CoF - Kallysten - Whose Destiny?

“I am not starving myself!” Buffy protested vehemently. “I’m just not hungry, so…”

“It’s not possible,” Angel interrupted her flatly. “It’s not possible for a vampire, especially a fledgling, to go two days without blood and not feel any bloodlust. Possible to decide to ignore it, yes, although you’re a bit young for that, but impossible not to feel it at all.”

Buffy only shook her head. She knew what she felt, or didn’t feel, and Angel was wrong. The only time in the last two days when she had been hungry for blood, when she had truly felt the bloodlust, had been just an instant before, when she drank from the thermos bottle. That was all. He might have been a vampire for centuries, but obviously he didn’t know everything. She watched him as he pulled a chair from the corner of the room and brought it a couple of feet in front of where she was sitting on her bed.

“I want you to tell me everything,” he said slowly. “Everything that is linked to blood or the demon. Everything that has angered Spike. So I can see what’s going on with you and try to find the way to fix it.”

“But there’s nothing to fix!” she protested once more. “I’m perfectly fine…”

“Shifting to game face without wanting to or even being aware of doing it is not what I’d call perfectly fine.”

She opened her mouth, ready to object, but closed it again without a word. About that, at least, he was right, she thought grimly. And he had known what to do to make her shift back, so maybe she could see what he had to say? It felt like some kind of treason, however, to discuss this with anyone other than her Sire, and she had this feeling that Spike wouldn’t be happy if he ever knew she had talked with Angel when she could hardly talk to him. She took her head in her hands, and sighed.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she said quietly, for herself as much as for him. “I got much better at controlling the demon, so I shouldn’t have shifted without wanting to.”

She glared at him from behind the fingers spread over her face. He had been the original ‘vampire with a soul’, if there was someone who could understand her, she would have thought it would be him.

“Better at pushing the demon away when it wants something,” she explained as Angel didn’t reply. “Better at not wanting human blood, not wanting to bite anyone, not…”

“Wait a minute,” he said, raising a hand. “You’re not biting anyone?”

She had a small shrug. “When I do it just makes controlling the demon more difficult. So I don’t. That’s mostly why he’s mad at me.”

There was no need to say who was mad at her, just like Angel stressing the word ‘anyone’ had clearly meant he was talking of one particular person. It was Spike they were talking about, here, and they both knew it.

For a long moment, Angel remained quiet as he observed her, and Buffy could only wonder if he expected her to say more, and what. Finally, he spoke, in a very low voice, all the while avoiding her gaze.

“After he turned you… we had a chat, he and I. Didn’t go so well as far as chats go. I was upset that he had forced you to feed from him, and he reminded me that you needed it. Needed the bite. That I needed it too, even if I tried to forget it. He woke up the demon in me, and I… I came very close to killing him. Instead I drained him. I had more experience, more control than you, if you want to call that control, and I still needed it. Denying yourself what you need is dangerous, Buffy. For yourself, and for the people around you.”

For an instant, she was tempted to tell him that she remembered that time he was speaking of, and that Spike hadn’t forced her to anything that night. But that wasn’t the point.

“But it’s by letting the control slip that I am a danger to others,” she tried to explain. “If my friends or even the Slayers think of me as a vamp, they don’t trust me as much, and they get in danger because of it.”

He shook his head and got to his feet. “Do you know what happens to a vampire who, for any reason, doesn’t feed for a long period of time? The demon takes permanent control at some point. When it’s crazed with hunger, it simply annihilates all that is left of the human host. You have to feed, Buffy. You have to bite. Because your so-called control won’t do you any good if you go past a certain point. What happened tonight was just a beginning. A warning.”

She simply looked at him, at a loss for words. If he was right, then all her efforts meant nothing. If he was right. But she still didn’t feel any bloodlust, still didn’t really want to bite or feed. Why not?

“I’m going to make a couple of calls,” he said tiredly. “See how things are going in LA and Sunnydale.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t tell him! Please don’t tell him.”

“He needs to know, Buffy. He’s your Sire. He should be the one helping you through this, it’s both his right and duty. And knowing him, he’ll blame me for meddling.”

“But he can’t do anything right now,” she argued, trying to win some time. “He’ll just worry and that will be for nothing. Please don’t tell him now.”

Angel sighed. “Alright. We’ll tell him when we get back to Sunnydale. Try to get some rest, OK? We’ll talk about Faith in the morning.”

With that, he walked out of her room, closing the door softly behind him. Automatically, she got to her feet and went to lock the door. Leaning against it, she let herself slide down to the floor. Her mind was buzzing from what had happened and been said in the last half hour. On one hand, Angel was supposed to know more about vampires than she did, for he had been one so long. And he had indeed known what to do to help her shift out of game face. But on the other hand, a little voice that she recognized as the Slayer part of her was whispering that he didn’t know everything, that she was different, because she was the Slayer, and because she had had a soul ever since she had been turned.

She didn’t know what to think anymore. She just knew that, for all their arguments, she missed Spike terribly, missed his arms and their comfort. And she could only wonder what he was doing at that moment.

As he sat alone in the dining room, at almost two in the morning, Spike had in front of him three things. His laptop, which he had closed irritably because he couldn’t concentrate enough to do a bloody thing on it. A bottle of JD, which had previously been half full, and was now getting close to completely empty. And a cordless phone, which he was staring at, as if looking at the thing would make it ring.

He had tried to call Angel’s cell phone already, but as was his habit it seemed that the poof had left the bleeding thing off. So, all he could do was wait. And his Sire had better call before the end of the night, or he would meet the pointy end of a stake as soon as he was back, human or not.

Earlier, he had listened to, and completed, Giles’ explanation to the girls of what was going on in Sunnydale – and in France, too, apparently. Manon had seemed a little upset that she had flown away from her would be killers only to come to the place where they had killed Min only a few days before that. She hadn’t said much, however, and Spike suspected that she was still under the shock of her Watcher being killed. The other girls had opened wide eyes, asked questions that weren’t all helpful, and were apparently still confident that they would be fine. They hadn’t crossed path with death yet, and so, of course, they thought nothing could happen to them. Typical. And if they never learned any better, it would be just fine as far as Spike was concerned.

After the girls had gone to bed – two in Dawn’s old room, and three in the vampires’ room, Spike having relinquished his bed since he knew he wouldn’t use it that night anyway – he had talked for a while with the two Watchers. They had started making plans, about where to hide the girls and the Watchers who would start arriving the next day to stand guard over them. With Manon, it was twelve girls that would soon be there, two of them actual Slayers, and seven Watchers, plus Giles and Andrea. Leaving Revello Drive to them seemed insane, it was just too many people, and Giles still hadn’t found a place big enough for rent. Carefully, because he knew the Watcher had some bad memories of his own about the place, Spike had suggested the mansion on Crawford Street. Giles had thought about it for a moment, under the questioning gaze of his girl who apparently didn’t know what the problem was, and had finally agreed. They were going to move there the next day, and get the place ready for the extra guests that were on the way. They had also discussed security, and on Giles ‘to do’ list was asking for Willow and Tara’s help in protecting the place with various spells.

The two Watchers had finally retreated to their bed, and Spike had remained downstairs alone. As long as he was talking to someone, he had been able to take his mind off the awful void in the middle of his chest. But now that he was free to think of her, Buffy’s absence, and the cavalier way he had left her, were pressing on his heart, hurting so much that he had felt the need for some liquid comfort.

What was going on, wherever Faith was hiding? They should have reached the place, by now. Had they talked to her, yet? Had they convinced her? Were they on their way back?

The phone finally came to life, and Spike picked it up before the first ring had even stopped.

“No, Faith isn’t very cooperative. I’ll go back tomorrow during the day, see if I can convince her to at least listen to me.”

He was going back during the day? As in, alone? Did that mean something was wrong with Buffy? No… Couldn’t be. Angel would have mentioned it right away. He would have, right?

A pause. Another of these not good signs. There was definitely something going on.

“Oh, don’t start,” Angel’s exasperated voice rang in the receiver. “She’s as fine as when you left her. And there has been no touching, with hands, fangs or anything else. Satisfied?”

“Yes, there is, and it’s not something you can help about right now, so just wait until we come back and don’t think about it. That’s an order, Childe.”

Despite his sour mood, Spike smiled wryly. “Ever told you how glad I am you can’t actually order me around anymore?”

There was almost a dry laugh, in that voice, just almost, so whatever was going on with Buffy couldn’t be that bad. And if it was, it would still be time to make Angel regret telling lies when they came back to Sunnyhell.

In a few short sentences, he explained why Manon had come to California, and everything new that was going on. Angel wasn’t particularly thrilled by the idea of the mansion being invaded by more than twenty people, but he didn’t complain too much either. Spike requested to talk to Buffy, then, and wasn’t sure whether to be happy or annoyed when Angel pointed out that she was in a different room, and probably sleeping. The discussion ended there, with Angel’s promise that he’d call back as soon as they would have convinced Faith that she needed their protection.

Somewhere in the middle of the phone call, Spike had been surprised to see Manon walk in. She had sat at the other end of the table, her head resting on her folded arm, tracing patterns on the wood with a finger. She didn’t say a word, not until Spike had disconnected the phone and talked to her first.

She didn’t move, didn’t look at him. For the first time that night, he was uncomfortably reminded that the kid had fancied him the last time she had been in Sunnydale, and for all he knew his attempt at making her get over him hadn’t worked.

“I’m still on France’s time,” she said quietly. “Beginning of afternoon. Not sleepy at all. What about you?”

Oh, he didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit. He didn’t need that kind of troubles on top of it all.

“Yeah, well, I’m just missing Buffy, still not used to sleeping away from my wife. She’ll be back soon, though.”

There. That ought to do it. He had managed to put Buffy’s name, the fact that she was his wife and that he missed her in just one sentence. Except… why was she looking up at him with an amused look now?

“The thrall worked,” she stated with a half grin. “So you can stop being all nervous and fidgety.”

“I do not fidget!” he protested indignantly. “And it takes more than a little girl to make me nervous! And it wasn’t a thrall!”

Leaning her cheek against her closed fist, she seemed still amused, although a flash of seriousness ran through her features.

“I’m not stupid, I know what you did. And I’m not complaining, just the opposite, actually.”

Did that mean she was thanking him for putting her under a thrall that had made her fall out of love with him? If so, that was probably the oddest thanks he had ever received…

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a dismissive gesture of his hand. “I plan to have the Council pay for a few things, including the phone bill.”

She smiled a little at that, and started dialing. He left the room, walking to the kitchen to give her some privacy. Over the buzzing of the microwave, as he warmed some blood for himself, he could still hear her talk however.

Yes, she had arrived safely at her friends’ house. They knew what was going on and were going to protect her, so the person on the line – Axel? Yes, that seemed to be the guy’s name – didn’t have to worry. She would be back as soon as everything was sorted out, which she hoped would be quickly. Yes, she was alright, she still missed her Watcher and was sad about him but there was nothing she could have done to prevent his death. She missed Axel, too. And loved him.

And Spike could only smile a very self-satisfied grin as he heard that the kid had a boyfriend. One less thing to worry about.

Chapter 22: Discussions by Day

A growl answered Ada’s quiet call, but it sounded more like Sylvyan than their Sire. A light was flicked on, and, had she dared raise her eyes she could have seen the inside of the bedroom from where she stood at the door.

“High Mistress,” she repeated just as softly, “you wanted to know as soon as I localized the girl…”

The vampire let out the very unconscious and just as unnecessary breath she had been holding. Intruding on her Sire’s rest only a few hours after sunrise was usually a sure way to ask for punishment, which was why she had been nervous about waking her, even if she had explicitly been told to do so. She had had enough punishment to last her a few lifetimes already.

Her eyes still on the floor, Ada answered quickly. “Right here, my lady. In Sunnydale. In the traitor’s lair, as far as I can tell.”

There was a bark of laughter, as Sylvyan’s voice commented: “So kind of her to come to us.”

“Be quiet, Childe,” the High Mistress chided him absently. “Are you sure, Ada? Maybe your spell picked up the other Slayer in her own home.”

“That’s what I thought at first, so I did a localization spell on her, and she’s not in town, she’s two or three hours away.”

It was the first time since her mistake in London that Ada had received praises from her Sire, and she couldn’t help smiling in pride.

“It wasn’t all,” she added quickly before being dismissed. “There was a strange resonance where the other Slayer is, and I think… I think I’ve found the other one, my lady. The one that isn’t a Slayer. That’s the only explanation I can find.”

The silence stretched after her revelation. They had been looking for the Slayer who wasn’t a Slayer anymore for a while, and to find her like this, almost by accident, was just too good to be true. And yet, Ada was sure of herself. Tentatively, she raised her eyes toward the bed, and met Sylvyan’s gaze. He winked at her, which she took as congratulations for her work. He wasn’t as jealous of their Sire’s attentions as Orion was, and she knew he wouldn’t mind when her punishment finally ceased. Which hopefully would be soon, now that she had found the two girls they needed, maybe even...

“Very well,” the High Mistress said at last. “We’ll check all that at nightfall, and if you are correct you will be rewarded. You may go.”

Soon, Ada told herself as she left the room. Soon she would be back into her Sire’s good graces. Very soon. Finally.

As he knocked on Faith’s – Lauren’s – door late in the morning, Angel tried to put Buffy and her problems out of his mind. Until he told Spike, there was really little he could do, and he would need all of his mind right now to talk to Faith and make her see the urgency of the situation. Since it was Saturday, he was hoping to find her home, they really had no time to lose waiting for her.

Indeed, she was there, and it was her who opened the door. There was the briefest flash of surprise on her face, probably due to the fact that the night before she had seemed to think he was a vampire too, and now he showed up on her doorstep in the sunlight.

“Angel,” she said with a sigh. “I told you, whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. It’s not…”

That caught her attention, Angel thought ruefully as her eyes widened in shock. Buffy and he had decided earlier that telling her right away that she wasn’t the only one concerned might be the best way to have her listen to them.

Somewhere in the house, a child began to cry. Faith turned a little toward the noise, then back toward Angel.

“Alright. I’ll listen. You have half an hour before Tom comes back, you’d better be done before that.”

With that, she walked away, leaving the door open but not inviting him in words. He wondered for an instant if he was supposed to get in, then decided that he might as well. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, and was hesitating about whether to walk farther inside or wait for Faith when she came back, with, in her arms, a child who didn’t even look like she was a year old.

“Nice house,” he felt compelled to comment as his eyes wandered around the subtly decorated room.

And so Angel told her. About Min’s death. About Cordelia’s vision. Told her whoever had killed Min was after her, too, and after her child. Told her that her little girl was a Potential unlike any other, one who was destined to become a Slayer one day. Told her that, according to Cordelia, if her child died because of whoever was threatening them today, all the Potentials in the world would die as well.

As he talked, her face became paler and paler, and she was holding her child tightly. In the end, she muttered a string of curses under her breath. Angel just waited for all of it to sink in.

“She said I’d be free of it all,” she mumbled at last, bitter, as she watched her child with a desperate gaze. “She said I wouldn’t be a Slayer anymore, that I wouldn’t have to see another demon ever again. She never said if I had a kid she would get the same curse.”

‘She’, as far as Angel could tell, was Cordelia, and he fought the urge to defend her. She was only the messenger of the Powers, but as such she was often blamed for the messages she delivered – even he had done it, he had to admit.

“Who is it?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with cold anger as she looked back at him. “Who is trying to kill me, kill us?”

“We don’t know yet. We just know they’re vamps, and they tried to get Manon, too. She’s in Sunnydale, now, and we would like you to come there as well. So that you can be protected, both you and… what is her name?”

“You got all this information but not even the name of my kid?” she commented cynically. “Sandra.”

Faith didn’t answer to that, and for a few seconds was silent, her eyes on Angel as she observed him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“Why don’t you go and come back at nightfall with your vampy girlfriend?” she said tiredly. “I’ll get our things ready. And tell Tom. That should be fun.”

Faith shook her head. “I wanted a new life, and I got it. Nothing to remind me about Slayers or demons. Not even my own name. And there you come here, and everything I’ve managed to rebuild just crumbles to dust.”

“It’s just until you’re all safe,” Angel pleaded halfheartedly. “Then you can go back to your quiet life.”

“Sure. Back to my life. With Tom knowing about all this mess, and me knowing that Sandra is going to be called to the fight that almost destroyed me. Just perfect.”

There was anger in her voice, as well as tears, and Angel understood, all too well. A small part of him hated that his son was putting his life in danger just about every night. But it wasn’t his choice to make, it was Steven’s, and the boy had decided by himself long ago. Just like the choice wasn’t Faith’s to make about her child’s destiny.

By the middle of the afternoon, seven Potentials, one Slayer and four Watchers had cleaned up the mansion from wine cellar to second floor, assembled just purchased bunk beds and filled the fridge, cupboards and linen closet – and Giles couldn’t have cared less.

Oh, he was thankful, alright, for the girls’ enthusiasm. Most had seemed to take this as a game when they were told that this had been a vampire’s lair, and they apparently expected to find forgotten mementos or things. Giles silently hoped they wouldn’t, because he had no use for any reminder of Angelus. He was fairly certain however that nothing grim was hiding in the house, as Spike certainly knew better than to send them to live with decomposed bodies.

But as they all participated in the efforts to make the mansion fit to host almost two dozens humans – three Potentials and their Watchers had arrived earlier, and more were on their way – Giles was sitting in the enclosed garden with a pencil and a block note, trying very hard to bring a memory back to the surface. He had given up on the idea of letting his mind look for the answer at its own pace – he needed an answer as soon as possible if he was to help Buffy, and Buffy needed to be better, with herself and with Spike, if she was to help them. He could see in his mind the piece of paper, could see a few sentences, could see that they were typed, so it was probably a translation that had been given to him. He didn’t type anything, and had been too busy in too many months to do any kind of research, so someone else must have written that translation for him. But who? When? About what?

The memory became a little clearer, and he could see something else. A handwritten note at the top of the page. He knew that handwriting, it was Andrea’s. Something about being a bit farfetched, but worth his attention, just in case… In case what?

He got to his feet and walked inside, calling her name again. She came from the direction of the kitchen, with a block note of her own in hand.

“We’ll have a phone line installed tomorrow,” she announced without preamble. “Shall we get a television? That might occupy the girls when they…”

“Sure, do as you wish,” he interrupted her, not really paying attention as he was too preoccupied. “Do you remember a document that you thought was ‘farfetched but worth my attention’? Something about Buffy’s demon and how to control it? I think it might have been a translation of a prophecy, but…”

She shook her head, and his voice trailed off. She had been his best chance, now who knew how long until he finally remembered or had his secretary find the bloody thing again…

“It wasn’t a prophecy,” she said matter of factly. “It was a report from Dylan Moore. Remember how you authorized him to look through the oldest records, and he came up with that theory that Buffy’s vampire demon might clash with the…”

“With the very forces that make her a Slayer,” Giles completed quietly, frowning as he did so.

“Your answer to him,” Andrea continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “was that she has been a vamp for years and no such thing has happened so far, so it was unlikely it would.”

She didn’t question him, probably because she knew he would explain to her later. She just gave him a wry smile.

“I have a good memory, but not that good. I’ll see about contacting London. Willow and Tara should be here soon, try not to disappear again.”

With that, she placed a quick kiss to his lips and was off again. For the first time, Giles looked around him, flexing his fingers absently. They had really done a great job fixing up the place. It didn’t look so gloomy and dark anymore. Too bad memories couldn’t be cleaned as easily as dust.

Chapter 23: Can't Make Her

As they passed the Sunnydale sign – which, she noticed, looked like it had been run over by a car – Faith sighed tiredly. What felt like a lifetime ago, she had left this same town thinking that she was done with the part of her life that had started the day she was called. It hadn’t been easy, to start from scratch, to get a new name, ID papers, a job, an apartment, friends. Not easy at all. But she had done it. By herself. For herself. And now she couldn’t help this feeling that she was losing everything she had worked so hard for. That she was letting herself be dragged back to hell.

She had hesitated about telling her husband why she was leaving exactly, and who were these people who had knocked on their door in the middle of the night. But Tom deserved the truth, she had finally decided. She couldn’t lie to him about something that important. Not if her life, and their child’s, were in danger. So she had told him everything. About being a Slayer. About Mayor Wilkins. About jail. About the deal she had gotten to free herself from powers and responsibilities she couldn’t bear anymore. And about how she had been screwed by supposedly supreme beings. Everything about this past she had always asked him not to ask questions about.

For a long while, he had looked at her as if she had suddenly gone nuts. Then he had pretended – just pretended, it was too clear that he was just trying to reason her – that he believed her, and had tried to convince her that he could protect her, that they could go to the police, leave town to go to his sister’s house, even. Anything but go with these people whom she hadn’t wanted to talk to just the night before, but whom she was ready to follow now. In the end, he had only started to really believe her when Angel and Buffy had come back right after nightfall. Without inviting her to come inside, she had asked Buffy to vamp out in front of Tom. That had pretty much convinced him that yes, there were such things as vampires. He couldn’t leave town and his business like that, but he had promised to join them as soon as possible, within a couple of days. She only hoped it would all be over before he did. He was part of her normal life. She didn’t want him to be exposed to any abnormal stuff. Ever.

When they finally arrived there, the Summers’ house was quiet and almost empty. Too quiet and too empty.

“Didn’t you say a bunch of doomed girls and tweedy guys were supposed to be here?”

Buffy looked as surprised as she felt. The answer came from a blonde vampire – Buffy had explained in the car the how and why of her vampyness and Spike’s – coming down the steps with, of all things, a laundry basket filled with linens.

“I sent them all to the Mansion,” he said matter of factly. “’M not running a bloody hotel.”

He paused for the briefest instant to share a chaste kiss with Buffy, gave her and Sandra a weird look, and continued toward the basement with a “Be right back” thrown over his shoulder. Faith faced Angel and Buffy, her face closed.

“I am not living at the Mansion,” she said resolutely. “It’s bad enough that I’m here at all, I’m not…”

Buffy raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. “Alright, don’t get excited. We’re not running a hotel, but we can have a guest.”

Her gaze fell to Sandra, who was sleeping in Faith’s arms, and she had a small grin as she added: “Or even two.”

There were footsteps coming up from the basement, and Buffy’s grin disappeared. She grabbed Faith’s suitcase and the baby’s bag that Angel had been carrying, giving him a pointed look as she did so, and literally fled up the stairs, calling for Faith to follow her. Faith looked at her, at Angel, at Spike who was now back, and decided that she really didn’t want to know what was going on between those three. Even if it looked like it was ready to explode.

Spike shifted his gaze from the top of the staircase where the two women had disappeared back to his Sire. If he needed a drink to tell what he had refused to say over the phone, it might be more serious than Spike had thought. He suppressed the urge to start questioning – and accusing – and led the way to the dining room.

With a frown at Angel, Spike ignored the last part. The brunette would need to drive back to LA – and hopefully he would be there before he noticed the dent on the front bumper – and Spike didn’t really know how much his tolerance to alcohol had changed since he had become human again. For himself, however, he filled the glass, having this foreboding feeling that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear. Angel didn’t comment, didn’t even seem to notice as he just accepted the glass and took a sip. Spike sat down, expecting Angel to do the same, but he remained standing, and actually turned his back to Spike to look at the framed drawing on the wall. The vampire began to lose patience.

“Yes, we all agreed that you bloody well can draw. Can we get on with the show? What the hell happened?”

Angel’s glass was once more brought to his lips, and when it came back down it was empty. He sat down across from Spike, the palms of his hands pressed to the wood of the table.

“She vamped out,” he said without preamble, his eyes looking straight at Spike. “Without meaning to, without realizing she had. And she couldn’t bring the human mask back down.”

Spike blinked slowly, and his grip tightened on his glass, until he had to make the conscious effort to release it before he broke it. He had known something like this would happen. Had known she would lose control. Had warned her about it. And it had to happen when he wasn’t even around.

Angel shook his head. “No. She wasn’t aggressive, just panicked. I had her drink the blood you had packed and she managed to shift out of it. You are aware that she hadn’t fed in two days?”

There was reprobation, behind the words, and it stung. This wasn’t an innocent talk. This was a Sire chastising a Childe for not taking good care of his own Childe. Humiliating, even if Angel was showing considerable restraint in the matter. Angelus wouldn’t have hesitated beating him for this same thing. In front of Buffy, probably.

If hearing Angel’s reprobation was bad, admitting to his own failures was even worse, and Spike couldn’t look at the brunette as he did so. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, only to be startled by Angel’s closed fist falling on the table between them.

“What is that supposed to mean, she doesn’t listen?” Angel snarled. “She’s your Childe, for God’s sake! If she doesn’t listen, make her…”

“Coming from the guy who once said he’d stake me if I used Sire’s commands with her, that’s almost hilarious.”

“Oh, please, don’t play with words! You really think I’d say anything if it was for her own good?”

Spike didn’t answer, but no, he didn’t really think so. He was searching for excuses, and he knew it. The fact was, he hated to force her to do anything, had always hated it, always done it only when he felt like there was no other choice, except for that one time on their mating’s anniversary. That one time, he had used his power on her for really no other reason than to show her he could. And since then, the idea of doing it again was nauseating, even if he knew he had to do something to make her feed.

Eyes still closed, he could hear, and feel, Angel move around the table, walk behind him to the cabinet, help himself with another glass.

All the fire was gone from Angel’s voice, there was only concern left, and that helped Spike explain what he felt.

“I did it, not that long ago. Totally lost control. You know what it made me feel like? Like I was… him. Angelus. When he was a complete bastard and fucking with my mind just because he could. I can’t make her hate me.”

A hand closing on his shoulder startled him, and he closed his eyes even more tightly shut. He didn’t need, didn’t want to see the pain on his Sire’s face right now.

“It’s different,” Angel said in a choked voice. “You’re doing it for her, not to play with her.”

“Thing is, my demon wants to play that game. When I get so mad at her, all I can think of is to show her what her place is, show her that I have power over her and…”

And then the hand was gone, and Angel was moving away. Spike risked an eye open, and found that his Sire was once more looking at the drawing of him and Buffy on the wall.

“I just thought of something,” he said after a few seconds, finally turning back to Spike. “You don’t have any other Childe, do you?”

“Then you and Buffy are basically the last members of the Order of Aurelius, except maybe for a few odd minions who don’t count anyway. And you are the leader of the Order. You realize that, don’t you?”

“It means,” Angel explained a little impatiently, “that your demon knows it’s in charge of the line, but you’re not letting it do anything. No hunting, no turning, no controlling of your one and only Childe, you’re not even teaching her the lore, are you? So of course it’s getting more angry than usual about being restrained. And when you let it come forward, it lashes out and you feel like you’re losing control.”

In a very twisted way, it made some kind of sense. But Spike still couldn’t see how that helped.

“Alright, so I’m screwed. Whatever. I’ll deal. But again, how is that linked to Buffy? We’re talking about her, remember?”

“Think, boy,” the brunette snapped. “She needs you to play your role so that she can know what her own is. And since you’re not being a Sire to her, since you’re controlling that part of you, she thinks that she can do the same and control her demon. But she doesn’t have a hundred plus years of experience behind her. And what you can do without a second thought, she can’t do without hurting herself.”

Angel sighed. “I didn’t say that. We still don’t know why she decided that she had to control her vampire self to begin with. But the way you react to the problem, or rather the way you don’t react, is making things worse. At least, that’s what I think.”

He had felt her approach even before she appeared by the dining room’s entrance. His eyes sought hers immediately, but she was looking at Angel, and frowning.

“So, how is he supposed to react?” she asked Angel quietly, even as her gaze finally slid to her Sire.

Spike could see that she was uneasy. Almost afraid, even. Afraid of what? Of whom? Of him? Had they come so far that she now feared him? Was it why she had been anxious, earlier, when they arrived? Instinctively, he got to his feet and walked to her. He could see her nervousness in the way she nibbled her lower lip, but when he wrapped his arms around her she melted against him, and he sighed.

Chapter 24: Calm

As she slowly walked down the steps and toward the discussion she knew she couldn’t avoid forever, Buffy could hear quiet voices. Quiet was good. Quiet meant they weren’t shouting, or fighting. Quiet meant Spike wasn’t too upset. Because she just knew he would be.

No, he decidedly didn’t sound upset. Instead, he sounded… anguished. And that was as bad as upset, Buffy reflected dejectedly. Even worse.

“I didn’t say that,” Angel’s voice replied. “We still don’t know why she decided that she had to control her vampire self to begin with. But the way you react to the problem, or rather the way you don’t react, is making things worse. At least, that’s what I think.”

Her eyes were drawn to Angel as she walked in, because of what he had just said and that she couldn’t understand. Spike had been trying to help her, to convince her to feed, which Angel said was the problem, so how could that make things worse?

Now that she was so close, she couldn’t help it, and had to look at her Sire. What did he think about her loss of control? Was he disappointed in her? Annoyed that she hadn’t listened to him? Displeased that she had had to rely on Angel’s help, instead of his? He was always so territorial, especially when Angel was concerned, would he…

He answered her silent fears by simply coming to hug her. When she was in his arms, everything else disappeared, as it always did. Angel clearing his throat brought them back to the present. Spike’s embrace loosened, and he gave her a sweet, sad smile.

“That’s a very simplified way to put things,” Angel said with a slight snort.

Buffy couldn’t see how Spike forcing her to do anything was going to help. It hadn’t helped when he had forced her to feed before, or the night he had blackmailed her into biting him.

“What’s the long story, then?” she asked quietly.

Holding her hand tight in his, Spike pulled her along as he went to take a seat at the table again, and made her sit on his lap. His arms closed around her waist, and she covered his hands with hers.

“The long story,” Angel said as he sat down too, “is that you are still a very young vampire. A very young Childe. As such, you need guidance, you need your Sire to teach you, and rule over you. That’s what usually happens when a Childe is sired, what your demon expects. What it needs. But that’s not what Spike is doing…”

She felt Spike tense behind her, and she guessed he was going to say something, but a dark look from Angel stopped him in his tracks.

“… whatever his reasons. So your own demon is disconcerted, and the confusion passes on to you.”

“And that’s why I have to control it better!” Buffy exclaimed. “Because it confuses…”

“There’s no way you can control it as deeply as you’re trying to. You just can’t. Even at past a hundred, I have to let go if I don’t want to completely lose it. You have to feed, and bite, and do everything you were doing before this started. You have to, luv.”

There was the barest touch of desperation in his voice, and Buffy turned sideways to look at him as she replied, trying once more to explain to him, determined that this time she wouldn’t let either of their temper get in the way.

“But I’m the Slayer,” she reminded him softly. “It has to mean something.”

“But what about when I’m really not hungry?” she insisted, keeping her eyes on Spike. “When I don’t feel the bloodlust, drinking blood...”

“I already told you,” Angel intervened again, with more than a touch of impatience, “that it is just impossible for you not to feel the bloodlust, and…”

“But I really don’t!” she cut in, turning her head to glare at him. “You think I’d lie about this?”

There was silence, then. A long silence, that stretched far too long and answered Buffy’s question. She could feel the burn of this mistrust, feel her own irritation rising, until the silence was finally broken by Spike.

“No, luv,” he said very calmly, soothingly. “We don’t believe you’re lying. But it’s just not normal that you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s a result of you trying to master the demon.”

“And that brings us to the question of why exactly you do that,” Angel carried on without a pause. “Why now? Everything was fine for years, wasn’t it? So what changed? What brought all of this on?”

Buffy closed her eyes, and rested her head back against Spike’s shoulder. The irritation was giving way to lassitude. She was tired of all this, tired of feeling like they were accusing her, however careful their words were.

“You started acting differently after her death,” he continued thoughtfully. “I thought you were grieving and that you just needed time. But time made things worse. So progressively though, that I didn’t pay it much attention until it came to feeding.”

She was going to object, and say that he was wrong, that Chloe had nothing to do with it, but suddenly it struck her that she had indeed started thinking more about what it meant to be both a vampire and a Slayer after her death. Could it be that this event had triggered everything?

“What was it that you said yesterday, Buffy?” Angel asked quietly. “That the Slayer thinking of you as of a vampire was dangerous to her?”

“Slayers die, luv. Whether they know you or not, they die sooner or later. Whether they think of you as a vamp or not. One is not linked to the other.”

“Chloe’s death has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the vampire that drained her. Same thing for Min. And the same again for Manon not dying. We train them, yes, but in the end it’s up to them.”

Hadn’t Spike said this before? He was sure he had. Not when Buffy was as collected and attentive as she was now, though. Perhaps that was what made the difference this time. What made her apparently accept his words.

“I would suggest some blood sharing for the two of you,” Angel stated with unusual bluntness as he stood. “As for me, I have other places to be. I’ll call you if we find anything about why someone would want Slayer blood.”

“Keys are by the entrance. Say hi to the kids for us,” Spike said in a casual voice, just as his eyes found Angel’s and thanked him silently.

Angel nodded, one corner of his mouth curling up. He gave his goodbyes before walking away, and they could hear him talking to Faith before the entrance door opened and closed. Neither of them moved or spoke, and Spike was wondering what his Childe was thinking, whether she would agree to sharing blood with him or if he would have to force her, when the ex-Slayer walked in the room. She looked tired, Spike thought absently. And rather miserable, even if she was trying to hide that. He had known she wouldn’t like the turn of events, right from the moment he had heard Cordelia talk about her and her kid.

The question was mostly polite. Her tone however was implying that whether they minded or not, she was going to make that call.

“Phone’s in the kitchen,” Spike said curtly. “And no need to get snippy with us, we’re not the ones who brought you and your kid in this mess and we have better things to do than argue with you. Are we clear?”

A bitter smile flirted on the brunette’s lips. “Yes, Blondie. All clear. No need to bite.”

The sarcastic statement seemed to bring back Buffy to the world, and she let out a laugh that startled both Faith and Spike. Faith raised an eyebrow, shook her head, but left the room without a word. Buffy was silent too as she rose and turned to Spike, a determined look on her features.

“Let’s go to bed?” she suggested hesitantly after watching him for a few seconds.

He took the hand she was offering and allowed her to lead him to their room, wondering if it was just sleep she had in mind, or more. He received his answer when she locked the door behind him and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You think he’s right?” she asked very quietly, clearly avoiding his gaze.

“I think he may have a point when he says I need to act more like your Sire, whatever the cost. But I’m not sure it will be enough. And I’m worried about you not feeling the bloodlust.”

His shirt fell to the floor, and in a second she had discarded his t-shirt too. She explored his chest with her fingertips, tracing soft patterns even as he reached with one hand and undid the tiny but many buttons that closed her shirt.

There was doubt in her voice, and he knew why. Angel didn’t believe her on that point. Because truthfully, it just wasn’t possible. But Spike had seen this one woman battle more impossible situations than he could count. He slid his fingers to her chin, and tilted her face up toward his.

“Yes, luv. I do believe you. And that’s why I worry even more than before.”

He brushed his lips across her eyelids, then across her lips, before returning to the task of undressing her. There was something in her gaze, though. Something that had been there earlier, and that was back now. She was scared.

Having finally finished his unbuttoning, without damaging even one of the tiny and annoying things, he slid his hands inside the shirt and lightly pushed it off her shoulders, his hands lingering on her skin as he nudged her backward toward the bed.

She sighed softly as he made her sit and knelt in front of her to remove her shoes before quickly getting rid of his. When he stood again, she was lying down, eyes closed, arms spread on each side of her, so pale on the dark satin sheets.

He shut his eyes tight for a second, and managed, although with some difficulty, to maintain his calm. By both keeping a cool head, they had finally been able to talk about this, more than they had since it had started. He couldn’t break the charm now. He had to remain calm at least until they had talked this through.

“Yes, luv. And when you balk, I’ll make you do it anyway, even if it pains me just to think about it. And you are going to balk, aren’t you?”

Sitting on the bed next to her, he simply placed one hand on top of hers, reining in the urge to touch her exposed skin. Talk now. Touch later.

His hand tightened on her, trying to give some comfort and strength. “Scared of what?”

“Scared that bloodplay is going to make things worse, not better. Scared of what I may do if I truly lose myself to the demon.”

She hesitated, and he said nothing, knowing something else was coming. It did, in the form of a whisper.

“Scared of what it means exactly that you’re going to act more Sire-like.”

“If it does make things worse, not that I think it will but if that’s what happens, you know I’m right here. I won’t let you hurt yourself, or hurt anyone.”

“What if I hurt you?” she interjected, her fingers intertwining with his and leading his hand to rest above her still heart.

“You won’t,” he replied with a confidence he felt down to his bones. “Nor will I hurt you. Acting like a Sire should doesn’t mean I will brutalize you.”

There was a brief flash of relief on her features, and he knew what had brought it forth. A few times, over the years, he had casually made comments about how his own Sire would have reacted in a given situation, usually to point out she was lucky he wasn’t Angelus. He had probably given her the idea that Angelus had been nothing but a mean bastard. He had been a mean bastard, no doubt there, but he had been more than that. A great teacher, for one thing, on the days and nights when he had the patience to teach. An even more efficient one when he didn’t have the patience, because then the incentive to learn well and quickly was even greater.

Indeed, what did it mean, Spike reflected pensively as he drank in the sight of her. Forcing her to feed, fine. He could do that. But that wasn’t all, was it? Doing this and nothing else wasn’t going to solve his own need for control, nor would it help her figure out exactly what her place as his Childe was. He refused to lord over her like he had seen some Masters do, commanding her every moves, robbing her of just about all her free will. It was in part because of her force, her strength, that he loved her so much, and he wouldn’t take that away from her completely.

A vision of Angelus teaching him the lore in between two kills flashed through his mind. There would be no kills for them, of course, but the lore was part of what they were, even if he despised it, and maybe he could at least give her an insight into that aspect of being a vampire. Maybe – he doubted it, but he could hope – that would show her that she was already very far from being a ‘normal’ vampire, and that she didn’t need to alienate herself even more from her demon self.

Another memory flash, of Darla this time. She wasn’t usually a very exigent Sire, and Angelus had never hesitated about imposing himself as the leader. But she had very effective ways of reminding him, as well as his Childer, who between the two of them had the true power, and if he didn’t like it, there was nothing he could do then but bow to her or suffer the consequences. If Darla hadn’t been dust, she would probably have laughed to tears at the idea that Spike was going to take a clue from her.

Chapter 25: New Rules, New Games

For a long moment, Spike was silent, and Buffy doubted that he was seeing her even if his eyes were on her. He looked lost in his thoughts, and she wondered what it was exactly that he was thinking. At the same time, she was anxious to finally know how he would answer her question.

And this anxiety, this fear, was something she didn’t understand. She wasn’t afraid of Spike, and had never been, neither before nor after he sired her. So why was she afraid now? She tried to search her own mind for the source of that fear, but all she came up with was that it seemed very much linked to her demon. It wasn’t Spike she was afraid of. It was her Sire. It was what he would choose to do as such. It somehow seemed to go along what Angel had said – her demon expected certain things, and it certainly seemed like these things weren’t all pleasant. It also reminded her of the one recent time when he had asserted his status with her. His actions that night, however unusual, had yet felt like a normal reaction to her, and she could only suppose that her demon had recognized them as regular vampire relationships patterns.

Finally, Spike’s attention seemed to return to her, as his hand slid from her chest to her face, cupping her chin gently.

“I never had a Childe before you,” he said softly, “in part because having a Childe involves a lot of work, and I just didn’t have the time, the patience or the interest to teach anyone anything, much less the lore. I just don’t care about it, and that’s also why I never taught it to you. But that’s still something that is part of us, part of what being a vampire is. And it may help you understand better what we are. As well as understand your prey when you slay.”

Did she want that? Did she need to understand her prey? Wouldn’t that make slaying more difficult, if she came to feel that other vamps were just like her? She kept her doubts for herself, though. If that was all he did to assert himself as her Sire, then she didn’t have to worry…

“That’s just one thing,” he continued, and Buffy wondered what else was coming. “Another thing I have decided is this. I will not let you starve yourself again.”

“I know you don’t think it’s starving since you don’t feel hungry. But bloodlust or not, if you don’t feed, you’ll starve. There’s no arguing of that. So every time I feed, you will feed too. And you will do so without me reminding you. If I have to remind you, I won’t give you a choice, and I will punish you. And I’ll make sure there’s someone to witness it when I do.”

Buffy gritted her teeth and tried to remain calm at the word ‘punish’. She didn’t know many details about Spike’s relationship with his own Sire, but she knew enough to hope never to be punished as he had been.

A very weird grin curled Spike’s lips. “Something you wouldn’t enjoy anyone seeing.”

“And if it gets to that, I expect you to remember that I’m your Sire before I’m your Mate or husband. I would hate dominating you like that, but if you don’t leave me a choice, I will, and you will give me the respect you owe to your Sire.”

Again, Buffy wasn’t exactly pleased, but she had expected as much, so she managed to keep quiet. It sounded as if he wouldn’t play the power game unless she made him do it, so she just would have to keep in line. She could do that. Or at least, she hoped she could.

He stifled her rising protests by lowering himself to her and claiming her mouth in a deep kiss. She didn’t want to let him get away with that, he couldn’t just say such a thing and expect her to accept it without a word…

Except… he did expect it, didn’t he? That was the whole purpose of this talk. To let her know what was going to change in their relationship, to supposedly make her feel better, make her accept the demon.

A dozen answers came to Buffy’s mind, and most of them would have put an immediate stop to the seducing in question. Did she want that, though? They hadn’t been apart very long, but she had missed him. And she trusted him, enough to accept his decisions about her even if she didn’t really agree with them, enough to give him the benefit of the doubt and try. Maybe it was time to show him that. The fact that the alternative was simply him commanding her to do as he wished was just an incentive to keep the newly returned peace between them intact. She was also vaguely aware that it wasn’t really like herself to just accept all this without a word, but at the same time some part of her was screaming that this was all normal, right, and what she needed. So she swallowed her protests and fears, determined to try not to let them interfere now.

“How about you let me do the seducing?” she finally asked with a coy batting of her eyelashes.

A fleeting look of surprise ran through Spike’s face, soon replaced by delight. He lowered himself to her once more, barely brushing his lips to hers, before rolling their bodies over so that she was now lying on top of him.

“You may seduce me, Childe,” he said with a smirk, as if granting a privilege.

Her first impulse was to roll her eyes at the tone he had used. But something in her, that sounded a lot like the demon’s voice, pointed out that, yes, it was a privilege, that for a Childe to gain this kind of power over her Sire was indeed a gift, even if she had never seen it so before. For a brief instant, she was scared once more, this time because the demon seemed so close to the surface that she could think its thoughts. She pushed once more the fear aside. Maybe all this Sire and Childe talk had simply roused the demon, maybe… it didn’t matter. Not now. Right now all that mattered was seducing Spike.

“Thank you, Sire,” she replied as meekly as she could, and stifled a chuckle at the startled look on his face. She wasn’t the only one who needed to get used to the game, she thought with some amusement.

Kneeling astride his jean-clad thighs, she trailed tiny kisses on his chest, slowly exploring each inch of his quivering flesh. A quick look up showed that he had locked his hands behind his head, and had closed his eyes. As she reached his shoulders, her kisses turned into small licks, and she paid particular attention to the century old scars on the side of his neck. A soft purr encouraged her, and she kissed her way up to his mouth.

Her lips stroked his, softly but insistently, until he parted them for her. Her tongue slid in, and she was startled by the unmistakable flavor that greeted her. Sire’s blood. He had probably sliced his tongue on his own fang while she was too occupied to notice. She tried to ignore the two distinct voices that suddenly assaulted her, one requesting more of Spike’s blood, the other urging her to refuse it, and simply continued kissing him.

Where her body pressed against his, she could feel his growing erection, and slid a hand between them to undo his jeans fastenings. He hissed into the kiss when her hand wrapped around him, and she pulled back, once more trailing kisses over his torso, until she reached his cock. She bestowed it a quick lick, which brought forth another hiss.

Scrambling off the bed, she pulled his jeans off him, then divested herself of her own pants, before crawling back up. The two voices were still raging, a loud and annoying buzz, now, and she thought she knew the perfect way to silence them both. Straddling his waist, she took hold of him, and slowly, oh so slowly, guided him inside her.

She wasn’t sure which of them said these words. She wasn’t even sure they had been said out loud, and were not simply her thoughts.

She was about to start moving when Spike took hold of her hips and rolled them over at the same time as he thrust into her. She had a small gasp of surprise, followed by a groan as he leaned on one elbow and fastened his mouth to her breast. All thoughts disappeared as she lost herself in the rhythm and sensations he was creating.

After a few instants, he pulled back, giving himself more leverage, and her eyes locked to his. She accompanied his dance, made it theirs, and soon his eyes were gleaming gold. His pace slowed down, but not the force of his thrusts, and he lowered himself to her again, claiming her mouth once more. The insistence of his tongue caresses to the sensitive spots just where her fangs hid gave a clear message, especially when he was already in game mask, and she complied and brought the demon visage to the front. Immediately, the two voices were loud again, one triumphant, the other enraged, but she was too close to care, her body humming with pleasure as she walked a fine line, ready to fall any second now...

A quick lap against the mating scar on the side of her neck had her shuddering. A hint of teeth, and she whimpered. A last thrust – so deep – accompanied by his fangs plunging seemingly just as deeply in her, and she was finally falling over the edge with him, pleasure coursing through her body until she was sure she would pass out.

And then as the waves slowly receded she realized… he wasn’t taking her blood. His fangs were still in her, but he wasn’t drinking. Just… waiting? At the same second, she remembered and understood.

If she didn’t do it now, without him prompting any more than he already was, she just had this feeling that she would discover what kind of punishment he had been talking about. And she had absolutely no wish to know.

Just as Spike was about to give up and order her to do it, she finally sank her fangs at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and immediately started pulling on his blood. Suppressing a relieved sigh, he retracted his fangs from her flesh and participated actively in the sharing. He purred softly as he delighted in the always so powerful blood of his Slayer, but was careful not to take too much, unsure as to when she had last fed. He could feel her trembling under him, until she let go of his flesh and let out a breathless moan. Slayer blood was a treat, but it still wasn’t as satisfying as Sire’s blood. Licking the punctures on her neck slowly until they stopped bleeding, he rolled them to their sides, still joined in the most intimate embrace, and held her tight to his chest.

As the blissful sensations slowly ebbed away, leaving a deep contentment, he could only be thankful that she hadn’t forced him to force her. Thankful, because he didn’t have the first clue about what the promised ‘punishment’ would have been, had she not initiated the bite by herself. He hoped that the threat in itself would be enough to make her feed properly without his direct intervention. That had always been something Darla, as well as Angelus liked – to have their respective Childer do their bidding without them needing to say a word. That had also been one of Spike’s favorite ways to annoy his Sire, when he was in a… playful mood. Hopefully, Buffy wouldn’t be as ‘playful’ as her own Sire had been…

“Just a silly thought, luv,” he replied with a tender kiss to her forehead. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She tucked her head under his chin, and he was letting himself drift into sleep when she spoke again. Not sleepy at all, this time.

She pulled away from him slightly, and her eyes were sparkling with gold, now. Spike watched the display and was unable to hide a small smile. He couldn’t remember her being jealous like this ever before. Because yes, she was unmistakably jealous. Over the scent of a kid who had once fancied him. He took a deep, purposeful breath through his nose, and, despite having changed the bed linens, could still pick up the girl’s lingering scent, as well as the two other kids’ who had slept here the night before. She wasn’t mentioning them, though. Just Manon. Interesting.

“She slept in here last night,” he said calmly, curious as to what she was reply to that.

He repressed a laugh. “Are you questioning your Sire, Childe?” he asked as sternly as he could manage.

“No, Sire, I am not,” she replied with a semblance of meekness after a few seconds, but there was indeed a question in her eyes.

Smiling at her, silently thanking her for playing her part, he kissed her forehead again.

“’Left the bed to the kiddies last night,” he murmured against her hair. “Since I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.”

“I didn’t sleep either,” she said softly, snuggling back closer to him. “Missed you too much.”

Feeling more content and warm that he had in the last few weeks, Spike started purring softly. His contentment only deepened when, after an instant, Buffy’s purr joined his for the first time in weeks.

Chapter 26: A Matter of Time

Spike had gotten used to the silence of the house since Dawn had left, and the faint noises coming from the first floor, undoubtedly caused by Faith and her kid, woke him far earlier than he would have wished. For a while, he remained immobile, watching Buffy sleep in the faint ambient light, pondering whether to wake her or not. In the end, having watched her like this made the choice for him, as it almost painfully renewed his desire for her.

Soft fingers danced along her skin, before pulling her thigh up and over his, giving him access to her core. He observed her features intently as he stroked her softly, trying not to wake her and at the same time wondering how she could sleep through this. When he was satisfied that she was ready, he shifted his hips to hers, slowly entering her, biting his bottom lip not to let instinct take over and push into her in one quick stroke. Just as he was finally completely buried in her, her eyes fluttered open, and she sighed almost inaudibly before closing them again, a faint smile adorning her lips, making them just impossible not to kiss. And so, he kissed her, the slow rhythm of his tongue sliding against her following the rhythm of his hips pushing increasingly deeper. The build up was leisurely, unhurried, fleeting touches and tender kisses, soft moans and even softer words. It ended with shattering sweetness, and a double cry of pleasure. More surprisingly, it ended without a drop of blood being shed.

Still murmuring her contentment, Buffy slid back into sleep within seconds, encouraged by Spike’s low purring and the slow stroking of her hair. And Spike was back to watching her, a different question running through his mind. Shouldn’t he have wanted her blood right now? Shouldn’t he have wanted to share again this strength and power that had brought them together ever since he had turned her? Wasn’t it part of a Sire’s prerogatives to have his Childer’s blood whenever he wanted? Once more, his mind took him more than a hundred years back. There had been shared blood, yes, but only a few precious times, as a reward when his Sire was particularly pleased, which, given Spike’s penchant for making trouble, had been very rare. If he thought about it long enough, he was even sure he could remember each of those special occasions, but he didn’t particularly care to at that moment. Instead, as he watched his Slayer sleep, he made the decision that this particular aspect of their relationship didn’t need to change and be closer to custom. Right after he had turned her, he had offered her what he had called a permanent invitation to take his blood. He wasn’t going to change this rule now.

Kissing her brow lightly, he disentangled himself from her limbs, managing not to wake her, and walked to the bathroom for a quick shower. After getting dressed in his usual black garb, he left the room with a last loving glance at her sleeping form. His first instinct when he got in the kitchen was to get some blood, but he froze in front of the fridge and frowned. If he followed the rules he had laid out himself – and he did intend to follow them rigorously, or else they would lose all meaning – feeding now would cause Buffy to be punished for not feeding at the same time as he did. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t even around, the rule he had stated was clear and placed the burden on her. Angelus or Darla wouldn’t have given it a second thought, he realized ruefully, nor would they have changed a thing to accommodate their Childer. He wasn’t them, though, and didn’t want to be. He’d wait for her to come down before he fed.

Just as he had made his decision, he heard the front door open and walked to the hall to see Giles, Andrea, Faith and her kid come in, the two Watchers carrying grocery bags. It was soon explained that Giles and his girl had come to talk to him and Buffy, but Faith had convinced them to take her shopping for her and the kid since she had discovered that the fridge contained blood and little else. Once everything was put away, she announced her intention to take a stroll outside. Spike observed, amused, Giles admonitions of caution, and Faith’s argument that if vamps were after her, they weren’t likely to attack her in the middle of the day. In the end, Andrea went with her, leaving the two men together.

“How about a nice cup of tea?” Giles suggested right as the door closed on the women.

Immediately, Spike knew that the Watcher was just trying to gain time. He had something to say, and didn’t like it. And Spike was sure he wouldn’t like it either.

“Sure,” he answered absently. “Tea. Always seems to make the bad news less dire, doesn’t it?”

Giles looked a little startled, but didn’t really contradict the bad news part. After following Spike to the kitchen, he eyed the bar stools doubtfully, and settled for simply leaning against the counter.

“So, all your troops arrived yet?” Spike asked, although he couldn’t have cared less.

“Just about, yes,” Giles answered absently. “We’re waiting for a couple more girls and their Watchers, and everyone will be there.”

That brought a frown to the human’s face. “A bit too… enthusiastic, I’m afraid. She had the idea that being the Chosen One made her in charge of all the girls. Manon had a very… efficient way to prove her wrong. I don’t think we’ll be pairing these two for anything again.”

Spike laughed joylessly. He was about to ask the Watcher what the bad news was, other than the Slayers not getting along, when, at the same instant, the teakettle whistled and someone knocked on the front door.

Spike opened the door to find behind it a man in his late forties or early fifties, with a piece of paper in hand and a startled look on his face. The man checked his paper again, then looked back up at Spike, and the look of reprobation was now clear and loud.

“’Depends on who’s asking for her,” Spike replied, taking in the casual but obviously designer clothes the man was wearing, his eyes flickering for a second to the convertible parked in the driveway. Mid-life crisis if he had ever seen one.

“Hank Summers,” the man said haughtily with a pointed glare. “Her father. And you are?”

“Her father, huh?” Spike repeated with a slight smile as he considered the intruder with new eyes. So, this was his supposed father in law? Options flashed through his mind. The polite thing to do would certainly have been to introduce himself and let the man in. Spike had never been accused of being polite, though.

It was a grumbling Giles who answered the call, an eyebrow arched questioningly as he sipped on a cup of tea.

“Thank you for dispelling my fear that you had actually become civilized since the last time I was here,” he commented as he approached. “Any particular reason why you’re yelling?”

Spike opened the door a little wider, revealing the man behind it to Giles’ eyes.

“Me neither,” Spike said conversationally. “And it’s weird because he pretends to be Buffy’s father.”

Both humans reacted at that, Giles with a sharp look at Spike that quickly shifted toward the man at the door, and Hank Summers with an indignant protest at the word ‘pretend’.

“See, Watcher,” the vampire continued as if he couldn’t hear the human, “I’ve known Buffy for a while, now. How many years?”

“I don’t know,” the Watcher replied absently, still observing Hank Summers. “Something like eleven years since you first showed up in Sunnydale? I can tell you the exact day if you give me time to look through my diaries.”

“Nah, we won’t need that. The thing is, I’ve known her more than ten years, and not once, not one single fucking time, did I hear her talk about her father. The little I heard about him was from Joyce, and it wasn’t exactly praises.”

“So you see, I had this theory in my head that you were her father. In the facts if not in blood.”

Giles raised an interested eyebrow at that, and the other human started protesting again, but Spike continued to ignore him.

“After all, you were there, not him, when Joyce died and Buffy had to find a way to deal with a mortgage, bills, and a younger sister. You were by her side at the funeral. The wanker wasn’t.”

“A little distance away. In the shadows. Buffy was a bit upset with me at the time, if you recall.”

“And then, when she had so many problems, after that dreadful summer, you were the one she turned to. Not her father, you.”

“Because she needed that to grow up,” Spike said with a dismissive gesture. “Not because she was inconvenient to you.”

A sharp glance toward the man at the door revealed that he was now a deep shade of crimson. From anger or shame, Spike couldn’t have said.

“You came back when she was so ill, though,” he carried on, still talking to the Watcher and ignoring the so-called father. “You were there for her, and Dawn, once again. And their father wasn’t. Do you think he even knew she was dying?”

There was no answer to that from the Watcher, except, maybe, for slightly shimmering eyes behind often-polished glasses. Hank Summers repeated the word ‘dying’ a couple of times as if he couldn’t understand the concept of death.

“And finally,” Spike said with a large grin, “the two times she agreed to marry me, the one person she asked to lead her down the aisle was you. No one else.”

“One of my fondest memories,” Giles replied with a soft smile. “The second time, that is. The first was more of a nightmare.”

Spike laughed softly at that, and his laugh only deepened when he saw the utterly shocked look on Hank Summers’ features.

“Well, I think we established pretty clearly who here can call themselves Buffy’s father, didn’t we?”

And with that, Spike slammed the door shut in Hank Summers’ face. When he looked again at the Watcher, utterly satisfied with himself, he found him more touched than he had ever seen him. Before either of them could say a thing, though, Buffy’s voice called from behind them.

“That was an interesting show. And yes, Giles, you are more a father to me than he has been in a really long time. I’m rather curious as to what he wants, though. And I want to see the fish out of water look on his face again. Open the door, Spike? Please?”

Sylvyan had just come back. Without the ex-Slayer. Apparently, she had been coming toward Sunnydale at the same time as Sylvyan and the minions were on their way to get her. One night lost.

She had always been patient, or, at the very least, always tried to be, but she found that she was getting more easily irritated as nights passed without the progress she had hoped to see. She had to remind herself that everything was going fine – better than fine, actually, considering that the four persons they needed were now all in Sunnydale, and only needed to be… harvested.

For the first time since the beginning of this era, Vampires were being offered a chance to deliver a mortal blow to their only and yet multiple enemy. Soon, the Slayers would be a thing of the past, the six – no, only five, by then – vampires families would divide the planet between themselves, and the High Mistress fully intended to keep the juiciest part for herself and her clan.

Chapter 27: Two Demons

The reunion was more than a little awkward. Buffy couldn’t honestly say she was sorry about the way Spike had welcomed her father, though. She had only caught the last few words of his rant about Hank and his absence in his daughters’ lives, but that had been enough to see that her husband had a very clear idea of the relationships in the Summers family. And Hanks’ expression upon being told what an awful father he was by someone he had never met before but who turned out to be his son in law… well, that had been utterly priceless.

The four of them were now in the living room. Giles was in an armchair on the side, Buffy and Spike on the sofa, and Hank in the other armchair across from them. There was still a reprobating look in his eyes whenever he looked toward Spike, and Buffy made a show to lean against him and thread her fingers with her Mate’s.

There was an edge, on the last word, and Buffy found it difficult to keep her temper in check.

“It will be three years in a few days,” she said on a strained but pleasant tone.

Unconsciously, her grip on Spike’s hand tightened. Hank had been quick in turning the tables on her and becoming the accusing one.

“I tried to, but it felt rather rude to leave a message with your secretary or on your answering machine. And once it had happened… well, I had other things to occupy me.”

Had she been human, she would probably have blushed at the memories these words stirred. Spike and her hadn’t gone on a honeymoon, but they hadn’t left the house for a few days, and celebrated quite properly. She felt Spike’s lips brush against her temple, and that was a silent proof that he remembered just as well as she did. Hank’s mouth twisted slightly at the display of affection, which only annoyed Buffy a little more.

“What about Dawn?” Hank changed the angle of attack. “You could have told me that she was moving to LA, she could have lived with me. She’s too young to live by herself and…”

“Now I know where you got your sense of humor from, luv,” he said, still laughing, as he walked toward the kitchen.

From the corner of her eye, Buffy could see that Giles, although seemingly contemplating the deepest mysteries of the universe in his cup of tea, was also shaking his head lightly.

“For one thing,” Buffy said coolly, “Dawn is old enough to do as she pleases. For another, I very much would like to see you try to convince her she’s not. And finally, she doesn’t live alone.”

“She doesn’t?” Hank asked, perplexed and frowning. “Who does she live with? She didn’t mention…”

Of course, she hadn’t mentioned anything, Buffy thought bitterly. Dawn had been so shocked when she walked right into her father during the first show held by the gallery she worked for that she had been just about speechless, she had admitted when Buffy talked to her two nights before. And even more shocked by the fact that he had on his arm a woman who didn’t seem any older than Buffy. From what she had said, the discussion had been short, and icy.

“If you had come to her high school or college graduations,” Buffy stated slowly, “and we did invite you for these, weeks in advance, so you had no excuse, you would have met him. His name is Steven. He’s a wonderful young man. He has a small tendency of being very protective of the people he loves, though, just like Spike, so when… if you ever meet him, don’t be surprised if he slams a door in your face, too.”

Hank’s mood visibly darkened at that, and he shot a resentful glance in the direction of the kitchen where Spike had disappeared. He obviously hadn’t seen any humor in the way he had been welcomed.

“I’m surprised you condone such behavior, Buffy,” he said coldly. “You were raised better than that.”

The underlying message was clear. She was better than Spike, could have found a better husband than him. She refused to allow herself to be led on that path, though, and brought the discussion back where it belonged. To Hank’s own shortcomings.

“However I was raised, it wasn’t by you,” she stated with more calm than she felt. “So you don’t have to take credit or blame for anything I do.”

Spike came back, then, and resumed his seat by her side. He had in hand a mug of blood, and as he took a sip he threw her a strange look. She immediately realized why, his warning about punishment and witnesses clear and loud in her mind. She had to get blood and feed, and she had to do it now or she might discover what he had meant exactly when he had said she wouldn’t enjoy the consequences, which she really had no desire to know. She didn’t want to leave him and Hank alone though, even with Giles as a silent observer. That only left her a choice. She took the mug from him, and just by the scent she could tell it was human. Trying not to think of anything, she drank half of it in a long swallow. She then offered it back to Spike, but he shook his head lightly.

She tried not to scowl at his smirk. If he got more, she would have to drink more too, and this seemed a lot like he was tricking her into feeding more. And to think she still didn’t feel any hunger…

“In polite society, it is considered courteous to offer drinks to your guests.”

“It works out well, then,” Spike said shortly. “’Cause I’m not polite, and you’re not a guest.”

Ignoring Spike’s intervention, his first words to Hank, actually, since he had been invited in the house, her father looked straight at Buffy with a small smile.

For a second, Buffy saw herself telling Hank that it wasn’t coffee she was drinking, but blood. She saw him, in her mind, shocked and in denial, accusing Spike of brainwashing her, threatening to sue, promising her to get help for her and free her from this mockery of a marriage and from the sect that had obviously indoctrinated her. She imagined shifting to game face to prove her words to him, and his fear and subsequent departure… Tempting…

“I am not polite either, Dad. Was there a reason to your visit? Because I think you need to leave.”

“Leave?” he sputtered. “My reason? Of course I had… I mean, Dawn, she can’t…”

“We’ve already talked about that,” she interrupted him as she rose to her feet. “Dawn is an adult and does whatever she pleases. If you have a problem with that… well, I’d tell you to talk to her, but I doubt she would listen, so you’ll just have to deal. I can’t say it was nice to see you again, but it was certainly a surprise. Goodbye, now.”

Hank was still seated, gaping at Buffy, Spike and Giles in turn, as if expecting for help to come from the two men. No other word was offered to him, though, and he finally rose to his feet and followed Buffy to the door. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything, and just left, high head and stiff back, very clearly offended. Buffy watched the car go, and realized that, truly, she couldn’t have cared less about what he thought. She had enough problems right now without him trying to get back in the picture.

As he watched Buffy dismiss her father, Spike couldn’t help feeling oddly proud of her. He loved so much that strong part of her that was not afraid to take charge and speak her mind. He realized that it just went against what he should feel – Sires didn’t usually like their Childer to show that much strength and determination. But he had loved that part of her long before he turned her, still loved it now, and was sure he always would. Wasn’t that why he hated so much to control her, anyway?

And he could only thank her silently for not having forgotten the new rule – he had expected her to need a reminder the first time, but she hadn’t, to his great relief. He warmed more blood after she sent the wanker away, leaving her and Giles to do small talk for a couple of minutes. And although her mouth twisted in a thin line when he returned with the two full mugs to the living room, she didn’t complain, didn’t say she wasn’t hungry, didn’t point out she had already fed. She accepted the blood, and sipped on it slowly, her look somewhere between resigned and mutinous.

Giles bent forward to place his empty teacup on the coffee table, and it looked very much like he was trying once more to delay whatever news he had. He finally gave the two vamps a small smile.

“Yes, I did have some news, but since Buffy seems to be feeding normally again, it might not be necessary any more.”

As Giles said these words, Spike could feel Buffy stiffening at his side, and when he turned his face to look at her, he found that she was now glaring at him.

“And you told Angel,” he replied coolly. “Help comes in more than one form.”

He brought his eyes and attention back to Giles, signifying clearly to his Childe, or so he hoped, that it was his prerogative to find help however he could.

“She’s feeding, but all is not back to normal,” he explained to the Watcher. “So tell us, what did you find?”

Giles seemed a little taken aback by the whole exchange, and he frowned as he leaned back in his armchair and took off his glasses.

“The Council has a very wide collection of archives,” he began, slowly, almost as if very uncharacteristically searching for his words. “Documents older than the Council itself. Copied down many times, translated, sometimes mistranslated, …”

“One of the older documents,” Giles continued without acknowledging the interruption, “explains how the First Slayer was… given her power. The same power that runs through every Slayer that is called. The very same power that runs into Buffy right now. To fight demons, it seems that… it seems that the original Slayer was made part demon herself. It is not very clear how, but one theory is that she was given the strengths of a vampire, without the drawbacks. Superior force, quick healing, but no problems with sunlight or… well, you know what a vampire’s weaknesses are.”

Giles paused then, and Spike turned once more to look at Buffy, just as she was placing her mug on the coffee table and rising from the sofa. Judging by her expression, she had understood Giles’ words the same way he had.

“I’m not feeling well,” she said in a very faint voice. “I think I’ll go back to bed for a while.”

“You can’t escape it, luv,” he said softly. “You can’t ignore it. You’ll just have to accept it. Accept both of them. Before your demons kill you.”

Chapter 28: Long Gone Dreams

Buffy felt like she was going to be sick. And it had nothing to do with having drunk two full mugs of blood, both of them human, when she had not even been hungry.

“I’m not feeling well,” she mumbled as she rose from the sofa. “I think I’ll go back to bed for a while.”

She didn’t go far however, because Spike grabbed her wrist, and said in a soft voice:

“You can’t escape it, luv. You can’t ignore it. You’ll just have to accept it. Accept both of them. Before your demons kill you.”

Mentally exhausted, Buffy couldn’t summon the force to protest or say anything. She allowed Spike to pull her down to sit on his lap, and, curling against him, buried her face in the crook of his neck, unwilling to listen to one more word. She knew enough, too much, even, and had no desire to hear what else Giles or Spike could have to say. She had been unable to tame one demon, how could she even begin to control two?

“And say what?” she croaked, her throat suddenly completely dry. “It’s getting worse every day. First I shift without meaning to, then you lay down stupid rules, and now I haven’t got one, but two demons playing with my mind. What’s next?”

He growled, almost inaudibly but still a growl, when she mentioned the rules. She didn’t mean it, really, she understood why they existed and tried to hope that some good could come out of them. But she couldn’t help feeling bitter at the turn her life – unlife – was taking. Spike didn’t reply, though, and surprisingly it was Giles who replied to her growing despair.

“You have to realize it’s not something new,” he said in a still too careful tone. “This force has been inside you since you were called, and to know where it came from, to know you had in you something of a demon even before you became a vampire, does not change it or you in any way.”

But it was much better not to know, Buffy replied silently. There had to be a reason why she had never been told this before. And she was ready to bet her soul it wasn’t mentioned anywhere in that Slayer handbook she had never read. What would Slayers think, if they knew that the source of their strength was precisely that which they fought?

“And it couldn’t have been a real demon,” Spike added wistfully. “Because when I first got it the chip registered you as human, remember?”

“The person who made that report actually had a whole section about that,” Giles intervened. “Explaining how being forced in a living and breathing body, being stripped of its weaknesses had transformed the original demon, so that it wasn’t really a demon anymore.”

Buffy raised her head at that and looked at her Watcher. This wasn’t making any sense.

“I’m saying that as long as it was all you had, the Slayer strength was just that. Nothing more than superior physical abilities, and a few dreams that were a legacy from the First Slayer, who was apparently a Seer. But being turned changed the balance. Well, it’s all just a theory, really, but that explains…”

Spike’s hand, which had been stroking her hair in a habitual soothing motion, stilled suddenly as he cut in sharply.

“Wait a minute, Watcher. She was fine for years after being turned. So your theory seems a bit stretched to me.”

“If the both of you stopped interrupting me every five seconds, I might get to the point. The theory we have at this point is this. When Buffy was turned, she acquired a second demon. However she had a soul on top of it, immediately. So the not-completely-demon-anymore, Slayer part of her didn’t object, and didn’t do anything against the new vampire part of her. Three years later, she lost her soul. For a while, the Slayer part and the demon part were in direct conflict, with no soul buffering between the two, and the demon part obviously won. Then her soul returned. The vampire part was back under control, but the Slayer part now knew what it was up against. So it tried to gain more power. There would have been no big changes, for a long while, just unnoticeable steps with which the Slayer would slowly increase its force. Until it was strong enough to try an all-out attack to kill the vampire, by making Buffy stop feeding. Without caring that killing the vampire would kill Buffy too.”

“And of course, no blood just makes the vampire desperate and makes it break through to the surface. Which in turn makes the Slayer even angrier, and more powerful. Until it manages to completely mask or suppress the bloodlust – but not the physical need for blood.”

“What a bloody mess we’re in, luv,” he said as he pressed his lips to her temple.

For a long moment, the silence was deafening. Buffy observed Giles, who was in turn looking at her and Spike with too much worry in his eyes. She had seen this look before, her memory supplied. At the same time though, part of her refused the memory, said she wasn’t herself when it had happened, and therefore it wasn’t her memory. And yet, she had seen him that worried. When he had first talked to her after she lost her soul. He looked exactly like back then. That much tiredness, that much worry, that much care. And suddenly, ten years older.

She turned her gaze to Spike, and his eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the sofa. A very small frown line indicated that he was thinking.

“So, what do we do, now?” she asked when the silence became too much to bear.

“We help you find the balance back,” Spike said coolly as he opened his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. “So that neither the vamp nor the Slayer gets the upper hand. So that you can just be yourself without feeling you need to control them, or either of them controlling you. You were fine for years, we need to get you back to that.”

“The question is,” Giles whispered very low, probably not realizing that both vampires could hear his words, “how?”

Faith and her kid had come back. Giles and Andrea had left. Time had passed. And still Spike and Buffy had not moved from their embrace on the living room’s sofa. She had fallen asleep in his arms, and he could feel her irregular breaths against his neck. For a little while, after the Watcher had gone, they had talked. Quietly. Calmly. About things that had nothing to do with vampires and demons. About her childhood. About his, even. It was rare, that he revealed anything about his human life. Extremely rare. But she had asked, and he hadn’t been able not to answer. Simply because she had needed him to answer, had needed some quiet, calm, simple talk about who they had been. Not about who they were now. Even though that was where they had ended.

The statement, delivered in a mere whisper, left Spike speechless for a second.

“Was he?” he asked skeptically when he realized that her thoughts had taken her back to the wanker.

“Yes, he was. Every year for my birthday he would take me to that ice-skating show. That was nice.”

“Ice-skating, huh? Would that be why there are so many pictures of Buffy on ice in the old albums?”

“’Might be. I had this grand plan, you see. Become the best ice-skater and go to the Olympics and win the gold skating to ‘Wing beneath my wings’.”

She had a small shrug. The fingers of her left hand wove their way to the back of his neck, twisting the short hair there lightly.

“Everybody has a song they like when growing up,” she mumbled. “And everybody has dreams of what they want to become. Me, it was gold medallist. What about you? What did you want to be when you were a little boy?”

Spike’s body reacted in an unconscious but habitual manner at the question, stiffening, locking all vulnerabilities out very effectively. His mind, though, realized that she would be hurt if he refused to answer. She had trusted him with her childhood dreams. He could allow himself to reciprocate. He could even call them his dreams, for once, and not hide behind another name.

“A writer,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he did so. “Had my grand plan, too. I would become the most respected literature professor at Cambridge, and work on my masterpiece for years, and when it would finally be ready it would be the greatest book since the invention of language. But you know how well my plans usually work…”

He tried to put a smile in his voice at the end, but it was surprisingly hard, even after all these years.

“What about poetry?” she questioned softly. “I thought that was what you liked.”

“Later in my life,” he agreed. “But at first, it was literature. I had a couple of theater years. And then poetry. Until the end.”

She paused for an instant, and her voice was so quiet when she spoke again that he had trouble understanding her words.

“Maybe if you hadn’t died, you would have become a great writer. And maybe if I hadn’t been called, I would have won the gold. Maybe that was what we were supposed to be. And stumbling into the world of vampires and demons was just an accident. For both of us.”

“Supposed to be?” he repeated. “You’re only supposed to be what you want to be, luv. Nothing more. No one can force you to be something you don’t want to be.”

“And yet they made me a Slayer, and they never asked if I wanted it. And then, I was turned…”

It was hard to keep the discussion calm and quiet now, but Spike tried, as much as he could. Calm had proved too effective the night before to let go of it now.

“You were back to human. And you chose to be a vampire. Not me choosing for you this time, but you making the decision on your own. As for being a Slayer, there are more than enough Slayers in the world right now. If you wanted out, nothing would really stop you.”

She had not replied to that, and he had not pushed the topic. This was something they just profoundly disagreed on, and he knew he wasn’t going to convince her that easily. Did he even want to? It was her right to believe what she wanted, and if what she believed was that the damn Powers had plans for all of them… well, maybe that made her feel more secure?

Soon, she fell asleep, and he could only worry and wonder whether the battle that raged in her was taking more of her forces than she could spare. They still had a problem with these unknown vamps, the Slayers and the Potentials. How were they going to deal with the two at once? How could they fight an enemy they still knew so little about when they didn’t even know how to make Buffy better? He intended to keep doing what he had decided the night before, but that would only help the vampire in her fight the Slayer part. It wasn’t likely that just this would restore the equilibrium between the two. They needed something to happen, he thought glumly. Chloe’s death had been the catalyst, the one event that had finally made the Slayer part strong enough to impose itself. What could possibly tip the scales back the other way?

Chapter 29: Jealousies

Night was falling, and Buffy was upstairs, changing to a more slaying-friendly attire. Spike had long ago given up on commenting that, a few years back, she never felt the need to go on patrol with a special kind of clothes. Besides, he liked her in black and leather, so why would he complain?

He was waiting for her in the kitchen, where Faith and her kid also happened to be. Apparently, it was dinnertime for the baby, and he had let himself be caught by the show that feeding a child was. A bit messy, but it looked like fun.

“Ever wished you had one yourself?” Faith asked, throwing a questioning look at him.

Spike was a bit startled by the unexpected question, because it was the ex-Slayer’s first attempt at conversation. She hadn’t been talking much since she had arrived. She was apparently still pissed off by the turn of events, and had been demonstrating her resentment through mostly silence and dark looks. Spike didn’t mind that much, she wasn’t there for them to entertain her with witty conversations, and he had enough to worry about without adding her state of mind to the lot. He could answer a simple question, though.

“Sometimes,” he replied truthfully. “It was an option, for a little while, and sometimes I wonder what it would have been like.”

“Do you regret it? Being all noble and trading your life for that of a Slayer?”

For a short second, he stared at her. And then he couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“I wasn’t being noble,” he stated when he finally could control his hilarity. “’Was just thinking of dear old Spikey. I like myself better with fangs.”

And it was the truth, if only part of it. She gave him a weird glance at that, before asking, very coolly:

A cold shiver ran down Spike’s back. Probably without knowing, the brunette had touched to a very delicate problem. He loved Buffy as much as a vampire as he had loved her human, but she had felt it necessary to be a vampire again with him. For him. Had she not made that choice, they wouldn’t have gone through the nightmare of her losing her soul. And wouldn’t be in such a mess right now. And yet, he reminded himself, it had been just that. Her choice.

“It was her decision,” he said soberly. “I didn’t make it for her, didn’t ask her to do it. Just like no one forced you to give up being a Slayer.”

She had a sad laugh and shook her head. He couldn’t see her eyes as she was looking at the kid again, but he heard repressed tears in her voice.

“Yeah, no one forced me. And it worked so well, didn’t it? I’m back to square one, except now I need to be protected by a couple of vamps instead of staking vamps myself, and my child is doomed to go through this hell too.”

“But you did get out of the game,” he insisted. “Nothing says she won’t be able to escape. Whatever they plan for us, we’re still in control.”

She was frowning thoughtfully as she looked once more at him, and he was about to ask her what she was thinking, but Buffy called from the entrance that she was ready, and he just joined her after a quick nod at Faith.

A quick patrol had brought them close to the mansion, and Spike suggested stopping there to see if everything was alright. Buffy didn’t feel like seeing the innocent girls who didn’t know yet what fate had in store for them, but she didn’t feel like arguing about it either. There was too much arguing in her head already, she really didn’t need to add to it.

Their visit took an unexpected turn, however. As they were about a hundred yards from the building, they were stopped by an invisible barrier, very much like the one preventing uninvited vampires of entering a human’s home. Except that this barrier made a loud sound as they touched it, like a warning bell. Within seconds, a dozen young girls and older people who were obviously their Watchers had rushed out, all of them armed in some way. Giles and Andrea were there too, but before either could say a word to their troops, one of the oldest of the girls stepped forward, the stake in her hand now lowered. She had a small smile as she addressed the two vamps.

“Looks like Willow didn’t put any exceptions on her charm. At least we know…”

Because of the darkness, and because she had changed a lot since the last time she had seen her, Buffy didn’t recognize the girl until she spoke, her accent unmistakable. And immediately, some of the jealousy she had felt the night before was back. When Manon had been in Sunnydale before, she was just a kid, and so she hadn’t felt threatened when the girl admitted her feelings for Spike. It was just a schoolgirl crush. But now, she was a woman.

Before Buffy could stifle the unreasonable feeling, however, another girl had stepped forward. Not smiling at all, this one. Not lowering her stake either.

“You can not talk to the enemy!” she interrupted Manon with a glare. “They are…”

“They are Buffy and Spike, and they are here to help protect all of you,” Giles cut in, approaching to join them while Andrea was redirecting everyone else inside. “Buffy, Spike, this is Felicia. The new Slayer.”

There was a contained sigh in his last words, and Buffy had the distinct impression that the new girl was already getting on Giles’ nerves. Or maybe it had to do with living with all these young women. Either way, he looked more tired than he had earlier.

“Willow’s and Tara’s work,” he said, gesturing at the air between them. “It works just about the same as the basic protection on a house. Except that it also prevents anyone inside from getting out. Only Willow, Tara, Andrea and myself can invite someone across the barrier, in or out.”

“Nifty,” Spike said with a slight grin in Manon’s direction. “We don’t want the kiddies to go walking off in the night, do we?”

For some reason, Manon had a small laugh at that, and Buffy frowned, wondering what was going on there. Before she could ask, however, Felicia was jumping back in the conversation.

“I am not a kid,” she proclaimed, chin high and arms crossed over her chest. “I am the Chosen One.”

“I suppose you two are on patrol?” Giles changed the subject swiftly. “Anything of interest?”

“Nothing but a couple of ordinary vamps,” Buffy replied. “It’s almost too quiet. Anything new on your side?”

“Not really,” he said with a frown at the two girls at his side. “Except that I now have a theory about why there never was more than one Slayer at one given time before.”

There was tension, there, almost palpable. And Buffy didn’t want to know about it. She didn’t want to know Felicia or any of the others. Some of them might die soon, and she didn’t want to know them if they did.

“We’ll get back to work, then,” she said calmly. “We’ll report to you if we hear anything.”

Manon’s voice was pleading, and her gaze moved quickly between Giles, Spike and Buffy, before stopping on the latter.

More glances were exchanged. Spike shrugged, Buffy nodded, and Giles finally sighed.

“Seeing how you have the most training,” he commented, “I guess you’ll be safe on patrol. If you promise not to go out by yourself?”

She beamed as she crossed the now lifted invisible barrier. Felicia, on the other hand, didn’t seem very happy.

Buffy spoke without thinking, purely reacting to the word duty. The girl had sounded too much like Min, when she said that.

“I would agree with Buffy on the matter,” Giles said tiredly. “You and Manon proved you work much better when you’re not together.”

The Slayer – the youngest and newest one – glared at her elders before turning her heels and stomping back to the mansion. Buffy watched her go, wondering for a second what her story was – before reminding herself that she really didn’t want to know.

At first, Manon had been happy to be out of the mansion. Too many people, in there. Or rather, one too many. She didn’t like Felicia, Felicia didn’t like her, and she doubted that would ever change. She didn’t care, though. She would soon be going back to France, or so she hoped, and Felicia would either stay there or go back to wherever she was from, and they never would have to see each other again. Or, once again, so she hoped.

The patrol, however, quickly became very dull. The Buffy she remembered was a warm, caring person, almost a big sister to her. This Buffy was very defensive, almost cold, and demanding in an imperious voice that they all be quiet so that they could slay something, cutting short very effectively Manon’s answer to Spike asking what life was like at the mansion.

When she finally understood what the problem was, she could have kicked herself for not realizing sooner. It was weird, though. Buffy had never been jealous before, when Manon was actually attracted to Spike. Why was she jealous now that these feelings were gone? And what was the best way to tell to someone that you were not in love with their spouse anymore? She remembered something, from her university civilization classes, about weddings and engagements in the United States… So she did something she wouldn’t have thought of otherwise, and stuck her left hand right in front of Buffy’s face.

The maneuver proved extremely effective. Buffy made appropriate congratulation comments, and was afterwards much friendlier. There was laughter in Spike’s eyes, though, and Manon guessed he knew exactly what had been going on. She scowled at him for a while. He could simply have told Buffy she had nothing to be jealous about, that would have been much simpler.

Still distracted by Buffy’s attitude, and still annoyed by Spike’s, she didn’t notice the demon until it was right in front of her. Towering a good half-meter above her. She jumped back with a gasp, and narrowly avoided the pointy, skewer-like appendage that was shoved toward her middle. In a brief moment of respite, she took in the scene in front of her. She counted at least nine other demons in addition to the one who had attacked her, all of different species, all apparently well armed. Spike and Buffy were already fighting, with nothing but stakes. She joined the dance.

She managed to defeat her first opponent by breaking off the skewer-thing and pushing it as well as her stake through its chest, but not without getting a few bruises herself. Next, it was two demons coming at her at once, and she had no weapon left but her hands. A quick look at the two vamps showed that they had gotten rid of three demons between the two of them, and were also down to hand-to-hand fighting.

It started looking even worse when tingles down her spine warned her that vampires were approaching.

Chapter 30: A Childe's Punishment

They had fallen in an ambush, that much was clear to Spike. That many demons, no more than two of the same species, coming across them all at once, most of them bearing weapons? Ambush. No doubt there. Had he had a little more time to think, he would have started to reflect on how this piece fit – or did not fit – in the puzzle of everything that had been going on lately. As it was, all his attention was needed, both not to get staked and keep an eye on the two Slayers fighting alongside him.

They had killed four demons, already, but there were twice as many left. He was OK, except for a long but shallow cut across his thigh. Manon seemed to be using her right arm less effectively than she should have – and Spike remembered the deep slash on the inside of her arm. It probably wasn’t completely healed yet. Buffy was fine, as far as he could tell, although a bit below her usual standards too, which he attributed to the battle that was going on inside her. She had shifted to game face at some point during the fight, as he had, but he wasn’t worried about that. Her vampire status wasn’t a secret anymore, and her reflexes were always just a tad better when she used the demon’s resources – an advantage they most certainly could use right now. With both women not fighting their best, and no weapon except for a long knife Buffy had scavenged from a slain demon, this was going to be a hard fight. He was about to suggest a strategic retreat, when things only got a little worse. A dozen vamps rushed into the battle.

He started swearing, and searching frantically for the stake he had dropped earlier because it wasn’t effective on his opponent’s too tough skin. And then…

Then he realized, amazed, that the vamps weren’t attacking him or the two Slayers. Instead, they were after the demons they had been fighting. Both Buffy and Manon seemed to realize at the same time he did what was going on, and he drew them to the side, out of harm’s way. The vampires were armed, and after only a couple of minutes, three more demons were already on the ground, while the others looked ready to give up the fight and run away.

Spike noticed then, amongst their rescuers, a couple of faces he had seen before. It took him a second to remember where exactly he had come across them. And less than a second more to decide that it was probably a good idea to leave. Because these two vamps he recognized had been among the few that had attacked him and Clem in that bar, what seemed like an eternity ago, and promised to bring hell on him and his Childe.

“I don’t think we want to find out why they are helping,” he answered Manon’s question even as he kept a careful watch on the fight. “Let’s get out of here.”

Both he and Manon took a step back, but Buffy grabbed his arm and pointed to something on the other side of the battlefield.

Even as Spike looked at the man she was pointing at, who, like them, was watching the fight between demons and vampires without participating himself, he saw from the corner of his eye Manon jerking back.

Without waiting for them, she started running, and after a few seconds they had caught up with her by the cemetery’s gates. She seemed extremely pale. And scared.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked her, having apparently also noticed her sudden fright.

“That… that was the same vamp that attacked me in France. The one who was giving orders to the others.”

Her voice left no place for doubt, and she didn’t add anything more. All three of them fell silent, each wondering why a vampire who had tried to kill Manon a few night before would now come to her rescue.

As they came out of the cemetery, Spike shifted back to his human visage, touching Buffy’s arm to catch her attention and incite her to do the same. She frowned for a second, and brought a hand to her face, as if to check what features she was presenting to the world at that instant. Spike could only stare as she seemingly struggled to push the game mask back.

The way she avoided looking at him was answer enough, and did nothing to appease his concern.

Revello was closer than the mansion, so they directed their steps toward the house, with the unspoken thought that they needed weapons as soon as possible. No one was following them, Spike was sure of that, but he would feel a lot better with an axe in hand. He would feel better, also, if he managed to calm his nerves by killing a few demons before the end of the night.

All the way home, one thought obsessed Buffy. Not worry about why they had been ambushed by these random demons. Not questions about why vampires, including one who had tried to kill Manon before and had followed her here, had taken their side in the fight. No, what occupied her mind was of a more personal nature. For the second time in a few days, she had shifted to game face without being aware of it until someone pointed it out to her. She tried to focus on the positive point, which was that she hadn’t needed to drink blood to shift back this time, but she couldn’t help feeling distressed by her lack of control.

Another surprise was waiting for them as they reached Revello drive. Faith informed them that Angel had called, apparently quite upset, to warn them that a contract had been placed on Buffy’s head and that they ought to be even more careful than usual. Cursing loudly, and getting for his trouble a stern warning from Faith that her daughter was asleep and he had much rather not wake her, Spike called back the Hyperion. Buffy tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but she was still too bothered by what had happened earlier, and it was hard for her to concentrate on anything.

She blinked and looked at Manon, who had picked up a short sword and a couple of stakes in the weapons chest.

“You look a little… upset,” the young woman insisted as Buffy still wasn’t answering.

The concern she heard in the kid’s voice – no, she wasn’t really a kid anymore – sobered Buffy quite effectively. The young Slayer was the one who should have been rattled, after coming face to face with her would-be murderer, and yet she was worrying about her elder, while she didn’t know that anything was indeed wrong with her.

Manon threw a glance toward Spike, who was now dialing a new number, before turning a troubled gaze to Buffy.

“I had something to tell you,” she whispered with another glance in Spike’s direction. “I had a Slayer dream last night. I thought I should tell you rather than the others, because it’s about you.”

“You. But three of you. All the same, all of them Buffy, but… I don’t know how to explain it, they felt different…"

“Different how?” Buffy asked, and already she didn’t like the sound of this dream.

“It was just an impression… they looked exactly the same, but I could pick them apart easily because they were just… different. I have no other word for it. They were all fighting against each other. I think they were trying to kill each other. And then Spike was there, and… I’m not sure what happened, it looked like he was becoming you, but then the three you’s disappeared and it was just him left.”

Buffy frowned thoughtfully, and looked toward the kitchen were Spike was putting down the phone. If she understood what the dream was supposed to mean, Spike was the key to reconciling all the pieces of the puzzle that made her who she was. It comforted her in some way, and strengthened her resolve to keep trying to follow the path he had laid out for them. Even if it was far from easy.

Spike was always suspicious of Slayer dreams, as he somehow associated them to the Powers That Be, so it was probably better not to alarm him further. Manon nodded her understanding. Spike joined them, then, and explained that they needed to wait for Willow and Tara to come by, as he had just asked them to place a spell on the house that would repel all demons, like they had done at the mansion. While they waited, he explained to them exactly what Angel had said, and Buffy almost wanted to laugh at the thought that, only a few minutes before, the suddenly insignificant thing that was her inability to control her demon visage had upset her so much.

“Alright,” Giles said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge on his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me make sure I got that right. An evil law firm in L.A. placed a killing order on Buffy, supposedly because her being dusted would in some way prevent the extinction of the Slayer line. Slayer line that, or so we can hope, doesn’t exactly fight on the same side as that firm does, but said firm is apparently convinced that to have a Slayer in this world is necessary for its plans. So tonight you three were attacked by a bunch of demons we suppose were bounty hunters, and, that’s my favorite part, you received the help of some unnamed vampires that both Spike and Manon identified as being enemies. Is that all of it?”

The two vamps and the Slayer all nodded, and Giles couldn’t stifle another sigh. It was almost humorous that, after a few years away from Sunnydale, he had forgotten how bizarre things could get on the Hellmouth.

The High Mistress was staring at him, and Orion didn’t like at all that look in her golden eyes. He had seen it directed at others before, many times, and a few times at himself, and it never, ever, meant anything good. Quite the contrary. She had been more than a little upset by his failure in France, but surprisingly had offered him a second chance as he had reached Sunnydale. And now, this second chance had been wasted because the damn Slayers had been…

“Yes, my lady,” he murmured, bowing his head. “I interrogated the last one before we killed him, and apparently someone is offering half a million dollars for Buffy Summers’ ashes.”

For long minutes, he remained on one knee as she paced around the room. Orion couldn’t help but throw annoyed glances at his Sire’s other two Childer, who had both been allowed to sit while he, the oldest of them, was expected to kneel. And not just kneel, but kneel in front of the assembled minions. He had been away for too long, he thought bitterly. What had been supposed to be a reward, a token of his Sire’s trust in him, had turned out like a very bad deal in the end, as it allowed both Sylvyan and Ada to gain some influence in his absence. But he fully intended to regain what was his in the best delays – including access to the High Mistress’ bed. Although the admission that he considered anything related to her as his would have been dangerous to say the least, and he wouldn’t have voiced it for all the blood in the world.

“You did well,” his Sire finally enunciated, as if pronouncing a judgment. “If these demons had harmed or killed either of them, our plans would have been reduced to nothing. So you made the right decision by helping them tonight.”

Orion glanced up, smiling, but the relieved grin disappeared when he met his Sire’s cold gaze.

“However,” she continued icily, “you should have taken the opportunity to capture both Summers and the French girl. And instead, you allowed them to leave without even going after them.”

Orion gritted his teeth as his eyes dropped to the floor. He had explained to her, already, that it had been impossible to fight the demons and do something about their prey at the same time. But he knew from experience that it was useless to try to change her mind now, in front of everyone.

“Ada, you shall hunt tomorrow night, and I dare hope, for your own good, that you will have better results. Sylvyan, you will use your new pet, and I also expect you to bring me back what I want.”

Both of them nodded gravely, but neither moved as the High Mistress opened the door to her bedroom.

She didn’t even look back at him, didn’t wait to see if he would follow her. She didn’t have to. She knew perfectly well he would obey her without a pause. Even if he knew with just as much certainty that the next few hours would be very long and very painful for him.

Chapter 31: Traps

Except for a few additions, the meeting that was taking place at the Magic Box had a definite feel of déjà vu. Were present and crowded around the research table the two Witches, the Harris couple and their son Michael, Faith and her kid, Giles and his girl, Manon, Buffy and Spike. And the newest member of the group – Felicia, who had apparently sworn to lead an uprising of Potentials if she wasn’t permitted to attend.

From what Spike could tell, she was still seething about not having been allowed to patrol the night before, while Manon had been, and she was glaring at the older Slayer every now and then. Manon was oblivious, or at least pretended to be. Giles had explained he had let the kid come to try and soothe her irritable temper, and also because, even with said temper, she was still a Slayer, and they ought to keep her informed of what was going on so that she would be ready when the time to fight came. Spike could understand that. But if she didn’t stop acting like a brat jealous of an older sibling soon, he was going to shake some sense into the girl. The last thing they needed now was a catfight between the Slayers.

Faith had initially refused to come, reminding them in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t a Slayer anymore and that they shouldn’t expect her to fight. She had changed her mind at the last minute, without explaining why, and now looked very annoyed that she had, as if they had forced her to come along.

It was the kind of meeting Spike despised. Too much talk, not enough action. He itched for a good fight – and very much hoped that, with no less than three Slayers present, he would manage to get a bit of sparring after the meeting was concluded. And preferably with Buffy, of course. Of course, they were at least doing something, even if it was only talk. The dozen girls locked up in the mansion with their Watchers were kept completely out of the action, and that was a fate Spike wouldn’t have been able to bear.

Giles had finished exposing what they knew, and as far as Spike was concerned, it only pointed out one thing: they didn’t know much. They knew someone had killed Min, had tried to kill Manon, and was presumably after Faith and her kid too, if Cordelia was to be trusted. They knew whatever was going on could possibly end up in all the Potentials dying, which would put an end to the Slayer line. They knew that, for some reason, Buffy dying before that would prevent it from happening, and that consequently some lawyers in LA had decided that she had to be dusted. They still didn’t know why the vamps were after Slayer blood exactly, didn’t know who they were, didn’t know if it was only a coincidence that the vamps who had seemed to know first that he had turned Buffy were the same ones who were after the other Slayers.

“The Council is still investigating as to how Slayers blood and Potentials dying en masse could be related,” Giles concluded his exposition. “And it would be a good idea for us to research that too. Once we know what the enemy is planning exactly…”

“They’re planning to kill,” Manon interrupted him. “Anyone who is, has been or will be a Slayer. Do we really need to know why? Shouldn’t we rather try to kill them first?”

Spike was surprised by her intervention. The shy kid he remembered who had barely dared to speak during meetings was apparently long gone. And he tended to agree with her, once the immediate threat would be removed it would be time to find answers to less pressing questions. A quick look around the room didn’t show much support in favor of the idea to attack as soon as possible, though. Felicia looked like she might have agreed, but her jealous feelings would prevent her from siding with Manon.

“I agree with that,” he chimed in. “Let London find answers, and while they do we find our new friends and get rid of them.”

“The problem is, how do we find them?” Buffy questioned, frowning slightly as she turned her face toward him. “They didn’t exactly leave us their address. We don’t even know who they are.”

“No, but we have something they want. And we know they’re going to try again to get it.”

He looked pointedly at Manon as he said that, and at once the whole room started to erupt at the implied suggestion.

“You are not using her as bait!” Andrea protested loudly, her voice covering other objections.

“That looks a little extreme,” Willow said in a more reasonable tone, “why don’t we try to localize them instead?”

“Or hit the demon bars,” Xander suggested, “and try to find information.”

More suggestions continued to come, replies were made, but Spike wasn’t paying attention anymore. He was looking at the key players, the ones whom, he knew, would make the call eventually. Giles was frowning, but not voicing his own opposition to the idea, which Spike knew had to be good. Buffy was looking strangely unexpressive, and he had no clue as to what she was thinking. She had been rather distant since the night before, obviously preoccupied. He had tried to comfort her, but there was really little that he could do that he wasn’t already doing. He squeezed her hand where it rested on his knee, and she gave him a small smile. As soon as they got rid of this threat, he would be able to devote all his time to her, teach her the lore, take her on a hunt as he had promised he would. That was just another incentive to solve their vamp problem in the best delays. And he was convinced that his idea was the key to that.

Manon, however, didn’t seem to share his view of things. She had paled visibly when he had looked at her, and she was now shaking her head slowly. Despite the noise in the room, he was able to make out the few words she mumbled under her breath.

When she had suggested doing something more proactive than research, being used as bait had to be the last thing Manon had had in mind. She was willing and ready to attack, yes, but not so much to be attacked. There had been discussions, endless ones, but when all was said and done, the plan they had was clear. And she very much did not agree with them about it. She had come to Sunnydale to escape these vamps, not to rush into their waiting arms.

Gripping her stake a little tighter, she crossed her arms over her chest. The night air was warm, she was aware of that, and yet she felt cold. Lonely. And she didn’t understand why. She was used to patrolling alone, that was what she did back home, except for trickier hunts for which her Watcher had often joined her.

A pang of pain ran through her at the thought. She still wasn’t getting used to the idea that her Watcher was dead.

And now she was alone. No vamps fighting by her side, tonight. No Slayer either, and she wasn’t completely displeased by that, because Felicia could now get on her nerves simply by looking at her, without even talking. Progress was made every day on the battlefront of annoyance.

It was her third cemetery of the night. She hadn’t seen much action so far, and she was beginning to wonder if she would find anything at all when a shiver down her spine gave an answer to that. She strained her ears, focused her senses, but gave no outward sign that she was aware she was being tracked. Or rather, tracked any more than she had been all night. Deliberately, she followed a narrowing down path between several large crypts. They wouldn’t be able to encircle her, here. And wouldn’t be able to escape either.

At the instant she felt them coming too close for comfort, as they were probably thinking they could use the narrowness of the path to their advantage, she yelled to the top of her lungs: “Now!” and turned to face them and fight.

A woman was walking toward her, followed by six more vamps. Far less than had come to her in France, and less than their ‘rescuers’ the night before. She understood why there were less of them at the second the woman raised a glowing hand toward her. They were trying to catch her by using magic, this time, it seemed. Which was ironic, considering that behind them, Willow and Tara had dropped on her signal the shield that had concealed them, Buffy, Spike, Felicia, Giles and Andrea ever since they had left the Magic Box, right after her at nightfall. They had been following, the shield supposedly blocking out sounds and scents as well as sights, waiting for her to be attacked. She couldn’t believe she had actually agreed to it. And now, with cold sweat running down her back, she was relieved it had worked as planned.

The vamps didn’t stand a chance, trapped between a Slayer they needed alive on one side and charging fighters on the other. Some fought, some tried to run, but all save one were dusted rather easily. The last one left was obviously the leader. She had dropped her attempts at magic, and vainly tried to direct her troops until she was the last one standing. Somehow, Manon was a little disappointed that it wasn’t the man that had attacked her before that they had caught, she had been under the impression that he was the big chief in this show. She very much hoped this one would tell them just as well what they needed to know, because she wasn’t going to play that game again.

Hanging up the phone irritably, Faith ran a hand through her hair. Tom wasn’t answering. At this hour, he should have been home. She had tried his office too, without any more luck. The only thing she could think of was that he was on his way to Sunnydale, as he had promised a few nights before, and she was afraid to hope for that in case he wasn’t. Maybe he had tried to call her earlier, she thought. But since she had been at that meeting at the shop, she hadn’t been there to answer. And what a waste of her time that meeting had been! They knew nothing about what part she was supposed to play in this game, or why her daughter was in danger. They didn’t know much at all, actually. She hadn’t participated in the discussion, but she thought Spike’s idea was their best chance to know what was going on and to regain the initiative. Once they captured a vamp or two, they could track down the rest, and know what exactly they wanted to do. The sooner this mess was fixed, the faster she would be able to go home.

Xander and his wife had given her a ride to the Summers house, and offered to stay with her until the return of the vampires, but she had declined the suggestion. The night before, Willow and Tara had placed some kind of spell on the house which made it inaccessible to all demons that weren’t invited in, and so she felt quite safe. Bored, tired, still angry and resentful, but safe.

With no noise in the house, she could hear a car pull up in the driveway, and peeked through the window to see who was coming at this late hour. She recognized the car immediately, and a smile blossomed on her lips as she went to open the door. Like he had promised, Tom had finally joined her. He walked toward her with a smile as large as hers, and she rushed to him, eager to be in his arms again.

Chapter 32: Her Childer

For the first time since she had lost her Slayer abilities and become a normal young woman, Faith regretted her choice, regretted her long gone strength, the tingles down her spine, the faster than fast reflexes. She regretted all of it, because, for the first time, she needed not to be normal. Tingles down her spine would have warned her immediately, fast reflexes would have allowed her to jump back even if she had made the mistake to come out of the house, and strength… strength would have allowed to break free of his arms when he realized she knew.

“Don’t hurt her. You really don’t want to annoy our lady, believe me on that.”

Tom – no, that wasn’t Tom anymore, she couldn’t let herself think of him like that – the vampire shifted his hold on her, twisting her arms in her back and standing behind her even as she tried to struggle free. All he did was laugh at her pitiful attempts, and tears sprung to her eyes at the familiar, loved laugh now sounding so hollow and cold. She fought them back, refusing to give in. She wasn’t a Slayer now, but she had been one, she knew of vampires, knew how to kill them, knew the moves even if she didn’t have the needed strength to make them effective right now. Her time would come, though. It would. It had to.

As she tried to talk herself into calming down not to ruin whatever chances she may have, she didn’t notice that the man who had advised To… her captor not to hurt her was approaching, until he stood right in front of her. She raised her head defiantly, unwilling to let him think she was bowing to him, and he chuckled softly.

“Yes, I can see the attraction. She must have been really something, when she was still a Slayer.”

“Will you let me keep her?” came the almost growled request from behind her. “Please, Sire?”

The vamp in front of her clicked his tongue in disapproval even as he shot a warning glance above her shoulder.

“It is not for you to ask such a thing,” he said icily, the pleasant tone now forgotten. “She belongs to the High Mistress, and if you even suggest otherwise again you will be dust the next second.”

She had wanted to cry at his laugh. She now wanted to howl at hearing this creature, once her so proud and strong husband, reduced to… to what? A cowering minion, probably only sired because he could be useful to get to her. He had been killed because of her.

This time, she couldn’t fight back the tears, and dropped her head as sobs rocked her body. The vampire behind her, who, when alive, had held her so often when she had nightmares, offered no comfort. The one in front of her put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up again. He was smiling, an utterly charming smile, and she wanted to fight once more, break away from this single finger still lingering on her chin, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. All she could do was fall in his eyes.

“Will you play nice if he lets go of your arms?” he asked in a sensual whisper.

She tried to nod, but found that she couldn’t, so she managed to articulate a raspy “yes”. His eyes didn’t leave hers, but he clapped his fingers, and suddenly she was free. But she could not move anymore now than she could before.

Something in her struggled, tried to push past the cotton that seemed to have dulled her senses so that she was aware of nothing but him. But even as she tried to lie, tried to understand why she even felt like lying to him, her lips already were letting the truth escape.

His smile widened a little, and the finger on her chin moved to stroke her cheek. All thoughts of resistance disappeared, and her world again was nothing but his finger, his lips, his eyes, his words.

“Of course. Sandra. You will walk into this house and go get Sandra for me, will you? We are all going on a little trip. Take everything you need for her. My lady does not tolerate children very much, I am afraid, and we will have to keep Sandra happy and quiet until she is needed. You understand?”

He withdrew his hand from her face, and she took this as her cue to do as he had said. Eager to please, she turned and promptly walked to the house, completely oblivious to Tom’s presence as she walked past him.

Walking their prisoner toward the mansion was not an easy feat. They had bound her wrists, gagged her, Felicia and Buffy were each holding one of her arms as the others walked around them and kept ready for a possible attack, but she still struggled and tried to escape every few steps. After a while, Buffy lost her patience completely. With her hand to the woman’s throat, she held her up, so that her neck was strained, and growled:

“I’m tired of your games. Either you stop playing now, or we will see how hard you struggle once there isn’t a drop of blood left in you.”

With Felicia’s startled gasp, she realized she was in game face, although she had not shifted consciously. At that instant, though, with pure annoyance coursing through her, she didn’t really care. And she meant every word of her threat.

It was a surprise to see the woman’s eyes widen even as they shifted toward Spike. The look confused Buffy, she had thought they knew she was a vampire… So why was she surprised, now? The answer came as Spike stepped next to Buffy, and said very low to their prisoner:

“Yes, she does mean that. She doesn’t know the first thing about the lore, and she would do it without a second thought. So now you know exactly where you stand.”

His lips brushed against her temple, and he returned to his place in the circle around the two Slayers and their captive. Captive who was presently nodding, and there was now a definite glint of fear in her eyes. Even as she released her hold on her throat and motioned for the group to start walking again, Buffy’s annoyance didn’t disappear. On the contrary, it grew. What was it that had passed between Spike and that vamp? What was it in the lore that she didn’t know but that was obviously so important? It was at least a small consolation that the woman was now walking without struggling.

The next obstacle came as the group reached the invisible barrier that protected the mansion. They needed to invite her by name so that she could pass through, but even as Willow reminded Giles of the fact, a hint of laughter in their captive’s eyes informed Buffy that she was not going to give them her name easily. Even as the Watchers and Witches started discussing whether to lift the spell and reinstate it or what other option they had, Buffy decided to take the matter in her own hands. She was about to do a repeat performance and threaten her again when Spike’s hand closed around her wrist.

“It won’t work twice, luv,” he said softly, as if for her ears only, before turning to the others and saying with a slight twinge of impatience: “Her name’s Ada. Now invite her in and let’s get this bloody show on the road. I want to be home before sunrise.”

A few words from Giles, and Ada could now be walked to the mansion. Curious eyes turned to Spike, except for Buffy’s, which, golden, reflected more jealousy than curiosity.

“I’ve met a lot of people, in a hundred years,” he said, sounding both amused and annoyed, and did not elaborate.

As the group walked inside and went straight toward the cellar’s staircase as previously decided, Buffy stopped Spike with a hand on his arm just before he passed the threshold, and closed the door to give them a little of privacy for an instant.

“It’s a simple question, Spike. Did you or did you not fuck Ada? I want to know. Now.”

For a few long seconds, he simply watched her, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, it was with a question of his own.

In the brief period of time she took to decide what to reply to that, he seemed to find his answer on her features.

“It’s the third time, then. And apparently you’re getting more aggressive each time. Can you shift out?”

“Don’t try to change the topic. I asked you if you fucked her, I still want an answer.”

“And why do you want to know, Buffy? What does it matter what I did or did not do almost a hundred years before I met you?”

He nodded. “Yours. Very true. Your Mate, and as such, you should know that no one exists for me apart from you. But also your Sire...”

“… and I will not be questioned by you. Now shift out of game face and try to get a grip.”

As unconsciously as she had assumed the mask, she let it go, and was almost surprised to realize that this time it hadn’t been difficult at all. At the same time as the demon receded, she felt her anger fading as well. Spike’s features softened slightly, and he cupped her face in his hands.

“Buffy, luv,” he murmured, “remember what your Watcher said. You have to find a balance between the Slayer and the demon. Leaving too much control to the demon is just as bad as not giving it enough. It’s not you.”

Her throat tightened as she realized how she had acted since they had captured Ada, and she could only nod to indicate that she understood. He sighed, then, and pulled her into his arms. She accepted the embrace, and closed her eyes, trying, for just an instant, not to think of anything but him.

“For the record,” he said just next to her ear, “I did not sleep with her. We met, that was all.”

“But you still remember her name,” Buffy protested weakly. “How many years ago was it that you still remember her?”

Once more, he sighed, but his voice remained cool even as repeated his earlier words:

“I will not be questioned by you, Buffy. Maybe some day I will tell you how and when we met, and why I remember her name, as well as the names of all that were present that night. But not now.”

She replied nothing to that, simply because she had no answer that wouldn’t displease him, and it seemed like a bad idea to irritate him now. After a second, he suggested:

Still pressing a handkerchief to Andrea’s slightly bleeding forehead, Giles glanced toward the staircase, where the two vampires were now appearing.

“Where were you?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to. “It’s really not the time to disappear without warning.”

The both looked in surprise at the mess around them. A shelf that had been against the wall now lay on the floor, broken. Felicia was applying pressure to her arm, some blood staining her fingers and shirt. Willow and Tara, hands linked, where chanting together, their eyes focused on Ada, that Manon, covered in dust, was currently tying up to a chair.

“Our guest took advantage of the fact that we took off her gag to show us she knows some magic too. We could have used a couple more hands.”

His tone was cool, almost cold, and Buffy seemed a little flustered. Spike however merely looked surprised.

“So, she learned magic, huh? That’s interesting. And that makes her even more precious. That’s one less weapon for her Sire to use.”

The blonde vamp shifted his gaze to their captive, who was looking back at him without flinching, and a very disturbing smile settled on his lips as he continued:

“Because you’re still following her orders, aren’t you, Ada? I’ve not really kept up to date with what’s going on in the families, but I’m sure I would have heard about it if she had been dusted.”

Gagged again, Ada did not move or indicate in any way what she thought. Giles caught Spike’s eyes and gave him a questioning look, but the vampire merely shook his head.

“I’ll fill you in later, but it’s not much. Especially when she’s right here and we just need to get the information we need.”

“And since we obviously can’t trust her to let her speak,” Andrea said dryly, glancing at the now completely bound vampire, “we’ll just resort to plan B. You’re ready, ladies?”

Willow and Tara exchange a quick look before nodding their readiness. They had made it clear that they would only do this if there was no other way, as neither of them was comfortable with the idea of invading someone’s mind to get information, even an enemy’s mind.

Hands still linked, Tara closed her eyes while at the same time Willow reached out with her free hand to touch Ada’s temple. The vampire tried to move away, but, restrained as she was, couldn’t escape. A flash of shock ran through her features, and the next second she had shifted to game face and closed her eyes. Willow pulled back her hand as if she had been burnt.

“She closed herself off,” she announced warily. “I just had time to see a couple of images, but nothing very clear.”

Instinctively, Giles turned his eyes to Buffy. Her face radiated pure anger, and without Spike’s arm at her waist, she would probably have dusted Ada already. Surprisingly enough, there was the same outrage in Manon’s eyes, and Giles grabbed her arm and pulled her a little further from their captive.

“A few imprecise images. I think it’s the place where she lives. Not enough to tell me where it is, though. And one last thing. Some kind of… I don’t know. A piece of jewelry, I think. She was holding it, looking at it, and it felt… powerful.”

Ada’s eyes opened abruptly, and she looked at Willow with renewed intensity. That had to be important, if it brought such a response from her.

Giles and Andrea produced at the same time from their pockets slim notepads and pencils, earning for that amused looks from the Wiccas. Willow accepted the items and started drawing. She was no artist, but as he looked at the result of her efforts, Giles had no trouble recognizing the pendant. He didn’t know what surprised him most. That this particular bauble would turn up in the hands of vampires only three years after the Council had used it as payment for information about Buffy’s soul, or that Andrea, who had obviously recognized it too, would react with a curse he had never heard in her mouth – he had actually never heard her curse as far as he could remember.

Chapter 33: Blame

After having assured herself that Ada’s bonds would hold, and glared at her a little more for good measure, Buffy followed the others upstairs. Abstractly, she could understand that having Ada in their hands was a good point, the first point they had scored so far. But at the same time she itched to just stake her now. Because she had killed Chloe. Not because she was so beautiful, pale gray eyes, long dark hair, so similar to Drusilla. Not because Spike knew her. Not at all.

As they gathered in the kitchen, she unconsciously sought her Sire’s touch, standing right by his side against the wall, slipping her hand into his, earning for that a preoccupied smile. What was he thinking about? Was he as distracted as she was? She could hardly concentrate on what was going on, too many thoughts running in her mind, and she had to make an effort to pay attention when Willow was the first to talk.

“Obviously, you know what that pendant is,” she said, addressing the two Watchers. “What does it do? Why is it so bad that they have it?”

Giles and Andrea exchanged a glance, Giles nodded as he took off his glasses, and Andrea replied.

“It’s a magical artifact. A very powerful one. It focuses magic and amplifies it, so even with minor abilities, a wannabe witch or warlock can achieve great things.”

“So, should we assume they’re going to use it to kill all of us Slayers and Potentials?” Manon asked from her seat on the counter. “If that’s the case, we just retrieve it and…”

“Just retrieve it would imply we know where it is,” Spike cut in. “Which we don’t. And we won’t find Ada’s Sire if she doesn’t want to be found.”

“You mentioned her Sire before,” he said slowly. “Anything you can tell us about her?”

Blinking several times, Buffy turned her eyes to Spike’s face, as if just by looking hard enough she would be able to know all of his past with Ada and her Sire, how he knew them, how well. Everything. She couldn’t help the increased possessiveness she felt where he was concerned. The lucid part of her was saying it was stupid, that Spike was hers as surely as she was his. But just the same, she was jealous. And, as well, worried. How long until he got tired of the battle that was going on in her? She was trying, as hard as she could, to find again this ‘balance’ Giles had spoken of. But it was clear that her efforts were unsuccessful so far.

“She’s not as old as the Master was,” Spike said with a slight shrug. “But only by a few decades. She’s one of the oldest head of clan, and she prides herself on that. Loves power. Very cunning, or so I heard, which would fit with what has been going on. Ada is clever, but not clever enough to have planned all of this by herself.”

“What is her name?” Andrea asked, already scribbling on her notepad. “Maybe the diaries can tell us more.”

“I don’t know. Everyone called her ‘High Mistress’ or ‘my lady’. Her clan is called the Order of Cinnia, though.”

Buffy glanced at the Watchers, and both looked like they recognized the name. Neither said anything, though, and the only reaction was a slight frown marring Giles forehead.

“What about the man who came after me in France?” Manon asked. “The one who helped us last night. I thought he was the big chief.”

“I didn’t have a very good look at him,” Spike said thoughtfully, “not good enough to recognize him, but it was probably another of her Childer. She wouldn’t do herself anything that would include a risk, not unless she absolutely had to. She’d send her Childer, or even minions.”

For a few seconds, everyone seemed to ponder what new information they had gathered so far.

“We’ll have London find everything we have about the Order of Cinnia,” Giles said at last. “And about the pendant. I still want to find out if it’s really what they have, though, so we’ll check on that too.” He looked at Willow and Tara before he continued. “We’ll probably need your help again tomorrow, you’re the most experienced magic users we have, and…”

Following Giles quick directives, all the fighters rushed out while Andrea went to tell the Potentials and their Watchers that everything was under control. When they made a quick reconnaissance, though, there was no trace of who had tried to come to the mansion.

As soon as he heard the ringing noise, Orion understood that he had triggered some kind of warning signal, and he instantly retreated. There were several Slayers, in that house, as well as at least two Witches, and he had no desire to confront either of them, let alone all.

Despite the pain that still throbbed in all of his body, he had gone out at the same time as the others, under the pretext of finding fresh blood that would help him heal. What he had done, however, was follow Ada and her group. She was barely eighty years younger than him, and he had had a long time to study her and her methods. Yes, sometimes, she had impressive results, there was no denying it. She had after all managed to kill a Slayer, something that not all vampires could claim having done – something, also, that was not to be spoken of, as it had displeased their Sire immensely. Orion suspected that the High Mistress had wanted him to do it, not Ada, because he was her favorite at the time, and because she had promised him, long ago, that she would give him a Slayer, one day. That had been the best occasion, and Ada had ruined it.

He had followed Ada, careful to stay far enough that he wouldn’t be noticed. He had seen her fail, watched as she was captured, and all the while did not move one inch, and simply thought about how to turn this to his advantage. Knowledge was power, and power was something the High Mistress always craved. He would return to her, tell her about the failure of her other Childe, and… ah, if only Sylvyan had failed too… Orion would undoubtedly regain his place of favorite, then. She might even grant him a mouthful of her blood, so he would heal faster and serve her better…

When the group had taken Ada inside the large house, Orion had hesitated. For a long while, he had waited, wondering if they would come out again, unsure about whether to go back to the lair immediately or try to see more, learn more. If they hadn’t staked Ada so far, she was probably still intact. A hostage, who they certainly hoped would answer their questions. When he had grown tired of waiting, he had tried to come closer, and that was when the alarm had sounded.

On his way back to the lair, Orion thought and planned how he was going to tell the news he had. It had been a great idea to follow Ada, but he couldn’t quite say he had, though, the High Mistress might not appreciate that kind of initiative. No, he would tell her it had been pure coincidence that he had crossed path with the group and their captive. Yes, that would be fine.

Satisfied with his story, he strode in the clan’s lair with an appropriately worried look – it wouldn’t do to look happy that Ada had failed, now. The fake worry turned sour however when he came to the main chamber, and saw that Sylvyan had brought back the two prey he had been hunting.

If he disliked Ada – she had been the first Childe the High Mistress had made after him, and he had enjoyed being her only Childe ever since his elder had fallen to a Slayer, some fifty years or so before – it was nothing in comparison to his hatred for Sylvyan. He wasn’t even a hundred years old, but their Sire was treating him as though he was an equal to her older Childer, and Orion just couldn’t get used to it. Couldn’t admit it. Couldn’t tolerate it.

He winced at the word ‘brother’, and noticed Sylvyan’s slight smile, but managed not to scowl as he looked at the brunette who had once been a Slayer and the sleeping child she carried in her arms.

“Nice gifts, indeed, my lady,” he said coolly as he placed one knee to the floor in front of her. “But I am afraid they will be your only gifts tonight.”

The quiet conversations of the minions around the large room came to an immediate halt, and Orion carefully kept his eyes to the ground until his Sire’s hand tilted his face up. Her eyes were burning with cool fire, but he knew before long they would be twin infernos.

“High Mistress, I have to report that Ada was captured by your enemies. I saw them take her to the place where they hide.”

The sharp nails of the fingers under his chin cut through his skin, but so little pain wasn’t worth noticing. Not when his Sire was getting angrier with each second. Dangerously so.

His eyes widened very slightly. He hadn’t even thought that, once more, she would reproach him not to have attacked. He should have thought of it. How could he have overlooked that possibility?

“I would have, my lady,” he said hurriedly. “But even if I hadn’t been too hurt to fight, I was alone, and there were eight of them, three of them Slayers, and I…”

The hand was abruptly gone, and his Sire was striding away. Pacing around the room. A sure sign that she was angry enough to kill someone on the spot, even her favorite Childe. Sylvyan put one knee down, imitating Orion’s posture, and the minions around the room took their cue from him and did the same. That was the only thing to do in this kind of storm. Lay low and wait for the high Mistress to calm down.

“That’s the second attempt against this girl that fails,” she growled, very low but all too clearly. “Everything else is going fine, but twice already this one escapes us. And we can’t do a thing without her or the abomination, and we still haven’t even tried to get that one.”

Every time her steps brought her close to him, something in Orion couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be dust the next second. She didn’t stop next to him, though, not once, and continued her restless pacing.

“Ada gone… she was the most experienced… Foolish girl! How could she let herself be caught! We can do the spell without her if we have to, but if we can we will get her back. I want to hear her try to explain her failure before I decide of her fate.”

Even as he listened to her, Orion wondered whether he should tell his Sire about the barrier and warning that surrounded the place where Ada was kept. Not yet, he decided. It would be more prudent to wait for his Sire to ask for more details.

“Find a place for our guests,” she ordered with a sharp gesture toward the only person standing apart from her – the brunette ex-Slayer. “Make sure she and the child are untouched, and that they do not escape. They are both your responsibility.”

Gritting his teeth, he acknowledged the order and watched dejectedly as the High Mistress left with Sylvyan to go on a hunt.

As they walked toward Revello, Spike was even more attentive to their surroundings than he usually was, and this for two reasons. They now knew who their enemy was, and even though his first-hand knowledge of the Order of Cinnia was barely more than what he had told the others earlier – they didn’t need to know about the endless and fruitless negotiations that had taken place between his own vampiric family and Ada’s about a common foe – he knew enough not to be happy about the identity of their attackers. Also, he could easily see that Buffy wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on around them, her thumb distractedly running over his own, and her inattentiveness made it necessary for him to be more focused for the both of them.

He was more worried than ever about her. So far, it had been the Slayer part of her that was trying to dominate her actions. Tonight, he had seen the demon take over, and it had brought back not particularly pleasant memories of her soulless self.

She turned a sharp gaze to him as he said the name, but he decided to ignore her blatant jealousy.

“The only reason it worked,” he continued, “is that she was shocked you would even think of draining her, let alone would say it out loud. It won’t work again, though, not now that she got used to the idea.”

He considered his next words carefully. He had told her he would teach her the lore, but so far, he hadn’t. So many things were going on, he felt a little overwhelmed by it all. Right now seemed like a good time to start, though.

“Here’s your first lesson about the lore, Childe. The reason she was shocked is that drinking from another vampire by force, or even draining them, is taboo. It’s simply not done, but…”

“Angel drained you,” she interrupted petulantly. “Or have you forgotten already?”

“Do I have to order you to be quiet so that you will listen to what I am trying to teach?” he asked in a deceptively calm tone.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she seemed to quickly catch on, shaking her head slowly.

“It is against the lore,” he said as he started walking again, and she was at his side immediately. “But in one case it is permitted. When it is a punishment inflicted by a Sire to a Childe. It’s the only exception.”

Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

He suppressed a tired sigh. He had hated learning the lore, and it looked like he would hate just as much teaching it to his Slayer.

A few weeks, a few months before, he was sure that the question would never even have occurred to her. She would have known he wouldn’t. Had she completely lost her trust in him?

They had arrived on Revello, and he could see their house already. He could see the open door. He wasn’t the only one.

Buffy’s shout held more fear than he had ever heard in her voice. They both ran to the house, but he knew, even before they entered, that it would be empty. Just as he knew that Buffy would blame herself for this.

Chapter 34: In the Middle of the Storm

It didn’t take long to the two vampires to survey their house and ascertain that Faith and her kid – or their bodies – weren’t there. But they found out something else. The baby’s bag was gone, too.

“Calm down, luv. If all they wanted was to kill them, they wouldn’t have bothered to take the kid’s stuff. For all we know, Faith decided she was tired of our hospitality.”

Even as he tried to soothe her with composed words, Spike held Buffy tightly against him, her arms immobilized along her body. She had shifted to game face, once more unconsciously, he supposed, and had been yelling and tearing apart the guest bedroom when he had joined her in there. She wasn’t calming down, though, and any second now she was going to escape his grip. And they did not have time for that kind of fits. So he did the one thing he hoped could calm her for more than a few minutes. He tilted his head, presenting his neck to her in a clear invitation.

Instantly, she stilled in his arms. She tore her eyes from the proffered jugular, and searched for his gaze.

He could see the doubt in her fiery eyes, but even more clearly he could see the bloodlust. It took her only a couple more seconds to accept his offer, and when she did it was with uncharacteristic harshness, almost as feeding from an enemy’s throat. He had expected it, though, and he didn’t flinch. She took a few quick mouthfuls, and with each one he could feel her body relax, even as he grew hard. They didn’t have time for that either, though.

“Better?” he murmured when she stopped drinking and pressed her face to his shoulder.

“What is happening to me?” she replied, obviously and understandably distraught. “That’s not me. I don’t act like that.”

He ran a soothing hand through her hair, and she looked up at him, hazel again eyes begging for answers.

“I’ll have to agree on that one, luv. It’s not you. And I’m sorry for being unable to help you.”

He would have liked to keep holding her. He would have liked to talk to her, comfort her, with his touch and his words, more than he was doing already. But again, there was that slight problem. Time.

Despite what he had told Buffy when trying to calm her, he doubted that Faith had just left of her own accord, if for no other reason that her travel bag was still there. But he did have hope that she and the child were still alive. A thin hope, but it was still enough to make him aware that time could be sensitive.

“Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower,” he suggested softly. “That will relax you some more, and in the meantime I’ll see about finding Faith. Alright?”

To his surprise, she didn’t protest, simply nodded, and allowed him to lead her out of the room and to the bathroom. He left her there despite everything in him that was crying out for him to stay, Faith and the rest of the world be damned. He didn’t go far, just to their bedroom, and dialed from memory the Witches’ number. They should have been back to their apartment, by now, or so he hoped. Willow picked up on the third ring, and he suppressed a relieved sigh.

In as few words as possible, he told her that Faith was missing, and that they needed to know where she was. He remained on the line while she did a localization spell, with, as always, Tara’s help. When she returned to the phone to tell him the spell was not working, he wasn’t terribly surprised. It would only be logical that Ada would have made her Mistress’ lair untouchable by magic, since she was apparently practicing the art herself. A few more questions and answers assured him that the spell would have picked up her presence even if she was dead, so that wasn’t the problem. He thanked them, wished them a good night, although he doubted they would sleep much after this kind of news.

His next call was to Giles. He had to fish out the newly installed phone number from his duster’s pocket, and the phone rang almost a dozen times before someone finally picked up. A few more instants, and Giles was finally on the line.

“Faith and her kid disappeared,” he said without preamble. “I had Red do a spell, but she can’t localize them. I think the kid at least is still alive because they took her travel bag.”

“You said… Cordelia said, if the child dies, all the Potentials die with her. Right?”

“That’s what she said, yeah. So as long as your kiddies are kicking, I guess that means the High Bitch didn’t do whatever it is she plans on doing.”

“Well, we do have someone she seems to need,” Giles pointed out. “And as long as we do…”

“Ada is not that important,” Spike interrupted him. “She’ll be prepared to do it without her.”

“Yes, probably, but I was talking about Manon. The Order went to France to get her blood, and they went as far as to come to your help against these demons the other night, presumably so that she wouldn’t be hurt by anyone other than them.”

Despite himself and the gravity of the situation, Spike allowed himself a grim smile. Yes, maybe things weren’t as dire as he had feared. As long as Manon was safe, they could hope that whatever the Order of Cinnia was planning wasn’t going into effect yet.

“Do you want us to come back to the mansion?” he asked, although he wasn’t sure what good it would do.

“No need. At least, not now. As long as we don’t know more, there really isn’t much we can do for Faith. I hope to have answers from London by morning, and I’ll summon the mage by midday…”

“We’ll be there by noon, then,” Spike promised, trying to cut the conversation short to get to Buffy faster. “Rested and ready to fight.”

There was a pause, and when Giles spoke again, his voice held far more worry than it had so far.

The vampire wished he had known what to answer to that. Or even better, he wished he could have truthfully said she was alright. But, through the closed door and with the noise of the shower, he could still hear her muffled sobs.

“Not good, Watcher. Just hanging on by her nails. Everything that is happening isn’t helping at all.”

Even knowing that there was nothing Giles could do, Spike was grateful, more than he could express in words. He wasn’t alone in this, wasn’t the only one concerned about his Childe, her health and her sanity, and, just knowing that, he knew they would find a solution. Wasn’t that what the Scoobies always did?

As Spike left her alone, Buffy undressed mechanically, stepped in the tub, turned the knobs without a single thought, almost without even being aware of what she was doing. She felt like a stranger in her own body, a stranger in her own mind, a stranger in her own life. For weeks – Spike had pointed it out to her often enough – she had acted, unconsciously but undeniably, as if she were still human. In the last few days, just like her Sire had predicted to her, her demon had rebelled against that, and now it seemed that it was taking over more easily and violently each time it got loose. How was her Slayer-demon going to react to that? With an even stronger reply? Was she going to walk out in the sun without even realizing it would be fatal to her?

For the first time in many years, she felt powerless. And that was a contradiction in itself, because the problem was that two very strong powers lived in her, two forces that had acted together for so long, and that were now trying to destroy each other. And in the process, they were destroying her, too. Could it mean that they were not supposed to both be in her? Was her very existence violating laws she wasn’t even aware of?

She lost track of time, lost all notion of where she was. She was just a young woman, scared that she was losing herself, her mind, and her lover. Because of her change, he had changed, too. Was harsher with her. Less patient. Less tolerant. More demanding. She just knew he had to be disappointed in her. And when her demon showed jealousy and possessiveness, somehow, a more human part of her agreed, because deep down she was afraid she was driving him away.

Lost as she was in the maze of her thoughts, she didn’t hear him, didn’t feel him come in the bathroom. She didn’t become aware of his presence until he stepped in the tub and sat down right behind her where she was sitting and hugging her knees. Without a word, he surrounded her, with his arms, his legs, his love, and slowly, oh so slowly, she stopped crying.

He turned off the water, then, helped her out of the tub, dried her with gestures as tender as the flame in his eyes, wrapped her in a bathrobe. His own, she realized, as his scent surrounded her. During all that time, he murmured sweet nothings to her, never stopping, not even when he linked his fingers with hers and led her to their room, to their bed, not even when they lay together, his arms always so protective around her. The sweet words were a soothing balm to her heart, to her soul, and both the Slayer and the demon stopped shouting to listen to them, until the first moment of peace she had known in too many hours, too many days, settled on her.

“I love you so much,” were her first words, whispered in the crook of his neck, just against the slowly healing tears in his flesh she had created earlier.

“Love you too, kitten. More than I can say. And it kills me to see you hurting like this. I am so sorry I can do nothing…”

“You do a lot,” she insisted as she pulled away. “You do more than even myself. I should be the sorry one.”

“It’s no one fault, because it wasn’t supposed to happen,” she mumbled, pressing her face to his shoulder once more. “Slayers just aren’t made to be vampires. Not for long. Maybe I was destined to die, and you just gave me time when you…”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You’re not going to die, you’re going to be just fine, and screw whatever destiny had in store for you. You proved for years that you could be a Slayer and a vampire. You proved it. Nothing can change that. I don’t care if that wasn’t supposed to happen, if that wasn’t part of the big plan. It happened. You dealt with it. Now this is happening, and we’ll deal with that again.”

There was such confidence in his voice, such force, that it was hard not to trust him. And Buffy did want to trust, did want him to believe in her, even when she couldn’t believe in herself.

“But I don’t know how to deal with it,” she reminded him with a quiet sigh. “I don’t know how to… find that balance Giles was talking about. Either the Slayer takes over, or the vamp, but I don’t know how to reconcile them.”

“What would you think about training with the girls, tomorrow?” he suggested softly. “I told your Watcher we’ll be there by noon, maybe you could spend some time with the Potentials and the Slayers. That’s something you’re used to, something that should appeal to both the Slayer and the vamp parts of you. Something where you can use them together. Think you can try that?”

She was highly skeptical about the suggestion, and honestly doubted she would manage to do anything more than scare the kids, but she didn’t really have a better idea – she didn’t have any idea at all, as a matter of fact. She had also sworn that she wouldn’t work with the Council again, wouldn’t train young girls to go to their deaths. But she didn’t want to fight with Spike, not now, not about that.

“I’ll try,” she conceded quietly. “At least for a little while, to see if I can do it.”

Again, he kissed her hair. And again. He shifted against her, until he could cover her face in kisses as soft, as sweet, as comforting as his words had been.

“’M sorry about earlier,” he whispered as he brushed his lips to her eyelids and down her cheeks. “Sorry I talked to you as I did. When your demon is so strong… ‘s hard for mine not to reply in kind. I don’t care that it’s what a Sire should do. It doesn’t feel right. I hate it. I hate doing that to you. Hate treating you like you’re less than me. You’re not less. You’re more, so much more…”

He pulled away, barely enough to be able to look at her, and when their gazes met, she could see he meant every word. Emotion choked her.

The faintest smile fluttered on his lips as they settled on hers, as soft as before, and yet with all the strength, all the passion he had in him. The bathrobe was discarded, replaced by his body, his hands, all around her, all over her, as he clothed her pale flesh with his own, as he caressed, stroked and pleasured, only to receive the same loving touches in return. Their coupling was unhurried, an island of calm in the middle of a storm. They knew, of course, that there were still battles to be fought, but for a few seconds or a few hours, they managed to find some peace in each other.

Chapter 35: Always Blood

Giles didn’t sleep much, that night, going once more over the report faxed by his secretary that had discussed Buffy’s predicament before it even appeared. As dire as the current situation was, with Faith and her child kidnapped, he couldn’t help but worry about the one he still considered his Slayer. In a time of crisis, being as shaken as she was could be dangerous, for herself as well as for all of them. And her troubles only destabilized Spike, so that two of their best fighters were distracted, to the point, maybe, of being unreliable.

By midmorning, Buffy and Spike burst into the mansion, both hiding under smoldering blankets. Giles didn’t think he would ever get used to the sight. He had once found it annoying when Spike played that game while coming to the Magic Box, but over the years he had come to appreciate just how dangerous that stunt was, and his stomach churned every time he saw Buffy do it.

Since they were there, he summoned everyone to the ballroom, which was the only room of the mansion large enough to host them all, despite its regrettable lack of chairs. Some of the Potentials sat down, others leaned against a wall. He had decided to let the kids know everything about what was going on – it felt only fair, since it was mostly their lives that were in the line of fire. Around him, closer than most Potentials, were Andrea, of course, the other Watchers, the two vampires and the Slayers. He was getting tired of making this kind of speech, of being the bearer of bad news, but at least now he knew – or thought and hoped he did – what was going on.

“London finally found something,” he started, and proceeded to let all of them know what he had learned a couple of hours before.

Since they had awoken in a tangle of limbs, Spike hadn’t let Buffy out of arm reach, keeping almost at all times a physical contact with her, with his arm at her waist or his hand in hers. His presence seemed to soothe her, as had sharing blood with him in the morning. It was somewhat a consolation that she seemed to feel better than the night before, but he was worried about what her reaction would be to Giles’ news if they were bad – and judging by his closed face, they were.

“They rediscovered a couple of ancient rituals. One allows to transfer the Slayer powers from one girl to another, and the other to remove the potential for becoming a Slayer from a girl. The Council used each of them a couple of times in the past, and we suspect that other groups that existed before the Council may have too, but we stopped using them a while ago.”

“Why is that?” Manon chirped in, and Giles suddenly seemed very uncomfortable.

“Because the first ritual involves the current Slayer bleeding to death, and one of my predecessors decided that killing Slayers wasn’t what the Council ought to be about. As for the second… even if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s also dark magic that makes use of blood… Potentials are chosen for reasons that are beyond what the Council knows, and again, it was decided that it wasn’t our role to decide who ought to be a Potential or not.”

There were whispers around the room, and Spike let his gaze wander on the Potentials. Some of them had suddenly paled, others seemed outraged. This certainly was putting a mark on the Council’s image in all of their minds.

“The theory we have,” Giles continued, now looking at no one as he absently cleaned his glasses, “about why Cinnia, for lack of a better name, would be interested in Slayer’s blood, is that they modified the rituals, combined them maybe, so that the Slayer status is not transferred, but lost. It is not clear how, but from other sources, we believe that in the process, all girls with the potential of becoming a Slayer would die.”

The murmurs became louder, and fear was present on more than one face. Unconsciously, Spike tightened his hold on Buffy’s hand, and when she looked up at him, he was surprised – and glad – to see her smile.

Like all the others, Buffy was listening to Giles. But unlike the others, she couldn’t make herself care. Oh, she understood very well what her Watcher was saying. All too well, even. But somehow all of this felt foreign to her. Her mind had stopped on one thing. One hope. There was a ritual that allowed someone to not be a Slayer. A ritual that involved blood, but she couldn’t die of blood loss, so what if they did that thing on her, once everything else was sorted out? Could it work? Could it be the answer, the solution to her internal struggles? No more Slayer inside of her to battle her demon and prevent her from simply being what she was. Freedom, at last, from a destiny that had been forced upon her the day she had been called. The one thing in her life that she had not chosen.

“Such a ritual,” she heard Giles say, “because it would touch so many people, would require a large source of power. The pendant that we saw in our prisoner’s mind could be that kind of power, and actually that was what the Council used for its own rituals, and that’s how we made the link. Once we know whether Cinnia truly has it or only wants to acquire it, we’ll know exactly how close they are to performing the magic.”

If the Order of Cinnia had the pendant, then they would find a way to get it back, Buffy thought. And when they did, she would ask Willow and Tara to do that ritual for her, and then she would be free. Free of the Slayer. Free of her destiny. Free to be herself.

At no instant did it occur to her that, once more, the demon was imposing its will to her, in a more restrained but just as invasive way as before.

“At this point, we know they have Min’s blood, and they took Faith and her child. We suppose that the fact that Sandra is a Potential herself makes her an important part of the ritual. We also know that they need Manon’s blood, and possibly Felicia’s.”

A cold shiver ran down Manon’s back at the words, and she struggled not to flinch when her gaze met Giles.

“That’s why both of you will stay in here at all times,” he continued, addressing her and Felicia. “They cannot get to you here, so you will be safe, and, we hope, so will everyone else. No more patrols or playing bait for you.”

On one hand, Manon was certainly glad that her safety was placed so high in the orders of the day. But on the other hand… Staying in the mansion constantly, and, even worse, with Felicia, was hardly the way she would have chosen to spend the end of her summer.

“We aren’t sure what Buffy’s role is. Someone in LA apparently thinks that her death would bring an end to all this and make Cinnia’s plans impossible, but at the same time no attack has been launched toward her.”

Manon threw a glance toward Buffy, and, to her surprise, she was smiling. A small, secretive smile. She didn’t look like she was paying any attention to what Giles was saying, though, and Manon could only wonder what she was smiling about. Spike, on the other hand, seemed very attentive to Giles’ words, and he frowned at the last part.

“Right after Min’s death, I’ve had an encounter with vamps I now believe belonged to the Order,” he said slowly. “They seemed fairly certain that Buffy and I would soon meet again with them. And why was Min’s body left on our doorstep? They’re trying to intimidate us. Or scare us. Make us imprudent. I wouldn’t be surprised if they need Buffy for that ritual, too. Maybe it’s time to talk to Ada again.”

Sitting with her back to a wall, a few steps away from Rupert Giles, Terry was getting even more worried with each new piece of information the Head Watcher was giving them. She had come to Sunnydale happily, thinking that she was going on a training retreat with other Potential Slayers like her, but it had turned out like a very, very bad dream. They were locked in this house, which, the other girls had told her, had been a vampires’ lair for years. There were two full-fledged Slayers with them, and they constantly seemed ready to fight for the smallest reason. There were also too many people, Watchers and Potentials, and the house felt cramped. Now they had a real vampire in the house – well, three of them, really, but just the one in the basement was supposed to be evil. And from what Rupert Giles was explaining, it didn’t look like anything good would be happening soon. His speech had contained more suppositions, guesses and questions than it had facts, and Terry, now that she knew, or rather, now that she had a general idea about what was going on, certainly wished that she had never been told. Ever since the day a Watcher had come to talk to her and her family, she had felt special. And had been honored that she might be Chosen, one day, to fight all sorts of evil things, and especially vampires. She wasn’t sure anymore that she was so excited about it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to become a Slayer at all. And apparently, there was a way to get out of it. As soon as this was over, she would ask them. Once they had that thing – that pendant? – she would ask that they make her a normal girl, with no chance of being more again.

As Rupert spoke, Andrea’s gaze detailed, one after the other, all the young girls in the room. She had not agreed with him when he decided to let the Potentials know about all of this, but had had no luck in changing his mind. They had a right to know, he had argued, and while she could appreciate his thoughtfulness, she was convinced that, in this one occasion, he was wrong. And seeing the reactions of the girls only reinforced her opinion.

Some had grown scared, at his words. A few days before, they knew about vampires, but most of them had never ever seen one. And now… Now they knew that they might all die at once, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. Fear, however, wasn’t the worst. There was something else, on some of the young faces. Something that had appeared once Rupert mentioned the ritual that freed a Potential from maybe becoming the Slayer. Hope. Some of them were already thinking about getting away from a duty that might not even ever be given to them. And this hope was almost as dangerous as the threat of the Order of Cinnia.

What would they do, once this was over, if the Potentials requested en masse to be subjected to the ritual? Or if even only one asked for it? Could the Council refuse to let them have a normal life? Or could it follow their wishes – and break the order of things established thousands of years before? Yes, the Council had done it in the past, had made sure girls wouldn’t ever become Slayers. But in both cases – because yes, it had only happened twice – the girls were high nobles, and one of them had actually ended up on the throne of England. For those girls, it would have been extremely hard, or even impossible, to assume their duty, had they been chosen. There wasn’t anything like that going on for the girls in this room. She made a mental note to start talking to Giles about this. They could not allow themselves to be caught unprepared when the question would rise – and she was sure it would.

Chapter 36: Before the Battle

The Potentials had been left with most of the Watchers in the ballroom, divided in two groups. Manon and Felicia were each supposed to coach a group through basic motions and warming up exercises, so that when Buffy came back to them they would be ready for some serious training.

Buffy had hoped Spike would have forgotten about that, because the idea of training with the bunch of kids, of getting to know them, was still as unappealing as it had been before. But, of course, he had remembered, and told Giles that she was going to spend some time sparring with all of them, supposedly to see how good they were in case their help was needed in battle. The real reason was that he believed she would draw on both her vampire and Slayer strengths to train them effectively, and that it would help her reach that elusive balance – and God, was she beginning to hate that simple word!

For now, though, Buffy and her Sire had accompanied Giles and three other Watchers, including Andrea, to the living room, where they were getting ready to summon the Mage that might be able to tell them about the pendant that seemed to be the key to everything. As she watched the preparations for the summoning spell, Buffy had a curious impression of déjà vu, as if she had assisted to a similar event before. She remembered when exactly when the lights flickered at the same time as a loud ‘bang’ echoed in the room. This Mage they had summoned, who was now standing in the middle of the room, clothed in a long black robe, nothing but blue skin and serpentine eyes apparent behind a veil, this Mage was the same who, three years before, had told the Council how her soul could be restored. The same Mage who, she now remembered, had been given something, as payment of his services. The pendant.

“Watcher, you are abusing my patience,” the Mage said loudly, almost angrily, while coming to stand in front of Giles. “I repaid my debt to you long ago, and yet you keep calling me forth.”

“We needed you because only you can answer a question that is very important to us,” Giles said coolly. “And since you seemed satisfied with our last transaction, I didn’t think you would object to…”

If Buffy hadn’t cared for this Mage before – was he a demon? What was she supposed to call him? – she now had a frank dislike for him and his attitude.

“We need to know about the pendant you received from us,” Giles said carefully. “Is it still in your possession?”

For a few long seconds, the Mage was silent. And that, to Buffy, was answer enough. She was about to move and intervene, but the gaze of the Mage suddenly shifted toward her, and pinned her where she stood as effectively as Spike’s hand that had suddenly closed around her wrist.

“I do not see,” the Mage replied slowly, “why I would answer your question about something that ceased to be yours long ago.”

“If it is still in your possession,” it was Andrea’s turn to talk, “we would like you to consider selling it back to us. Your price would be ours.”

“You need to pray, that is what you need to do. You humans, with your miserable Council, have been interfering for too long already in the affairs of demons. And messed with the natural order of things until chaos was allowed to take over. You were given a Fighter, but it wasn’t enough, and now you boast three of them, one an abomination that should never have existed. Soon, they will all be gone, and order shall be restored.”

“Order?” Giles cried out, stepping closer to the Mage. “With no one to defend us, what order…”

A sharp gesture of the creature, and Giles was flung through the room. Another one, and the two watchers who had helped summon him were also on the ground. Andrea rushed to Giles’ side, helping him up even as Buffy and Spike moved toward the Mage together.

“You wanted to know about the pendant,” the Mage said, unconcerned. “But you already know. You know I don’t have it anymore, and you know who does. It will soon be time to face your destiny.”

Out of everything he had said, two things were clear to Buffy. Cinnia had the pendant, and the ‘abomination’ he had talked about, this thing that should never have existed, was herself. A Slayer should never have been made vampire. A vampire could not be a Slayer. The battle in her had awoken again, the Slayer stronger than ever, and she didn’t know anymore which she wanted to be. Which she ought to be. Which she really was.

Once they had assured themselves that everybody was alright, quick plans were drawn. Tara and Willow would be back in the evening, they would attempt to get a location from Ada’s mind again. In the meantime, Buffy would train with the Potentials, as had been planned earlier, so that they were all ready to fight once they knew where to attack. Now that they knew for certain that the Order of Cinnia had the pendant, it seemed that the Watchers didn’t want to lose any more time.

Spike listened to the whole thing, but did not participate until the end. It would be hours, before Willow and Tara arrived. He planned to have a chat with their captive before that.

“Is that prudent? Allowing her to speak gives her the opportunity to do some magic.”

He didn’t answer Buffy’s statement in words, just looked at her calmly until she frowned and gave a short, resigned nod. Andrea’s concern, however, was certainly founded.

“Can you pull up something that would prevent her from doing magic? A counter spell, maybe?”

Giles’ girl and the two Watchers that had done the summoning spell for the Mage talked quietly together, even as Giles observed Spike thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” Spike replied with a shrug. “I can try, though. Any little detail she might give me could help.”

Giles nodded. “I guess it can’t hurt to try. As long as we’re sure she won’t be able to attack…”

He gave a questioning frown to the other Watchers, and Andrea replied for the lot.

Both men accompanied Buffy to the ballroom. And both watched as she stepped in a large semi-circle of standing Potentials, and called Manon forward. She briefly explained that she was going to defend, and wanted to see how well each of them could attack.

“Is it me, or does she sound like she’s… somewhere else?” Giles asked in a whisper.

“She does,” Spike confirmed glumly. “I think things are getting worse for her, not better.”

And Spike couldn’t answer anything to that. Yes, it did seem like things were always getting harder on Buffy. Hadn’t she fought enough, already? Hadn’t she been through enough challenges and enough pain?

And why couldn’t he do anything to help her? Always, he tried to help, because that was what a Sire, what a husband should do, but it never seemed to be enough. He had to do something. Anything. Desperate situations called for desperate measures. And as he watched her spar with Manon, Spike was all to aware of how desperate things were getting, if the younger Slayer could manage to touch Buffy so easily.

Faith had awoken from her thrall to find herself in a bedroom, shackled to a wall. Next to her, on a pile of blankets, Sandra was still asleep. She would have expected to be in the custody of the vampire who had enthralled her, but it was a different one that was sleeping on the one bed of the room. And if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember him, could remember herself following his instructions to give a bottle of milk to Sandra and take care of her, could remember him ordering her to sleep. As silently as she could, she tried pulling of her chains to see if they might give, but they were solidly secured to the wall.

“You’re not going anywhere,” a cold voice informed her. “So don’t bother trying. If you do try, I’ll chain the child, too. Understood?”

Startled, she turned her eyes to the form on the bed. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even opened one eye.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, and was unable to keep both her defiance and fear out of her words.

“Me? I want nothing you have. My Sire, on the other hand, wants your blood.”

So casual, as he said this… As if it didn’t matter, as if he couldn’t have cared less. Of course he didn’t care, he was a vampire, she was nothing but food to him. And still on the same tone, he added, almost as an afterthought:

“She will take your child’s life, too, but by the time she does you’ll be dead already.”

Faith wanted to yell, to kick, to beg, to cry, to fight, but chained as she was, weak as she was, there wasn’t much she could do.

“I’m not even a Slayer anymore,” she tried to plead. “My blood isn’t any better than anyone else’s. And Sandra is just a baby, she doesn’t…”

“Be quiet,” he growled, clearly irritated. “Or I’ll gag you. I might be stuck to babysitting you, but I won’t listen to your whining.”

Faith didn’t talk after that. She didn’t want to risk enraging her jailor, afraid that he might take his anger out on Sandra. Tom was already dead because of her, because of what she had been, she would do all she could do prevent Sandra from being hurt, too. The only problem was that she didn’t have many options. Her only hope, ironically, resided in two vampires, and she could only wish that they wouldn’t take too much time to come to her help.

After having sparred with Buffy for a few minutes, Manon left her place to Felicia, and settled against a wall to observe. On the other side of the room, Giles was now alone, while before Spike had been watching them too. Giles still had the same thoughtful, worried expression that Spike had displayed before, though, and Manon knew exactly why.

She had a pretty good idea of where she stood, strength and agility-wise. After years of regular training, she was certainly much better than she had been right after being called. She knew – and that wasn’t boasting from her part – that she was better than Felicia. She knew that her odds against a Master Vampire were more than good, and as such she supposed she might have been able to take Spike, had she wanted to, and had he not known her and her fighting technique as well as he did. And she knew, with a deep-bone certitude, that she could not take Buffy in a hand-to-hand fight. That she never should be able to. Except that, today, she could. She hadn’t forced her luck, because she didn’t want the Potentials to doubt Buffy’s abilities, but she was certain she could have beaten the older Slayer if she had really tried to. It didn’t mean she was suddenly stronger or faster. It simply meant that Buffy wasn’t up to her normal standards.

And even as she watched the Vampire spar with Felicia, and then the Potentials, one after the other, Manon could see, very clearly, what she had felt while she was the one being tested. Buffy was distracted. She wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on. Her moves were getting sloppy.

If they had to fight, soon, against this Cinnia Order or anyone else, Manon supposed that she would have to go, even if it was walking straight into the wolves’ lair. The Potentials weren’t ready, obviously. Felicia was far from being bad, but she was still getting used to her new powers. And Buffy… Buffy might be more of a liability than help, if it came to an all out fight. And Manon could only wonder how Spike would be affected by Buffy’s weakness.

Chapter 37: Anything but Simple

Thoughtful and more than a little worried, Spike left the ballroom to go and see if it was safe yet for him to talk to Ada. He caught Buffy’s eye, before walking away, and gave her a smile that he hoped was encouraging, but she didn’t react at all. Was she upset that he wanted to talk to Ada alone? Or was she simply – if anything could be called simple about the situation they were in – too caught up in her own struggle to even care?

Andrea quickly confirmed that a shield was in place that would prevent their guest from doing any kind of magic, and he walked down to the cellar, taking with him a bag of blood. He had been in Ada’s position before, and from his own experience he doubted she would be very cooperative if she was hungry. She glared at him as he approached her, her gray eyes expressing all too clearly what she thought of him. Wasn’t this going to be fun…

“Let’s set the rules first, shall we?” he said conversationally as he stood in front of her. “I’m going to ungag you. You can’t do magic, we’ve made sure of that. If you try anything to escape, I stake you. If you piss me off, I stake you. We understand each other?”

She didn’t acknowledge his words, didn’t make a sign, but he still loosened the gag, unconcerned by her lack of reply.

“If you think I’d touch that…” she started, the disdain thick in her voice.

“What I think,” he interrupted her, “is that they probably won’t consider feeding you until you have no more use and they stake you.”

“If you’re so sure they’re going to stake me anyway, why would you care if I’m hungry or not?”

Grinning slightly, he went to the steps and sat down. He had half a mind to feed in front of her. The blood was cold, right out of the fridge where he had placed it earlier, and he wasn’t really hungry, but he was certain that the human scent would have affected her, and helped him. There was still that pesky little rule, though, about Buffy having to feed whenever he did. Not that it had made any difference so far, but until he lifted it he intended to play by it. So he just slipped the package in his duster’s pocket, and pulled out his fags. As he lit one and started taking long drags, he simply watched her, and waited, knowing it wouldn’t be long. She had to look sideways to see him, but her eyes never moved away from him.

“No, not really. Waiting for the batty old ones to strike a deal and have nothing to do in the meantime wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

He expected her to react at his lack of respect to their elders, because that had been the subject of their first exchange, many years before. She had heard him make some joke about the Master and her High Mistress being both stuck in their demon features, and had caused a scene about it. He had had to apologize, before, and after, receiving hell about it from both Darla and Angelus. He had no hard feelings about it, that was only one of many stupid things he had done when he was a fledgling, but he still remembered the honest outrage in her eyes that anyone would dare mock her Sire. Things had changed, apparently, because she didn’t even comment on it. Instead, she said:

“And what would your idea of fun be? To get a soul, like your cursed Sire? To play at being human, like him? Except he’s not playing anymore, is he?”

Another tidbit of information. Her Order knew about Angel’s curse, and about his regained humanity. How? Where had they found that information? The same way they had discovered that Buffy was a vampire?

“Or maybe,” she continued with scorn, “your idea of fun is to be a lapdog to Slayers. I heard you killed two, but from what I’ve seen so far, I find it hard to believe.”

Again, she laughed, and he merely smirked at her, even though the smile was painful to summon.

“I didn’t kill two,” he replied pleasantly. “I killed four. And one of them, I turned. But you know that too, don’t you?”

“It would be worth bragging about if she didn’t have her soul. No, let me correct that. If she didn’t have a soul because of you.”

It was hard not to react at how much she knew. And hard not to ask her outright how she knew it.

“You are a disgrace. You could have been so much, strong as you are, head of the Order of Aurelius when you’re barely a century old. And instead, you ally yourself with humans. With Slayers! No Master vampire who had the slightest bit of honor would have even considered doing what you do. Don’t you have any pride?”

The words stung, and so did her haughty tone, more than they had any right to. Maybe because he could have said these exact same words himself, a few years back. Maybe because he still understood quite well her way of thinking, and always would. She continued her tirade before he had the chance to say anything.

“The High Mistress was outraged, when she heard for the first time that you were helping the Slayer. If we had been on this continent, at the time, she probably would have hunted you down. Such a disgrace to the name of vampire… It made the other demons look down on us. Just one stain, touching on all of us…”

Blowing out a puff of smoke, he grinned at her. “’Trying to flatter me, ducks?”

She ignored him. “But when she heard you turned a Slayer, and that you were both training other Slayers, she became enraged. So enraged she forgot for a moment about…”

He raised an eyebrow as she interrupted herself, her jaw locking in an angry manner.

“Nothing that concerns you,” she snapped. “Just know that she swore that night to wipe out the entire Slayers line. It took us months to find the way, but now nothing will stop us.”

A small triumphant smile played on her lips, and he simply shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

“’Nothing will stop us’, says the vamp tied up to a chair in the basement of the good guys. You have no idea how threatening that sounds.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s simply facts. You should run to save your skin, and that of your abomination of a Childe. But it’s too late, now. The High Mistress will never stop hunting you.”

“She wants me that much? I knew I was hot, but it’s almost embarrassing…”

Still playing his smirk to full effect, he threw the remaining of his cigarette down and got to his feet.

“It’s not you she wants. You are so self-centered, I can’t believe you survived that long.”

More information, still, accumulating. Cinnia would hunt them down if they tried to hide, and it wasn’t him they were interested in. Therefore, it was Buffy.

“I might be self-centered,” he played along while coming in front of her, where she would be able to see him without craning her neck, “but I’m not the one tied up in a moldy basement when my Sire’s other Childer are going to compete to take my place. Who do you think will do the spell, now that you can’t? Whom will your High Mistress deem worthy of playing with that pendant thing? Who is going to play with the Slayers’ bloods?”

Oh, yes, he had struck a nerve, judging by the glitter of gold in her eyes. He had been following an intuition, but it seemed that it had been a good one. She managed to contain her displeasure, though, and reoriented the discussion.

“If you tell me you don’t have a plan to escape, I’ll be disappointed. And if you do escape, going back to your Mistress would probably be less painful if you have information to give her. I do seem to remember hearing that she favored whips, didn’t she?”

For long seconds, she was quiet, and her expression made it clear that she was calculating, gauging, whether it was worth to give out this bit of information. In the end, she obviously decided that it wouldn’t be harmful to her Sire if he knew.

“I killed a Slayer, in London, a few months ago. One of your students, wasn’t she?”

“Not her. Her Watcher. Orion caught him, played with him for days. He said many interesting things, before he died. When he wasn’t screaming. About you, your Childe, your Sire, the Watchers, the other Slayers. Many useful things.”

Spike managed not to react, but he was actually surprised. He would never have suspected Chloe’s Watcher. And he wasn’t happy about that fact. He had grown too used to rely on humans, to trust them. He had almost forgotten how easy they were to break.

“What about you?” she asked as he still wasn’t saying a thing. “Who told you?”

She frowned, very slightly, but didn’t reply. They observed each other for a few instants, and Spike wondered what other information he might manage to get from her. He had learned more than he had expected, already, but he was sure she had more to say, if he only found the way…

“Why do you play this game?” she asked finally, and for the first time there was no scorn in her voice, just curiosity. He didn’t need to ask what game she meant, it was all too clear.

“And yet, you’re still a vampire,” she insisted. “You could still be a vampire, if you only acted like one. My Mistress will wipe out the Aurelius line if you force her to, but it doesn’t have to be that way. You just…”

“The Aurelius line is just two persons at this point,” he cut in with a snort. “So wiping it out wouldn’t be that hard. Especially since she already wants Buffy’s death.”

“Her blood would suffice. If you help us, if you joined us, the world would be ours. No more Slayers to worry about, just innumerable humans to feast upon. We’d just remove your Childe’s soul, and…”

He stopped listening, and simply walked up the stairs without a parting word. Now that she wasn’t as defensive as before, but was instead trying to convert him back to being a ‘proper’ demon, he doubted he would get anything useful out of her. And he really didn’t want to hear about what unlife could be like with a soulless Buffy at his side. He had been down that lane before. He had been extremely close to going back to being a ‘real’ demon. He still remembered how he had been tempted.

And the temptation, now, if he let himself dwell on it, might be even greater, because what Ada was offering him was simply – and again, it was anything but simple – a way to end Buffy’s troubles with her two demons. If he gave Cinnia what they needed, if they did the damn spell, Buffy would be freed of her Slayer demon. From what Ada had said, they could also get rid of her so shiny and pretty soul. It was extreme, certainly, but it erased once and for all the pain she was currently enduring. No more fighting what she was.

There was just a slight price to pay – the lives of a few dozens innocent girls.

Chapter 38: A Bad Idea

It had been a few quick-paced days in LA, with more work for all of them than they had had in the past months, and Angel couldn’t wait for things to calm down again. Even more so because he knew that something big was going on in Sunnydale, and he itched to get there and help, however he could. The fact that Cordelia had taken off again for one of her missions, saying that she couldn’t tell him anything and that she didn’t know when she would be back, only made things worse. And so when the phone rang, he was resigned to the obvious – he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, except maybe to some haunted house or demon-infested sewer.

He had given up on the canned greeting a while ago. After a thousand times or so, he couldn’t say it without snickering. Not that he didn’t believe in it anymore, or in what he considered his mission, but the people on the other end of the line rarely thought he would be able to help.

The answer wasn’t what he expected, though. His Childe didn’t take his habitual shot at the ‘ponciness’ of his name, didn’t make a lame joke. On the contrary, he sounded almost defeated when he requested:

Angel replied without thinking. He had lived through enough of Spike’s terrible plans not to question that whatever he had in mind now could turn awfully bad.

Grabbing a pencil on his desk, he absently began sketching Spike as he imagined him on the other side of the line. Perched on a counter, a cigarette in one hand, the phone in the other. And the same worry etched on his face that Angel could hear in his voice.

“’Doesn’t matter,” Spike replied after what sounded like he was exhaling smoke. “Anything new in LA?”

“Oh. No one told you, huh?” Spike sounded sheepish, now, and a second drawing started out, just next to the first, the expression much younger, almost playful. “So much happened, in the last couple of days, I guess we forgot.”

Despite the clear guilt in his Childe’s tone, Angel couldn’t help being annoyed. “Nice to know I’m losing my time.”

“Send your bill to the Council. And bill them for using the mansion, while you’re at it. Although they did install the phone and...”

Wincing at the idea of what was being done to his property, Angel cut through what was probably just another way to gain time.

Vague memories of stale negotiations, mere weeks before a little trip on the continent that had led them to Romania. More vivid ones of a harsh punishment inflicted on a rebellious Childe. Of Spike defying him again, afterwards, saying that he didn’t care about what was expected of him, and that he never would. He had never understood the necessity for timeless customs and deference. And had paid a high price for it.

Spike didn’t sound like he was remembering that last part, though, as he continued his explanation.

“They’re in town. They have Faith and her kid. We have Ada. They need Buffy and Manon, and possibly the other kid, to make a spell to kill all Potentials and put an end to Slayers. Buffy is getting worse with the Slayer and demon fighting each other. And I’m so fucking tired I might just go ahead and make a big mistake.”

And he did sound tired. Not physically, Angel didn’t think he had ever seen Spike truly exhausted. No, he sounded like he was at the last end of his mental resources. Which, when combined to Spike’s brash decisions, could lead to disaster.

A simple word, and the anger was gone. So rarely, he had heard this word without coercing it out of Spike in some way, that it made the word even stronger now.

“Cinnia… they know you’re human. And it wouldn’t surprise me if they knew about Steven too. Looks like the High Mistress wants to get rid of the Order of Aurelius, let’s not give her any idea about killing the human members of the family as well, OK?”

Warmth at another rarely used word – family. Ice at the revelation that someone had in mind to destroy two of the people Angel loved most. And above all, incomprehension.

Spike laughed. Not his usual cocky laugh. Not a mocking one either. Nothing joyous, about that laugh. Just incredible tiredness, bitterness, and even, just a little, fear.

And because there was fear in that voice, Angel was afraid too. When was the last time his Childe had been scared of something? Of anything? He couldn’t remember.
“It’s that bad?” he murmured.

Under Angel’s pencil, one more drawing started to take form. Spike, once again, but this time in his demonic visage. An angry Spike, ready to do anything. Even a big mistake, as he had said.

“I’m sure you could, too, but it’s not your fight. I’m the bloody head of line, ain’t I? So it’s up to me to take care of my clan. Even if that’s just Buffy. And you.”

Touched that he would put him right there, behind Buffy. But, again, scared. Scared that Spike would feel it was necessary to be so unlike himself.

“Since when do you care about the clans? That’s part of the lore, and you never…”

Interruption. Spike was tired, and annoyed, and afraid. He didn’t need to be reminded of that. What did he need? Angel had no clue.

“True. I never did. Except that now, I have to, don’t I? How did I arrive here, Angel? What in hell did I do to get where I am today?”

For long seconds, Spike was silent. And in his mind, Angel could see him, nodding, agreeing.

Oh, how would Angel have liked to have his Childe in front of him, right now! To be able to read his face, the turn of his mouth, the changing color of his eyes, so much better than he could read his voice… A new drawing took form on the paper in front of him. Not worried anymore. Not playful. Not tired. Not angry. This one was an incredibly sad Spike. Sadder than Angel remembered ever seeing him.

But what was the bad idea? What was it that Spike felt he needed to be convinced not to do?

“And you’re going to listen to me?” Angel asked, although he already knew the answer.

And that meant… no. Angel wasn’t disappointed by that. He knew his Childe, and loved him for what he was. For who he was. But even with that love, some things needed to be said.

The line was cut abruptly, and Angel hung up the phone. For long minutes, he observed the random drawings his mind had conjured on the blank page in front of him. In all of them, his Childe looked back at him, wearing various feelings on his so expressive features. The one that was prominent, though, was the determined Spike in the middle of the page. The one who had asked him to stay away from Sunnydale. Safely away. The one who was ready to do anything to protect anything that he considered his. Even stupid things. Things that could cost him his life. Things that could make things right again – or infinitely worse.

As Spike’s Sire, Angel felt that it was his duty to intervene. To go to Sunnydale, and ask his Childe exactly what he had in mind. But at the same time, Spike had expressed that he considered himself in charge of the Aurelius line, something he had never done before. And by going there, all Angel would do was undermine his authority. On the other hand, if he didn’t go, who knew what Spike was capable of?

The choice was hard to make. But in the end, he decided that the least he could do was to trust Spike. And that meant, leaving him to solve the matter by himself.

As she walked toward the kitchen, with the intent to get something to drink before returning to the training session that was going on upstairs, Manon was surprised to see Felicia, arms crossed and a sour look on her face, against the wall separating the living room and kitchen. She approached her, ready to ask what she was doing, when the younger girl put a finger to her lips, undoubtedly asking her to be quiet, and then lightly touched her ear. And so Manon listened.

She frowned, and gave a questioning look at Felicia, but the other girl only shook her head.

“I’m sure you could, too,” Spike continued, “but it’s not your fight. I’m the bloody head of line, ain’t I? So it’s up to me to take care of my clan. Even if that’s just Buffy. And you.”

Alright, Spike was on the phone, that much was clear. But whom was he talking to? And about what?

“True. I never. Except that now, I have to, don’t I? How did I arrive here, Angel? What in hell did I do to get where I am today?”

He sounded more tired and depressed that Manon had ever heard him, and considering that she was around at the time his soul tortured him to near-insanity, it meant a lot.

What mess? What was he talking about? The rest was as cryptic, and Manon couldn’t understand what he was talking about, however hard she tried. When she heard him say goodbye, she motioned to Felicia to follow her, and walked in the kitchen just in time to see Spike hang up the phone. She managed to give him a small smile as she went for the fridge, but he barely seemed to notice her or Felicia, simply nodding at them absently, and quickly left the kitchen, obviously lost in his thoughts.

“Why would you say that?” Manon say with more than a little annoyance in her voice.

“I dreamed of him” Felicia continued, just as quietly. “He was drinking from the same cup as… a vampire. A woman vampire. She felt powerful. And very bad. They were sharing blood.”

Fear and disgust were engraved on Felicia’s features, and Manon herself didn’t like at all the sound of that dream. It reminded her too much of her own, of that image of three Buffys fighting each other, only to be replaced – defeated? – by Spike. She had spent a lot of time trying to come up with an interpretation of that image, and the only idea she had so far was that the three Buffys represented the three current Slayers – Buffy, Felicia and herself. As for Spike suddenly replacing all of them… It couldn’t mean that he was going to make them disappear, could it? She couldn’t believe that Felicia was right, couldn’t believe that Spike would betray them. And yet, after what she had heard from his conversation on the phone… And with these two Slayers dream centered around him…

She almost wished she had still been in love with him. She wouldn’t have doubted him, then. Not like she was now.

Ada was surprised, when William – no, not William, it was Spike that she had heard the humans call him – returned to the cellar. And even more so when he freed her from her bonds. But the real shock came when he talked.

Despite herself, Ada smiled. She hadn’t really thought her words would reach him, not when he was so obviously smitten with his Childe. But apparently, there was still a demon in him, despite the chains he was covered with. And she couldn’t wait to show her Sire that, even if she had been captured, she had managed to do something for their cause.

Chapter 39: Traitor

As Ada's bonds fell to the floor, Spike took a step back. He was taking a risk, and he was well aware of it. For all he knew, she had only been bluffing before, and her Sire wouldn't even consider talking with him. Maybe it had only been a way to get free. If that was the case, he had a stake in his pocket, and wouldn't hesitate to use it. He would get hell from the Watchers if he did, of course, but better that than being dust himself.

She didn't attack him, though. Merely got to her feet, and stretched her arms high above her head, working on muscles that had to ache for being tied up for so long.

"What offer do you have for my Mistress exactly?" she asked, cautious, and he realized that she was as wary of him as he was of her. That had to be good. If she had not considered bringing him to their lair, or didn't think her Sire would care, she wouldn't worry about what he had to suggest.

"That is for me to know," he said coldly, "and for her to hear. I am the head of my clan, I will not treat with underlings."

She tensed at that, gave him a challenging look, but he didn't back off. She was technically older than him, but of the two of them, he had the power. And power was something that meant a lot in the order of Cinnia. After a few seconds, she nodded, acquiescing silently to his claim of dominance. The biggest bumpies. That was nothing more than a show, to him, a child's game. But since he was expected to play, he would play his best act.

"I will lead you to her," she conceded. "But what proof do I have that your human minions won't follow us? If you're just trying to..."

"What proof?" he interrupted abruptly. "I could swear, but that wouldn't mean much. The only proof I have is that if they catch me taking you out of here, my minions, as you call them, will dust me as surely as they will dust you. They might ask a couple of questions first, but I have no doubt about the staking after that."

In truth, he did have doubts. If they got caught, if he was stopped now, he might escape a dusty ending, if for no other reason that Buffy wouldn't let them stake him. Or so he hoped. On the other hand, she might stake him herself.

"It is, but we have to risk it. Most of them are upstairs, except maybe for a couple of kids. I'll go out, clear out the way, and then we'll rush out. My car is right outside, just hide under this and get in."

He gave her the folded blanket he had under his arm, and she eyed it doubtfully.

"It's that," he interrupted matter of factly, "or they take a stroll through your mind and get whatever information they still need from you before staking you."

Grimacing, she unfolded the blanket, and tentatively put it over her head and shoulders. With the pants and shirt she wore, she should be alright for the few feet that separated the front door from the car. Tensing imperceptibly - as soon as he got out of the cellar, it would be too late to change his mind - Spike turned out to the staircase.

"Why?" she asked as he was halfway up. "Why do you betray these humans now when you helped them before?"

He flinched at the word 'betray'; it hit right on the already chaffing spot, and made him reconsider his decision once more. There was no other solution, though, or at least none that he could find. An all out attack on Cinnia's lair, if they even found it, would only result in a slaughter, for both sides. Ignoring his doubts and fear about all the things that could yet go wrong, he answered without looking at her so that she wouldn't be able to guess his hesitation.

A few more steps up, and he reminded her: "Stay by the door, and wait for my signal."

He walked out as casually as he could, even as a word echoed through his mind. Something he would be accused of, hopefully not for long. A word that left a bitter taste in his mouth, even if he knew why it would be applied to him.

The living room, which was the main room they had to get through, was empty. Trying not to look like anything out of the ordinary was going on, he walked to the kitchen where he had left the two Slayers when he returned to talk to Ada. They were gone. No one on the first floor. As he listened very attentively, he could hear a couple of voices in the bedroom down the hall. Watchers, he thought. There were also fighting noises upstairs, and it sounded like the training lesson was still under way. His Slayer sense localized the three of them upstairs. That was the best shot they would get. Still looking around him, he walked back to the cellar's door, and knocked. Ada came out, and they wordlessly crossed the house toward the front door. He hid under his duster, Ada under the blanket, and then sprinted to the car. Seconds later, they were on their way.

And the same word was still filling his mind. And bothering him to the point that he barely saw the car coming in the other direction, going toward the mansion as he drove toward the street.

The first time he had been called a traitor was when he had discovered that the chip allowed him to hurt demons. The customers of Willy's had been quick to catch up on his new activities. And for years, the same insult had been flung to his face every time he was seen helping the Slayer or her friends. And just as often when he was by himself. Not all demons cared what he did of his nights, but those who did care were rarely shy about expressing their opinion.

With time, he had grown used to it. After a while - had it been during that dreadful summer? - he had started to see the word as a badge of honor, not an insult. So why did it hurt again? Why now? He was doing this for Buffy - for all of them. He knew it. And they would know it too, if he succeeded. But in the meantime, she would think he had betrayed her. Had run away with an enemy she had already proved she was jealous of. Had left her when she needed his support so much.

He had just given her a reason not to trust him. And that hurt him probably as much, if not more, as it would hurt her.

The door had barely closed on the two vampires and Felicia was already down the staircase and obviously going out after them. She sounded angry at Spike's betrayal, but not surprised, because she had indeed argued with Manon that he was up to no good. More worryingly, she sounded excited as well, undoubtedly at the prospect of hunting the vampires.

Manon looked at her, almost out already, then back at the door behind which Buffy, the Potentials and most of the Watchers were, and quickly thought about what she ought to do. By the time she managed to convince Buffy that Spike had left with Ada - because there was no way Buffy was going to believe that easily - the two vamps would be long gone. The sun was still up, so that meant they were going to take Spike's car. She made her decision before even being aware of it, and rushed down the steps and out after Felicia. She got outside just in time to jump in the rental car that Felicia had started - and Manon didn't want to know how she had done that without the keys.

"You know how to drive?" she asked quickly, and for only response received a snort.

The car darted down the alley, and Manon's heart jumped when it came way too close to another car going the other way toward the mansion, so fast that she couldn't even see who was in. When they reached the street, Felicia had a slight hesitation as to which way to turn, but Manon caught a glimpse of a black car down the road on their left. She pointed it out to Felicia, and the hunt started again.

"Don't get too close to him or he will sense us," she warned the younger Slayer.

Point taken. Again, an intersection, again, just a hint of black. That, and the fact that her Slayer sense was clearly pointing out that way too, indicating that it wasn't just any black car they were following, but the right one. Felicia sped up again, and ahead in the traffic, they could finally see it, unmistakable now because of the blacked out windows.

"Stay as far from him as you can," she admonished again. "Try to keep a car or two between him and us."

"I heard you the first time," Felicia mumbled back, apparently too concentrated on their prey to argue properly - and Manon didn't mind about that, far from it.

For long minutes, they kept the black car just within their line of sight. It never seemed to take odd turns or to try to lose them, so they supposed they had not been detected. The fact that the windshield was opaque might have helped them in that regard.

They followed Spike and their ex-prisoner completely on the other side of town. An old neighborhood of Sunnydale, with not so straight, not so large roads. Large houses, some as big as the mansion, hidden behind high bushes and trees. Less cars, in these streets, and they had to risk losing sight of Spike rather than to let themselves be noticed. The black car finally turned up an alley, and Felicia stopped a few houses down.

"What now?" she asked, and Manon was almost startled that she wanted her opinion.

"We can't rush in there," she said, keeping her eyes where the car had disappeared. "If it's the vamps' lair, there might be dozens of them in there, and it's just the two of us..."

Manon cursed under her breath in her most colorful French, regretting that her cell phone didn't work here. Of course, she didn't have the number of the mansion, so that wouldn't have helped much anyway.

"You go back to the mansion," she suggested. "I stay here and make sure they don't move."

"What if they do move?" Felicia shot back. "What are you going to do, run after them?"

Manon bit her bottom lip absently. If they did use the car again, she was screwed. Big time. She just had to hope they wouldn't.

"They had to come here for a reason," she said, trying to convince herself as well as Felicia. "Hopefully that reason will take more time than it will take you to go back and..."

Frowning, Manon got ready to argue - she was the oldest, had the most experience, and she just wasn't going to let the other girl alone with who knew how many vamps. Even if she didn't like her.

"I don't know how to get back to the house," Felicia continued before she could say a word. "We took too many turns, I don't remember the way. Can you get back there?"

Reluctantly, Manon admitted that she thought she could. Felicia opened the door, ready to slip out and leave her place to her.

"Be careful, OK?" she said, more worried than she would have admitted. "Just stay out here and don't do anything stupid. If they move away, don't try to follow them and wait for us. We'll be here as soon as possible."

Felicia just grinned and got out of the car. Manon quickly pulled away, driving too fast to be back more quickly. She never saw Felicia start walking up the alley Spike's car had disappeared into.

Chapter 40: Cold

Spike was always a warm presence at the back of Buffy’s mind, something that, most of the time, she was barely aware of anymore, but that comforted her in a deep, if unconscious, manner. The assurance that he was there, nearby, close enough that she could be in his arms in mere seconds if either of them wanted it, was something that she very much cherished.

But suddenly, he was gone, and Buffy felt cold. It was impossible, of course, vampires didn’t feel the cold any more than they felt heat. And yet, she did. She always did whenever he wasn’t close enough for her to feel him. It had started after he had been kidnapped by the successors of the Initiative, when, for days, she had only known that he was alive – as alive as a vamp could be – but had not actually felt him. It was the same thing now. He was fine, just not in the mansion anymore. And she hated that he was away from her.

She frowned as her eyes drifted from the pairs of Potentials sparring according to her instructions in the center of the room toward the windows. There was a good two hours of sunshine left, where could Spike have gone? And why? And especially, why had he gone without telling her?

Just as she started to approach Giles, who was standing by the door, discussing with another Watcher while keeping an eye on the Potentials, Willow entered the room, soon followed by Tara. She managed to give a distracted smile and hello to her friends.

“Hey Buffy,” Willow replied, somewhat surprised. “Is everything OK? We crossed path with Spike’s car in the alley, we thought you’d be with him.”

“As far as I know, everything’s fine. Maybe he was out of cigarettes or something.”

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she was only trying to convince herself. With everything that was going on, his fags were certainly the last thing on Spike’s mind. Where had he gone? Why alone? And more importantly, when would he be back?

More distracted than ever, with too many things going on at once in her mind, Buffy listened as Giles discussed with the two Wiccas what he needed their help for. Basically, the same thing they had tried the night before, but Andrea and a couple of Watchers had come up with an idea that, they hoped, would weaken Ada’s defenses and render her mind accessible to them.

A last few instructions to the Potentials, and Buffy followed the movement toward their prisoner. She wanted to be there, in case something went wrong and Ada had to be subdued. Except…

She knew it before even setting foot in the cellar. She watched the others disappear in the staircase, heard their exclamations of surprise and alarm, but she wasn’t surprised herself. She knew. She could feel all too clearly something that she would have noticed sooner had she not been too preoccupied. There was no vampire apart from herself in the whole house. And another knowledge followed, also without a trace of doubt. She was also the only Slayer around.

Pieces of a strange puzzle started trying to assemble, even as everything in her shouted that this was bad. So bad she wanted to scream.

Spike had left without warning or explanation. Ada had disappeared. Spike had been the last person to go see her. Manon and Felicia were gone too.

What did it all mean? Had they left together? Separately? Why? Where to? The same questions were running over and over in her mind, so fast they all blurred together, and without getting anywhere close to receiving an answer.

“Gone,” she completed her Watcher’s urgent statement. “And so are Spike, Manon and Felicia.”

They were all back in the living room, now, all worried, and all surprised at her words.

“We crossed two cars, while driving up the alley,” Willow said thoughtfully. “The first was Spike’s, but the other was going to fast, I didn’t see who was in it.”

There were murmurs, exclamations, random thoughts expressed out loud. Buffy focused on one of them, even as her now golden eyes found the Watcher who had uttered it. Silence fell on the room, and she could feel that everybody’s eyes were on her. And she knew exactly why. Once more, she had shifted to her game mask without meaning to. Right now, she wasn’t particularly displeased she had, though.

Slowly, her gaze left the anonymous Watcher to come to rest on the one she knew so well.

“Giles,” she said in a deceptively calm voice, “would you be kind enough to inform your underlings that it would be much safer for them not to mention ‘Spike’ and ‘traitor’ in the same sentence when I’m close enough to hear?”

For long seconds, he didn’t reply, and she wasn’t sure whether he doubted Spike’s innocence, too, or was troubled by her statement and sudden change of features. In the end, he gave a short nod, but instead of chastising his subordinate as she had thought he would, he turned to Willow.

“Can you do a localization spell? We have to find the Slayers before nightfall, before they become a prey to the Cinnia’s clan.”

“Find Spike, too,” Buffy interjected when Willow nodded, and her friend offered her a tight smile.

“Would you mind,” the redhead started, and then hesitated for a second. “Would you mind showing us a little less fangs? Kind of not so pleasant memories, you know.”

“Find Spike first, then,” Buffy requested as she struggled to regain her control – and, at the same time, her human visage.

A map of Sunnydale was found, ingredients gathered, and within minutes, under a few pairs of attentive eyes, a pinpoint of fire started burning its way along Sunnydale’s streets. This was Spike, driving on the other side of town. Suddenly, the glowing dot disappeared, and Buffy gasped, before she could reassure herself that Spike was alright.

“I’m not sure,” Willow said hesitantly, before Buffy interjected: “Spike is still there. Just not on the map.”

“It might be the same thing that didn’t let us localize Faith,” Tara suggested.

“We know where to start looking, now, at least,” Andrea said thoughtfully. “What about Manon? And Felicia?”

They started with Felicia, but the map remained mute about her. Manon’s search was more successful, and again a thin black line was drawn across the paper.

“She’s coming back toward the mansion, it seems,” Willow commented. “She should be here soon.”

“And hopefully she’ll be able to tell us what is happening,” Giles said, his glasses and handkerchief in hand, but, judging by his small frown, too preoccupied to execute his little ritual.

Despite herself, Buffy gritted her teeth. Nothing to do but wait, while Spike was close enough to their enemy to be under the charm or spell or whatever it was that made them un-localizable. And while they waited for the Slayer to come back to them – and maybe she didn’t even know anything about Spike or Ada – Buffy could see that her companions, for the most part, avoided looking in her direction. She could read their faces, however, and could see that more than one of them thought that Spike had betrayed them. She didn’t think so, though. She refused to believe it. Despite not having a soul, Spike had embraced her fight, had left behind him his past and killer days. He wouldn’t drop all of it. Not now. Not after had taken place. Not when she needed him so much. Not when he was all she had. He couldn’t. She just wouldn’t believe it.

As soon as Manon drove away, Felicia walked off the road and up the private alley the vampires had followed. At first, her only idea was to get a little closer to wherever they now were – a house, she supposed – so that she could watch any comings and goings. She was careful to remain behind bushes or trees, so anyone driving up or down the alley wouldn’t notice her. When she reached the point where she could see Spike’s car, though, parked in the shadow of a house as large as the mansion, if not larger, she had another idea. If the car couldn’t move, the vampires wouldn’t be leaving, at least not until sunset, and reinforcements would hopefully be there long before that.

Trying to remain hidden as much as possible, she ran to the car, and, pulling out the knife she carried in a sheath at her belt, she slashed the two tires that were on the side hidden from the house by the body of the car. Thinking that it would be sufficient, she prepared to return to her hiding spot, throwing a long glance at the house to make sure that no one was looking out who might see her. This glance revealed no one, but it did pique her curiosity. The windows of the house were all boarded, but on one of them, not very far from where she was, the lowest board was broken. That looked like a nice place to peek in, just to know how many vamps were in there – and it had to be a bunch, because her Slayer sense was completely going crazy.

Or it might simply have been going crazy because of the close proximity of this one lone vamp, she reflected bitterly as his hand closed over her throat.

The heavy wooden door closed behind him, and it took Spike a couple of seconds to get used to the lack of light inside the High Mistress’ lair. Ada quickly talked to one of the minions that had been standing guard while the other sentinel’s eyes darted nervously between her and Spike. Apparently, he wasn’t sure what to do with this intruder that was arriving with one of his Mistress Childer before nightfall. Returning his look coldly, Spike lit a cigarette, daring him by his behavior to even try to make a move against him. Practice for the show that was going to take place soon.

The lair roused at the speed of the hurrying guard. Minions came from various rooms to have a look at the two newly arrived vampires, but none made a move toward them. Ada had warned him in the car that it would probably be safer for him to wait for the High Mistress’ permission before wandering around her lair.

After a couple of minutes, the assembled minions parted to let through someone that Spike had never seen before. A man, copper skinned, with long, very dark hair, who had a feel of strength about him, and who was probably another of the High Mistress’ Childer. He had a tight smile in Ada’s direction, before giving Spike an appraising look.

“I demand to talk to the head of your clan,” Spike replied, his tone much calmer than he actually felt.

The brunette’s head snapped up, and his eyes glowed golden at the clear insult. In appearance, Spike remained cool and composed, but internally he was a tightly coiled spring, ready to jump at the slightest sign of threat. There was none, though. Just a harsh “Follow me”.

And so Spike followed, without sparing a glance to Ada or the minions, but very much aware of where they all were and what they were doing. The messenger, as he had dubbed him, led him to a huge room, whose only furniture was a large armchair and a few smaller ones on each side. It was easy for him to recognize what this was supposed to be – a throne chamber, where the mistress would hold her court. And on the throne, Ada’s Sire, looking utterly serene despite her game mask. Sitting on the floor next to her – displayed as pets, Spike realized with something akin to disgust – Faith was holding her child and looking at him with pleading eyes. She didn’t say a word, though, and that might have had something to do with the tall man standing behind her. He was scowling, and stepped forward as Spike reached the center of the room and stopped. He didn’t come to Spike, though, but rather to Ada, who walked past Spike toward her Mistress.

“Have you lost your mind?” he barked at her. “Bringing him here? What did he promise to you to make you betray…”

“I did not betray anyone,” Ada protested quickly. “He is ready to offer us what we need, and…”

“Childer, that’s enough,” came the quiet injunction. “Step aside. I shall talk to our… guest, and see what he thinks he can offer me.”

“Head of the Cinnia’s line, receive the greetings of the Head of the Aurelius line.”

This was the most formal address between two Masters, one that only had one possible answer. The High Mistress took a few seconds to reply, but when she did, Spike almost let a relieved sigh escape him.

“The Head of the Cinnia line returns the greetings of the Head of the Aurelius line.”

She had acknowledged his rank, which was capital to his plan. Shifting to game face, he ran his now sharper nails across his wrist, slicing it open. There were gasps behind him, and the three Childer in front of him shared the same incredulous look. Their Sire, though, knew what was going on before he spoke, and her expression grew darker with each of his words, each drop of his blood spilling on the carpeted floor.

That was it. Now it was sealed. One of them would soon be dust, and he could only hope it wouldn’t be him.

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Kallysten - kallysten_fr@yahoo.com

Whose Destiny?

Chapter 21: Discussions by Night