook his head, softening his voice, "Ask yourselves some questions. A) If you couldn't get into this kid, and I could, I must be extremely powerful. And B) If I'm that powerful, do you really want to mess with me?"

"We said that is ours," the brunette said as the vampires drew closer. "We're going to take it." The group growled threateningly at the two and started to converge on them.

"I doubt that very much," The blonde's tone changed significantly. All heads, including Pike's jerked up to look at him. The air was inexplicably alive with a new type of dangerous tension. His eyes were very hard, and his voice was deadly serious. The vampire seemed to grow with his anger, dwarfing the opposition with a menacing shadow. Something older and darker than anything Pike had ever heard continued on, "Don't make me hurt you. Or better yet, keep it up so I can." The entire assembly took three steps backward.

"That's better. See. It didn't hurt, did it?" He took several steps toward his car, and the other vampires cowered back. He opened the door, stashing Pike in the passenger side, getting in himself, and starting the car. No vampire moved to stop him; they were too afraid.

The vampire began to drive away from the block. The neighborhood faded into the distance as they moved into safer, lighted territory.

Pike stared at his unlikely savior. He couldn't have seen what he'd seen. One vampire had faced down fifteen and walked way completely unscathed with a live human. "Who are you?" Pike asked, a wave of dizziness crashing over him.

They whizzed by a stoplight, and the man eyed Pike doubtfully, "Are you current on your vampiric lore?"

"Not really. I do keep some contact with other hunters in a few places."

"Much as I'd like to scare you to death, I'll attempt low-key." He sighed, "Try to think of me as William."

Pike searched his brain for a way the name would help him identify the vampire. Nothing came to mind. "I don't recognize it."

"Probably better that way."

"So, William, how did you do that? You made all those vampires back off." Pike honestly wanted an explanation.

And he wasn't going to get one. "Just chalk it up as part of being a master."

Pike gave him a quizzical look, "What's a master?"

"You've been fighting evil for four years, and you don't know that?" William seemed surprised but then relaxed, "Or on the other hand, you may have never met one. That sire you staked had to have been someone's minion."

"How do you know?" Pike wondered what he had been missing.

"Cause if it had been a master, you'd be dead."

That reminded Pike of someone in his past. "Wait. I do remember meeting a vampire called 'Master.'"

"Yeah?" William didn't take him seriously. "Who?"

"Lothos."

William's facial expression changed in surprise. "You met Lothos, and you're still here? You must have bigger balls than I thought. Did you run?"

"I tackled him."

"Really dumb."

"I got that feeling, but Buffy staked him."

Turning a corner, William whistled low, "I didn't know that was the first master the Slayer did in." He thought for a second, "Where was Amilyn? I thought they were a team."

"Lefty? She staked him too," Pike shrugged, touching his neck gingerly. "But he was missing his left arm."

"Was he? How'd she do that?"

"She didn't. I did. I ripped it off."

The vampire hit the brakes, barely stopping at a red light. "Hold it. You, a puny human, tackled Lothos and ripped off his right hand man's left hand, and you still don't know what a master is?"

"No, though I do think this could be bad."

The light changed to green, and they started off again. "All right. I'll make this easy on you. I'll skip some stuff, but you know football - or soccer as they call it here."

"Soccer? Yes, I know it."

"Anyone can kick a ball and say they're a player. That's nothing, but only the biggest, strongest, fastest, meanest blokes ever get to the pros. See what I'm getting at?"

"You masters are like a vampire pro bowl. Hard work and practice is gonna get you there."

"Not quite. Only super-exceptional people like myself become masters. The others end up as fledglings or minions, real easy targets for the Slayer. They are a dime a dozen, stupid and slow. But masters, rare as we are, are strong enough to take on the Slayer. Even she has trouble taking us out."

"You also need a good sire. If you're sire's a master, there is a chance you'll make it in the big leagues. It's not a guarantee, but you'll never be a master if you're sire wasn't." William hesitated. "There is only one other way to become a master, if you're sire isn't."

"How's that?"

"Kill a slayer."

Pike held his breath for a long moment, "And you said you were a master."

"Relax. I'm a master cause of my sire. I'm a whole four sires down from the true master himself."

That relieved Pike. "So you never killed a slayer."

The relief didn't last long. "I never said that." William reached into the glove compartment and handed Pike some white gauze. "Put this on your neck. The bleeding's almost quit."

"Why are you having me cover it up?"

"Because you're making me hungry," William growled. Pike put on the gauze without further argument.

"You said masters could take on slayers. How come they seem to work alone? I'm mean; you're alone, and between Lothos and Amilyn as a team, they almost took out Buffy." Pike contemplated out loud.

"Masters, we like our power. We like to be in charge. Taking orders really sucks, and you almost have to follow your sire's orders, no matter what they are, for absolutely anything." There was some definite bitterness in William's tone, and Pike shuddered to guess what some of the orders entailed.

"If it's so bad, then why do masters make other masters to share the power," Pike tried for a different topic.

"I'll take new analogies for 1000, Alex. Here's the deal. Think of an army. You've got a general, some lieutenants, and a bunch of foot soldiers. The general's the master, the lieutenants his master children, and the foot soldiers are the minions." He shrugged, "The master can't personally control all of his foot soldiers, so he makes masters he can control to work the troops. Plus, the fledges are so dumb, you need a another master to get some intelligent conversation."

"But, I'm guessing that this isn't very fun for the lieutenants."

"Again, it sucks. You're on your sire's beck and call, even if he's the prick of the bloody litter."

"So the lieutenants try to seize power?" Pike questioned the vampire speculatively, "What did you do?"

William laughed, "Which time? Killed a master once by shoving him in the sun. Tried to do my own sire in a time or two." He shook his head, "Now that bastard, he's almost unkillable. I tried to drain him once. Another time I beat him with a crowbar, but he made it. Hell, he even survived an all day torture session."

"Does this mean you never made any other masters?" Pike had this feeling that William didn't like the idea of sharing power, even with his own children.

"Mate, since I killed the Annoying One, I'm probably the youngest master on the planet. I'm in no hurry to cause my own problems." He considered the subject, "Frankly, I always had Dru, so I was never inclined to make anyone. Well, except-"

"Who?" Pike really wanted to hear this.

"The Slayer. One time I had her, and I thought about it. I really did."

Apparently William and Buffy were usually not friends. Then why was William here? Instead of voicing that concern, Pike asked, "Why didn't you?"

"Other than the spell breaking and getting my ass stupendously kicked? Nobody, not my sire, not me, not Lothos, not even the Master, would ever make a slayer a vampire."

"Why not?"

"First off, slayers give us problems while human. Imagine them with the added vampire punch. Then there's that whole thing were lieutenants tend to overthrow their sires. Add on the fact that if she hated you in life, who's to say if her opinion will change in death? Never forget the 'one dies and another is called.' No master wants to be hunted by the slayer and a vampired slayer." William was making a bunch of gestures for emphasis. "Any bloke with half a brain knows how to deal with a slayer. Kill 'em. I say that as the current undead record holder."

Worry hit Pike, "How many have you killed?"

"Until recently, there was a contest going between two of us. I had two, and Dru had one. Not much of a contest."

Chilled by the turn in the conversation, Pike said, "So what happened to Dru? Did she pass you?"

"No, she passed on, stuck at one. She had this terrible 'accident' when someone put a piece of wood in her heart. Tough to recover from that."

"The record is at two? From what I'd heard from Buffy, I thought it would be higher." Pike remembered when she had told him about the dreams of previous slayers' lives.

"It was. Lothos had about a hundred, since he killed a few every decade. However, consider who is the Slayer now. She really cut a swath through the old masters with more than me. She got Amilyn, Lothos, the Master, his vessel. Trick doesn't count since that other Slayer got him."

That was news to Pike. "What other Slayer? I thought there was only one, and Buffy was it."

"You two don't talk much do you?"

"I haven't spoken to her since she left. She sent me her email address right after. I moved about eight times since then." Pike explained, "I had to keep moving around the city so the vamps couldn't catch up with me."

"Then you need to hear this. There are two Slayers since she died for a little while. One of her friends brought her back, but the next girl had already been tapped. Dru killed that new one, so the one after that got called too."

"If there are two slayers, how can you guys be having an evil problem?"

"Do you even know where she lives?" Pike shook his head. "I didn't think so. Her mum, Joyce, picked a lovely town, Sunnydale, center of white suburbia."

"Sounds nice."

"It's also square in the center of el Boca de Inferno, the Hellmouth. Attracts evil faster than virgins."

Now there was a word picture. "Is that why you came?" Pike hazarded.

"I came basically for Dru. Didn't expect to find a Slayer infestation there. Glad I wasn't around when there were two working Slayers."

"Do you mean one of them isn't working?"

"She's in a coma."

"Did you?" The question came out of Pike's mouth on its own.

"No. Remember my policy. Kill 'em." William pulled into the Mirage parking lot. "The person that put the other Slayer in a coma was Buffy. She shoved a knife in Faith's gut."

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So you sailed away
Into a grey sky morning.
Now I'm here to stay;
Love can be so boring.
Nothing's quite the same now.
I just say your name now.

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*You never forget your first.* Xander thought as he entered the hospital. *First kiss, first breakup, first slain vampire, first lover.*

It was true, though. Faith had been his first. It had happened at one of the more confusing periods of his life. In a brilliant stroke of luck, Xander had lost both Willow and Cordelia at the same time. The gang had been all worried about the Hellmouth, and Faith had been the only one to pay any attention to him.

When she invited him in, he hadn't resisted, and that was his first time. So she wasn't much on the follow up, she'd tried to kill him once or twice; it didn't change the facts. Faith had been and would always be his first. There would be a special place in his heart for her, forever.

He guessed he loved her. It wasn't like what he had found with Anya. He didn't have anything like it in his feelings for Willow and Buffy. This was different.

Much as Xander hated to think it, he probably felt nearly the same way Spike felt about Drusilla. The love was in the past, and they'd moved on to other lives and other people. Yet there was still a permanent tie back to them, no matter what happened. So maybe Xander's version was the physical body and the guilt of not being able to save her from herself, and Spike actually lived with part of Dru inside him, it was the same thing.

Sometimes he wondered if his friends knew. Did they know he'd felt like an outsider? Did they see how worried he was about this mission? Had they bothered to care about what state of mind this would put him in?

*Come on, Xander.* There was no way they couldn't know. He was part of the web, they had to know. Even Buffy who could only touch Spike had to know because it was so clear Buffy had to be feeling it through the week and half and counting absent Spike.

Maybe that was why he'd assigned himself this job. He was probably the most charitably inclined toward Faith. Just as the quality of mercy was not Buffy, in this case, Willow hated Faith even more. Giles had his own assignment, and this was Xander's chance to find some closure. Xander had and would have a soft spot for beautiful girls, especially slayers, but it was time. Time for him to bury this in the past.

He may have also picked himself because this required skills in an area that only he had any experience. He needed to get Faith out so they could keep her safe, and keep either opposing team from using her on their side. So what if he had to depend on Wesley for it to work.

Xander approached the front desk and held up an ID badge. "Hello, my name is Thomas Anderson. My assistants and I are here for the transport of one of your patients. I believe the orders have been faxed here.

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But it's not so bad.
You're only the best I ever had.
You don't want me back.
You're just the best I ever had.

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He was standing at the door of Angel Investigations, and no one was there. The place was unlocked, its computer on, the windows open, but no one was home. Not put off in the slightest, Giles calmly rifled through the desk bearing the name Cordelia Chase, administrative assistant until he found what he was looking for, an address.

Driving his rented van to Cordelia's current place of residence, Giles reflected that Sunnydale must have indeed been in dire straits to have brought him here.

When Xander had asked him to do this, he had agreed. It was so terribly important that he had to suffer through coming here. And seeing Angel and Wesley.

Every time he saw Angel, no matter the circumstances, Giles was always reminded of Jenny. He'd loved Jenny, and Angel, actually Angelus, had denied her to him for all eternity. Their long-awaited reconciliation had been cut off brutally and suddenly. He never had a chance to tell her that he loved her or that he forgave her for Angelus. He'd done his duty, and she'd done hers. The love he had given her had not protected her.

Duty. That was what separated him from Wesley. The Council had asked him to choose between them and his slayer. Giles had picked his charge over the Council. They had never forgiven him for it. First they'd fired him, and then they sent Wesley Wyndam-Pryce to take over his job. Regardless of the fact that Wesley had been fired later as well, Wesley still had some influence and standing whereas Giles was shunned by all.

It stung him to be asking those two for help. He couldn't forgive Angelus. Logically it was not Angel who had killed Jenny, but it didn't stop the blame, in his heart, despite the knowledge in his head. Wesley simply symbolized the world Giles had given up.

Yet, that was one choice he would make exactly the same way were he given a second chance. He was a watcher through and through. Whether he was official or not, he would always chose her first and everything else second. That was why he tolerated her relationship with Spike, and that was why he was in LA.

Thankful for Willow keeping in touch with Cordelia, Giles expected to be greeted by a ghost. He was not expecting the state of her apartment. It was a total shambles like someone had fought a war in there, smashing glass and spraying graffiti all over. The door had even been kicked down.

For a few seconds, Giles stood contemplating the possible causes. That was when he really looked at the wall. He saw the katra web symbol and then the words. He knew Latin, and his worst fears were confirmed. Initium conficio. Beginning of the end.

A phone book hit him in the chest. It had to be Dennis, the resident ghost. Invisible fingers perused through the pages opening to one specific section. Hospitals.

"Thanks, Dennis," Giles acknowledged and tore the page out. He called the closest hospital and got lucky. They had a C. Chase on the third floor. Taking a final glance, at the foreboding words on the wall, Giles left.

When he arrived at the LA General hospital room, visiting hours were long over, but there were two people outside who had refused to return home, Angel and Wesley. They looked like hell.

Catching his first glimpse of Cordelia through the door's glass, Giles was shocked to see how thin she was. It was as if she'd shrunk since he'd seen her last. Several tubes ran out of her body, her hands were heavily swathed in bandages, and her eyes were open, staring into space.

"Giles," Angel greeted him without moving his eyes off the door. "What brings you here?"

"How long?" Giles ignored the question and indicated Cordelia.

"How long what?" Wesley huffed.

"How long has she been catatonic or how long since we found her?" Angel said harshly. "We found her a week and a half ago. She's been like that since we brought her here." Angel leaned his arm on the glass. "They're feeding her through that tube in her arm because she won't eat. She hasn't said a word to anyone."

Wesley bristled, "So if you could not tell, we have a bit of our own situation here. What do you need?"

"Apertus portam." Giles whispered and his vision bent slightly. He saw enough to know that all three, Angel, Wesley, and Cordelia were clean from the Blight, though Cordelia's katra was extremely tangled. "Claudo portam. I think I can help her."

"How?" Angel's tone was one of desperate hope.

"By first getting in there and getting her out of here," Giles caught a passing nurse. "Miss, we will be taking this patient now. Get me her chart."

The nurse wrinkled her brow, "I didn't know we were discharging her-"

"Miss," Giles focused his energy at her like Willow had told him. "Give me her chart. She is leaving now."

Opening and closing her mouth once, the nurse looked flustered.

"You're helping us." Giles informed her.

The nurse whitened for a second and stood straighter, "Sure, right away." She stiffly opened the door and walked to Cordelia's bedside. Giles began to follow, pulling a knife from his pocket so he could perform the spell on Cordelia in the room.

"What's going on here?" Angel pulled him back by the shoulders.

"What did you think? It is the beginning of the end. The initium conficio to end all initium conficium."

Wesley and Angel blanched with Wesley asking slowly, "What are you here for?"

Giles set his jaw and forced out the words. "I'm here to ask you for help." He took a deep breath and could sense that they understood how much this was costing him. "We need you to come back to Sunnydale to help us save the world."

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So you stole my world.
Now I'm just a phony.
Remembering the girl,
Leaves me down and lonely

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"So Angel walks in on you and Spike on your bed?" Willow asked Buffy as they walked through a woods outside of the campus.

"Yep. Fortunately all of my clothes were in the right places," Buffy confirmed. She had been filling in Willow on some of the details of her and Spike's relationship with the Angel subtitles included.

"How'd he take it?"

"He was a little surprised. He didn't have much time to deal though since Spike went all seerish right after that."

Willow brought up a new point, "How did you feel?"

Buffy sighed, "Honestly, Will. My first reaction was to be pissed off because he interrupted. My second one was something along the lines of 'I'd better protect Spike.' The reality of what it all meant was somewhere around number six."

"I see." They walked in silence for a few minutes.

Finally Willow asked a new sort of question, "Do-do you use anything?" she pushed a tree branch out of her way.

"Use what?" Buffy ducked as it came flying back.

"Use, well, you know-" Willow trailed of embarrassed, but Buffy apparently didn't know. "Protection."

Buffy got it. "Will, he's a corpse. A dead body."

"You could still get something. He's a few centuries old. Think of all the people-" Willow started uncertainly.

"No thanks, I'd rather not. And things like that don't live on dead bodies. It's reserved for live humans only. Think Parker," Buffy returned, a little too hotly.

"Well, what about the other worry? You two doing anything to keep from making any baby Spikes?"

"I don't know much about supernatural sex and slayer conception," Buffy paused for a second to briefly think on that. "No. I don't think it could happen with him dead and me alive. Him vampire. Me vampire slayer. If anything, my body just slays his little swimmers." Buffy stopped, "Why do you ask?" Her eyes narrowed, "Is there some Oz-ness in these questions.

Willow's face was red, "It's that when I started thinking about me and Oz being together, I did some research . . ."

"And?"

"Werewolves are really - - - prolific," The blush deepened. "So every time we did it-"

"You had the whole nine yards on," Buffy nodded. "That was smart. Really smart because as much as you loved Oz-" Buffy realized she might have been pushing a sore spot in her best friend.

"-Wolfy babies were not part of my plan," Willow agreed. "But you love Spike."

"I don't see that being a big problem," Buffy said, trying to ignore the dirty thoughts creeping into her mind from the mere mention of sleeping with Spike. "Between Angel and now Spike, if it hasn't happened yet, it won't. I mean, Slayer having a vampire baby is one of those apocalyptic things." Buffy whacked herself in the head. "And what are we going through now?"

"One of those apocalyptic things," Willow confirmed.

"Okay, protection could be in order in the future," Buffy smiled slyly at Willow. "But if he misses me anywhere as much as I miss him, I think we'll probably use the nearest flat surface."

"Buffy!" Willow was redder than her hair.

"It doesn't have to be flat. Vertical could be good too. You know, friction and all that." She looked at Willow. "What? I'm suffering from Spike withdrawal here." Buffy took pity on Willow, "Seriously though. I miss him."

"I thought you could feel him at all times."

"I can. Even though he hasn't called," Buffy was a little annoyed by that, "I know how he feels and that he's not in trouble, but I want to feel him, touch his skin, hear his voice, see his face, be with him. He's always around me, but he's not here."

"Wow," Willow whispered.

"Yes, 'wow.' I can't believe how much I miss him." Buffy breathed and then grimaced when she saw that they had reached their destination. "And I can't believe I am doing this!"

Willow smiled, "In the name of love, you promised him."

"Believe me, it doesn't give me a happy," Buffy stared unhappily at the oak door she had found as per Spike's instructions on how to get to his old lair. "Can you make sure she's inside?"

Opening her mind, Willow did a quick sweep of the area and nodded, "She's here."

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Spike so owes me." Buffy raised a hand and knocked, "Harmony Kendall!"

No answer.

"Harmony, it's Buffy. I really need to talk to you!"

Still no answer. Buffy glanced at Willow.

"She heard you," Willow answered her friend's silent question.

"Great," Buffy muttered. "Harmony. I'm not gonna hurt you. I need to talk to you. It's totally important."

Buffy leaned her head on the door in frustration when there was no response.

"Maybe a change of tactics," Willow suggested.

"Fine. I'm dropping the nice Slayer act." Buffy pounded on the door with both fists. "Harmony! Open up!"

"Harmony, I'm warning you. There are exactly two types vampires in Sunnydale. Those whose ass I kicked and those whose I'm about to. And believe me, if you don't open this door now, you're gonna move from the second type right to the first."

Willow gave her approval, "Very cool images." She 'listened' through the link. "And she isn't near the door."

"You're starting to tick me off!" Buffy shouted, her fists making dents in the door. "I didn't come all the way down here to ask you for help so I could talk to the door!"

"She's interested in that," Willow informed her.

"Harmony, the world is gonna end, and we need your help. You helped me before." Buffy stopped to check Harmony's reaction with Willow.

"Losing interest on that one," Willow warned.

"We're all gonna go to Hell!" Buffy yelled.

"Umm, Buffy. She's a demon now. Hell might not be as scary as it used to be."

"I've got it covered. Watch this," Buffy kicked the door four times, letting the thuds reverberate. "Harmony, you don't get it. If the world ends, and we go to Hell, there's no shopping in Hell." Buffy paused dramatically, "For all eternity."

There was the sound of someone running to the door, which swung wide open. A blonde head stuck its way out, "Did you say 'no shopping?'"

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Send it in a letter
Make yourself feel better

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Alone. Anya hated being alone.

When she'd been a demon, she hadn't minded so much; it was the nature of the job. Now though, when she was alone, she was vulnerable, afraid. Humans weren't strong enough to wander in the dark by themselves. Even as part of the web, without Xander, she was on her own.

As she crept through the streets, furtively checking over her shoulder, she realized this was the first time she had dared come here alone. She'd been by a few times with Xander, often in the company of the others. Xander, Giles, and Willow were recognizable as the Slayer's posse, so no one was gonna take pot shots at them.

It was very unlikely that all the newly escaped demons were aware of her status in the Slayerettes. All it would take was one dumb demon trying to add another point on its score card to ruin her night, and probably her life. Boy, she wished for a nice, strong man to help her-

*No! Get a hold of yourself. Women are just as good as men, better actually. Pull it together. You used to own these streets. Be fearless.*

Anya squared her shoulders with new resolve. She marched calmly through the doors of Willy's Alibi Room, passed a few patrons in the mostly empty bar, and went straight to Willy.

"Hey, I have a message for you," Anya said to him. "I need your help saving the world."

"Sure," Willy blinked. "Have you been to a few bars before this one?"

Seeing he wasn't taking her seriously, Anya upped the ante, "I have a message from the Slayer."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it," Willy still thought she was drunk.

Anya shrugged and punched him with all her might in the nose.

Point proven.

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But it's not so bad.
You're only the best I ever had.
You don't need me back.
You're just the best I ever had.

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*You can do it.* Willow gave herself a pep talk. No room to be squeamish or scared, she had to do this.

*Come on. You're the leader of a coven and the most powerful witch in Sunnydale. You own the Hellmouth. This doesn't scare you.* It was the truth. Willow was the leader of the coven and the strongest witch. She had been in charge and was in control of the magic that now bound the Hellmouth closed tighter than Faith's clothes. She had convinced Amber, June, and Rowan, former not-so-wiccans, to join the web that Tara had joined without much protest. In the past week and a half, they had done acts of magical might that Willow hadn't believed she would ever even touch.

She wasn't just magical; she was smart too. Not only had she aced all her final exams, she had pushed Buffy through all of hers with a B average. Then, with Xander's help, she had incorporated all the technology they'd taken from Spike's house with her magic to put one heck of a security system on the mansion. Not nobody, not no how was anyone planning to do them ill gonna get within sight of the mansion. If they could see it anyway, since it was nearly invisible now to all physical and magical eyes.

She was the one who had experimented with the katra web and found out its now abilities. She had figured out the web members could affect the minds of others around them. It had been she that discovered both offensive and defensive techniques to use, and then she'd taught them to the rest of the web. All members could detect, predict, read, and influence people outside the web. They even could use her personal favorite that she called freeze, which could stop almost anything in its tracks. So what if Buffy was completely impervious to all mental probes or attacks Willow had tried? That was to be expected. With Spike out of town, Willow had the strongest mental powers in all of Sunnydale. At last, she was a real force to be reckoned with.

So why was she so scared?

Didn't she want to find Oz?

Oz had been the first boy who had truly loved her. She had given him her virginity and never regretted it. He was her first real boyfriend, and the first person she had seriously entertained dreams of spending the rest of her life with.

Willow knew she was looking forward to seeing Angel a little too much. He'd been Buffy's at one point, and Willow's interest wasn't strictly professional. Honestly, she'd feared voicing her thoughts because of what Buffy and Angel had had. But now Buffy had made it so clear that she needed Spike.

Still, there was a part of her that wasn't ready for that. A big chunk of her heart missed Oz after all this time. Not as much as before, but it was still there. It wasn't until Angel had held her in his arms at that party that she could see it. He'd reminded her what it was like to be loved and held.

She missed that. She missed Oz.

She had her notes with perfectly logical reasons for him to come to Sunnydale, if she could find him. There was an explanation even prepared for his family to explain her questions. It was time for her to call, to see if she could find where he was.

She was calling because they needed his help to save the world. She wasn't doing it for herself; she was doing it for Buffy.

She would call and admit something to herself. Willow and Oz were over. They did not exist as a couple and never would. She hadn't called him when her emotional pain had been so strong. Instead she was calling because of a supernatural disaster. Everything they'd had was in the past, gone with the wind.

This would be a first. The very first time Willow ever gave up on their relationship. She'd never said good-bye to anything like this before.

That would be, of course, if his cousin Jeremy knew where Oz was. Oz had given her that number two years ago when he'd first went wolfy. Hopefully his family could point her in the right direction.

Maybe Oz had taken a trip overseas and found a way to control the wolf.

Willow dialed the number slowly. She took a deep breath as the phone rang, once, twice-

"Hello?"

The voice was so shatteringly familiar that Willow almost dropped the phone. She did drop her notecards.

Oz? She'd expected to have time to search out his location and find him. In no way was she ready to talk to him now.

Arguments and logic forgotten, Willow stammered, "Oz? It's - it's Willow."

A silence answered her, like he was trying to accept what his ears had just told him. "Willow. How are you?"

"Good," Willow managed to reply. "And you?"

"Fine."

"And the wolf?" The question just jumped out.

"He's still a problem." In Oz terms, she knew, that meant he had made no progress.

"Oh," Willow was slightly dazed by that. Somehow she'd thought he'd have gone and found some mystical answers to the wolf problem.

"Are you okay?" Oz asked, ever concerned for her welfare.

"Yeah. I'm - I thought you'd be, well, away. Not in Sacramento."

"I never made it past Jeremy's house. It's a lot like a werewolf commune here."

"Oz, you need to come back to Sunnydale," she burst out.

"You want me to come back?" Did she detect fear and hope in his tone?

"Buffy needs all of our help," Willow felt cruel to crush his hopes.

"I see." He saw.

"And Oz?" Willow dropped her eyes to her notecards, scattered on the floor. These words were a rush, "I may have found a way to control the wolf."

"I'm coming," Oz informed her. "Now."

"Wait. Bring anyone who you can trust," Willow extended the invitation to his family.

He understood, "It's that bad?"

"It's the worst." She divulged. "Can you be here in four days?"

"Yeah. I'll see you soon."

"See you."

*Click.*

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And it may take some time to
Patch me up inside,
But I can't take it so I
Run away and hide.

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"I'm sorry about the wait, Mr. Anderson. I just got the fax," the nurse said cheerfully as 'Mr. Anderson's' assistants pushed Faith down the hall toward the exit.

"LA General and a Mr. Pryce, her legal guardian have okayed this." She was too perky.

"Go file the chart," Xander told her, using a little mental reinforcement.

"I'll go file the chart," the nurse skipped off.

Ahead of him, the gurney stopped. Xander saw their path was blocked by a middle aged woman with short hair. A brief mental sweep confirmed his assumption that this nurse was the Watcher's Council agent that Giles had told him about.

Xander put his plan of action into play. Leave no witnesses. "Nurse, won't you help us load her?"

She sized him up and nodded, "The council decided to move her."

"Kind of," Xander acknowledged as they walked out of the swinging doors and into the darkened parking lot with Faith's bed going in front of them. The nurse stopped short at Xander's choice of transport vehicle, an RV, courtesy of his uncle Rory.

"You're not from the Council," she accused and began to speak loudly. "What are you doing?! I'm telling them!" She reached for the cell phone in her pocket.

Halting her hand, Xander caught her eyes, "No, you're not." His voice was hypnotic.

"No, I'm not." She agreed blankly.

"You aren't calling them."

"I'm not calling them."

"The Slayer is still in her room."

"The Slayer is still in her room."

"No retrieval team is necessary."

"No retrieval team is necessary."

"You never saw us."

"I never saw you."

"These aren't the droids you're looking for."

"These aren't the droids we're looking for," she mimicked perfectly.

One of the witches, Amber, sighed, "Can we hurry up?"

"I always wanted to do that." Xander placed a command in the nurse. "Go back inside. Everything is fine." Wordlessly, she turned and headed back into the hospital.

"Ahem," Rowan reminded him that he needed to help them lift Faith.

"I know," Xander helped them slide her into the position, maneuvering the IV.

His gaze fell on the Slayer. She seemed too young and peaceful, hair curling in all directions. Her ruby lips faced up, like a kiss could wake the dark princess any second. If he didn't know better, he'd have never believed she could harm a fly. No one could see her and think she killed people.

*But that is the way of things.* Xander reflected. *The way of the Force.* He choked back his laughter. He needed to get out more.

They pushed the gurney up into the side door, and a voice said, "Down now?"

Xander glanced up to the third witch, June, who had been calmly crouching on the roof of the RV with a shotgun trained on the hospital's doors.

Tara popped her head out of the window timidly, crossbows in either hand, "All clear?"

"All clear," Xander assured them. June stepped off the roof and floated to land on her feet. She handed Amber and Rowan their blessed daggers, and Xander pulled a stake from his back sheathe.

On second thought, maybe he'd want to get out less. There were dangerous things out here.

He nodded to his team, "Let's roll."

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And I may find in time that
You were always right.
You're always right.

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"Angel," Cordelia said weakly from her place in the back of the van. Giles had agreed to give her thirty minutes alone with Angel, and took Wesley with him.

They'd left the hospital and packed up almost everything at Angel Investigations into the van. The weapons, the books, the files, the computer, the electronics; it had been cleaned out. Wesley had gone to Cordelia's and picked up her make-up case and some random clothes from her trashed apartment while Angel and Giles had worked frantically through the night to remove any possible clue to their whereabouts.

Cordelia shuddered to imagine what clothes Wesley had brought.

At least she was that aware. Her head had cleared suddenly at the hospital, an event that Giles had explained only to her during the drive. Wesley was driving Angel's car with Angel in the trunk with her clothes during the day. Cordy got to ride with Giles in the van with all the stuff.

This was their first rest stop after the sun had set, and it was her chance to break the news to Angel. She didn't want Giles to be the one to do it. It had to be her because she was the only one other than Doyle who had known why this would hurt Angel so much.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sliding the door shut behind him. "Giles said you wanted to talk to me."

"I'm okay. Except for the whole pain part."

He felt her forehead, his cool hand against her warm skin. "I'm glad. You are so much better since we left the hospital."

"Thank Giles for that." Cordelia decided to go right into it. "Would you like to sit down? I think you should be sitting for this. In a comfortable position."

Angel gave her a strange look, "Thank Giles?"

"Are you going to sit down?"

Confused, he sat down. She motioned for him to come closer. He complied, stopping about two feet away. "Close enough." She leaned heavily against some boxes.

"What happened?"

"To me? That's not important. Well, it is important, but not like that."

Cordelia tried to form her words very carefully, "Giles filled me in on the situation in Sunnydale."

"Giles told me," he informed her.

"Giles didn't tell you the whole story." She reached out her right hand with some difficulty. "Yes, he told you about the war coming, but the things he didn't tell you are about Buffy and Spike."

"I already know," Angel said gruffly, unhappy that she had brought up that sore spot.

"Not this part," she held his hand, bracing herself. "Spike fed off Buffy."

Angel's faced paled as much as a vampire's physically could. "He fed off her?" His voice was deathly cool. "I thought he had a chip."

"It broke," Cordelia could feel the tension in his arm. "Then he tried to kill himself. I don't know how else to tell you this; the PTB's came to a dying Buffy."

"And?" Angel asked calmly as if he knew what was going to happen next. He knew Buffy was alive, so he planned on the PTB's folding time. However, he had no clue what was about to hit him.

"Buffy told them she'd let the world end if Spike died."

Cordelia could practically see the implications of her words sink in. First the shock, that Buffy had picked Spike over the world. Then came the betrayal, Buffy had given up everything for a soulless demon. And then the sudden despair as two trains of thought collided.

Thanksgiving. Loving Buffy and then waking away because it cost her too much. The sacrifice he'd given up, her tears for losing him as she found him at last. Killing the demon and trading his happiness for the good of all. The pain in his heart mirrored in her eyes as he told her their day never happened.

Buffy had been offered the same choice. Love or the world. She'd chosen love. She'd made the choice she'd have once made for him, only this time it was for Spike. It had happened. Spike was her one and only, true love, the person she'd defy everything for.

Then the realization. Buffy was beyond him. His sacrifice had been almost for naught. Everything he'd tried to protect her from she'd brought down on her head.

His head dropped, depression setting in.

"Umm . . . Angel," Cordelia began. "You look like you need a hug."

He glared at her.

"Hello? This is Cordy here. One time offer," she waved him over. "I'll even cry if you'd like."

Angel pulled her close, hiding his face in her shoulder. She held him awkwardly with her right arm. His body was shaking, but the tears weren't coming.

"Why?" he threw the question not to her, but to the world, the PTB's, everyone. Angel's pain was nearly tangible.

"I know it hurts." Cordy frowned, Doyle flashing through her head. "Believe me. Pain I know.

And she did know. She just held him. She could explain the blood bond thing later. This was important, the here and now.

She looked down at her left arm, still bound in a sling. Giles had examined her arm and told her the news there as well.

It wasn't good. She watched the blood soak through her fifth bandage of the day. She'd tell Angel about that, too. Later.

A tear slid down her cheek. The may queen turned seer cried. For Angel. For the World. For herself.

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So you sailed away
Into a grey sky morning.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

A. Lite - a_lite_2000@yahoo.com