And Then There Were None...

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They were fools. All of them. Funny, after stopping so many apocalypses, they managed only to mess up this once and now it’s over.

And now, the one Slayer, meant to save the world, is behind bars and they’re all out there, destroying everything. These people, stupid humans, they don’t see it yet, but it’s coming and then it’ll be too late.

I have to admit I was stunned when Wesley sent me the newspaper clipping. The ten of them, dead on Indian Island. Who knew, with all the immortality that group shared, that they would meet their end on the Watcher’s retreat?

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Chapter One – Indian Island

“Buffy, heads up!”

One week earlier...

Buffy looked up to see the black bag hurled at her. She caught it deftly and scowled at Xander, who chuckled under his breath. She said nothing, though and stowed it onto the small boat as Dawn marched past her and sat, her earphones plugged in her ears.

“Dawn,” she called. When Dawn didn’t reply and just bobbed more to the tinny music flowing into her ears, Buffy reached over and pulled one of the earphones out and said, more loudly, “Dawn!”

“What?” answered Dawn, testily.

“Think you could help?” her sister added, sarcastically, waving at the bags she and Xander were loading onto the boat.

“I could, but I don’t want to. In fact,” Dawn stressed. “I don’t want to be here. I could be in Sunnydale, enjoying my summer with my friends, but instead you drag me all the way here to *stupid* England for this *stupid* retreat,” she grumbled, crossing her arms, defiantly.

Buffy sighed and looked back anxiously to see if Giles had heard. He was still talking to the boat driver. She turned to Dawn and said quietly, “Look, none of us want to be here, okay? But this is important to Giles, so suck it up and try to make the best of it, okay?”

Dawn scowled and pouted some more, but when she saw it was not getting any desirable reaction, she sighed loudly and grabbed the nearest bag to her and tossed it into the boat, without any regards for its contents. She would go, but no one could make her like it.

Buffy winced as the bag landed with an audible thunk and wondered if Willow had anything breakable in there. She looked over to where Willow was getting out of the red bus with Tara and smiled. She was glad the two had finally been able to work through their differences and get back together. Willow needed Tara now, more than ever.

Her smile faded as Spike sauntered out after them. He, on the other hand, was just what she didn’t need.

She felt her stomach roll into the familiar waves of doubt and trepidation she had been plagued with since Giles announced this ‘retreat’ they were to all embark on.

Indian Island. If she squinted into the distance of the dark waters ahead of her, she could see a pinpoint of light. Giles had assured them that the house he managed to procure on the small island off the shore of Devon was just the place to spend a quality weekend, free from the nasties.

“Buffy, are you okay?” She turned to see Angel’s worried expression.

“Um… yeah. Just day dreaming, I guess. I mean… night,” she babbled, waving at the dark sky. “You know… just thinking,” she added, grabbing the next bag, which Angel took from her.

“Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll finish up here,” he said, just as Dawn threw another bag into the boat that elicited the small sound of smashing glass. He winced and said, “Take Dawn with you, okay?”

Buffy nodded, smiling, climbing out of the boat and grabbing Dawn by the collar, despite the protests of the younger Summers girl, just as Anya ran to her bag and opened it, to find two shattered bottles of lotion.

“Do you know how much this lotion cost?” she mourned, scowling at the retreating girl as she closed the bag again.


They sailed out into the dark, away from the shore, away from people and demons, away from life, to the small island and the small house that would be home for three days.


“Ah, here we are,” announced Giles, unlocking the front door to usher them into the spacious front lobby. “Welcome to Indian Island.”

The ten of them entered, under the weight of their collective baggage, and looked around.

“Wow… this is such a cool place,” marveled Willow. “You can feel the energy everywhere…” she started, then quickly recovered, “…that is, if you were looking for that kind of thing… which I’m *so* am not… you know… because of the no magic thing…” Then she saw them all staring at her useless rambling and sighed weakly as Tara put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Yes, well… I imagine you feel the protective barrier, Willow,” added Giles, clearing his throat. “I had a colleague of mine bind the island. No supernatural powers can be done on the island, thereby eliminating the dangers of demonic activity.”

“Wait, so no demon has any powers?” asked Cordy. “Even me?”

“Um, yes, quite right. Although I’m still not sure exactly what your demonic capacity is at the moment,” Giles pondered.

Cordelia shrugged and said, “Your guess is as good as mine. Wesley’s still working on it and Lorne couldn’t read a thing off me.”

“What does that no power thing mean, Giles?” asked Buffy. “Does this mean we don’t have our powers either? No Slayer powers?”

Giles nodded. “No Slayer powers, no magic, no vengeance,” he looked pointedly at Anya, “…no vampiric strength or senses. You all are normal human beings. Well, I would refrain from going out into the sun,” he told Angel and Spike. “You are still, technically, vampires.”

“Hmm, I didn’t notice it until now…” murmured Angel.

“What?” asked Buffy.

“Hear that? Listen.”

“Huh?” Buffy strained to hear something, anything, but couldn’t. “Angel, I don’t hear anything.”

Angel grinned. “Neither do I. No heartbeats, no general house sounds, none of the usual stuff I can pick up with my vampiric hearing.”

“Can’t smell anything, either,” added Spike, nodding.

“But… isn’t that dangerous?” asked Tara. “We won’t be able to defend ourselves.”

“Fear not. No demon can exact his own powers here. Besides, the island is completely uninhabited. The only way of getting on or off the island is by boat. Fred Narracott has assured me he will not transport anyone here until he comes to retrieve us on Monday.”

“I don’t know…” warned Angel. “Tara has a point. And we don’t have any weapons,” he noted, which had been left on the mainland as per Giles’
instruction.

“Please,” said Giles. “We are here to relax and to enjoy each other’s company.” He ignored the snort of sarcasm from Dawn and added, “This is instrumental for us to be able to strengthen our bonds together and work as a team. Now, I’ve taken great pains to ascertain that we are indeed safe here. All right?” He turned to the rest and said, “Now, then, your chambers are on the second floor. You may want to freshen up. We’ll have a late supper in the dining room through there at say, seven. Is that all right?”

Xander nodded as he hefted his bag up the stairs, following a sullen Dawn that stomped her way up. The rest, likewise, took their bags and headed upstairs, choosing a room, and settling in.


Anya unfolded her clothes and put them in the dresser, tossing aside the bag with the broken bottles of lotion.

Darn, no vengeance powers… if only she could teach that spoiled brat a lesson taught her way…

Anya shrugged the thought off and continued to put her stuff away. As she turned towards the closet, she noticed the small, framed picture behind the door. Leaning closer, she noticed it was in fact a poem, with small pictures of Indians all around it. She read:

Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self, and then there were nine.

Nine Little Indian boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Eight little Indian boys traveling in Devon;
One said he’d stay there and then there were seven.

Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves then there were six.

Six Indian boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one then there were five.

Five Indian boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery then there were four.

Four Indian boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one then there were three.

Three Indian boys walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one then there were two.

Two Indian boys sitting in the sun;
One got all frizzled up then there was one.

One Indian boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself and then there were none.

Hmm, interesting, she thought. The author must have been a vengeance demon, she thought. She hummed a soft tune as she set about unpacking, pausing every once in a while to read a verse and extrapolate it, to imagine the countless vengeance ideas she could commit when she returned.


Angel sat in the dark room, waiting for seven. His one bag had been unpacked an hour ago and despite the books he brought that were his favorites, he was in no mood to read. So, he brooded. It seemed like a relentless habit he always seemed to fall into when he was in the same vicinity as Buffy. It was hard, with their history, to be with her and not be with her.

Cordy would laugh right about now, if she came to find him there in his black corner. She probably would say that having one lightbulb on wouldn’t make him poor, you know. She would exaggerate and say how after a hundred years, you’d think he would be able to learn how to use a light switch. She would come and joke and with just the right quip, she would make him feel guilty about being here, alone in the dark. She would make him feel… thousand times better.

He knew this was hard on her, too. He saw how the others treated her the last few days here in England. When Giles invited him to the retreat and he asked if Cordelia could come, he heard the pause in the old Englishman’s voice that spelled volumes. They all still thought of her as she had been in Sunnydale. Queen Cordelia, the selfish, insulting, rich girl. They hadn’t yet begun to see the radical change living in LA had forced upon the former cheerleader. But, Angel had only to look into her eyes to see how hurt she was. Angel had only to look to the tightening of her lips as Xander or Buffy or Willow said something to know she would never let that hurt show, preferring to cover it up with her famous Ice Queen routine before allowing them to see how much their words, unintentional or not, hurt. It saddened him to think that neither side would permit each other to expose their true interiors, thus preventing the true Cordelia he had grown to care for to shine.

A soft rapping on the door caused him to raise his head. “Yes?”

“Angel?” came the muffled answer. “Are you ready?” the brunette in question asked.

Angel glanced at the huge grandfather clock in his room beside the window. It was seven. As the clock began to chime, Angel rose and thumped the snout of the huge bear the clock was shaped in. Whoever decorated this house sure had extremely bad taste. Something he knew wouldn’t get past Cordelia.

“Yeah, coming,” he called, reaching for the light switch.

“You aren’t brooding in the dark in there, are you?” Cordelia asked, just as his hand touched the switch. He dropped his hand, chuckling that she knew him so well, and then swung the door open to Cordelia’s smile.

“Yes,” he admitted, closing the door on the dark room. “Yes, I was.”


Spike tugged the black T-shirt on and slipped into his boots, preparing to meet them all downstairs. Why had he come back? He knew England was no longer his home, yet Giles had insisted and…

Since when did Spike feel compelled to listen to a Watcher? No, he came because she had asked him. She wanted him there and like the stupid sheep that he was, he obeyed.

Spike walked over to the dresser, angrily. Picking up his rings, he noticed a small, open Bible to the side. Damn, last thing he needed was to accidentally touch it in the dark or something and burn himself. Spike grabbed a couple of shirts and came to lift the Bible, intending to toss it into the empty drawer, when he noticed a highlighted passage. Leaning over, he read:

The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgment which He executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. The wicked shall be turned into hell.

These were words of inspiration? he thought sarcastically. He gently lifted the Bible and dumped it in the drawer, sparing it no second thought. Shutting the. drawer, he left the room for the dining room downstairs.

Xander waited patiently by the door for Buffy to finish so they could go down to supper. Boy, did women take so long… Something he couldn’t completely understand, even after living with Anya for so long.

She still wasn’t speaking to him. He had tried to apologize time and time again for the whole wedding fiasco, but she wouldn’t hear of it. He realized how much he hurt her, but he knew he would have hurt them both more if they had gone through with the wedding. And now, all he could feel was guilty now that he had found out that it caused her to return to her vengeance roots.

Xander turned when he heard the creak of a door and saw Spike leave his room. He looked at the blond vampire as their eyes met for a second, both sets filled with contempt for each other. Then Spike ambled down the stairs towards the dining room below.

Xander turned back, his face etched with irritation. Three days with not only one, but two vampires that drove him up the wall. Chip or no chip, he would never be able to trust Spike, no matter how much they all said he ‘changed’. And as for Angel, he had seen Angel at his worst and wasn’t about to forget the monster that lay under that innocent, brooding exterior. Vampires were for staking, is what Xander thought, not befriending. He often thought Buffy should learn that, but she was too trusting, too forgiving. He supposed that’s what he adored about his best friend, except when it came to certain vampires.

Suddenly, Xander could think of ten great things he would love to do to those two, thinking of that sadistic poem in his room. Ten little Indian boys…

“Ready?” asked Buffy, coming out of her room, interrupting his train of thought.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, as always,” he smiled. He offered her his arm with a gentlemanly bow and said, in a false British accent, “May I escort you to the dining room, my fair lady?”

Buffy smiled widely and took his arm, saying sincerely, “Why, yes, young man, I would be honored.”

Dawn sat slumped in her chair, waiting for the others to come and join her, Giles, Willow and Tara at the table. Come on, she thought. The faster this is done, the faster I can go back to my room. Dawn didn’t feel like spending a minute longer ‘bonding’.

Tara chatted amiably with Giles about some of the things they had seen in London, the two going back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, bringing in the food. Willow, setting out the table, saw Dawn’s frustration and understood what it was like to be deprived forcibly of her friends. But she was determined to cheer Dawn up by supplying inane jokes that only served to alienate Dawn more.

Sighing, Willow gave up after a few minutes, turning to Tara with a forlorn expression on her face. Tara tried to find some way of distracting Dawn and said brightly, “Hey, Dawnie, look!” She pointed to the centerpiece on the table with a bright smile. “Aren’t they cute?”

Dawn looked at the centerpiece that was a wide multi-colored ceramic plate with ten small statues. She picked one up and examined it. “It’s an Indian,” Dawn said, dully.

“Yeah, but look… ten!” added Tara, picking up another.

“Ooh, what fun! Just like that poem in my room,” Willow said, excitedly. “I have this framed picture with a little rhyme on my wall,” she explained. “Ten little Indian boys…”

“…went out to dine…” chimed in Tara. “I have the same one in my room,” she added. “Isn’t it adorable how everything matches? The centerpiece, the poems, the island? Indian Island?”

Giles, who had come in to hear the last part, said, “Ah, yes, an old English nursery rhyme. I read the same in my room; I gather it is in all of them. I remember it from my youth…”

“Great, an old island, an old house and now, an old lullaby…” grouched Dawn.

Giles ignored her and added, “Seems rather fitting, considering the history of this island, the name and the décor, something I’m not too fond of myself.”

“You and me both, Giles. The guy who picked those curtains had to be blind…” said Cordelia as she and Angel walked in the dining room.

“History? What history?” asked Tara.

Giles sat down, taking his handkerchief out to wipe his glasses as he said, “Well, about fifty years ago, a incident occurred here, one never fully explained. It seems ten individuals, strangers actually, were called here and then systematically murdered. The underlying suspicion was that one of them had been the murderer and then committed suicide but the evidence seemed to point otherwise. Somewhat of a mystery, actually.”

“Hold on,” said Dawn, straightening in her chair, her voice getting more high-pitched as she spoke. “You brought us to an isolated island, in a house where people were killed?”

“Calm down, Dawnie,” said Willow, reaching out for the girl.

“Calm down?! How can I calm down?! People died here!” she cried, her voice reverberating through the room, bringing Spike, Buffy and Xander rushing through the door.

“What’s going on?!” cried Buffy, hearing her sister’s frantic outburst.

“Nothing,” said Giles, trying to subdue the situation, but Dawn rose quickly from her chair and grabbed Buffy’s arm.

“We are so leaving here. Now!”

Buffy looked confusedly from Dawn to the rest and back. “Dawn, what happened?”

“He,” she pointed emphatically at Giles, “brought us to a house with dead people!”

Giles raised his hand at Buffy’s startled look and added, “Dawn, those people died fifty years ago. Trust me, the place has been cleaned out…”

“Really?” she said, walking up to him, hand on her hip. “What about ghosts, huh? You didn’t think that maybe their spirits are haunting this house,
trying to avenge their murderer?” Then she turned, horrified, “What if they think we killed them? What if they come after us, like in that movie? What’s it
called, when those ghosts started killing the stupid people who locked themselves in?” Panicked, she turned to Buffy, “I’m leaving! No way you’re going to make me stay here!”

“Dawn! Get a hold of yourself!” cried Buffy, holding her sister by the arms, stopping her from flying out the room.

“Yes, I did think of that, Dawn,” Giles said, calmly. “Which is my colleague also did a spirit cleansing. Trust me, there are no ghosts here. We are perfectly safe.”

Tara came up behind Dawn and hugged her, “Yeah, Dawnie, it’s okay. Willow and I would have felt if there was any negative energy. It’ll be all right.”

Tara’s words comforted Dawn slightly, enough for her to slump back into her seat. But she crossed her arms and pouted. “Stupid house in stupid England with stupid histories,” she grumbled. “Couldn’t we just have gone to DisneyWorld?”

They all took their seats just as Anya rushed into the room. “Hmm, I’m late. So, did I miss anything?”

Supper was relatively peaceful and enjoyable once the talk of ghosts and supernatural activity diminished.

They talked and ate and were full. They decided to retire to the adjoining sitting room for dessert and coffee. The clock chimed nine.

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Chapter 2 – Ten little Indians

The view is amazing from here,” commented Willow, looking out the huge window that overlooked the water all around them. On the coast, she could see the small pinpoints of light that bordered the mainland.

“I know,” agreed Tara, coming behind Willow and encircling her arms around the redhead’s waist, leaning her chin on her shoulder. “Can you smell the air? Hear the lapping of the waves? It’s so… relaxing.”

They heard the snort from behind them, but chose to ignore the continuing saga that was Dawn’s bad attitude. Even Xander was losing his patience as he sat beside her and said, “Ease up, Dawn. We all know you hate this, but you’re here now, so just lighten up.”

Dawn looked at him with a serious, worried expression. “Xander, there’s something not right here, okay? I have this really bad feeling. I can’t just ignore it.”

Buffy threw her arms up in frustration. “Dawn, how many times do we have to tell you it’s safe here? Giles gave us his word that his friend cleaned this place out, okay? Now, just calm down and relax!”

Dawn glared at her sister, but said nothing. She moved over to the armchair in the corner and sat there, curled up with her tea, shutting everyone out.

Buffy sighed and rubbed her temples. She took a sip of the steaming tea Giles had set out and tried to relax, which wasn’t easy with two vampires staring at her from every corner. Angel she felt she could handle later, for the moment, he and Cordelia were regaling Anya and Giles with tales from LA.

Spike was a different story. Since they landed in England, he had been unusually silent, speaking only when necessary. She would have thought he would have been happy to be back in his mother country but he stayed close to them, not venturing out to visit his old homeland. Since they set out for Devon to reach Indian Island, he had not said a word, keeping to himself. Dawn’s attitude and Anya and Xander’s arguing had distracted her from noticing until now.

She would have rather not approach him, knowing her proximity was like rubbing salt into an open wound. Their breakup after Riley’s return had created an increased uncomfortableness between the two of them. But as Buffy glanced around the room, she noted no one else would approach him. It was obvious there was no love lost between Xander and Spike, or between Angel and Spike. Cordelia didn’t know about the changes Spike had gone through and remembered him as the Spike that tried to kill her. Anya was too selfish and Willow and Tara were too busy trying to make their relationship work. Dawn was busy sulking and Giles was trying valiantly to make the weekend enjoyable.

No, Buffy was the only one and so with this in mind, she slid beside him and said, “Okay, what’s the what? Why are you being all Mr. Pouty?”

“I’m not,” he answered, morosely.

“Yes, you are. You haven’t said a word since we got here. So, spill.”

Spike sighed. “Nothing, luv. Just wallowing in traditional British stuffiness, I suppose.”

“Oh, come on, we’re supposed to be having fun! What do you want to do?” she asked, bouncing beside him, trying to get him interested. He looked at her, pointedly and she stopped in mid-bounce, reading his mind. “Except that. Look, Spike,” she whispered quietly, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the group to see if anyone was listening then back at him, “I know this is hard, but really, it was for the best. It wasn’t gong to work between us, you know that.”

“Do I?” Spike turned towards her and said, “Never gave us a real chance, Buffy. You stopped it before we even tried. Didn’t have the heart to tell anyone…you still don’t,” he said, as she looked over her shoulder again. She smiled sheepishly, caught in the act as he turned away from her. “Can’t use that as an excuse anymore, Slayer. Fess up, you were just scared, plain and simple.”

“I was not!” she added, indignantly. “Spike, you’re a vampire, I’m a Slayer. Tell me how that was supposed to work?!”

“Worked for you and Peaches.”

“Angel is different, he has a soul. And look! Still didn’t work!” she hissed.

“That’s because the bloody wanker’s up on blocks! He can’t even look at you without Angelus threatening to pop out!” Spike sighed and looked away. “You can’t just expect me to be content about this, Slayer. Just leave me the hell alone.”

“Fine! Sit here and sulk, just like my sixteen-year-old sister! Funny, after a hundred years, you’d think you’d be a bit more mature,” said Buffy, rising to her feet.

Spike looked up at her and replied, “Your sis’s got it right on the nose, Summers. This place… you don’t know England, pet. It’s got ways of holding on to you. A way of keeping the past alive. This house has a history, luv… and it won’t let you forget it.”

“You too, Spike? Dead people? Ghosts?”

“No, I’m just saying…”

“What, Spike? You’re not making any sense!”

Spike hardened his jaw and looked away, frustrated at his inability to correcting express his reservations. He settled for a calm, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” that sent Buffy to the other end of the room in equal frustration.

He saw how Angel leaned over to ask her what was wrong. Seeing them together almost killed him as unresolved feelings for the Slayer and her first lover, his sire, tumbled in his head. Suddenly, he felt like he could no longer sit in the same room. He rose to leave when Giles said, “Spike, there’s a small cabinet to your right. No, lower. Yes, there. There’s a player in there, would you be so kind to press play?”

Spike pressed the button, his frustration set aside as the sweet notes of his favorite musical piece filled the room. Not like any of these pillocks would know that, but it was enough to have him sit down again, averting his eyes from the former lovers and listening to the music under the guise of sulking.

“What is this, Giles?” asked Tara.

“Just a small selection of pieces I chose to set a relaxing environment. I can stop it if you care,” he offered.

“No, no, it’s lovely.”

They sat, conversing quietly for awhile, in the beauty of that music when it abruptly stopped and a deep voice came out of nowhere.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, SILENCE, PLEASE!”

It caused Willow and Cordelia to shriek in surprise as Dawn looked furtively around her and asked, “What the hell was THAT?!”

The voice continued and said,

“You have been charged with the following indictments:

Rupert Edward Giles, you are charged with the death of one Laura Adams on 22nd day of March, 1972.

Tara Louise MacClay, you are responsible for the assault and murder of one Raymond MacClay on the 21st day of August, 1994.

Cordelia Chase, on the 18th day of May, 1999, you were party to the death of Marcus Perry.

William Harold Boyd, you killed one Edward Anthony Boyd, the 25th day of September 1868.

Willow Rosenberg, you have been guilty of the deaths of Lisa Garraty and Emmanuel Richards, the 17th day of April, 2000.

Dawn Mary Summers, you are charged with the death of Barry Grant on the 10th day of October, 2001.

Liam ó Coileáin, you were responsible for the rape and murder of Erin Mac Carthaigh, the 12th day of December, 1756.

Elizabeth Anne Summers, you have been charged with the knowledge and abetting of the murder of Deputy Mayor Allen Finch on the 5th day of April, 1999.

Aud Andersdotter, you are guilty of the death of Leif Fredrickson, the 4th day of March, 895.

Alexander LaVelle Harris, you are accused of the death of Aaron Joseph Harris on the 15th day of January, 1983.

Prisoners at bar, have you anything to say in your defense?”

The silence resounded in the room when the voice finished speaking. Prisoners at bar, have you anything to say in your defense? The voice echoed in Xander’s head. Defense? He thought. What defense? He didn’t…

“What the HELL was that?!” Dawn repeated again. “GILES…?” she intoned hysterically.

“Calm down, Dawn,” he said, shakily. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable… explanation.”

“Ghosts is what it is,” Spike muttered.

“No, it can’t be!” cried Willow, sitting down nervously. “We would have felt it, Tara and me, we would have!”

Tara looked worriedly at Willow and said, “Hush, honey. We’ll figure this out…”

Angel was glancing and feeling around the room, trying to find out where the sound came from.

“What was that all about? Murder? Why was he accusing us?!” added Cordelia.

Buffy paced to where Cordelia was and said, “I don’t know. We have to find out where that voice came from. Xander, you and Spike go check outside. Anya, take Cordelia and check upstairs. Tara, maybe you can do some energy spell, find out if there actually…”

“I can’t,” replied Tara.

“Huh?”

“No magic, remember? We don’t have our powers,” she explained.

“Oh.” Buffy bit her lip, worriedly as she tried to think.

“So, we’re screwed?” moaned Willow.

“No,” replied Buffy. “We just… have to use our brains, that’s all.”

Giles looked as if he were struck by an idea and walked over to the small cabinet with the player. He pressed a few buttons and they all heard, “– ged with the knowledge and abetting of the murder of Deputy Mayor Allen Finch on the 5th day of April, 1999. Aud Andersdotter, you are guilt – ”

“Oh, turn it off, turn it off!” cried Dawn, holding her hands to her ears.

“It’s horrible,” whispered Cordelia, as Giles hurriedly pressed the stop button.

Angel walked up beside Giles and pulled out the compact disc. “Guess we’ve determined where the voice came from. You made this?” he asked Giles.

“Um, no. Actually, my colleague did. You know my ineptness with those blasted computers!” he said, defensively. “I gave him the names of the pieces… He created the disc for me.”

“Yeah, well, I had just about enough of your ‘colleague’,” said Anya, angrily. “He takes my powers and now, this!”

“I want to go home,” whined Dawn in agreement.

“Look, let’s get calm down, okay?” Buffy said, glaring at her sister. Turning to Giles, she asked, “Why don’t you tell us about your friend? Why would he accuse us like that?”

“First of all,” started Giles, “that’s not his voice. John’s voice is much more high-pitched, not so booming, if you will. Secondly, the person who recorded that knew more details about us that most of us in this room. John is very skilled, but not quite so informed.”

“Giles is right,” added Angel. “Whoever is on this disc knew quite a bit. He even knew my full name, something few knew. He knew Spike’s real name… and dates… and events.”

“But come on, Angel, accusing us of stuff that never happened?” asked Cordelia.

“What wasn’t true?”

“Everything!” she cried. “None of killed anyone! Well… except for you… and Spike… and Anya… Okay, but come on, Dawn? Xander? Willow? None of the rest of us ever killed anyone!”

“I told you all this was stupid!” exploded Dawn. “We have to get out of this house right now!”

“All right, Dawn. Just take it easy,” Xander said, putting his arm on her shoulder.

Dawn shrugged it off aggressively. “Stop telling me to take it easy and to calm down! We shouldn’t calm down! Something’s playing with our heads! Can you see it?!”

She rose and tried to storm out of the room, but she walked into Spike who was leaning on the doorjamb. He casually stopped her by putting his arm out and gave her a look that said, ‘I’m on your side here. I get you.’ It reassured her and she turned to face the group who listened as Cordelia cried out, “Okay, so what about this other stuff? Tara assaulting someone? Xander killing someone? And I did not kill Marcus, I didn’t!!” She sat down heavily, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

Buffy nodded. “Maybe we should clear up these accusations. Who’s Marcus?”

Cordelia sniffed as she looked up at Buffy. “You don’t remember Marcus Perry?”

Xander snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah! Marcus! You know, Buffy, he was president of the chess club in high school?”

“The one with the big glasses? Didn’t he have like, the hugest crush on you?” she asked Cordelia.

Cordy nodded, as a soft look took over her features. “Looking back, it was kinda of sweet. He didn’t do anything creepy like follow me around. He just kinda doodled my name in notebooks and wrote these poems that everyone found out about. The guys from the football team found out and they decided to ‘teach him a lesson.’ I was in high school! I was cool! I couldn’t protect someone like him!” she said, defensively. “They grabbed him one night and strung him up behind the school, on that big oak tree? They took his clothes…” She looked down at her hands. “He froze to death,” she whispered. “And I was too cool to save him…”

“Come on, you couldn’t have possibly known…” said Tara.

“But you could have told someone,” added Buffy, arms crossed. “You left him to die, Cordy!”

“Don’t look at me so high and mighty!” Cordy countered. “You think I don’t regret it? You don’t think I wish I could take it back?! Why do you think I went to LA? I tried to escape from it! The guilt, the pain, the nightmares! But you wouldn’t understand that, would you, Miss Goody-Two-Slayer…? No, wait, I think you would. I don’t think I would talk if I were you… I’m not the only in this room with blood on her hands!”

Tara put her hand on Cordy’s shoulder and looked at Buffy, who stood, mouth open. “She’s right. The voice,” she pointed to the disc in Angel’s hand, “said you were responsible for the murder of Deputy Mayor Allen Finch. What was that about?”

Buffy blinked at her then answered, “Well, it was before you came into our lives, Tara. Remember I told you about the other Slayer?”

“Faith?”

“Yes. She killed the Deputy Mayor. It was Faith, not me!” said Buffy.

“No, the voice said you were responsible for the knowledge and abetting of the murder of Deputy Mayor Allen Finch,” corrected Anya. “You were there, weren’t you?”

“Well, I did know about it, but I tried to… help Faith, get her to take responsibility,” Buffy defended.

“You were still part of it,” whispered Cordy, venomously.

Buffy stared at Cordy icily as Willow tried to ease the tension by saying, “Well, the voice said I killed two people, Lisa Garraty and Emmanuel Richards,” whispered Willow. “I did do that… The magic…” Willow looked ashamed as she recounted, “I made more mistakes learning than I let on. I grew in power, but despite what you all thought, it was more like trial and error. One day, I tried a… conjuring spell. I thought I was ready. I thought I was alone in the forest, I did. I was creating ice, I created sheets of it, covering the river, the ground… and two students behind a tree. I didn’t know they were there!” she sobbed. “When I unfroze them, it was too late!”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Wills?” asked Xander, concerned.

Willow looked up with tear-filled eyes. “You would have made me stop. And even thought I killed them, I… I didn’t want you guys to make me stop.”

Tara sat beside Willow and stroked her back. “It’s okay, you stopped now, that’s what’s important…”

“I killed them, Tara. And I didn’t care. I just left them… It’s not okay,” she whispered, wiping her tears away.

“What about you, Tara? The voice said you assaulted someone?” asked Giles, quietly.

Tara looked up and nodded. “Raymond MacClay, my uncle. I was five. My uncle… he was a drunk. One night, he came over, he had been drinking… He was arguing with my brother, pushed him.” Tara ran her hand through her hair as she remembered. “I grabbed the pan, I don’t what I thought I was going to do. I was five! I thought I could maybe… stop him.” She looked back up at Giles. “I hit him,” she said, simply. “Cracked his skull. They acquitted me, of course. It was self-defense!” She looked around at the group looking at her. “I didn’t intentionally kill him, okay?” she said, loudly.

“We know,” said Xander. “It’s okay. Really.”

“And you, Xander?” asked Angel. “The voice said you killed someone.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Xander spun to face Angel, angrily. “You have no right – ” Buffy put her hand on Xander’s chest to prevent him from launching himself onto Angel. Xander tried to get past her, then gave up and walked away from them, turning to Willow.

She looked at him thoughtfully and said, “It wasn’t your fault, Xander.”

“It wasn’t?” he asked, almost unsure of himself, then more resolutely, “It wasn’t.” Xander turned to the window and looked out at the dark waters as he said, quietly, “Aaron was my brother. We were playing in the park, climbing trees. All kids climb trees, right?”

When no one answered, he wrung his hands and added, “Aaron was always trying to prove himself. To me, to my dad, to anyone who would notice. I told him he was climbing too high but he insisted. He fell, broke his neck. I’ll forget that sound as he landed.” Xander shivered. “But I didn’t kill him! It was an accident!”

Angel nodded thoughtfully, but Xander misinterpreted the nod of sympathy as one of sarcasm. “Hey, you killed people, too! Lots of them! Don’t be looking down on me, all right?!”

“I wasn’t,” said Angel, gently. “I know I killed people, Xander. I don’t excuse it. I feel it, all their pain, all their… But I’m a vampire. At the same time as I regret, I also accept that I can’t change the past or excuse the fact that I was… am a demon. Angelus is still in me, and while I, my soul, controls him now, I didn’t always used to.”

He paused thoughtfully, then added, “The voice used my Gaelic name, Liam ó Coileáin. Haven’t heard that in over… two hundred years. And despite all the people I’ve tortured, maimed, killed, he chose Erin. Erin Mac Carthaigh,” Angel reminisced. “My first girl, you could say.”

Angel turned to face them all. “My name is Angel, but I wasn’t always one. Even before Darla found me. I was a drunk, a womanizer, a lazy bastard. I did anything and everything to disappoint my father. Nothing I could do would please him. And so, when he tried to ‘arrange’ my marriage, so I could be an ‘upstanding, God-fearing man’,” his voice hinted at an old Irish brogue as he mimicked his father, “I did everything I could to hurt him. I met with the darling virgin girl he had found for me, his business partner’s daughter. I drank heavily that night, and… I raped her. I then left her there, stumbling home in the dark. They found her body the next morning. No one could prove I did it, but the whole village spoke in whispers when I was around. I left her for dead and I was human. No excuse of a demon there, no Angelus. It was me, pure and simple. I killed her,” he said, simply. “That’s what Darla saw in me. The evil that already existed. So, looking back, I can see sometimes how becoming Angelus… wasn’t really a stretch.”

Buffy looked at him, her face blanched. “Angel,” she whispered. “How could you?”

Angel shrugged in sadness. “I can say I was drunk, I can say I getting back at my father. But I would be lying. There’s evil in us all, Buffy. I was evil. I can’t excuse it. And of all the people I’ve killed, hers is the death I regret the most. She was so innocent and I… I took everything away from her,” he said, quietly.

They sat quietly for a bit, absorbing what Angel said, then Dawn asked, “Am I evil, then?”

“No!” cried Buffy. “You’re not evil,” she insisted.

“But Barry… I killed Barry Grant,” Dawn replied.

“What?!”

“Well,” Dawn said. “Not intentionally.” She sighed audibly, then looked at Buffy. “I lied, okay? Last year, during the whole Glory thing, I said I was going to Janice’s, but I lied. I didn’t go. I was going out with Barry. It was innocent. He’d pick me up, we’d go parking. You know.” She fiddled with the edge of the wall as she confessed, “I asked him to let me drive. Begged him. He finally agreed and I want to show off. Cool Dawn, I can drive a car, no problem. We hit a tree…”

“Dawnie…” admonished Willow, in a hushed voice.

“I didn’t know he’d die!” screamed Dawn. “He was bleeding… everywhere. I tried to wake him, but… I was so scared! I just ran and ran and ran! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

She turned and tumbled into Spike’s arms, bawling loudly as he tried to calm her. “It’s okay, Nibblet… shh, hush, now, that’s my girl…”

“You know, I knew she was no good. First, she steals from me, and now, this!” cried Anya, from her corner.

“Anya!” said Xander, shocked at her tactlessness.

“It’s true!” crowed Anya. “They have special places for girls like her…”

“Oh, and you’re Little Miss Perfect?! Miss Vengeance Demon for a Thousand Years?!” Xander shot back.

Anya shrugged indifferently. “It was my job, Xander. Not like you cared enough to consider that…”

“Aud Andersdotter… no one by that name here, but your name wasn’t on the recording, Anya…” Willow said. “You’re Aud?”

“My real name. My real name before Anyanka, that is,” she replied.

“So that guy, he was just one of your ‘customers’?” mocked Buffy.

“Who, Leif? No, I knew him way before D’Hoffryn approached me. No, he was my best friend’s husband.”

After a small pause, Willow prodded, “And how did you kill him?”

“Hmm? Oh, well, he was cheating on her, of course, like all the slimy pigs that are men do. He got sick. I had medicine. I chose not to give it to him. He died. End of story.”

“You just let him die when you could have saved him?” asked Tara, unbelievably.

“He was scum! Besides, I gave the medicine to this other girl. I saved her… She was much more deserving.”

“What are you, God?” asked Giles. “You simply cannot decide who deserves to live or die, Anya!”

Anya spun to face Giles. “Look, it wasn’t easy to live in those times. You made sacrifices, choices! It wasn’t easy to survive, so I chose my battles. That girl was needed. Leif was a waste of human flesh. I don’t regret it!”

“How could you be so heartless?” he replied.

“How can I…? Hey, you’re not so innocent yourself! You’re on that recording too, you know!”

“Yeah, Watcher. Besides, you’re the chap who brought us here. What’s your story?” added Spike.

Giles looked away from Anya to Spike, then back as he cleared his throat. The he answered calmly, saying, “Laura. Laura Adams. I don’t believe I met anyone by that name, much less killed her.”

“So, it’s not true?” asked Buffy.

“Of course it’s not true! I don’t know her! How can I kill her?” Turning to Spike again, he added, “I brought you here to relax. Now I fear that was a mistake. There is an old radio up in the study. I shall try to radio the mainland and have someone fetch us.”

As Giles left to do so, the other nine stared at each other, exhausted at the revelations made that night. Dawn looked up at Spike and said, “You didn’t tell us.”

“Tell you what, little one?”

“Who you killed… the recording…”

Spike pulled the tear-stained girl off his chest and set her aside, saying, “It’s not important now, is it?”

“Hold on, that’s not fair! We all confessed, you should too…” cried Willow.

“Yeah, deadboy, spill,” said Xander.

Spike looked at them and answered, “Unlike the lot of you, I’m evil. I have no obligation to tell you all anything.”

“Come on,” said Dawn. “Please?”

Spike looked at the young girl’s expression, her need for him to be her equal. He sighed and reluctantly said, “Edward Anthony Boyd was my father. I… I was a weak boy. Never thought I’d have something in common with my sire, except a blood bond, but I also didn’t seem to quite live up to my old man’s expectations. One day, when I was a young boy, we were coming home from the shops when a couple of swaddlers came up and attacked us, wanting his money and all. My father ordered me to go find the police and so I ran, but by the time I found someone and came back, it was too late. They had left him for dead.”

“So… you didn’t kill him?” asked Anya, hesitantly.

“No, just was too much a nancy-boy to save him is all,” he answered, head low as he slid into the small armchair.

“But…” she started, then decided against what she was to say when Giles came back in.

“Blasted machine’s useless,” he announced. “Doubt it’s been used in over twenty years.”

“So, we’re stuck here?” asked Willow.

“No, no, no…” moaned Dawn, rocking slightly on her heels.

Giles ignored her and answered Willow. “I’m afraid so. At least until Monday.”

Xander added, “Even if Giles had been able to get through, I don’t think we would have made in to the mainland.”

“Huh?”

He pointed outside and Willow saw the gray thunderclouds loom overhead. “Storm’s on the way. I’ll look at the radio in the morning, but I think it might be the storm’s interference that’s the problem.”

“Well, looks like we’re here for tonight,” concluded Angel. “Maybe we should get some rest,” he suggested as Dawn looked at him, petrified.

“No! We can’t stay here! We… we have to leave! Please!” she cried.

Buffy came to her sister and said, “Dawn, there’s nothing we can do. We have no choice.”

“Please, Buffy, I can’t stand it here! Please!” Dawn begged, tears pouring down her face as she shivered in fear. She looked at Spike and said,
“Spike! Tell them! Tell them it’s not safe here!”

“Dawn, get a hold of yourself! You’re hysterical!” Buffy pushed his sister down onto the couch and sat beside her, trying to soothe her.

Cordy handed Buffy Dawn’s tea and Buffy pushed it into Dawn’s shaking hands as she said, “I promise, the minute we can get off this island, we will, okay?”

Dawn nodded hesitantly, but her expression showed her fears were still not allayed.

“Don’t worry, Nibblet,” added Spike. “It’ll all be better soon.”

Dawn looked at him, warily, then took a long gulp of her tea. Perhaps too long of one. For as soon as she swallowed, she started choking uncontrollably.

“Dawn?” Buffy asked. “Dawn!” Spike’s eyes widened in concern as he rushed beside her just as Buffy instinctively started thumping on her back.

“Stop! You’ll make it worse!” he cried as he grabbed Buffy’s arm to stop her and quickly laid Dawn on her back, going through the initial steps of CPR.

“Breathe into her mouth,” he ordered, pulling Buffy forcibly on her knees to the ground on his right. “One breath every five seconds. Go!”

Buffy reacted instinctively to the authority in his voice and put her mouth on Dawn’s, doing as he said. She saw him start to do compressions, but after a few minutes, he stopped her and felt Dawn’s neck for a pulse.

“Sh-she’s not br-br-breathing…” hiccupped Buffy, eyes wide at Spike’s expression. “We have to…” Buffy leaned over to resume her breathing, when Spike stopped her with his hand, shaking his head slightly.

“She’s gone, Buffy,” he said, sadly. He reached over and closed Dawn’s eyes as the first tears streamed down his face.

“No,” said Buffy. She saw Spike crying and noticed it was the first time she had ever seen him cry. “No,” she repeated louder, shaking her head vigorously for emphasis.

Xander, standing in shock behind Buffy, reached out for her as she rose to her feet. She slapped his hand away, angrily as she repeated once more, “No!”, refusing to believe Dawn was dead.

Spike dropped his head on Dawn’s chest in defeat, uncaring for the people around him who were witnessing his profuse grief.

“Buffy!” cried Angel, forcibly holding her by the upper arms and making her look at him.

“Angel?” She… She can’t be…” she whispered.

“She is,” he answered, softly.

Angel saw as Buffy’s lower lip began to tremble and the tears that slid down her face as he took her into his arms. She wailed into his shoulder as he rubbed her back. Angel looked at the others who were frozen in shock. He saw Xander slide him a look of utter contempt for having be able to be there for Buffy when she rejected his comfort.

“H-how did this h-happen?” said Willow, when she re-found her ability to speak.

Tara shook her head in wonder. “She was drinking and…”

“…she choked,” completed Cordy, reaching for the cup of tea. But Spike beat her to it, scooped the half-empty cup off the saucer as he rose. He tried to sniff the tea, but growled in frustration as he remembered he had no vampiric smell. Instead, he quickly downed a gulp of the lukewarm tea before anyone could react.

“Spike, no!” cried Tara as she saw the blond vampire’s knees give out, causing him to slump to the ground, unconscious. She ran to his side on her knees and propped up his head onto her lap. “Spike, wake up! Don’t die!”

“He’s already dead,” Giles reminded her, coming up behind her.

“He’ll come to in a few minutes,” Angel agreed, “Vampires cannot choke… or be poisoned. It merely stuns us for a few moments.”

“Poisioned?” whispered Buffy.

Giles picked up the cup of tea and sniffed it as well.

“Don’t, Giles,” warned Willow. “We don’t know what that stuff is!”

Giles smiled weakly, then said, “The tea smells a little unusual. Perhaps Dawn did not simply choke…”

A groan came from Spike as he came to, holding his head in pain. “What the hell - ?”

Tara shushed him, as she stroked back his hair. “Easy, Spike, you had a nasty spell.”

Spike managed to sit up and saw the cup in Giles’ hand. “It’s been tainted,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Giles nodded, as he saw Cordelia sniffing the tea in the pot and the other cups. “I think it was just Dawn’s cup,” she said.

“But why? Why would someone want to hurt Dawn?” asked Xander, forcefully.

“I don’t know,” replied Giles. “Could you identify the poison?” he asked Spike.

Spike shook his head. “No vampiric taste… but it did taste a bit strange… like nuts…”

“Almonds!” Giles sniffed the tea again and nodded.

“Almonds are poisonous?” asked Anya.

Willow stood beside Giles and sniffed the tea as well, saying, “No, but a typical indication of poisons are their smell. Like an almondy kind of smell usually indicates a cyanide of some kind.”

“Probably potassium,” agreed Giles. “Almost instantaneous effect and relatively easy to acquire.”

“Who would poison my sister?!” yelled Buffy, not quite believing what she was hearing.

Angel put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll find out, Buffy. Don’t worry. Are you sure it’s potassium cyanide?” he asked Willow.

Spike snorted and offered up the cup. “Fancy a taste, Peaches?”

Angel scowled at him, but eyed the cup thoughtfully as Buffy snatched the cup and smashed it into the fireplace, saying, “Enough with the tea! My sister’s dead! I want to know who did this!”

Spike looked into her eyes and replied seriously, “We will, pet. We will.”

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Chapter 3: Nine Little Indians...

In the end, it was Spike who carried Dawn up to her room and laid her on the bed, covering her body with a white sheet.

He sat by her body and stroked her hair gently, mourning the loss of one so young. And when Buffy entered the room quietly, unnoticed by the vampire without his hearing, she found him softly singing to her:

"Sleep my love, and peace attend thee,
All through the night,
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night,
Soft the drowsy hours a-creeping
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping,
I, my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night..."

He felt a presence behind him, but when he turned, no one was there.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Willow and Tara walked down the hall towards their room, holding hands. As they reached Willow's room, she repeated for the tenth time, "I can't believe she's really gone."

Tara nodded again, knowing it was probably hard for Willow to lose someone like Dawn, thinking how hard Buffy must be taking it. "We'll get to the bottom of this, we will. We all just need to... rest."

Willow nodded, opening her door.

"Do you... do you want me to come in?" Tara asked, hesitantly.

Willow turned to the blonde and looked at her sheepishly. "Um, I think... I think I'd like to be... alone, tonight."

Tara nodded, although the hurt look on her face did not escape Willow.

"It's just that... what happened tonight... and this house... not in this house..." Willow tried to explain but Tara stopped her with her hand.

"It's okay, really. Sleep tight. Lock the door," added Tara.

Willow smiled weakly and then said, almost as an afterthought, "Tara, there are no... ghosts here, right?"

"No," Tara smiled. "Ghosts don't tend to poison people. No, this is something human, Willow. Something bad human..."

"I mean," Willow paused, playing with the doorjamb. "All that stuff she was saying, you know, before... you don't think..."

"What, Willow? That she killed herself?"

"It's possible, isn't it? Guilt, over that whole Barry thing?"

"Willow, where would she get the cyanide? Besides, this is Dawn! Sure, she was a bit whiny, but what teenager isn't? She wouldn't..."

"Lots of teenagers do," Willow pointed out. "I just saying... it's possible, right?"

Tara stared at Willow. "It's possible," she finally admitted. "But..."

"Otherwise, there's no one on the island. Remember? Xander and Angel made a sweep of the island. We're the only ones here, Tara."

Tara took a moment to digest Willow's implication. "Are you saying it's one of us?"

Willow looked at her girlfriend, sadly. "There's no one else here."

Tara looked at Willow, confused and frightened. Then she said, "We'll... we'll figure this out in the morning."

"Tara..."

"Yes?"

Willow paused and then asked, "Want to come in?" She opened her room door wider.

Tara smiled. "No, it's okay. I think... we need time alone."

"But..."

"You're right. Not in this house. When we get off this island, I promise."

"All right."

"Good night..."

"Good night."

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Xander dusted his hands off angrily as he reached his room. Two hours searching this place with Angel... Xander never wanted to leave a place more. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would figure a way off this island and what killed Dawn.

He turned his head as he heard a soft whispering. He looked up to see Anya and Cordelia reaching their rooms, in deep, hushed conversation. It stopped when they saw him, but when he angrily went into his room and shut the door; he heard them take up where they left off. Leaning back on the door, he shut his eyes and realized what was worse that having two annoying vampires in the house with him. And that was having two very angry ex-girlfriends in the house with him. And having them befriend each other.

He banged his head back on the door and looked over to where the small, framed poem hung. Suddenly, all the ten nasty things he wanted to do to Angel and Spike applied to Anya and Cordelia... wait, ten little Indians went out to dine... one choked himself and then there were... this had to be a coincidence... right?

Xander read the verse again. Under any other circumstance, he would have dismissed it, but in a supposedly haunted house, with a history, with such a death...

As he readied for bed, Xander thought back to all that happened that night, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron. It had been an accident. It had been.

"Xander! You watch your brother now!"
"Aww, Mom, do I have to?!"
"He's your little brother... he's just a baby..."
"Hey! I'm not a baby!"
"Oh, yes, you are, honey, Mommy's special, little baby..."

"Xander! Look at that tree! It's up in the clouds!"
"Whatever... look, just sit over there and be quiet, okay?"
"Can I climb that tree, Xander? Please? I want to touch the clouds!"
"No! It's too high! You're going to hurt yourself!"
"But Jack Taylor gets to..."
"Jack's twice your size... You're just a little kid, okay?! Now, sit over there and play with your cars..."

"Xander, look at me!"
"Aaron, NO!"

"Ahhhhh!"
"Aaron! AARON! Can you hear me?! Wake up!"

"No!" Xander screamed, then realized he was in the small room and it was over, in the past... He breathed hard as he tried to sleep. "It was a accident," he reminded himself. "Just an accident..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you going to be okay?" Angel asked again.

Buffy nodded somewhat impatiently. "Yes, Angel. I'm fine, now. I'm going to sleep, okay?"

"Sure?"

"Yes! ...I just need some time, please."

Angel looked at her, not really certain if he should leave her, but he found himself with no choice as she took him by the arm and led him out of her room and into the hallway.

"Well, call me if you need me. I'm two rooms down."

"Okay."

"Really. Even in the middle of the night. I probably won't be sleeping."

"I know, Angel."

Angel nodded and the said, "Okay, then. Well... good night."

"Good night."

She closed the door, preventing Angel from saying anything else and breathed an deep, even breath. She had forgotten how insistent Angel could be. Always trying to make sure she was okay. At first, she was glad for his comfort but after a while, it was suffocating. Buffy turned back the covers of her bed and started to shuck off her robe.

"Is he gone?"

"Aah!" cried Buffy, spinning to meet her intruder. The she relaxed when she saw who it was. "Spike, how many times have I told you...?"

Spike looked around the room. "He's gone, then?"

"Who, Angel? Yes, he's gone. What are you doing in my room?"

"I came to see if you were okay. But I guess my sire's done a good enough job of that now, hasn't he?"

Buffy smiled at his jibe and then said, "Yes... yes, he has. And yes, I'm okay."

"Really?"

"Really."

"All right, then," he finally said, awkwardly. "Guess I'll just..." he pointed to the door.

"Are you okay?' she asked him, before he reached the door.

Spike turned to her. "Beg your pardon?"

"Are you okay?" she repeated. "I mean, you cared for Dawn and... are you okay?" she asked.

He stared at her for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the ground. He obviously had not anticipated she or anyone would have cared to ask.

"Um, yeah, I guess." He looked up at her and then away. "It... it hurts," he admitted.

She nodded slowly.

"I thought... the world of her. She's the only one who looked at me and saw something besides a monster. She looked at me... and I wasn't a vampire. I was just another of you." He took a few steps towards her and added, "I would have done anything for that girl."

"I know," she whispered. "It hurts me, too." Then she asked, "How... when does it stop?"

"It doesn't... not really. Over time, it dulls a bit. You learn to move on, to eat, sleep, laugh again. A minute, a day, a year... But it never stops hurting."

She nodded slowly, crossing her arms. After a moment, she said, "You cried. I've... I've never seen you cry."

Spike looked at her. "I did once."

"When?"

"The day you died."

"Oh."

A beat of silence then Spike coughed uncomfortably and said, "Look, I'll just leave you to your rest, if..."

"Stay." The word left her lips and pierced his heart.

"Excuse me?"

Buffy couldn't believe she had just said that, it was a knee-jerk reaction, she knew. But now that it was said, she realized that's really what she wanted so she said it again. "Stay."

Spike looked at her, incredulously. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I... need you to stay." She reached forward and took his hand, leading him towards the bed. He understood what she wanted and despite the desire running through him, he stopped her.

"No. You're just... vulnerable... I can't..."

She looked up at him and cupped his cheek. "Please, Spike. I... I don't want to feel alone tonight."

"You're not alone, Buffy... you're..."

She pressed her body up against his and stared into his eyes. "Then prove it. Please. Stay."

Spike felt he might regret this one day, probably the next morning, probably sooner than that. But that split second in time, there was only her and him, and there would be no regrets. Only them, together again and as he had told them all before, he was a weak boy. And that weak boy turned into the weak man he was when he was with her.

As he laid her down on the bed, lips on her throat, pushing aside her robe, he thought of nothing but his love and cursed his weakness.

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Giles poured over the second book, despite his eyes threatening to close. He had to find out what happened. He should have never suggested this retreat, he cursed himself. Why had he been so insistent? he wondered.

He combed through the power binding spell John had laid and cross-referenced it with possible demons that are involved with the kind of spell-casting John had. Nothing, nothing and more nothing!

"The power is within you, Rupert... but you can't just rip it out."
"Come on, Ripper, bending the rules is not breaking them!"
"Time and patience, young wizard..."
"It's just a spell, Ripper. Easy as pie... we can't bollock this up!"
"The Council has its eye on you, Mr. Giles. Do not disappoint us..."
"The power is within you, Rupert..."
"So, why can't I very well use it?!"
"All things in due time... Magic is a muscle... it takes practice and discipline..."

"Ex unas acia a lux lucis es totus locuna quod totus unoversitas a secui a... Absentises locus a barba calax..."
From one thread of light are all words and all worlds woven... Gone are the places of whispering stones...
"No, Rupert! No!"
"Ethan! What's happening?!"
"Patefacio porta a vox... Etiames es calauticia's ut refero unus..."
Open the Gates of the Powers... Still are the voices that echoed alone...
"RUPERT! NO!"
"Laura? Laura! LAURA!!!"

Giles lifted his head with a start. Laura. He could almost hear her, touch her. No, that was a long time ago, Rupert, he chided himself. There are no ghosts here. No ghosts.

None, except the one in his mind.

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Cordelia carried the teacups and saucers back to kitchen... Dawn, dead... She couldn't quite come to terms with it... Going back through the dining room to go back up to her room, she paused at the table, staring at it, surprised she even noticed... Cordelia counted and re-counted them.

That's strange... she thought. Nine statues? I was so sure there were ten at dinner...

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Tara tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep. But she kept thinking of Dawn and the poison and the recording. Dawn had been right. Someone was playing with them.

She sat up and rubbed her face in exhaustion. I mean, Uncle Ray? she thought. I haven't thought of him since my childhood. That was all in the past. Everyone had... understood. No one had questioned her integrity. They had all agreed Uncle Ray was no good.

Now, she could almost hear Donny's yelp as Uncle Ray approached him... the feel of the heavy pan in her hands... the audible crack as she swung it down... She had to, to save Donny, she was a child... she never intentionally wanted to hurt him!

He had it coming; he should have never come home that night. He should have never drank, never threatened her and her brother. Like Anya said, it wasn't easy to live in those times. She had to make a choice. Tara had chosen her battles, and now, in her bed, Tara realized she, too, didn't regret what she did. Uncle Ray would have come for her sooner or later and maybe she would have been worse off... he could have killed her.

No, it had been better this way... maybe she had been a bit like God, taking a human life. Maybe she did feel a little powerful, knowing she had that ability within her. But now, someone else took the girl she loved away from her. So, Tara was going to find out who it was, and when the time came... do what needed to be done.

Tara sipped the water from the glass beside her bed. Suddenly, with all that decided, she felt sleep was possible... actually, sleep was necessary... Tara would sleep and tomorrow... tomorrow, she would find Dawn's killer... she would get them off this island... she would take Willow up on her promise... and everything here, Uncle Ray, the voice, the island... it would all become nothing more than a dream...

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Spike watched as Buffy slept, her even breathing, the spill of her golden hair. The tune of the old English folk song echoed in his mind, stuck in his brain since they had arrived in London. He hadn't heard it on over a hundred years, yet the simple words tumbled out of his mouth, softly, as he watched his Slayer sleep.

While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night.
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night.
O'er my bosom gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing,
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.

"You were singing that... before, to Dawn," she said, not moving.

Spike chuckled, glad she wasn't asleep, as he turned onto his side and slid over to her. "Now, who was spying on who?"

He slid his hand down the silken arm in front of him, and scooped up closer to Buffy's back. He gently kissed her shoulder, then her cheek.

"Spike," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You would never... leave me, would you?"

"Never, luv."

He held her closer and Buffy closed her eyes and moaned softly.

"Thank you for staying," she added. "I... I feel safer... with you here."

She felt his hand move away, his body stiffen behind her.

"Spike?" she asked, as he turned on his back, away from her.

She sat up and turned to him, leaning on one elbow. She saw him stare up at the ceiling as he asked, "Do you ever think there's even a remote chance that one day, you could grow to love me?"

Buffy looked down. "I... I don't know, Spike," she answered, honestly.

He turned his head and looked at her. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, then he looked back at the ceiling, and in his usual cocky tone, added, "Think if Angel could provide you with the kind of comfort I can, would I really be here, in your bed?"

"Spike..."

"I gather it would be him," he said, almost as if reasoning with himself. "Doubt you'd settle for me... He has a soul and I'm nothing but a monster."

"Spike..."

He paused to let her say what she wanted but when she found herself at a loss of words to deny what he said, he added, "Buffy, I love you and you know I do... but sometimes I wonder how long I'm going to delude myself into thinking there could be a chance you'd feel the same way. The only reason I'm here now is you feel lost, lost because of Dawn."

She sat quietly, absorbing the truth of his words, afraid of the next ones.

He sat up beside her and took her face in his hands. "So, here's my decision. I love you and I know you probably will never love me. But I am weak and I... I need you. So, I'm here for you, as long as you need me, too. Maybe I'm setting myself up for the biggest hurt of all, but I guess that's the kind of bloody masochist I am."

"I..." Buffy tried to argue, knowing it was wrong to use him like that, but he placed a finger on her lips, as to shush her.

"Don't... don't say it..."

She closed her eyes briefly, coming to her own decision, glad for it but hating herself the more for it, and then she looked at him and said, "I... I need you, too, Spike."

He smiled. "Then that's a start." He opened his arms as she slid into them, capturing his mouth with her own.

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The next morning...

"Good morning."

Angel looked up and saw Giles' haggard face and said, "I'd say the same, but you look like it isn't one. Did you stay up all night?"

"Most of it," he admitted. "Just some research."

Angel paused, then asked, "You brought your books? I thought this was a retreat."

Giles looked up sharply at Angel. "Helps to be prepared."

Angel nodded, then added, "Yes... except there really should have been no reason to feel like we had to be prepared, is there?"

Giles narrowed his eyes at Angel, but said nothing as the others began to come down into the dining room they were seated in.

Xander said, "I looked at the radio, G-man. You're right, it's busted beyond repair. We're really stuck here."

"Can we just find some other way to signal the mainland?" asked Willow.

"How? The coast is so far away," Anya replied.

"What about a magical indication?" suggested Buffy.

Spike shook his head. "Barrier, remember?"

"Well, take it down! It can't be that hard!" she cried.

"Actually, it can," answered Giles. "I looked at the spell John used. Very intricate and calls on the supplication of many gods. I tried to find some loophole..."

"What about Tara? She's good with that kind of stuff," Willow suggested.

"Yes, well, I intended to ask her for her support in this," Giles quickly added. "Where is she?" he asked.

"Um, sleeping for now, I guess, but I could go wake her."

"Please do," said Giles. "In the meantime, let's get some breakfast. Anya, Cordelia, would you two give me a hand?"

Anya huffed in annoyance but rose and followed Cordy and Giles into the kitchen, as Willow bounced upstairs to get Tara.

"How are you feeling, Buffy?" asked Xander.

"Better," she nodded. "I just... want to get out of here, that's all."

"And we will, pet," Spike promised again, but his voice seem a little distracted as he stared at the table.

"Spike? Spike, what's wrong?" she asked, as she saw his focus and they all looked as he pulled the centerpiece closer, using his finger to count the statues.

"...six, seven, eight... eight Indians," he said wondrously. "Weren't there ten last night?" he asked Giles as he, Anya and Cordelia re-entered the kitchen with the food.

"You mean, nine," said Cordelia.

"No, there were ten," Giles said, "I remember Tara making a point of that to Dawn."

"Yes, but when I cleared last night, there were only nine. I remember because I thought there had been ten too. I thought I had misheard," explained Cordelia.

Spike looked around the table. "There's ten of us... nine, last night..." he said, the pieces falling into place. "Eight, now..." Spike looked up to the stairs leading to the bedroom, half out of his chair. "Willow..."

They heard a scream upstairs as Spike bounded up the stairs. They all followed as they entered Tara's room to find Willow on the bed, sprawled over Tara's inert body. She looked up as they came in, face tear-streaked.

"I tried to wake her up... she won't wake up! She won't wake up!"

Angel walked over to Tara's side, picked up her wrist and felt for a pulse. He looked into Tara's face and felt her throat, as if needing to reconfirm his suspicion, not willing to believe the first one. Then he looked at Willow and said, "She's dead."

With an almost inhuman scream, she broke down again, monotonous repeating, "Tara! No! Tara! Tara! No! No!"

Buffy sat beside her on the bed and took Willow into her arms, rocking back and forth with her.

"What – What was it this time?" asked Cordelia, fearfully.

Angel looked around Tara's body and then spotted the glass on the nightstand beside her. He picked it up and sniffed it. "I think the same thing," he finally said. "Almonds?"

Giles nodded. "The cyanide is colorless, easily dissolved."

"Are you sure?" asked Anya.

"Only one way," said Spike, leaning on the doorway. "Your turn, Peaches."

Angel looked at Spike, then at the glass. He took a careful sip of the water and felt its effects immediately. He collapsed on the ground, not quite managing to put the glass back on the nightstand first, spilling its contents all over the carpet.

"Angel!" screamed Buffy from the bed, as Cordelia ran to Angel's unconscious form.

"Don't worry, it's like Spike yesterday. He'll come to," explained Giles. "But he ascertained the cause of death for us. It was indeed poison."

"What is going on here? Two murders in less than twenty-four hours?!" cried Xander. "Who would want to kill two girls?"

"Someone with a sick sense of humor," said Spike. When they all looked at him, he pointed to the framed poem. "Ten little Indian boys went out to dine, one went and choked himself, and then there were nine. Nine little Indian boys stayed up late, one overslept himself, and then there were eight," he recited.

"Too much of a coincidence," Giles agreed. "But we searched this island! If someone were here, we would have found him!"

"Oh, but there is someone," Willow answered in creepy, dull voice. Buffy held her at arms' length as Willow turned to them, with red, blood-shot eyes. "There's eight of us. One of us is doing this. One of us is the murderer."

They all stood there, wide-eyed, open-mouthed and horrified at the implication of her words.

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Chapter 4: Eight Little Indians...

After covering Tara and locking the door, they set back downstairs to the sitting room, each reflecting on Willow's statement. Who would kill Dawn and Tara? Which of them could actually murder their friends?

Cordelia saw Anya looking at her, suspiciously and said, "Oh, no! Don't look at me! I didn't do it! I liked Dawn! I liked Tara! I couldn't..."

"Okay, let's not start accusing anyone of anything, okay?" warned Angel.

"Why not? We have to figure out which one of us did this," said Willow, dully.

"Yeah, God knows if the murderer will stop here," added Xander.

Angel turned to Xander, "Maybe the murderer wants us to get on each other's backs, did you think of that? Suspect each other and turn on each other?"

"What do you suggest then?" asked Buffy, angrily.

"We just stay together, no more going off alone. We stay together, the murderer can't pick us off."

"Oh, I don't want to die..." moaned Cordelia. "There so much more I wanted to do in life..."

"Like?" said Xander, testily.

"Star in my own movie, meet Donald Trump... European shopping spree!" she recited, nervously.

Xander threw his hands up in frustration. "You're classic, you know that? Two people are dead and you're still thinking of yourself!?"

"Oh, shut up, Harris, I'm just..."

"Frightened," answered Angel for her. "Cordelia always rambles about herself when she's scared. We all are," he reassured her. "We'll get through this."

She smiled a half-smile at him, relieved he knew her so well.

"Yes, we will," added Giles. "I have some useful books in my room. I'll get them and then do what we do best. Figure this out."

He turned to go up to his room, when Angel said, "No, not alone, remember?"

"Ah yes, um, Spike, would please come with me? The rest of you stay here," he warned as he and Spike went up to get the books.

"I could use some coffee, anyone else?" said Cordelia.

Willow nodded. "I'll come with you," she volunteered. They took everyone else's orders and disappeared into the kitchen.

Buffy looked at the remaining people. Angel and Xander at the far ends of the room, and Anya looking out the window. "We need to get off this island," she said. "You can't fix the radio, Xander?"

Xander shook his head slowly. "It's missing a few parts. There's no use."

Anya sat in shock. "I can't believe this is happening. Dawn, Tara... who's next?"

Angel looked at her and then stood up. "The poem... maybe that's the clue! The first was about Dawn, the next about Tara... What's the next verse?"

"Um... let's see... I practically memorized the thing... okay, we're eight. Eight little Indian boys traveling to Devon, one said he would stay right there, and then there were seven..." recited Anya.

"Traveling to Devon... well, we're all here," mused Angel.

"One said he'd stay here... gee, could it be a bit more vague?" complained Xander.

Buffy began snapping her fingers as she said, "Devon... England... who would stay in England? Not me, or you or any of us Americans!"

"You mean...?" started Angel.

"It's Spike," she said. "Last night, he was warning me... about England... what did he say? He said... that I didn't know England... that it's got a ways of holding on to someone... a way of keeping the past alive..." she began to say, contemplatively.

"Buffy?"

Buffy snapped out of her reverie and faced Angel again. "He said this house has a history and that it won't let us forget it... I think he's next, Angel. We have to protect him!"

"Protect him?" asked Xander, unbelievably. "A vampire? You want us to protect a vampire? And Spike, on top of that? Have you lost your mind?"

"He's next, Xander. The murderer won't go out of sequence. If he doesn't kill Spike, we're all safe. We have to make sure someone is always with him."

"Someone, but the murderer, of course... and since it could be any one of us," said Anya, "we have to triple our efforts. Spike can never be alone with only one person."

"You mean, like he is now, with Giles?" said Xander.

Buffy looked up at the stairs they had gone up. "Yes, they have been gone an awfully long time..." She rose to go up the stairs but when she reached the foot of the stairs, she ended up face to face with Spike who was coming down.

"Going somewhere, pet?" he asked eerily, arms full of books

Relief and worry washed through her body, simultaneously. "Um, no, I was just coming to see what was taking you so long... uh, where's Giles?" she asked, looking behind him.

"Watcher's got all his books scattered about the room..." he explained, going past her and dropping the books on the table. "He's right behind me," he answered her.

"Is he?" she asked, suspiciously, looking up the stairwell.

"Yes," he said, turning to her. "What the bloo - ?" He looked perturbed when Buffy gestured at the empty stairwell. He walked to where she stood and called up, "Watcher! You there?"

"Giles?!" Buffy called up, anxiously, after a moment and then set up the stairs to run into Giles, coming down with an armful of books.

"Yes, already! I'm right here!" he said, impatiently, not noticing Buffy's sigh of relief.

"Where were you? I was scared to death!" Buffy cried.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry," he apologized when he saw her distress and understood her concern. "I had dropped a book," he explained as Willow and Cordelia came in with the refreshments.

"So, everyone still here?" asked Cordelia, a little too brightly, which earned her scowls from the rest of them.

They began to research in earnest for some explanation for the strange events that had occurred.

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Buffy threw her book down and looked around. She saw the concentration everyone had in their research. It was more passionate that before. The deaths had made the search for the answer much more critical.

She rose to get another