Somewhere in the Nothingness, The Mother did what she always did: looked after her offspring – the Universe. She projected whatever image of herself she wished; this time it was the figure of a young human girl with luscious curves and long raven hair, her attire reminiscent of those worn by the figures in the murals on the halls of Minos’ Palace in Crete: a long dress which left her chest exposed. For the first time in what seemed like centuries (but what are centuries to Forever if not a blink of an eye?) she felt a familiar presence.

“I’m bored and tired,” said the Entity.

“Tired? That’s interesting. Tell me… did you take mortal form again and start your mischief? I was not aware of it!”The Mother really tried to look put out, but her rising excitement and gentle smile weren’t going along with that. It always seemed like he could bring out the giddiest parts of her, belying her long list of titles that ranged from stern, to chaste, to vengeful.

“Oh, come on, like you haven’t been ogling my essence all this time, hmmm?” With a raised eyebrow, The Father looked every bit like Q from the Earth show Star Trek, complete with Starfleet uniform, blue eyes and pouty lips.

“Not everything is about you, you know. Someone has to take care of this Universe and see that it doesn’t implode… And since you’ve been running around interfering with everything and everyone your heart desired I had to do it all on my lonesome. And since when are you flirting with that no-good Aphroditi?” Now she really was starting to be put out!

“Ha! Told you! You are jealous! And come on, I didn’t even lay a breeze on her.”

“But you did speak to her. Disguised as Ares of all Gods.” No reason to tell him war gods were the incarnations she liked most about him, he had a high enough opinion of himself as it was.

“I love it when you’re all riled up. Wanna make a star together? Or maybe even a black hole?” He sauntered closer to her, eyes ablaze and lustful, trailing his fingers ever so slightly over the top of her dress, sending shivers up and down her spine – ‘Damn him and his eons of experience!’ “Is that why you appear so… open and inviting?” His gaze that could melt ice planets was fixated on her exposed and highly erect nipples.

“I just felt like it and don’t you dare try and seduce me into being fine with you frolicking with lesser-Gods!” She started waving her hands around, batting his palms away in their patented courtship – joke, fight, joke… make a galaxy or two... But really it was getting hard to express her thoughts with him doing that to her form…

A black hole and a couple of stars later the two entities lay intermingled and sated, suspended in space and time.

“Still bored?” she nipped at his ethereal fingers that were tracing her likewise ethereal lips – they always did like it best to lounge as light and shadow.

“With you? Never! But this evil business is getting tiresome. And all these pretenders… remember that little slip of a thing I used to call Clarence? Well he’s running around calling himself the “First Evil” of all things. I mean, yeah, so I was sort of harsh when I removed every particle in his body one at a time, but really… trying to get credit for every single thing I did is overdoing it a tad, wouldn’t you say? And lest we forget, he’s still the same old Clarence. Incompetent, amateurish bore. I bet if I were to switch sides and have my way with him I’d wipe his minions out without even using a single bit of power more than I left him.” His voice took up that excited child tone that she found so endearing. ‘I bet I can see where this is going!’

“I had thought playing with the Senior Partners would make you happy, dear! And I don’t really feel like you starting another galactic war. The last time you did that we lost an entire galaxy.” She tried to sound coy, but his ideas of fun were always so… entertaining, for lack of a better word. And forever was a long time to keep one’s self amused.

“But what a time we had recreating it, ey?” At his sultry tone of voice coupled with those deliciously sinful memories she flared again… He always seemed to have that effect on her. And it was sooooo goood! “And like your goodie-goodie-two-shoes Powers that Be are any better than my Choir Boys? Anyway, I was actually thinking to try something new this time. All the thrust-parry-block the 'good' and 'evil' guys are doing is so repetitive sometimes.”

“What is has been before and will be again,” she chanted.

“And so say we all!” he chanted back. “Next time wanna watch Galactica together? That Preacher is a lot more evil than Clarence’s pet Caleb!”

“You are such a geek sometimes!” She really couldn’t keep the affection and smile from carrying in her voice. Omnipotent, but still powerless against him. Such was the life of a God. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love it!” He shot back with confidence. Really all that flaring she did to his darkening was just a natural occurrence… Balance between the two opposites and all that. And no, this was not denial, this was another weapon of Balance: keeping his head at normal size thusly saving the Universe from an overconfident deity. Right!

“Anyway, you were saying?” If they didn’t stop soon they were going to make a whole new galaxy. ‘How would the mortal astronomers account for that, then?’

“I was thinking along the lines of… say… Ah, Hell – I wanna go to Earth and play demigod!” There he went again with his childish exuberance… How was she supposed to deny him anything when he was like that? And while doing that to her essence? ‘Yup, another planetary system…’

“So… good or evil demigod this time? Or maybe you wanna try Loki again?”

“Interesting, but no. I was thinking more like Zamolxis. Now there’s a God that knows fun!”

“And all of this to get back at Clarence? You know he doesn’t hold a candle to you as far as being evil, and we both know exactly what he’s able to do.” Ok, so maybe some stroking of his ego would save a few million creatures. “So what’s the plan, then? Get people to throw themselves on spears again and then have a giant party to celebrate their deaths?” Her grin belied the combative tone she used.

“Nah, too easy! I want something fluffy and funny and good. You know… pink fluffy clouds! But you’re just gonna have to watch to see what I’ll do. Otherwise where’s the fun?” ‘Him and his ideas. He knows I’m always curious about what he has planned. And he knows how my curiosity turns into copious amounts of lust for his oh, so wicked essence… And now we have supernovas!’

“So where will you be?” ‘There, nonchalance, that’s the way to play it! If I could just keep the tremor from my voice. I mean I can create civilizations with a simple thought and still can’t resist him… ever…Then again, who would want to?’

“I was thinking… Sunnydale, around the time Glorificus is there. Throw Clary in and this should be fun!” He was rubbing his, well, hands together. ‘There are better things he could be doing with those hands, like rubbing me…’

“When you let her make that bid for power again?” ‘Vapid self-centered Hellgod that wanted to rule a dimension just to get into my man’s pants.’ “And haven’t you played with my Slayer enough? I mean, Lothos, The Master, Spike, Angelus, The Mayor, and that idiotic Initiative…” Now she was getting mad. She just knew he had a thing for messing with Slayers… And Buffy in particular – whatever the dimension.

“Half of those things weren’t my fault!” he interrupted her rant, trying but failing miserably to sound innocent. They both knew all too well exactly what he was capable of. “Angelus was your minions’ work! Whistler putting him on his path to redemption indeed! Worse than anything I would have done. At least Spike was all straight forward about killing her. And the Initiative was your 'Allies' conclusion to the Nazi experiments that I, admittedly, spurred on. As for Spike… You know damn well he’s not all mine. Acathla? Loving the Slayer? The soul? The Hellmouth? The fight with the Choir B… I mean the Senior Partners. Should I go on?” Nobody could pull off drumming one’s fingers while in the form of Shadow better than him…

“Like you don’t whisper in my Slayer’s ear telling her to misbehave all the time. But I won’t argue Spike with you. He’s both of ours. Anyway, since it involves Slayers and Hellmouths I really want to know your plans!” ‘Two can play at the drumming fingers while incorporeal game!’

“You could come with! You could play Bendis, or maybe even Kotys.” ‘Flares again. Him and his wink…’

“You wish for orgies? Maybe you want to invite Glory and Aphroditi! You…”

“Now, now… no need to get fired up, although, I must admit, I love seeing you all hot and bothered. But I was suggesting us two spending time together on Earth as Gods. Just us two. And I promise that Glory will only be a footnote this time.” He really was charming when he wanted to be. ‘Wait, what? Altering timelines again? How many different dimensions does he want to create based upon that time?’

“And why do I have a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?” Intertwined as they were it was pretty difficult hiding their thoughts from one another, but this time there was only a sense of… something… he was hiding something that he just wouldn’t share. And now she was curious and nervous and that made her want him even more… Bonus!

“A good poker player never reveals his hand, you know that!” That smirk was infuriating in any way, shape, or form he took. ‘And the sexiest thing in existence…’ There was really only one thing she could do now.

“Well, it has been a while since we’ve been together as solids. I wonder how you’ll taste this time?” she patted her lips with a finger, then stuck her tongue out and licked it. The look on his face was priceless… Nemesis had nothing on her when it came to vengeance.

“Aaaaa,” he gulped “ahem… yes… that is… well… ” he gulped again – ‘Ha see how you like it you sexy, infuriating, smirking… stop before your wattage goes through the proverbial roof and he gets full of himself again. Oh, to be full of him again…’ “Shall we, my dear?” he said while taking the form of Zamolxis – just as she was getting ready to make another nebula with him. ‘Damn him all to Hell!!! Ah, well… I guess a star cluster isn’t so bad after all. A star cluster??? But that galaxy wasn’t supposed to have clusters! And now my rules… that is to say the rules of nature will have to be rewritten on a million or so worlds… Ah, well!’

“You better keep me entertained, buster, or you’ll be making stardust on your own for the next eon!” She said taking the form of Bendis.

‘Bendis… Bend is God… bending is very good! Oh, yeah, I gotta take care of just one more minute detail while she’s distracted… There! Now I’m ready to rock her world… And just look at that skin and that murderous look – Gods, but I love her! Damn her! And if we were subject to the rules of mortals, I already would have!’

“And what am I supposed to do in this little scheme of yours?” The now bow-wielding half-dressed Goddess asked the still-naked God.

“Just follow my lead and be yourself, dear! I promise you’ll enjoy this!” He at least had the decency of creating clothes for himself before they both appeared on the outskirts of Sunnyhell.

The bell above the Magic Box door rang, heralding the appearance of two very strange looking customers. The male was dressed in what seemed to be a dark, ancient plated armor with black wolves-heads with dragon bodies down the sides, a flowing cape of crimson and gold trimmings and a weird looking black hat with a pointy tip slouched forward. He was brandishing a Dacian Falx that glimmered with an otherworldly light, looking as if the light was being sucked into the metal. The woman was the exact opposite. She wore light clothing with silver and gold chainmail interwoven with leather and cloth. She had a glimmering bow strapped to her back as well as a quiver and short sword at her hip. Both of them had statuesque builds and carried themselves as royalty. His hair was cut short and his face was covered in a trimmed beard, while her long-flowing blonde hair was billowing as if from a breeze.

“Welcome to the Magic Box and may you spend much of your money on our quality merchandise,” said Anya from behind the register, unfazed at their strange appearance.

Just as the man was about to speak, the door to the training room flew open and a pissed off Slayer with a broadsword burst in the room and took a fighting position in front of the now amused looking couple. Behind her came the Watcher and Riley, both armed and ready to act, although Riley stopped for a moment to gape at the woman’s long shapely legs covered just to mid-thigh by her strange attire.

“What are you and what do you want? Apart from some fashion tips, ‘cause the amazon and viking look? Sooo out!” she said with a frown and an appraising look.

“The term spitfire doesn’t seem to do justice to this one, does it, my dear?” the man started to chuckle. His accent was strange, something that only Anya might have ever heard during her travels, yet somehow familiar.

“Stand down, child, we are not here to cause harm,” the woman said after elbowing the man in the side – a move that seemed to get the desired response even with the armor covering his body.

“Then may I enquire what your presence here is about?” Giles said as he fidgeted nervously, wishing for a chance to polish his glasses that he’d just discovered had a small smudge in a corner.

“Since there is a lot to tell and I have an aversion to repetition I suggest you have a… Scooby meeting is the term I believe you use?” At Giles’ curt nod the man went on, “Say tonight at 10 PM? And make sure to have Joyce, Dawn, and Spike present also.” He said with the same amused tone.

“What, so you can ambush us?” Riley piped up. Buffy had said she sensed major power coming from the front of the Magic Box so these were clearly Hostiles and the only way to deal with them was to get rid of them as soon as possible, not standing around having conversation. But of course Buffy wouldn’t listen to him. Not like he was trained to take care of such tings. Really, if she just listened to him and not to her incompetent friends, that whole mess with Dracula could have been averted, and she wouldn’t have been tainted with that vampire’s touch.

“Is that what they teach you in your army? That enemies announce ambushes ahead of time? No wonder Pearl Harbor came as such a shock then, is it?” said the man, laughing. “Listen, we came here to make an appointment, not start a verbal sparring session that you would undoubtedly lose. So now that we have extended our invitation to a nice round of not-so-round table chat, we’ll be off and we shall return tonight,” the now all-business voice stated.

“Giles? Do I make with the fighty or what?” The Slayer wasn’t happy about how things were going. She still had the feeling she was supposed to fight with the man, but not the woman and that made her confused. And a confused Slayer was a cranky Slayer!

“Yes, well… You have not even introduced yourselves, so all talk of later meetings is, as of yet, in question.” Giles was really trying to gain his bearings with the rapid way things were deteriorating.

“Excuse my companion. His manners must have been left in another dimension. I am Bendis and this is Zamolxis.” ‘Damn him and not letting me know what the plan is, now what do I say we’re doing here? Having fun at the expense of mortals? That wouldn’t go down very well with this group and I certainly won’t fight my own Slayer, now will I?’

“As I have already stated who, what and why we are will be explained tonight. Any further discussion at this moment is as pointless as it is annoying. So if you’ll excuse us, good day!” There was a flash of something in his eyes that could only be described as dark and foreboding for anyone that dared step into his path.

“No go, first you make with the ‘splainy, then I decide if you need slaying, then we talk!” Buffy was getting more on edge with every single second her raised sword was ignored by this Z-whatsis that all her senses were screaming at her to try to take down. What was it with evil people and this calm way of ignoring her threats like she wasn’t their greatest enemy?

“Slayer, did your Watcher not teach you any patience at all? Let us just say we are… associates of the Simp…. I mean Powers that Be!” he amended after another well-placed elbow from Bendis. “Let us out it this way. I am not at liberty to discuss our business here at the present time any further and I’m sure you have your research cut out for you trying to figure out who we are and what we want, right? I can see Giles just aching to hit the books! And anyway, Anyanka could tell you a thing or two about us, isn’t that so?” he said while raising his eyebrow at the ex-vengeance demon in an inviting manner.

“Oh, yes, the Gods of the Afterlife and Hunting of ancient Dacia. I thought you looked familiar, although when Hoffy told me about you he said you’d gone into hibernation. Are your people reborn? And if so, aren’t they sad to come back to this plane? I thought they died for you happily. Although why anyone would forego orgasms is…”

“Anya, that’s enough information for now, thank you!” Giles cut off the happy ramblings that threatened to veer off into familiar uncomfortable territory.

“Gods… seriously? What, didn’t get enough virgins sacrificed or something and you had to take Whistler’s job? Why are you here? And where is that weasel?” Now the Slayer was getting jumpy. How was she supposed to take on Gods of all people… or whatever…

“This is stupid. Why are we listening to them? Just slay them and let’s get back to training!” All this crazy talk about Gods was a bit too much for Riley to take.

“If they are indeed who they claim to be, they are the representatives of Buffy’s bosses as Chosen One and you will let us decide what course of action we’ll take, Agent Finn!” Giles let just the right amount of Ripper bleed through his normal demeanor to make the boy shut his mouth for the moment.

“Entertaining as your misconceptions and petty squabbling may be, we have things to do, people to see, worlds to save and all that. So without further ado…” And with that, Zamolxis grabbed Bendis’ hand and left the shop before anyone could move a muscle to stop them, leaving a fuming ex-soldier, an aggravated ex-watcher, a still pissed-off ex-Chosen One (because there were really Chosen Two) and a bored ex-demon in their wake.

“Buffy, what the hell is wrong with you? You said there was something really wrong about them before you even saw them and now you let them just walk out? No wonder YOU got staked on patrol last week. And what was all that crap about Gods and all that nonsense, Anya? There are no such tings! And don’t you have something better to do than get on my case instead of telling your Slayer to go slay, Giles?” In his almost murderous rage at being taunted by clearly subhuman things, Riley didn’t even care he was shouting as loud as he could and alienating everyone still left in the shop.

Just as he was about to get some pretty angry retorts, the door opened once more letting in a doughnut-carrying Xander alongside Willow and Tara who wanted to practice some spells since their classes for the day were over.

“So what’s the what with the posturing, guys?” said an oblivious Xander while setting the box of goodies on the research table.

“Riley was just endangering his chances of getting orgasms soon by yelling at everyone and making me lose count of the daily money by making me uneasy with his accusations.” Anya, despite her words, was calmly counting the money in the cash register.

“Ahn…”

“Yes, well it appears we have quite a bit of research to do on a couple of beings calling themselves the Gods Zamolxis and Bendis. They have just visited us and demanded that we hear them out tonight. Although why they would also ask for the presence of Joyce, Dawn, and Spike I cannot begin to fathom.” Giles was rubbing his glasses clean in an effort to ease his need to chastise his Slayer’s boyfriend who was really getting him riled up. He was really beginning to wish for some more mature companionship, these children having a clearly bad influence on him.

Buffy, still shocked at Riley’s outburst, was torn between being really pissed off at him for what he said and the desire to try to patch things up with her supposedly-normal boyfriend. Still upset about the two Gods appearance, she chose to just ignore everyone, grab a doughnut and busy herself with chewing.

Riley on the other hand, was getting even madder at being so casually dismissed so he stormed out of the shop banging the door in his wake. Buffy decided she was pissed off enough to ignore the stab of guilt that came when Riley slammed the door behind him.

“Whoa, what crawled up his butt and died? And what’s this about a couple of Gods wanting something from the Evil Dead?” asked a bewildered Xander.

“Is this them?” asked Willow, who was already on her laptop, searching the net for information.

Everyone congregated around the two witches to see what they had found. And indeed, there they were, side by side, although with much less clothes on than in real life for Zamolxis and with a spear instead of a bow for Bendis. Thank God for small miracles.

“It would appear that our… guests for this evening are indeed Gods of the ancient Dacian and Thracian people, of whom the Dacians were a part of, located in Eastern Europe on the lower Danube. That would put them in current day Romania.” Giles started his customary lecture only to be interrupted.

“Isn’t that the place where Angelus was cursed?” asked Willow

“That was also where Dracula came from, right?” Buffy had a deepening frown on her face. Being reminded of two of the three vampires that had gotten their fangs in her neck (albeit one she had forced to drink) was not conductive to her trusting these intruders into her town.

“Yes, that is correct, Buffy. Most ancient vampires have, at one time, passed through that part Europe, just as much as they have passed through Rome or Paris,” Giles felt the need to point out. It wasn’t hard to follow the thought process that his Slayer had gone through. If the two Gods came from the same place linked to people that have played such an important role in Buffy’s life, then they must be somehow also connected and perhaps they were also evil. This time, however, he was inclined to offer them the benefit of a doubt… but only just. “As I was trying to say…” and off came the glasses for some thorough polishing, “Zamolxis was considered their main deity, sometimes their only deity, associated with the Greek Zeus and the Roman Jupiter, while Bendis was associated with the Greek Artemis, or the Roman Diana. Zamolxis is said to have taken leave of his followers and hidden under a mountain and to have emerged two years later to show the people the meaning of reincarnation and immortality. His faithful were only too happy to die for their country and their beliefs, considering the time spent in the mortal world as a sort of Purgatory, only after death being able to experience true happiness. They also had messengers for the Gods that were willingly sacrificed by throwing themselves on spears after memorising the messages from the people for the Gods.”

“Really not liking the sound of that G-man. Those sound like some loonies to me!” Xander mumbled past his third doughnut.

“I asked you not to refer to me in that dreadful way. But yes, it does appear that this was a rather bloodthirsty god, despite his almost-messianic message.”

“So is that why my spidey-sense went all wonky when he came in? He’s evil or something?” Buffy was still a bit uneasy about the power surge she had felt earlier and even more so about the almost conditioned feeling of “must-slay-now” that had come over her at the sight of the self-proclaimed associate of the PTB’s.

“Not as such, no. As for Bendis, she is considered the Goddess of the Hunt and of the Moon. From what is written here, they both seem to be powerful warriors in their own right, but nothing indicating outright evil.” Giles was now chewing on one of the stems of his glasses. For all the time they spent on his face, one would think they were there just for giving him something to do with his hands, not aiding his eyes.

“So how do I kill them?” at Giles’ disapproving look, Buffy amended, “If we like, you know, need to.”

“You don’t!” said Anya to the surprise of everyone.

“Ahn, don…”

“Anya, is there something you would like to add to what we’ve found?” Giles had that look in his eye that only meant one thing – he needed pen and paper, and fast! Tara recognized that look, so she went and retrieved them, earning herself a grateful look from the ex-librarian once she handed them over.

“Well, from what D’Hoffryn said, they’re eternal. And I don’t mean like Nazi Germany was supposed to be eternal, and I told Saranja that they wouldn’t last even with her help, but like ‘they were here from the beginning and will witness the end’ kind of eternal. Now that I think about it, those are the only Gods Hoffy ever made that statement about.” With a frown that was gone a second later, Anya went back to counting the money from the shop.

“Yes, well… I would suggest we continue our research while Buffy informs Spike about the fact that his presence is needed. I’ll call Joyce and tell her to join us in a little while.” Giles was too busy writing everything down to notice the frown on the Slayer’s face deepening into a scowl.

“Fine, I’ll get him, and then I’ll try to find Riley again. But if this all turns out to be some trick, I’ll hold you responsible for my mother and sister being in danger.” And on that cheery note, the Slayer stomped away – a thundercloud almost visible over her head.

“So, anybody wanna tell me what was up with Riley?” asked Xander, still uneasy about the “super-couple” stomping away each on his or her own.

“I believe that Agent Finn was stating that we should all defer to his superior knowledge of dealing with demons and dangerous situations when he was verbally shot down by Zamolxis for making stupid assumptions. Also, it appears he’s finding it difficult to take orders from either me or my Slayer when it comes to dealing with said demons and Gods. Unfortunate, really!” Ripper was still bitter over the boy’s audacity. ‘How dare that young upstart from a Nazi-like organization that at one time threatened my Slayer’s life and almost incarcerated me for good presume to order me around? If he were not Buffy’s boy-toy I’d show him exactly what my opinion of his bloody colonial ideals is!’

“Whoa, G-man, chill!” Xander said raising his arms in surrender.

“I told you not to call me that!” spat Giles, though a bit more subdued.

The Wiccas exchanged uneasy looks with one another, and continued pouring over the sketchy data about the Gods-that-came-a-knocking.

Once outside, the two Gods turned towards their new home on the edge of town, not much different than the mansion on Crawford Street, only in much better condition. Bendis considered this just a normal representation of their status, but Zamolxis knew better. And he wasn’t sharing the information until the time came. Oh, but this would be fun, trying to keep one step ahead of everyone, guiding them, but letting them choose their own path, doing most of the work, but letting just enough slip by so that it could still go either way. Yes, Bendis would be furious, vengeful, intrigued, and highly aroused. ‘Eternity just got better!’ he thought smugly.

“Whose idea was it to get that insufferable toy soldier with my Slayer. I don’t recall doing anything of the sort.” Bendis, although more reserved inside the shop, was always upset when people didn’t immediately recognize her as a god personified, even while in disguise. She was sure her Slayer’s senses were better at identifying her Boss, but chalked up the girl’s uneasiness to the massive amounts of mixed signals she must have been getting from her companion. ‘Damn him!’

“Why, don’t you remember? It was your precious pet project Angel…us that convinced her she needed normal.” At this they both snorted in derision “And then she just got it into that fake-blonde-haired head of hers that anything but normal would be ’eeeevil’” he continued complete with air-quotes. “Really, you can’t blame me… much” He grinned unrepentantly.

“But it was your influence on A…”

“No you don’t!” he cut her off, enjoying the flash of anger in her beautiful green eyes. “He was ’souled’ at the time, so supposedly working for your Idiots. So I might have had a little something to do with him as an upstanding member of the Scourge, so I might have showed Drusilla, lovely girl that he made, a few things about Hell on Earth, but the whole brooding thing he had going there was all you – lest we forget, the peekaboo soul! Same as that day he took back. Your Orcs did that, not me!” How he missed arguing with his companion, his everything. ‘Note to self, no more than a century apart next time. Everything’s so dull without her.’

“My Oracles were just doing what was best and you know it. And stop calling them Orcs!” she said, fixing him with a glare that in their normal circumstances would have shaken up wormholes.

‘Oh, she’s very pissed if she calls me on my nickname for her minions. Gods, I love her’

“Mother, my everything, I meant no disrespect,” he said not bothering to hide his winning smirk.

‘He knows how I get when he calls me that. And now I can’t even yell at him. Damn him!’

“Oh, this is interesting,” he said, listening to something only he could hear. “The overgrown ape wants to beat our boy up for info. Hmmm, he might even use a stake this time. Want to go let off some steam, my darling?”

“By all means, lead the way, my love!” Her smile could be only described as cruel.

‘The most beautiful look ever. I’m so proud of her.’ And with that they both disappeared.


The door to the crypt in Restfield Cemetery banged open, letting a stream of deadly, to the undead, sunbeams pour into the interior. Spike barely had time to roll off the sarcophagus in time before he was singed. ‘Bloody afternoon, bloody sun and his bloody prolonged rays!’ Riley rounded the sarcophagus at once and grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt, the veins in his neck pulsating with rage. Adrenaline was a poor substitute for the Initiative drugs he was used to, but still effective against the neutered HST.

“You are going to tell me everything about your weird-looking friends and you are going to tell me now!” he almost bellowed with rage. A person that had undergone heart surgery just a few weeks ago should take it slower, but he was too enraged to care.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about you wanker? You burst a pipe in your brain and start hallucinating?” Maybe taunting an already enraged ex-commando wasn’t the smartest idea ever, but it was satisfying. And apparently the overgrown Cub Scout had some balls in him – or at least pretended – ‘cause all those punghes to the face – not really conductive of a nice chat and all. Now, thanks to the Hall Monitor of Boredom, he had a split lip, broken nose and blackening eye. They would all heal in the space of a few hours once some blood was consumed, wounds to the ego, however, would leave Captain Cardboard smarting for a lot longer.. ‘Bollocks, now he has a stake.’

“Talk,” Riley spat, too angry to articulate even a single syllable more.

“I would if I bloody knew what the buggerin’ hell you’re on about. What bloody friends? Since I started working with you lot, those are a precious few, and none likely to speak up.” ‘Maybe he’ll have a heart attack and I’ll get me a free meal. Bollocks, the Slayer’d stake me for it. Better turn it down a notch. But soon’s I get this chip out.’ His wistful smirk only gained him two more punches to the face with the stake-wielding hand. ‘Glad he’s not on the juice anymore. Hits like a bloody ponce. Still hurts tho’… bugger.’

Of course neither of them noticed their new spectators, busy with their "civilized talk amongst grown men" as they were. Said guests were now betting on the likelihood of Riley actually growing a pair and trying to stake Spike – not that he would succeed should he try – Gods were fickle like that. At the moment the bet was the Falx and a full-body massage versus the bow and, well, a full-body massage. No good bet should be without one!

Alas, just at that moment the Slayer decided to join the party, so all bets were off. ‘Damn her, spoiling all our fun!’ was the foremost thought in both the Gods’ minds.

“Riley, what are you doing?” Buffy was still in a foul mood and seeing the scene before her wasn’t helping any. Shooting them both the “look of death” and crossing her arms over her chest she started tapping a foot.

‘She looks like a bloody banshee. God, but she’s beautiful.’

“Come to rescue him now? Dracula and Angel weren’t enough, were they? You want him too?” Riley had the pleasure of seeing Spike bloody the side of the sarcophagus when he pushed him away face-first into the hard concrete.

“Are y…”She cut herself off from the rest of what she was going to say. The part that was supposed to play the good little girlfriend was being pushed further down by the pissed off Slayer and that could only lead to badness. ‘Calm down. This is good old reliable Riley, your boyfriend. He’s just upset about the operation.’ ‘Shyeah, but he’s just begging for me to kick some sense into him! Who does he think he is challenging my decisions as a Slayer?’ “Look, can we not talk about this now and here? Those Gods or whatever asked for him and Giles and Anya say it’s not smart to take them on before we know more.” ‘I can be sensible Buffy. Really, I can!’

“And you listen to them? Is this how you do your job? Letting the bad guys walk away to not… what? Hurt their feelings? And since when do you listen to that idiot Anya of all people? No wonder that Council fired you and Giles.” A red haze of hate and loathing was over Riley’s eyes preventing him from noticing the dangerous glint in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Listen, I need everyone ready and on the same side tonight. After the meeting we’ll talk, but now I need you to calm down, take a cold shower and meet me at the Magic Box when it’s time for everyone to be there. Got it?” The deadly cold voice worked its wonders on the enraged soldier better than a bucket of ice. He had never heard Buffy talk like that to him, so it was mostly fright and shock that made him nod his head once and storm out of the hated crypt. Maybe what Graham had said earlier about the Initiative being there for him if he needed them wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

While Buffy was still looking at the spot where her boyfriend had been just seconds before, Spike got up for his sprawled position on the floor and lit up a smoke. The sight of the domestic squabble had warmed his undead heart and he was looking smug.

“So, what is it that I’ve been manhandled for?” Now that got the Slayer’s attention back on him. Too bad her eyes were shooting daggers.

“What do you know about a couple of Gods that think my town is some kind of vacation spot?” she spat at him while moving closer, with murder in her eyes. Just because they needed him didn’t mean she would change her way of treating him.

“Gods, eh? Can’t say I know any personal-like. Did your church attendance drop so much the big boys decided to show and take you over a knee?” He got a slightly glazed look at that. Now that was a visual!

“Shut up, Spike!” She followed her instruction with a punch to the nose that sent his cigarette flying.

“Bloody hell, Slayer! Easy on the nose! Your overgrown Cub Scout did enough damage to it. And anyway I thought you wanted info. How’s a bloke supposed to impart his knowledge while shutting up?”

“Whatever. What do you know?”

“Nothing, you bint! But if some Gods did take notice of yours truly do you think I’d be thrilled? Haven’t been to mass in over a century. Well, if you don’t count that time me and Dru…” he trailed off at the increasingly murderous look thrown at him by the clearly volatile little bundle of Slayer powers armed with a stake. ‘Discretion is the better part of valor and all that rot.’ “Look, I don’t know anything useful on the subject. Hell, I don’t even rightly know what the subject is.”

“If I find out you’re lying…”

“You’ll stake me good and proper. I know the drill, luv.”

“Just get over to the Magic Box.”

“Haven’t heard you say the magic word, pet,” he leered at her.

“Stake plus Spike equals dust if you don’t?”

“Fine. Can’t figure out how a woman like Joyce raised someone like you,” he grumbled under his unneeded breath. “Just got to sort myself out a bit, yeah? Repeated punching tends to get a bloke hungry.”

“Gross, Spike.” And with that she left, banging the door behind her.

Spike went to the fridge, grabbed a couple of bags of blood and downed them without pausing for air, had he needed any air to begin with. Just as he was about done with the second bag, the trap door to the lower level opened and Harmony raised her head from the hole.

“Blondie Bear, are they all gone yet?”

Rolling his eyes, Spike finished with his blood “Yeah, they’ve buggered off. Now you just stay here and out of sight and I’ll be back later.” And without waiting for a reply he went by her and into the sewers heading for the Magic Box.

“Now can we go test these bodies?” Bendis was getting a bit upset that they hadn’t gotten to finish their bet.

“Whatever my lady wishes!” and with that they were gone again, not that anyone noticed or anything – them being invisible and all…

As the hour for the meeting approached, the group gathered around the research table in the Magic Box quieted down. Giles, Willow, Anya, and Tara were engrossed in books and the Internet, trying to gather as much information as possible before the arrival of the now seemingly confirmed Gods. Relevant information was sketchy at best and opinions about them seemed to vary greatly. The only constant seemed to be their imperviousness. That did not bode well in the eyes of the ex-Watcher. Also making a show of reading books were Xander and Buffy. The first spent half his time shooting glares at Spike, who was currently sitting on the ladder leading upstairs with a bored look about him, and the other half frowning at the rest of the group while trying to appear hard at work doing research. Buffy, on the other hand, was much too anxious to be able to focus on the book she was supposed to be reading at the moment. So she spent most of her time trying to make her mom and key-turned-sister as carefree as possible, her forced cheerfulness doing nothing to assuage her mother’s tension. Dawn, oblivious to her sister’s apprehension was much too excited about being part of the group for once. Other than that, Buffy simply chose to try and ignore the absence of one Riley Finn.

A few minutes shy of ten o’clock, the bell above the door alerted everyone to the entrance of the ex-commando. He seemed much more subdued than his earlier appearances. He saluted everyone with a nod and then took the seat next to Buffy. At her pleading look he softened a bit and put an arm around her mid-section, lending his support. Spike studiously tried to ignore the couple and the glare Captain Cardboard had directed his way. Inside though, he was still fuming about the Slayer’s ability to apparently forgive and forget for everyone but himself.

“How long did you say this was going to take, Mr. Giles? Because even though tomorrow is Saturday, Dawn shouldn’t be kept up at all hours.” She didn’t mention her own feelings of unease, especially after her own fainting episode just a few days ago. Just then, the door opened, revealing the two Beings everyone had waited for. This time they were dressed in modern clothing. They both wore tight jeans with t-shirts and leather coats. While the man was dressed all in black, the woman wore a white tee, light-colored blue jeans, and her leather coat was earth-brown. However plain their clothes, they still appeared stunning.

“Do not worry, Mrs. Summers, we shall attempt to keep things brief. But in any case, the things we must discuss are of the utmost importance, so a few hours of sleep lost on a Friday night are not such a high price to ask, are they?” The man was looking at Joyce very kindly and the honesty in his tone made her concede to his point. However, these things had no effect on either the Slayer or her lover, as they both tensed up. Her for being in the presence of something she apparently could not fight, although her motto of stake in the heart equals death could be tested, and him because they just plain rubbed him the wrong way and his fingers itched to be buried in the man’s – because who believed in Gods anyway – throat.

“If we could all sit down, we could get started right away.” The woman’s calm demeanor made everyone take heed and so the meeting started. Zamolxis was the one to start speaking, setting the tone for the rest of the evening.

“The ground rules are these: we have been sent from several years in what was to be your future in order to modify some things. Most of the details concerning what was to have happened we cannot tell you because of the Muad’Dib Paradox.” Willow, Giles, Joyce, and Spike all perked up at the use of the term.
“What’s that, some kind of a Prophecy?” the bewildered Slayer asked – this was NOT good news. Prophecies tended to be of the bad.

“No, honey, it’s a fictional character in a book. He saw the future so was condemned to fulfill it.” Finally, something the Slayer’s mother could help her daughter with in regards to her Calling. This was shaping up to be a very nice chat indeed. And since these people claimed to be from the future, this could only mean people helping her girl to live longer. Yes, things were good indeed!

“That is correct and also the reason we cannot tell you all the little things like who did what, when, why and to whom. We are here to change those things, so a brief outline should give you a good enough picture and help you understand why changes are needed. As such…”

“And we should just take your word on that? How do we know you won’t just make sure that we all die in the next month because of your “guidance”?” Riley was no fool! He wasn’t going to be wooed by fancy words and calm demeanors. He used to be a Psych TA. He knew all about manipulation.

“Yes, however faulty his method of conveying his message, Riley does have a point. Is there any proof you could present to ensure us of your good will?” Giles was currently polishing his glasses to fine dust. Gods citing sci-fi was unusual to say the least.

“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, I would ask you to refrain from asking any questions or making any comments during my presentation unless asked to. Make no mistake, we ARE Gods and it IS in our ability to make you listen. However, we would prefer your willing participation. But as I have previously stated, we are associates of the PTB’s and as such we could call upon the Oracles or Whistler to corroborate anything we say.” At his penetrating gaze, no further interruptions were made, although Riley was getting more incensed by the second and Buffy had tensed up at the mention of Whistler. That little weasel had done nothing right by her.

“Now that I have your attention, we shall continue with the tale. And do keep in mind I have stopped keeping my times straight for a long time. So everything that has happened and what will happen from this moment onward is the future. Suffice it to say the next three or so years have seen their share of joy and heartache, but afterwards is the really interesting bit. About three years from now, a great war between the armies of the Senior Partners of the Wolf, Ram, and Heart and a handful of warriors began. This war transcended dimensional barriers, drawing away all the power base of Wulfram & Hart. To understand what this means, you must first understand the nature of the Universe.”

Zamolxis paused a bit at this point to let the enormity of what they were discussing sink into the minds of his audience. The expressions on their faces ranged from avid curiosity: Giles, Dawn, Joyce and Willow, to apathy: Anya and apparently Spike, though he was secretly memorising everything being said, to outright hostility: Riley and to a lesser extent Xander, for the tone used and with the idea of presenting a common front with his only male friend, to cautious but attentive: Buffy and Tara, as the shy wiccan wanted to see where things were heading, especially since trying to read the auras of the two Gods almost blinded her with radiance.

“There are an infinite number of dimensions…”

“There are an infinite number of dimensions. However, what you call dimensions is, in most cases, just another planet within your own dimension.” The disbelieving looks on the Scoobies’ faces didn’t even faze Zamolxis as he continued, “Arashmahar, for example is 4 galaxies away, but by no means in another dimension.”

At Anya’s shocked stare he elaborated, “Not to say that Arashmahar, for example, isn’t a world with entirely different laws of nature, or that the portals between this world and that are any less energy-demanding – we are talking about traveling millions of light years in a blink of an eye.” Seeing that the ex-demons’ calculating mind was rapidly going through a mental checklist, he added, “The reason nobody tells Dwight’s – that is to say D’Hoffryn’s – minio… nguh.” And for that he deserved the elbow in the gut he got from Bendis.

Gods did it hurt without the benefit of armor to cushion the blow – not that he would admit to such a thing. “Ah, what I meant was that you never knew about this when you were a Veggie… ompf… Vengeance Demon.” He paused for a second to rub his twice-bruised ribs and to glare a bit at Bendis.

“As I was saying. Not many people know the exact way the Universe is truly constructed and I’m only telling you this so you’ll understand things better. I would like to point out that every part of this discussion is entirely confidential and shall not be subjugated to review by third parties.” He grinned at them. “Did I mention I’m acting as a lawyer at the moment? Same as Bendis here, she’s from the Prosecution. But more on that later.”

Riley was getting more and more annoyed with every passing second the so-called God was speaking, but he refrained from opening his mouth to make some nasty comments because he was trying to understand. What he was really trying to understand, though, was not what the man was saying, but exactly how gullible the Scoobies appeared to be. Also, how far was Buffy, the mighty Chosen One – though even that appeared to be a lie for there were at least two he knew about – willing to listen to this rubbish instead of just doing something about it. These people needed to let professionals handle things. Just remembering last week’s disastrous attempt at patrol – eating chips, wearing brightly colored clothes and talking a riot – he found himself thinking about Graham’s words more and more often.

Giles felt a flash of annoyance at Zamolxis’ roundabout way of explaining things, but considered it couldn’t be helped. Apparently he had a lot to say and starting at the beginning seemed to be a good idea. However the mention on lawyers and prosecutors, as well as the interdiction to discuss anything with “third parties”. Like he was going to show any of his Journals with the Council after they fired him and nearly had his Slayer killed.

“Getting back on track. Most demons you encounter here on Earth are, in actuality, alien species. There has been some contact with other dimensions that are “linked” for lack of a better word. Such a dimension was the one you refer to as 'the wishverse'. Anyway, every dimension has something resembling a prison-planet. For many dimensions, Earth was the planet allocated to housing the Universe’s worst of the worst.” Dead silence followed this statement. Zamolxis looked into each of his listeners’ eyes, including Bendis, trying to see what this revelation would mean for them.

“Should have named us Absolom,” grumbled Xander. That was met with shaking of heads and disbelieving chuckles.

“Be that as it may, you might find it amusing to know Absolom does exist, in another dimension. All in all most of the things you can imagine and a great deal more than you can exist in one dimension or another. And if you remember each dimension has its own Universe and thusly an almost infinite number of stars and planets... The possibilities are truly infinite.”

“So is there a Star Trek dimension. Or one with the real Scoobies?”

This earned snickers from everyone present.

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”

“So, what? Out of all these dimensions and planets and thingies you just had to throw all the scumbags HERE?” Buffy jumped to her feet, furious at the unfairness of it all. Who was it that decided to make her life hell so others on other planets could live in peace and prosperity? ‘This is sooo not fair!’

“Now, now, simmer down Slayer. Each dimension has a number of allocated prison-planets. And at the time, yours was uninhabited by any sentient beings. The evolution of humans despite the harsh environment and the presence of all the alien species came as somewhat of a surprise. Nobody ever intended for a planet’s native populace to suffer from the presence of the prisoners, expats as we like to call them. However, they could not be relocated, nor could the humans.”

“Why?” This single word was spoken in the best Slayer voice Buffy had ever used. It caused cold chills to run down everyone’s spines – everyone except the Gods, that is.

“Look, just hear me out and you’ll understand. As I’ve said before, interrupting me does nothing except make this longer than it has to be.”

“Honey, just listen to him so Dawn can go home.” Joyce put a comforting hand on her daughter’s clenched fists. This immediately made Buffy relax a bit, snapping her out of her single-minded determination to pummel everything in her path and making her relax her hands – there truly wasn’t anything in the Universe like a mother’s touch. The fact that Joyce diffused this potentially dangerous situation caused everyone to relax a little. “He obviously wants to explain things, right?” she went on with a raised eyebrow at Zamolxis, letting him know that she wasn’t going to give him that much leeway and he should just say what he had to say.

“Of course, Mrs. Summers, it is my first priority.” At Joyce’s nod of approval, he continued, “The method of relocation used is one-way. There are a number of beings that can move themselves to other planets – such as what you call Vengeance Demons – or that can transport themselves as well as others, but their abilities are limited and furthermore, any attempt at returning any of the ‘Damned’ to their rightful planets would be considered an act of intergalactic war. Suffice it to say nobody wants that. So the ‘demons’ that have been brought here to serve their sentence are essentially trapped here.” The obvious quotation marks used to underline the familiar words the Sunnydale group used for the things Buffy fought every night were not lost on Zamolxis’ audience. The curiosity levels only kept increasing with every word he spoke, each answer creating new questions that begged to be answered in the minds of those present and this kept them attentive to everything that was being said. Only the stern look on both the Gods’ faces and the informative tone used kept their mounting questions at bay.

“Relocating the entire human race is out of the question for obvious reasons,” Zamolxis continued his lesson. “Also, the children of the expats couldn’t be sent to their species’ native planets because all they’d known was Earth. So you see, there was really no other way than to let the groups coexist. To regulate this, two groups were created. One was the Prosecution – the Powers that Be as you know them, the other is a law firm – Wolf, Ram, and Hart, today known as Wolfram & Hart. Their job is to keep a certain balance between expats and humans. Wolfram & Hart is trying to gain more rights for their clients – be that in the form of fire and brimstone raining from the sky or expanding the network of kitten breeders, while the Powers that Be are trying to eliminate all foreign influence on this world and leave it to the humans.”

At the sound of this, everyone was left confused, the descriptions being so far from everything they had been told thus far and yet, incredibly, absolutely possible. Buffy had already heard Whistler name himself as a being charged with maintaining the balance. Giles was the most concerned about the information they were receiving. His entire Watcher training had centered on the “humans good, demons bad” policy. Now the things Zamolxis was saying were putting everything in a new light. No longer was his charge – for Buffy would forever be his charge, no matter what his foolish former employers said – a representative of “Good”, the Chosen One of the forces of light, but a mere method of containment for some universal court, the supreme beings being little more then lawyers, prosecutors and some undisclosed Judge, presiding over it all and seemingly deciding if the next Apocalypse was within the rights granted to prisoners. This was a chilling thought and as his mind sped along these lines, his frown deepened and his need for more information grew. He was also convinced that after the end of the discussion he would not be able to sleep, haunted by images from his past and viewing everything in this new light – IF what these beings said was true that is, he still needed confirmation. ‘Bloody Travers, you would have a heart attack if you heard this, you bloody pillock. How I would wish to have you here and see your face turn red with anger and impotence.’ He was brought back from his reverie by the male God’s voice and his own innate need to hear everything.

“Neither side had ever won any of the prison worlds one way or another until the time I have spoken about – that great battle that should never have been. The result? In some places the natives won, the methods are irrelevant.” He added with a raised hand and a deeper more resonating tone of voice at the Scoobies’ obvious curiosity on the subject. “In other places, the expats won, only to have the attention of every military organization on this planet centered on them – chaos ensued for centuries, with varying results. In a few places however, the expats and the foolish people who started the battle were dumped on brand-new prison worlds – leaving a smaller number of expats on Earth, but creating more problems for the new prison planet in the long run.” At this he paused a bit for effect. “In this one, however, the one we are all inhabiting, the rules were broken.” He practically spat these words, as if the mere mention of the struggle he was recounting was a vile taste in his mouth.

“A coalition of expats the likes of which the Universe had never seen took over the local branch of Wolfram & Hart and then took over the planet.” The gasps this bit of news brought made him smile in a grim way. “They did not, however, take heed of all the formalities they should have. Expats were allowed to return to their home planets without due course and without the agreement of all the parties involved. The result was chaos on a galactic scale. War broke out in this dimension, spilling forth in the adjoining dimensions like wildfire. Estimates show that a complete collapse of the entire expat system would have occurred in about 100 Earth years.”

Giles’ face became almost deathly pale at the news, varying shades of pale being the common denominator among the rest of the Scoobies as well. Joyce and Dawn, while unable to understand everything said, picked up on the others’ reactions and were looking around with mounting worry. Riley was making a list of what he saw as lies and misinformation while simultaneously making plans to call the army to do something about this law firm he kept hearing about. Maybe this time Buffy would finally see the good the army could do, if they brought down this demon firm. Spike was counting down from ten over and over again in an attempt to not say anything. If things were as bad as this guy was saying, they were all in for a very rough ride. He could just see himself giving his life for the Summers clan without a shred of gratitude from anyone – his unlife was Murphy’s case in point.

Seemingly unfazed by the reaction to his words, Zamolxis continued, “This, of course, would put both the Powers that Be and Wolfram & Hart out of business, not to mention the billions of dead in the wake of the first inter-dimensional war since the fall of Lucifer. So, the central board of directors of Wolfram & Hart has sent me as a representative, Bendis is here representing the Powers that Be, and we have come to request your aid in rectifying this problem.”

After a chorus of “What?”, “Dear Lord”, and “Bloody Hell, this is rich!” subsided, chaos reigned inside the Magic Box. Everyone was shouting at once, mostly about it not being April, which meant it wasn’t the time for an Apocalypse. Giles was accusing the two Gods of being sent by Wolfram & Hart to trick them somehow. Riley wanted to get the military involved, if they were discussing a war. Joyce lamented her daughter being put on the front line again, in all the dimensions this time. Dawn wanted to squeal that she was finally involved in a discussion about the end of the world – worlds actually – but kept quiet for fear of being sent to bed. Xander wanted to know why they hadn’t called for Batman or any number of other comic book characters to save them. Willow wanted to know what magic she had to use to get in touch with other dimensions. Anya wanted to know why she didn’t know about any of this despite her vast experience as a Vengeance Demon. Throughout it all Tara, Spike, and the two Gods remained quiet.

Finally, Zamolxis stood up and bellowed a command that everyone be quiet. Surprisingly, for anyone familiar with them, the Scoobies complied.

“Now that some order has been restored, I shall try and answer all your questions. First of all, I never said I was a representative of the Powers that Be. I specifically said associate and that is exactly what I am right now. Since the Powers that Be and Wolfram & Hart have joined forces for this one time in all the dimensions and all the timeframes in existence – truly a thing of enormous importance given the fact that it was never before even attempted – I am currently speaking for both groups. As well as Bendis here,” he added once the beautiful being beside him cleared her throat.

“We cannot send for reinforcements from other dimensions because doing so would only weaken and alter all the involved parties too much. The consequences could be catastrophic. Instead of just one dimension in which the war erupts, we could have dozens, if not hundreds. As for why demons no longer know of their expat status, that is because most of them have been born here. Those that are thrown in from time to time tend to consider themselves as wronged parties and attempt to open doorways in order to get home. Acathla was one such instance, the same as Glorificus, or The Beast as you know her, is trying now.”

“You know about that strong ho-bag?” The Slayer was back in calculating mode.

“Buffy, language!” Joyce would not having her daughters using those kinds of words, whatever the situation may be. At Buffy’s sheepish look she nodded.

“Yes, we are aware of her attempt and we will aid you in ridding yourselves of her. I shall explain more after I make a few more things clear, if that’s OK with you. And as for asking your daughter to do this for us, we are sorry, but there is no other way. If we get involved more than we are, there could be a backlash that would lead to exactly what we are trying to prevent.” Bendis tried to smooth things between everyone again.

“Indeed. Glorificus has lost her right to an appeal in this dimension and her punishment has been agreed upon. Make no mistake. The rules for being thrown in a prison-planet are quite different from world to world. For example, littering might be considered a capital offence in one world, whereas helping one’s neighbor might get you exiled on another.”

At their looks of bewilderment, he added with a snicker “Rules are different throughout your world as well – considering just the status thieves have, for example. Punishment varies from death to the proverbial slap on the wrist. This is why there are demons that are evil by your standards and others that are harmless and even integral members of the community: ‘they cook your meals, they haul your trash, they connect your calls, they drive your ambulances. They guard you while you sleep’.” He ended his impersonation of Tyler Durden using the exact same tone of voice as the one used in what was one of Zamolxis’ favourite movies. Recognition of the quote was evident in the core group of Scoobies, as well as Spike and Dawn, although the rest remained ignorant.

“Glory’s offences on her world are great, by your standards. Mutilation, slavery, murder, and so on, but those are the norm in her world. Her real crime is having tried to overtake the entire planet, thereby weakening the ruling class. Her punishment was to be banished to this world, never to return home again. Her attempt to get back is in direct violation of her conditions for remaining in existence and after her appeal was heard, she has been found guilty and shall be disposed of. But more on that later.” Zamolxis held the room’s attention once again, the amount of information he was pouring out and the monumental changes this required in the way each viewed the world around them - demons in particular - was staggering.

“This is ridiculous! Any good demon is a dead one, we all know that! So who cares why they were sent here? We just kill them all and that’s the end of it! I say we call Graham, he told me there still is a group under the Army’s supervision that is combating demons worldwide. We get them on the horn, we let the Government know about this and it’ll all get taken care of without the need for your kind of help. All I’ve heard so far are attempts to make bloodthirsty demons sound like upstanding citizens.” Riley was getting all excited about being in the military again; fighting the good fight with people he knew he could rely upon. How Maggie would have liked to be involved in this war against all demons!

“Right, so’s they can make another Franken-bloody-demon. Didn’t you White Hats learn a bloody thing from the last time? But maybe that’s what you want, innit, Cardboard?” Spike snorted at the thought of the people responsible for putting the chip in his head being of any use in the coming conflict. “They’d probably chip us all and put us in a loony bin before doin’ a thing to help.”

“I should have staked you as soon as I discovered you were Hostile-17. Why don’t you let me do it, Buffy? Don’t you see he’s trying to make us doubt who the good guys are? Or are you in thrall with him, too?” This earned him glares from the Scoobies as well as the Summers women. Spike just couldn’t believe his luck to be privy to this show – the Slayer upset with Cardboard because something he’d said about him. ‘Priceless is what this is! Better than those bleedin’ commercials on TV.’

“The human military cannot get involved because little minds tend to do stupid things. And minds don’t come any smaller than the US Army.” Bendis was not moved by the ex-soldier’s tirade.

“How dare you say that about the Army? We are fully capable of dealing with any threat to this country, be it local or otherwise. And anyway why should we believe you? Your story sounds more like a fairytale!” Riley was fuming at this point and just couldn’t keep up any appearance to the contrary.

At this point Bendis had had enough of his meddling. He was a member of the group that played with her rules – something only she was allowed to do – he was dating her Slayer, someone so far up above him he would have needed a ladder just to reach her ankle and was treating her like a misbehaving child. He was spewing forth his half-knowledge and half-truths about what he had the audacity to call sub-terrestrials and in so doing infected those around him with his narrow-mindedness as well. He had listened to everything that had been said and hadn’t heard a word. And since the previous night when she and Zamolxis had ironed out some of the details that would govern this outing of theirs, at least one thing was clear: the bastard had to go!

“Please! The US military has nothing that could take on the combined forces of any Hell. The Initiative was just something that continued the experiments of Nazi Germany and Napoleon before them. They were just a group of misdirected xenophobes that had no real understanding of the forces they were dealing with. Trying to modify the behavior of vampires to turn them into assassins? Experimenting on their own soldiers by injecting them with demon hormones? Attempting to create a human-demon-machine hybrid that defied all laws of decency and nature? And for what, the betterment of mankind or whatever they wanted to call it? Yes, the Powers That Be are pledged to helping humankind survive the demon onslaught, but chaining those demons, experimenting on them, trying to see what makes them tick in order to modify your own soldiers is not the way! It was tried once – by us – and even we failed. Whatever gave you the idea to try to do better than us?”

Spike was entranced. As soon as he had felt the two approaching, his demon had started doing back-flips and whooping sounds inside his brain. Whatever mojo these beings had going for them it was major and he was scared – him, the Big Bad was scared, especially since the chit gave off a vibe that screamed of Slayer times a thousand. ‘Bugger! And I’m willin’ to bet everythin’ I own I’m about to say some bloody stupid thing and get my ass kicked. Here goes!’

“Oi, you tellin’ me you bloody ‘Powers that Love to Bugger You’ actually did somethin’ arse-over-tit? Who did you screw over that time?” he asked. ‘I soddin’ knew it!’

Zamolxis snickered, then chuckled, and then started all out laughing. To everyone except Bendis this was an unexpected answer to Spike’s question. Up until that moment the God had been amused, condescending, professional, irritated, and even a bit angry. Laughing with such exuberance, tears streaming down his face and gasping for air he probably didn’t even need to breathe was not how they had envisioned ever seeing him. Bendis, however, was not joining him in his mirth. That is, until she pictured the looks on the faces of everyone as they learned what was to come -- that WOULD be funny. So now both Gods were doubled over laughing, speaking to each other in a language no one else understood. With each new phrase, more gales of laughter would erupt. This was strange behavior indeed. Finally, after more than five minutes of bellowing laughter, Zamolxis managed to string together enough English words to form a sentence.

“I really think you should have the pleasure of telling them, my dear.” As soon as he was done speaking, he promptly lost it again, holding his sides from laughing so much and so hard. Bendis managed to pull herself together enough to tell the tale.

“Well, in all fairness, there was more than one attempt. By the time the decision was made to do something to protect the human populace and to keep the expats in line, their numbers were overwhelming compared to the small human communities. The humans, however, had started training wild wolves to protect and aid them. This led us to the idea of combining the two species together, thusly multiplying their chances of survival. To this end, a few select humans were picked and they were merged with the essence of the fiercest of the wolves.”

At the gasps heard from the core group of the Scoobies, she knew they had caught on to where she was headed with her tale. ‘Oh, poor mortals, if only they knew the entire truth,’ she thought before she went on with her tale. “The idea was that the pack instincts of the wolf, coupled with the human intellect - the superior senses, strength, teeth, and claws of the canines would, on a human body, render them at least equal to any expat they might encounter. Any bigger or more powerful expats could be dealt with by a pack, or group of ‘Varcolaci’ as they were called in some parts, werewolves as you know them.”

Willow was devastated and elated at the same time. The only thing keeping her grounded was the soothing feel of Tara’s caress on her back. The tears in her eyes blurred her vision and she wiped at them to focus on the speaker again.

“Also, maintaining their human form for much of the lunar circle meant regular patrols could be initiated and the rest of the time they could mingle with the general populace, multiplying, caring for their tribes and so on.” Bendis continued in a soft yet firm voice as she sent an apologetic look towards the distraught witch, “The idea, valorous as it was, was a failure. The wolf essence was untamable, unlike the wolf itself, so whenever they took wolf form, they became feral. Soon they were feared just as much as the expats for their indiscriminate maiming and murder of any moving thing within what they considered their territory. Soon, human raiding parties started hunting them down, forcing them into hiding, never to pose a significant threat again. They are untamed now, but not what one might call ‘evil’, as the damage they do is minimal.”

“How can you expect us to believe that? We all know werewolves are demons, so they are just as evil as Spike here!” Riley, scoring once again for team oblivious, stood up with an accusing finger pointed at Bendis.

“Oz was… IS a werewolf. Why did you help me rescue him if that’s how you really feel?” Buffy had finally found an outlet for all the anxiety this discussion had created within her, and she was upset enough not to care that the receptacle for her anger was her boyfriend. ‘Soooo gonna be EX-boyfriend if he keeps this up!’ This sentiment was spurred on by Willow’s hurt look from within the protective embrace of her lover.

“Well, he was your friend and…” Riley mumbled before remembering his earlier musings. “Anyway, not that it surprised me that much. That Fyarl you insisted was Giles, Oz, Hostile-17 here, ANGEL, AND DRACULA! I’m surprised you even slay any more for all the demon-rescues you do! You’re worse than the Animal Rescue guys.” And that was the proverbial that. The Slayer in full battle-mode unleashed her fury unfiltered and undiluted towards the one that kept nagging her with what was, in her opinion, ancient history.

However, this was done in a way that Riley would never have imagined. She all but whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on his, expressing all her anger through her glare, her body stiff and fists clenched, “Riley, get out.”

“What? Now you turn on me? Did these sub-terrestrials screw with your mind even more? Can’t you see they’re evil and they’re controlling you? This isn't you! You would never turn on a human to save a demon!” He walked stiffly to her side again and grabbed her by the arm, squeezing so hard that his knuckles turned white, alerting the others of the true force exerted, however impassive Buffy still remained.

“Well, actually, she almost killed Faith for Angel that one time.” Xander found he was more than happy sharing this little tidbit of information with the man that he had considered a friend. Well, no friend of the Xan-Man treated Buffy like a moron and started shouting at her and got away with it! It was time for the gloves to come off and to see the obviously aggressive man out the door. He had seen enough in his own home between his parents to spot a future wife-beater. And there, before him, in all his glory stood Riley – future wife-beater with a 100 percent certainty. So he started using the same techniques finely honed on Angel for so long to get him to show his true colors and get his ass handed to him once Buffy got fed up. It kinda worked once, why not try again?

“Oh, and what about Spike and Dru, she let them walk home free to South America before sending Angel to Hell. And she knew they were gonna feed to survive.” Dawn just couldn’t keep herself quiet this time, even tempting fate and her mother sending her to bed, she just had to see exactly how purple Riley could get before he burst a vein in his neck. ‘Maybe once he’s gone Spike could come over more often and maybe, just maybe, start showing me how to fight! That would be so hot! Squeeeee!’

“Or what about…” But Willow never got to finish her thought, having caught on to what the others were doing and having decided to join in the fun. Sure, she’d pressured Buffy into the relationship, but that was before she really got to know Riley. And the guy she could now see, not so much with the liking there, bucko!

“ENOUGH!!! Are you people out of your minds? I knew you were incompetent, troublesome, whiny, and annoying. But what the HELL are you blabbing about? What Faith? What Hell? WHAT THE HELL???” ‘8.9 on the purple scale’, Dawn mentally noted.

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? I said get out.” Buffy raised her voice a little as she looked straight at her ex-boyfriend and soon to be ex-walking human if he kept that up. She had a cold, fake smile on her face that came nowhere near her eyes. She shook his hand off without much effort, sending him stumbling back a few feet. Her fists rose to rest on her hips in what appeared to be a casual position, but an attentive observer could see she was preparing to strike.

Anya, seeing the Slayer’s reaction, remembered that same look on the faces of many of the women she had helped throughout the centuries. Ah, to have her powers back now; she just knew Buffy would be extra-inventive in her wish. “Oh well, at least I get vengeance vicariously,” she not so subtly whispered. Those seated next to her, as well as those with above-human hearing, smiled at the blunt woman.

“You don’t mean that, Buffy! You’re just confused. Look, we’ll go away somewhere so you don’t have to think about all this any more, and I’m sure once you clear your mind you’ll be back to your old self again!” His instincts of survival as a male made Riley lower his voice in what was supposed to be a soothing tone, sounding more like one used to talk to a petulant child instead. Foot in mouth syndrome was hard to cure.

“You really have problems taking orders from me, don’t you, lover?” Buffy made her way slowly to where the ex-soldier was waiting somewhat pleased at her words, demeanor, and closeness, totally oblivious to the waves of Slayer-on-the-prowl vibes she was sending. As she spoke she almost fulfilled one of Spike’s fantasies: treating Riley as she had once treated Angelus – down to the word “lover”! Priceless! If only she would let him kiss her afterwards, then he could safely say there was somebody up there listening to such as him.

“No, it’s just that you don’t know what you’re saying right now and your so-called friends aren’t helping you one bit. So I won’t get out because I know that deep down you really want me to stay!” He almost beat his fist against his chest in his pride at knowing what his “little woman” wanted.

Joyce was holding on by just a thread from going in full Mother Hen Mode when Giles softly whispered in her ear, Ripper in full effect, “Now, now, Joyce, let the boy hang by his own noose! I’ll bet you taught her your best moves and even if she weren’t a Slayer – and my charge to boot – if she is just half the woman you are, he’s in a world of trouble and doesn’t even realize it. And when he does, it will be too late!” At the barely contained malice in his voice, Joyce was suddenly reminded of the episode two years prior and a particular brash individual with some inventive uses for a police baton. The mere thought had her blushing and also flushed with need. Perhaps she should try talking to Rupert more often, shopkeeper to shopkeeper, of course!

“So you know what I should think better than I do? You think my friends are freaks? Monsters? Idiots and whatever? You think I can just pick up and leave the Hellmouth unattended? To do what? Play farm-girl and farm-boy with you? ” Buffy punctuated each sentence with a not so gentle poke in the towering male’s chest.

“Listen…”

“Not. A. Word! You had your say, now listen closely. You wanted to know how strong I really am? I never went more than half-strength when I sparred with you, so what I’m about to say should really register, got me? I sent my last boyfriend to Hell, if you don’t want the same treatment get the hell away from me, my family, my friends, and MY. MONSTERS!”

And with those final words, she noticed Bendis making the door disappear in invitation. She pushed her open palms to his chest with such force he sailed through the air and landed in the middle of the street, at a total loss as to exactly what happened. Once he’d crossed the threshold Bendis recalled the door, effectively shutting him out. At the questioning looks around her she just shrugged her shoulders and went back to feigning disinterest.

For Riley this was a nightmare, a hellish vision sent by those two meddlers. Or it was a spell, a terrible spell gone haywire, which was probably Willow’s fault. He just needed to clear his head. Marcia was always willing to clear his head of any blood rush. He’d go to her and find solace in her arms. Then either come back to slap… that is to say TALK some sense into Buffy, or call Graham – or both. With that thought in mind, he limped away down the street towards the seedier part of town.

Once he was gone Buffy turned teary eyes back towards the people still seated at the research table.

“When did Cardboard start gettin’ suck-jobs anyway? Think they messed with his hormone levels!” Spike was more than happy to ask, feigning innocence at the effect his words were going to have on the already tense situation.

The dead silence that followed Spike’s statement was shattered by Giles shouting, “The pillock did WHAT?” If Riley had still been there, all the frustration the ex-Watcher still felt towards the Initiative would have found its outlet on the ex-soldier’s body.


“What do you know, Spike? And I suggest you tell me everything or else you’ll find yourself drifting in the morning breeze.” The Slayer’s demeanor scared Joyce. Up until that moment she had never actually seen her daughter go full-Slayer and the experience was nerve wracking. If this was what her daughter had to go through every night, extra attention would have to be taken to prevent her from becoming a cold hearted killer. If only her health were a bit better, Joyce would have done everything she could to bring back at least a part of the girl Buffy had once been – carefree, happy, and young – as opposed to what she now seemed to be – worn out with worries, angry or cold, old despite her years.


“Oi, just call them as I smell them, Slayer. There have been at least three undead birds stickin’ their chompers in Captain America there just in the last week. Haven’t gotten close enough to smell them before tonight, what with your threats to steer clear and his wanker ideas of trying to stake me on sight. If you want, I could scrounge up some info on the local floozies and get back to you.”


“Do that!” she spat.


“Actually that won’t be entirely necessary.” At Zamolxis’ statement the full force of the Slayer Look of Death was directed his way, complete with hands on hips and pursed lips – he was not impressed. “As I have before stated, we are aware of events that were supposed to occur in the next few years. One of these events would be Riley’s addiction to getting sucked on by vampires. The results tend to vary throughout the dimensions, from being turned, to becoming a ghoul, to being found by you and Spike and rejoining the Army.”


“So what happens to him now?” Buffy was so shocked she couldn’t even stop and be hurt by his actions. She let her shoulders sag a notch, but no other outward sign of the turmoil she was feeling was visible. Even her teary eyes from earlier were now calculating and cold.


“I really don’t know how things will turn out. If you want, I could give you the address for the whorehouse and you can see for yourself.” He wasn’t stupid enough to admit to being one of the voices whispering in the boy’s ear and tempting him into his life of depravity. He may be a God and therefore impervious to her attacks if he wished it, but her trust was much more hardly won. And if some omissions were needed in order to secure said trust, so be it. “There were many more things to be discussed; we haven’t even covered the back story yet, let alone the need for Joyce and Dawn’s participation in this little chat, but we can always reconvene tomorrow evening, say around seven?” He scribbled down the address of the decrepit building housing Riley’s addiction in a flowing yet formal writing that practically begged for flourishes and engravings on the side – no time for that though.


“Yes, quite, that would seem best. Buffy, may I accompany you on your search? There are a few things I wish clarified before, well, just before.” Giles was cleaning his glasses again in a familiar way, but his eyes had a steely glint to them.


“If you want, I could hex his parts,” Willow felt she needed to add as the best friend with magic powers, gaining winces from the male contingent and a pat on the back from her girlfriend.


“I’m coming with. Nobody makes a fool of the Buffster or the Scoobs and gets away with it!” Xander was eager to show his former friend exactly what he now thought of him.


“Thanks, guys, but this is the plan: Giles, you take Mom and Dawn home – it’s way past her bedtime anyway. Xander, you and Anya head to your apartment and get some sleep - ‘cause I think we all need it. On the way, drop Willow and Tara off at the dorms. Zamolxis and Bendis, you go wherever you go and we’ll meet up here tomorrow as you said. Spike and I are hitting this place and getting some answers.” General Buffy issued orders to her troops and didn’t even wait for the oks to end before heading for the door – she had a mission to perform.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Less than twenty minutes later she stood in front of what looked like an uninhabited building with boarded-up windows and shabby appearance. ‘So this is where stupid people come to get bit. Didn’t they hear? I have a habit of burning things down!’ Even the voice inside her head sounded deadly, the girl mourning the loss of another relationship would have to come out later, while in her own bed, curled around Mr. Gordo – only the Slayer had business here.


“Right, so what’s the plan then? Storming the battlements while shouting ‘Victory is life’?” So, it was a geeky thing to say, but the battle shout sounded damn good right about now and his Big Bad image wouldn’t take a beating for it.


“Just shut up and follow me!” she said, somewhat relieved that he was there with her. ‘When did relief come into play? I’m happy Spike is here while I enter the place Riley has been cheating on me in? This is way wiggy, but time for that later.’


They went in as if they owned the place and took in the scene before them. Spread out on sofas and on the floor a number of human males and even a few women who were being slowly drained by some very trashy looking vampires while wearing blissful masks of surrender. She’d never actually felt any pleasure from vampire bites: the Master was short and brutal, Angel was desperate and almost feral and Dracula had her in thrall – not really happy inducing conditions there. But these people were obviously thrilled to have killers devour them bit by bit. She was becoming sick, she was outraged and even if a tiny bit of her was intrigued, the filth and rotten smells in the air nearly made her retch. Steadying herself, she motioned for Spike to lead the way to wherever Riley might have decided to hole up.


Not wasting a second more than was necessary to filter out the hated smell of Cornbread’s cologne, Spike took long strides towards some stairs in the back. When a disgruntled fledgling tried to stall them, the Slayer’s stake found its first victim for the night – or day, considering it was just after midnight.


Taking the stairs two at the time they came to a corridor with peeling wallpaper that was probably not originally colored in “grime and mold” and a floor covered in all sorts of discarded wrappers and cardboard boxes turned into soggy masses of fiber. Without speaking a word and completely focused on their target, they moved down the hall to a battered door propped against the wall and replaced by cellophane nailed to the frame. Ripping through the crackling barrier they both came face to face with the extent of a “normal” guy’s depravity in the face of the darkness.


Riley was sprawled in the arms of two scantily clad and dirtied female vamps that had embedded their fangs in each of his arms and were happily sucking away at his blood. Riley, however, didn’t have the same look of bliss as the other patrons. Instead his face seemed contorted in rage and the frown marring his features gave him a ghastly appearance. Despite the shocking sight before her, Buffy’s first thought was ‘Do they even wash themselves, as in ever?’ After the Valley girl estimate about the girls’ lack of appeal she focused her sights on her ex-boyfriend and her anger bubbled up to the surface.


Two stakes found their marks with extreme precision and turned the methods for Riley’s current betrayal into so much dust in the wind. He dazedly opened his eyes and was surprised to see the main reasons for all his troubles wearing almost twin looks of disgust, their heads cocked to one side as if they had rehearsed it for just this occasion – the Vampire Layer and her pet, Hostile 17. An ugly sneer made its way to his lips and he staggered to a standing position off the floor.


“Shoo, zhe whore fin-filn-finalinly shooze hersh chrue colorsh.” The slurring could have been considered the result of blood-loss, if not for the fumes of alcohol replacing any other foul odor in the rank room. Spike briefly wondered when White Bread had had the time to get plastered. “’Dja cooommm ta join the fuuunn?” He stumbled closer to the duo with rivulets of blood still trickling down his arms from the open fang marks. The sight of him in this state almost made her cry out in anguish and want to heave, but she just filed that away for when Buffy-the-girl returned.


“Well, lover, looks like you didn’t waste any time in getting your strikes.” She started ticking off her fingers, “Drunk, cheating and with vamps. I may be blonde, but I think that makes three, don’t you think? If you can still count that high.” Buffy would be in denial for a week if she noticed that the smirk she wore was mirrored exactly by the vampire standing less than a foot away from her.


“I remember telling you to stay away from my monsters. These vamps are in my town, so that makes them my monsters. I’m only going to say this once, Riley: LEAVE. Get away from here, go back to your precious Army and. Don’t. Come. Back!” She was trembling with fury and exertion from keeping her fists and emotions in check. She felt like beating him to a pulp, like crying her eyes out, like kicking him bodily out of her town, like a lost little girl that saw her chances at a normal life shattered by the man in front of her – no, not man, thing! But she did nothing but tell him to leave, leave before she could finally break down.


Spike said nothing, knowing this was something she had 1to take care of herself. How he longed to be able to rip the git’s head from his shoulders for harming his girl. She might not have been his to anyone but him, but that didn’t matter. ‘Never hurt the girl!’ was the chant in his mind. His arms ached for the want to cradle her to his chest and shield her from the pain inside herself, but he couldn’t. ‘Not your place, mate. Not yet.’


With that she grabbed her former lover by the scruff of his neck and dragged him like a rag doll down the stairs and across the main room. She threw him in the street for the second time that night and then turned back in to finish the job she had started by dusting the remaining three vamps.


“I jush might joo zhat,” Riley mumbled dejectedly at her from the hole in the pavement she had thrown him in. Even in his muddled state of mind he knew that the only two reasons for staying he had – Buffy and… what was her name? Lucy, Linda, Liz? And her fangs – were gone from his life. He didn’t even register the few humans staggering away from the condemned house, nor the two deadly shadows moving away as he was lost in his own world of spiraling despair. Just when the first beams started crumbling in the burning pyre the house had been transformed into did he notice his haven of bliss disappearing forever.


“Gooodd riddanshe,” he said, and started crawling his way back to his flat and the phone that now held the only hope he had left.

“What the Hells was that?” Bendis asked Zamolxis as soon as everyone was out of the Magic Box for the evening.

“Whatever do you mean?” The smirk belied his affronted tone.

“You know damned well what I mean. The meddling! You interfered with their moods; you manipulated them, just like you do every single time. Why?” She was fury unleashed, the rawest of the elements in all their glory. She was breathtaking.

“I didn’t play with them all that much, just inhibited a few of their fears, brought out the real them to the surface, if you will. Ripper, for example, is there, pulsating, vibrating, drawing in all the frustrations and getting stronger day by day. Giles refrains himself from doing anything that would jeopardize his image as a quiet gentleman, but we know better, don’t we, my love?”

He threw her a knowing look and she relented just a little bit. “The ‘darkness’ inside them is there for a reason, as you well remember. They are too uptight in their little Scooby Gang. They see everything through glasses not even fit for the blind and measure everything by their warped standards. So I helped them see a bit of the other side of the looking glass, do you really think that will harm them?” he told her when she looked a bit troubled at this.

“Listen to me, Mother,” his voice was steely now, something he hadn’t used with her in eons – Gods did that make her wet for him. “I know how things are with this group and your feelings about them and I’ve told you how I feel about them last night. There is no way I’m letting a few misconceptions and half-truths guide the way they see things while I’m here. I use half-truths and blatant lies all the time and as such I can smell them a mile away. And that group there?” he said pointing to the darkened street the Scoobies had walked off into just minutes before, “That group is just swimming in idiotic views. I’m going to shake their foundations, crumble their world to dust, shred them to bits and sow them back together. These are my terms – you either agree and help or stay out of my way: this is MY game!” he bellowed, raising his voice for the first time in millennia.

‘There is the passion and fire he said were gone. Who’s bored and detached now, my darling?’ She should have been upset with him, manipulating her people, using his methods of chaos to undermine her orderly work – who was she trying to kid? She just loved goading him into getting worked up about something, and that something being helping her Slayer? Bonus! She realized with a start that she hadn’t seen him this worked up since the days of the “Corruption”. ‘Irony, how I mock thee!’ Ever since they had stopped using words to explain themselves to each other and to the others, things had been tame. The fire was back now, blazing within the depths of these borrowed eyes, filling her with a need beyond what she had felt since everything was still young. ‘In the beginning there was the Word and we have stopped using it. It’s high time we brought it back!’

“So what do we do now, my love?” she said, agreeing to follow his lead.

“I was thinking of seeing exactly how long we can go in these bodies.” He leered at her, planting a hand on her ass.

“Mmmm, that does sound nice, but you still have some explaining to do! And really, what was that all about? The inter-dimensional war, the pact between my guys and yours and all that you told them back there? None of that happened anywhere.” She was curious about his plans. He still hadn’t told her his agenda or even the entirety of their cover story. The previous night, amongst bouts of lovemaking they had discussed the distant past, reliving past deeds and mistakes. Now she wanted to know what the future held. ‘Well, maybe not exactly know, more like hint. The games would be over so quickly if we knew everything.’

“You know as well as I do that after the battle in LA anything was possible. So I just altered things a bit for this dimension.” He smirked while running his hands up and down her denim-clad calves.

“So you decided to play around to see where you could take them?” She purred, nuzzling his neck and caressing his back.

“What do you say we take this elsewhere, my dear? And I shall educate you in the ways of the future that never was. And I can also think of a number of other things I can educate you in.” With that she jumped up and coiled her legs and arms around him and they were both gone in a flash. ‘Thank the Gods for immortal constitution!’

---

Joyce Summers was a grown woman, mother of two teenage girls – of which one was the Chosen One – and owner of a successful gallery. So why was she blushing and finding it difficult to form words, all without the aid of some enchanted candy bars? Oh, right, because the man that had known her – in a biblical sense – while under the influence of said candy bars had just recently whispered his high opinion of her, in the same voice he’d used on that occasion. And now the same man was swaggering – who knew – alongside her and her youngest, escorting them home like some knight in one of those romance novels she’d read to escape her lonely times before the divorce or at the gallery. The characters from Passions had nothing on her life!

“D- do you think we should be there tomorrow evening as well, R- Mr. Giles?” Stammering now and trying for small-talk, the Hellmouth way, all signs that she was in a potentially dangerous situation – dangerous to her virtue anyway. ‘And if he keeps smirking like that I might just forget he’s my daughter’s Watcher and DO something about it. And Dawn really doesn’t need that image impressed in her teenage brain.’

“Well, my dear, I think your presence is definitely required!” She could swear he was purring out the words. How come they hadn’t kept in touch with each other? ‘Hmm, touching... What’s with me tonight, I just can’t seem to keep my mind in check. Who cares when he acts and looks like that?’ Her internal musings were interrupted by the subject of her not-so-pristine thoughts “And anyway I believe the two Gods – because that is what they apparently are, although the veracity of their claims remains to be discussed – have yet to explain your and Dawn’s involvement in their plans. However, maybe we should discuss this at length after the children go to bed.” And now it was official: he was leering at her! ‘So, I’m not the only one affected. Good!’

Rupert Giles was somewhat astonished at his behavior during the course of the past two days, a period of time that coincided with the appearance of the two beings claiming to be the representatives of two of the most powerful “organizations” he had ever heard of: The Powers that Be and the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart. He seemed to be showing more and more of the character traits defining Ripper more than the Watcher, a fact that led him to think he was under some sort of supernatural influence.

However, all the things that should have bothered him seemed somewhat muted, the delicious scent of the woman swaying her hips – and didn’t that ass just beg for a spanking – next to him and blushing in that ever-so-enticing manner drowning out even the most basic of safeguards: night equals vampires equals stake. Disturbing? Perhaps. However, that same woman – the mother of his Slayer no less – seemed to be responding wholeheartedly to his advances and innuendos.

‘There weren’t any sweets present, of that I am sure. Ah, such delightful memories I have of that event.’ So instead of over analyzing every single possibility of foul play, he was occupied with deriving plans to remain in the charming lady’s presence. ‘And who in his right mind wouldn’t want to spend as much time as possible in the company of such a passionate, wanton woman as she turned out to be. That pillock of an ex-husband of hers didn’t deserve any of the women in this family!’

“Well, since Buffy has gone after Riley’s whores I’m not sure exactly when she’ll be back, much less when she’ll sleep. It could be a while.” This time the words seemed to flow all on their own, driven by an innate need to have this cultured yet oh-so-wicked man with her for as long as possible. ‘Who turned up the heat?’

Dawn was getting more and more squicked by her mom and Giles. Yeah, sure, they were both like OLD and there was that whole thing from a while back, something nobody cared to tell her that much about, but they were like her parents – her father and that skanky secretary of his really didn’t count here. And they were acting, well, like Tricia and Allen were during breaks, all with the flirty and innuendo-ish and stuff. Pretty soon they’ll get to making out, and wasn’t THAT a thought that sent her in the ultimate ew-fest. She had to get away from them and fast. And ohmigod to the thoughts of exactly what they would be doing while alone, that was definitely TMI-territory!

So after picking up the pace a few times on the way back, they were now fast approaching their house, and, for Dawn, the safety of her own room, which was situated far away from the kitchen, living room or even ‘shudder, ew, blech, ew, shudder’ her mom’s room. And wasn’t her mother getting ill these days? Shouldn’t she be concentrating on getting better instead of practically throwing herself at her sister’s Watcher? Great, new visuals of the blech category! This would leave her scarred for life, in need of massive amounts of professional care by a whole group of shrinks. ‘They’re kinda romantic, though… If they weren’t soooo gross!’

Stealing furtive glances at one another, each look conveying more need than the previous one, the two adults walked up to the front door of the Summers’ residence. Once Joyce actually managed to insert the key into the lock, her trembling hand stilled by an ever-so-helpful Ripper with a huge grin on his face, the three persons dearest to the Slayer walked inside the darkened home. Dawn immediately excused herself and bounded up the stairs as if chased by hell-beasts out for her blood.

As soon as they were left alone Joyce hurried for the kitchen, not quite making it before hard male arms were wound around her waist stopping her, the palms pressed tightly into her hips and a chest pressed so tightly against her back that it was difficult to distinguish one heartbeat from another. Something familiar pressed against her ass while moistened lips barely touched her ear as he spoke, “Where are you going, Joycey? I thought we had some talking to do, hmmm?” The hands started slowly drifting upwards, over her abdomen, towards her ribs, under her chest and now resting fully on her breasts.

Even with a bra and a long-sleeved shirt covering her body, she still felt his palms’ every rise and dip as if she were naked under his ministrations. Her breathing was now fast and labored as if she’d run all the way home from the Magic Box and he’d done that to her in just a few seconds, not counting the rising tension on the way over. One hand rose to play with the hair at the nape of his neck while the other traced the contours of the ass whose muscles she could feel tensing in preparation for the inevitable thrusts that would send her over the edge of sanity.

“Stop!” Her breathy voice laced with need betrayed her though and only made Ripper even bolder in his pursuits. His hands were inching their way up again, only this time beneath her blouse, his lips were hovering and just slightly touching her neck above the high collar and his hips started a slight rocking motion, pressing their lower halves together rhythmically. Things were fast getting out of control and the outcome was clear. “Ripper, please, stop!” This time her voice was steadier and her hands grabbed and held both his hair and his hips. She disentangled herself from his embrace, shuddering at the loss of his warmth, feeling it as one would feel the loss of protection from the stormy snow.

“If this is what you truly want, there is just one way things are going to happen.” At his raised eyebrow, quirking lips and folded hands across his chest she continued, ticking off her fingers. “Dinner, a show – and not some movie only fit for teenagers without parental supervision – talks under the stars about literature and poetry, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get lucky, buster! We already did it without thinking of the consequences once, if it’s to happen again I want you to become a father to both my daughters, not just to the one you’re bound to by duty. And if you EVER want to share my BED – there will be no more sex on police cars… in daylight.”

She blushed and got flustered a bit at this. ‘What people don’t see won’t hurt them, but it’ll hurt me good! And there he goes off the charts with cockiness again!’ “You will call, you will send flowers and candy and do all the tings mature people in a working relationship do, not that thing you did last time, hiding like a turtle and not even showing your face for MONTHS!”

‘Bloody hell she’s gorgeous like this. Can see where her daughter gets her feistiness from – and it’s not the Slayer line! Exactly why didn’t I pursue this vibrant woman before? Must have been a spell of some sort, I’m not that daft!’ Raising a hand to stall her angry tirade – pity that – he spoke in the sexiest of tones available to a once part-time singer “Of course you will be pampered,” step, “dined,” step, “and cherished,” and now they were touching again, “for as long as you walk and lay beside me.” He waggled his eyebrows and managed to get her to relent enough in order for him to be able to pull her into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin.

And that is exactly how they were when the door banged open.

Spike sat back with an unlit cigarette in his mouth as the hour for the meeting approached. He was dressed in his usual black-on-black ensemble with the duster surrounding him like armor. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night as he’d had to patrol for Buffy after he’d dropped her off at her place. Not that he was complaining, mind, considering the things that had gone down that night.

After leaving the shop and following Buffy to the whorehouse he’d had the privilege of watching Riley get his ass handed to him. Then he’d gotten his quota of violence by torching the place and dusting any undead present. Once this was done the Slayer had run like a bat out of Hell towards her home, him following her every move. She’d banged the kitchen door open and there, right in front of them, had been Joyce and the Watcher rubbing against each other.

The Slayer had once again gone ballistic, something that seemed to be a recurring theme for the night, and bitched about adults behaving like teenagers. Even Joyce’s attempt to restore order failed.

He’d also noticed Dawn watching them from upstairs and had sent her to bed with a pointed look. After the bitching and moaning was done, the Slayer had gotten it inside her pretty little head that the two Gods must have been responsible. She’d subsequently forgone any sleep – and if he knew his Slayer, also skipped shedding any tears over the Hall Monitor once in her bed – and had asked for immediate research into mind control. The chit got it into her head that the only reason Riley had cheated on her was not the fact that he was a pathological wanker with Peaches Syndrome, but the “evil influence of those Bendy and Z-whatsis”.

During the impressive rant, the watcher and Mum had kept stealing glances at each other as well as some fondling by the sly, old devil. Any and all moments Buffy turned her back on them, some random hand decided to go exploring and Spike had started keeping score. By the end, it was Joyce 15, Rupert 21. Once she’d run the course of her reasoning and ended up with the usual suspects: PTB, Council, himself, demons, whatever, she’d ordered him to go for info and started dialing, calling the whelp and the wiccas.

After scouring the town for info, hitting all the demon haunts and getting into more bar brawls than in the previous weeks put together, he’d gone to his crypt to recuperate, knowledge of anything brewing nowhere to be found.

He’d been awoken rudely by the whelp, citing the need for him to join the rest at the Magic Box to “prove you aren’t involved in this somehow, blood breath. If you are, it’s dust in the wind for you!” With only half an hour’s worth of sleep under his belt, Spike had gone through the sewers only to emerge in the midst of a somber gathering.

Everyone present had bags under their eyes and some of them had obviously foregone showering that morning. Also notable was the smell of spell-casting, strongest on Red. She’d obviously been a busy little bee throughout the night, as the magic vibes he got were all over the place. Glinda was also covered in magics, but she looked more composed than her obviously frantic girlfriend.

The sight of Joyce and Dawn hunched over ancient-looking books was a novelty that Spike took a moment to enjoy watching. His silent perusal over the concerned faces gathered around the research table was interrupted by the sight of a cranky, sleep deprived, ashen-faced Slayer planting herself in front of him and clenching her fists while raising an eyebrow.

He’d proceeded in telling the tale of his hunt for information, finished just hours ago, and the total lack of anything valuable to report. This earned him a flippant remark from Xander as he pretended to research, the corner of a comic book visible behind the ancient tome, and an angry dismissal from the Slayer. She’d then gone ahead and sorted out the weapons, deciding what she was going to use and started badgering everyone to find something faster.

By the time six o’clock came along, the wiccas had already attempted almost all the reversal spells in the pile of books around them, as well as an assortment of healing, centering, protection and dispersal spells. All in all, they had done everything they could think of, and Willow had started going on and on about more advanced spells to try. Taras’s gentle admonishment, dulled by the deep weariness in her voice, had gone all but ignored. There was trouble brewing there and Spike couldn’t help but feel something perhaps better left unsaid for the good witch – ‘I’m evil, I don’t feel sorry for white hats, even if they’re some of the better ones of the group.’

There had also been a moment of drama throughout the day, as in one of Xander and Anya’s trips to the basement “to get more supplies”. Buffy had snapped and had all but ordered them to stay put. This had led to Anya protesting loudly about capitalistic values that were being trampled by having them research on a Saturday and more importantly sexual… At which point Xander had told her to keep her opinions on the subject to herself. This in turn had earned an admonishment from Joyce and a lecture about mistreatment in a relationship. The chastised Scooby had apologized to his bewildered girlfriend and the watcher had used the diversion to put one of his hands on Joyce’s thigh, earning a yelp from her and a forceful removal from his chair by the Slayer.

Once order had been re-established they’d gone into battle mode. Joyce and Dawn were taken to the training room with Anya. At her insistence, Xander was sent as bodyguard for the female trio. The wiccas had set up a magic corner, with ingredients strewn all around them and books towering off the table. Giles had grabbed an axe and a broadsword and positioned himself to Buffy’s right.

She had various knives and stakes tucked into every article of clothing. The visible ones were a stake and a knife tucked at her back, outlined by the opal blouse she was wearing. Her blue jeans also revealed a bulge that could be another knife at the point where the ankle-high boots ended. One of the leather coat’s pockets was clearly the storage for holy water vials. What wasn’t visible intrigued Spike more, though. ‘To be able to start looking for every one of her hiding places, that would be something!’ She also had a bastard sword in her hands, ready to go all out if necessary.

Spike put the still unlit cigarette back in the pack and then chose an axe and got into position, off to the Slayer’s left, covering the wicca lovers if need be. ‘Buggered if I think this plan will work. Then again we’ve worked with a lot worse odds. That is to say them, the white hats, not us – there is no us. Bollocks!’ The minutes trickled slowly by as the tension mounted inside the shop. ‘Showtime!’


When the bell above the Magic Box door jingled at the agreed upon time signaling the entrance of the two Gods everyone was on edge. At the less than warm reception the only response from the two powerful beings was raised eyebrows and a smirk on Zamolxis’ face.

“What the hell have you done to us and how fast can you undo it before I make birdhouses out of your bones?” Buffy was taking no prisoners and she figured if she was being tampered with she might as well put into action the threats made when Whistler visited. She lifted her sword and pointed it at the male God’s head.

“Calm down, child, and all will be explained,” Bendis said before she turned to her companion to chastise him “See, I told you they would notice something amiss and jump to conclusions before we had the time to get to that part of the explanation. I told you to let me send her a slayer dream to explain some things but you kept going on and on about it being more fun this way. Well, is this the kind of fun you had in mind?” she said, pointing to the array of weapons trained on them.

“Slayer dreams are cheating, nothing more, nothing less. They were only meant as death sentences for the expats portrayed therein, not as replacement for an active representative. We told you this millennia ago, but you just wouldn’t listen! The human mind is too twisted not to start over-thinking everything and not twisted enough to understand your cryptic crap.” Spike snorted at Zamolxis’ words and all the others had to suppress their silent laughter at the two Gods’ bickering. Giles found himself wondering how much easier things would have been for Buffy had she had a direct link to her “employers”.

“Enough!” Buffy had had it. She wanted answers and she wanted them yesterday. “You,” she said, pointing at Bendis, “better start talking and pray you sound sincere or I’ll kick your Greek faces in!” Her voice was getting louder with every word.

“We are not Greek, dear!” Bendis felt the need to point out.

“I don’t care!” Buffy shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Fine, this is what you should know about your reaction towards our presence.” At the Slayer’s eager wave of her hand she continued, “As we have told you we are from both the Powers that Be and from Wolfram and Heart. The resulting fluctuations in energy are usually used in court to ensure the validity of the proceedings. In short,” she hastened to add at the look of annoyance on Buffy’s face, “those around us are forced to show their true faces.”

At the still skeptical expression on the faces of those present she elaborated, “As opposite parts of a trial, each of us brings out a different part of the defendant. The result is that lies, deception and masks are negated and the true personality of the ones we come in contact with is brought to light. In essence, you are unchanged, but the things that make you behave in another way than your inner selves – such as what you perceive as being expected of you, or the things you choose to hide in order to not offend others – are eliminated.”

“Oi, than why’m I not affected?” Spike wanted to know.

“You are! It just takes different amounts of time to manifest itself in different individuals and species. The humans are probably the most susceptible to this, as they are less used to our abilities than other species.” Bendis hid her smile at the brief look of horror on the vampire’s face. He was probably thinking of his human self making a guest appearance. This would be fun, just like Zamolxis said it would be.

“So what you’re saying is that you being here is what, making us do what we want without rules? How do we stop it, ‘cause I sure don’t want the evil dead here going around trying to bite people and being more annoying than usual?” Buffy found she could manage to control what she said to a certain degree and so she didn’t list her whole list of worries.

“Why didn’t Spike try and bite anyone?” Willow wanted to know. “Maybe I should just get a spell ready to control him just in case. Or I could cast something like the Prime Directives from Robocop to make everyone behave as usual. Or I could…”

“You will do nothing if you know what is good for you, witch! You are treading a narrow path and the firm I represent has barely been able to keep you off the ‘to be slain’ list for your transgressions.” Zamolxis seemed to gain height and power, his clothes billowing forth from the surges within.

“What the hell is your problem, devil’s advocate? I’m human so don’t fall under your almighty court. And what the hell is wrong with me casting spells?” Willow’s eyes started to have flecks of black swimming in them and her face was distorted in rage. The rest of their audience seemed to disappear from the mind of the enraged redhead as she defended herself.

“You are a child with too much power for your own good. You cast spells without thinking of the consequences of your actions. In your future – our past – your uncontrolled meddling in the laws of nature caused enough harm to damn you to a prison planet. That is if you weren’t already on one.” Bendis had lost all the kindness in her voice and face, becoming even scarier than Buffy in Slayer Mode.

Everyone in the room chimed in at once and the door to the training room banged open letting those who had been listening to everything tumble out. Their curiosity was too much to just stand idle.

“LUATI LOC!” bellowed Zamolxis and everyone save Bendis complied, even though they didn’t understand the command, and took a seat.

“We have no time for this posturing and name calling. You may think you’re smart, but you are here to help us, not misinterpret everything like five-year-olds.” Zamolxis was livid with anger, even though he was delighted inside at the new turn of events. “We will control the effect our presence has on you in time, as we become accustomed to your way of acting and thinking. For the time being, however, you shall have to just be yourselves and endure a bit of honesty for a change. I’m pretty sure it will even do you good to not pretend you’re someone else for a while.” The hostility on the others’ faces did not lessen at his words by much. ‘Let the games begin!’ Zamolxis thought to himself.

“First of all, the reason why Spike hasn’t started either attempting to kill everyone or reverted to his previous human self is the fact that, apart from some things he views as damaging to his image or possible weapons to be used against him, he is who he is. However much he may be in denial about it, he has changed from the bloodthirsty vampire he was to the bloodthirsty vampire he is – just the color and the source of the blood he is shedding has been altered. The change from human to expat targets is now almost ingrained within himself and even without any of you noticing” he continued pointing to Giles, Xander, Buffy and Willow “he has become just as committed to the ‘white hats’, as he calls them, as any of you.”

At Buffy’s disbelieving snort and Spike’s horrified face he went on, “All of you have done things that in your own definition are ‘evil’. And more such things were in your future. If I were to tell you the things you are capable of, you would have nightmares, make no mistake about it. Willow, you are chief amongst the offenders.” This earned a new round of rebuttals from Willow, Buffy and Xander and requests for more information from the rest, Dawn breaking her silence for the first time at that.

“The charges against you are,” Bendis took up the challenge in her best prosecutor voice, “performing magic without a license from the Gods; failing to invoke the protection of said Gods; performing spells without knowledge of their exact consequences; misusing spells for trivial matters; changing the wording and the ingredients without consulting anyone, or researching anything about the possible results of the alterations; performing spells without supervision while still an apprentice; and abusing your power to make others bend to your will. How do you plead?” She silenced everyone except the witch in question by a mere thought.

“What’s the big deal with a few alterations?” Willow’s tone sounded bored, petulant, flippant and belligerent at the same time, grating on everyone’s nerves save Xander, whose loyalty to his friends and innate distrust of demons made him ignorant to the importance of what was being said.

“Are you deluded, little one? Do you know what you have almost caused on numerous occasions? Did a visit by the ruler of the vengeance demons not teach you anything except how to better master your cooking skills? Is Tara’s influence so small that her much more level head cannot bring you down from your delusions of grandeur?” Bendis was incensed. “Let me explain a little something. Every time you cast without invoking the right deities, you allow energies to be used without consent. This lessens the power of the gates to your world – such as the Hellmouth itself – and allows easier access for forces you could not contain even with all the resources of your planet.” With each sentence Willow started to lose a bit of her attitude and became just a little bit more afraid of what was being said. A great incentive to this was the fact that she was unable to move and even speak, despite her almost-complete confidence in her abilities as a witch. It was slowly becoming clear to her that she was in over her head trying to go toe-to-toe with these beings and it was a chilling conclusion.

“The eyes of the Universe are trained on this spinning rock as each world keeps tabs on its expats. Some of these worlds are led by very expansionistic demigods that would like nothing better than to gain complete control over this planet in order to ensure an income based on the reality show that is your lives. Also some of those incarcerated here have friends elsewhere just waiting for some weakness to present itself in order to either take over this place or spring their friends out and cause havoc on others. The path you are on could lead you to become a real member of the expat community and force the active Slayer – whomever she might be at the time, even Buffy – to hunt you down and execute you.”

Willow’s eyes were filled with horror and dismay at the thought, as were Buffy’s and everyone else’s. None of them had seriously thought about spells this way, perhaps save Tara and Anya. The first was amazed that she hadn’t caught on to her lover’s obvious lust for power while the second felt herself vindicated for all the times Xander had taken the witch’s side against her. Spike was shaking his head, thrilled that one of the self-righteous Scoobies was being put down, while at the same time a bit scared of the magnitude of the implications. Giles was mentally kicking himself for not noticing the signs of Willow’s trek along the path he himself had traveled as Ripper. Xander had once had to stake a friend and that memory would haunt him forever, so for him the thought of Buffy being forced to take down Willow was like a punch to the stomach.

“For this alone you deserve punishment, but your later actions would have earned you a place in your fabled Hell. Since here and now those actions are not an issue I will only state that if you do not seek guidance from now on, if you continue to tweak spells without consent and if you ever try to manipulate your friends again – something that is in essence rape, an offense even by human standards – you shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent.” Bendis was cold and uncaring in her warning, her demeanor sending shivers down Willow’s spine.

“Considering the pact now in effect, you will not receive counsel from us, as we ourselves find any and all punishment fitting of your crimes,” Zamolxis felt himself obliged to add with barely disguised malice. Another wave of Bendis’ hand and they were all free to speak. Words, however, eluded them.

“Okay, I want to know what this is all about and I want to know now! Nobody talks about raping my daughter and just leaves me hanging unless they want me kicking their asses,” Joyce fumed in the direction of the two impassive Gods. “And you better have a good explanation, or else.”

“My dear, Joyce, it’s quite simple, really. I thought you knew about the spell Willow performed on Buffy, Xander, Giles and Spike.” Bendis took it upon herself to talk to the distraught woman.

“The one a year ago when I was away?” Joyce questioned. “I’ve been told some things, but apparently some vital information that the mother doesn’t need to know was conveniently overlooked. And don’t you think I haven’t noticed,” she added looking straight at her daughter’s guilty looking face.

‘I knew why I liked that woman! She could guilt the Slayer into anything, I’d wager. Well, just as long as she’s kept away from axes that is.’ Spike mused to himself.

“My dear, some things were omitted for your own protection. There wasn’t a need to concern you with…” Giles started only to be cut off by Joyce’s death glare.

“You, mister, still owe me presents, dinner and a show“ Joyce accused. “So quit while you’re ahead!”

“Mom,” Buffy began to whine. “Don’t talk about Giles that way, you’re being affected by magic.”

“You,” she spat out, rounding on her daughter, “are not too old to be grounded, young lady, especially now that you’re back under my roof.” Joyce’s tone brooked no argument. “If these people are telling the truth, and as far as I can see they have so far, then the relationship between Rupert and me is something we truly want and not open for discussion.” At Giles’ cocky look, she decided to bring him down a notch. “If, that is, he can get his head out of his ass and do it properly.”

“I promise you, my dear, we’ll discuss this at length and I’m sure we’ll get to a pleasurable understanding,” Giles purred, his voice more in line with Ripper than the reserved Watcher the Scoobies all recognized.

“Ewwww! Moooooom, impressionable teen here!” Dawn felt the need to add, but shut up at her mother’s glare. ‘No way am I getting grounded! Shutting up now.’

‘So the old sod is putting the moves on the Slayer’s mum. Chip or no, if he treats her bad, he’s in for a beating. Ripper looks like a right interesting bloke, though.’ Spike settled in for what looked like more entertainment. He wished he could have a fag, but even the more laid back Joyce and Ripper probably wouldn’t go for it. So, he sprawled more in the chair, a smirk firmly plastered on his face.

“So,” Joyce ignored everyone else’s splutter and directed her best “mom” look on the two Gods, “you were saying?”

“Well,” Bendis took up the challenge, unconcerned at the interrupting outburst, “when that spell was performed, your daughter and Spike were thrown into a union that neither consciously wished at the time. They believed they were engaged to be married, and only Spike’s Victorian upbringing prevented him from taking his wife to bed.”

‘Bugger, these gits know something. At least Joyce and the others didn’t catch on. And that look of gratitude from the Slayer's mum is almost worth it even if they did.’ With that, Spike made a mental note to try and find out more from the two.

“So. it is the Evil Dead we should be putting on trial, not Willow. He was pawing at our Buffster.”

“Oi, I was a bloody gentleman with the chit. Could have had my way with your lily white Slayer then and none ‘f you gits would have been able to say a bloody thing about it, us bein’ engaged and all.” ‘The Whelp seems jealous and belligerent. So, this is what he’s hiding? Doing a piss-poor job at it, he is.’

“Precisely,” Bendis spoke over the angry retorts from Xander directed at Spike, “if Spike would have done what was within his rights to do, none of you would have had a basis to condemn him. So, who would you have blamed for the fact that the Slayer would have had unwanted sex? The other unwilling participant, as much a victim as her, or would the one behind it all have gotten the blame? Knowing you, Spike would have been dusted and Willow would have walked away without a reprimand, at the very least.”

“Hey, that’s…” Xander tried to intervene again only to be cut off.

“And don’t attempt to say that wouldn’t have been the case! You, Xander, tried to actually rape her and nobody called you on it!” Zamolxis just had to add.

“Oh, my God!” Buffy choked out.

Spike vamped out for a moment, fast enough that only a few of those present caught the change, then struggled to regain his composure. ‘Bloody buggering git, he almost what? And me without an invite to his new cave-in-the-wall. He’ll pay for it; I’ll make bloody well sure of it!’

Meanwhile, Joyce leaned across the table, not even thinking about the fact that she was free to get up again, the compulsion to remain in her seat replaced by white hot rage. She grabbed the front of Xander’s shirt and slapped him hard with her other hand. “What did you do? How dare you enter my home after that? Who did you think you were? You had no right! Be glad I don’t have a knife handy!” With each couple of words she said, Joyce slapped a stunned Xander again and again.

Buffy finally caught her mother’s hands getting her off him. “He didn’t manage to do it. I stopped him, mom! He was possessed at the time and he doesn’t even remember it.”

“Actually, that is false.” Bendis stated this looking straight into Xander’s horror-filled eyes. “He was possessed, indeed, but he does remember everything he did.” She moved to hold the shell-shocked Slayer in her gaze and continued. “The Hyena Spirit, not unlike the Vampire Demon that overtakes the human body, did not kill off the personality or desires of the human it inhabited. What it did do was free him from human morality and allowed him to give in to his baser impulses.” At Joyce’s new move to pummel Xander, she raised a hand and spoke again. “That is not to say that Xander’s deepest desire was to rape Buffy, but it does mean that his deepest desire was to bed her nonetheless. The warped sense of right and wrong only made him force past where he would have stopped as himself.”

“But,” Buffy turned accusing eyes on Giles, who had lost almost all his cockiness and was looking very contrite, “you said he didn’t remember. Did you know?”

“I did.” Giles whispered his confession, not even daring to look either Summers’ woman in her eyes. “I knew he remembered his actions, but I considered it to be inconsequential. He was not in control at the time and I made the decision to hide this from you in order to spare you the emotional pain.”

“Both of you need to reassess your relationship to the Slayer.” Zamolxis decided to jump into the fray again to ensure things were going the way he wanted them to. “Giles, you have wronged her, but, to your defense, you actually thought you were doing what was best. Remember your human saying, though: ‘the road to Hell is paved with good intentions’. Make sure you do not fail your Slayer so again. The next mistake might cost you something so great you would be more willing to pay with your life than have it taken from you.” The God looked straight into the shaken Watcher’s eyes.

“You dared try to be with me having this secret about my daughter on your conscience?” Joyce was seething with anger towards her would-be suitor.

“With your help, he could become what he should have been: a helpful father-figure for your daughter. You must help him overcome his training and fulfill his potential. You can ensure he will not fail her again!” Bendis once more tried to diffuse the escalading tension. “As for you,” she continued turning towards Xander again, “there are many things you need to change. Your prejudice against expats, your unwillingness to understand the one you’re sharing a bed with, your unhealthy obsession towards the Slayer.”

“But I have…” Xander was at a loss for words, looking for support amongst his friends and finding none.

“You, Whelp, and you, Watcher, listen closely. This chip will not work forever, we all know this. And even if it does, you hurt the girl again and you WILL learn why I am called Spike, bugger the consequences!” The calm and cold way in which Spike spoke, with a determination that none had truly seen since his unchipped days, chilled the two recipients of his glare to the bone.

Buffy was startled at the hatred she could see burning behind his ice-cold eyes. ‘What does it matter to him? What happened to Spike lately? Oh, the Gods are… No! Spike cannot be like this deep down! Can he?’

“What’s your interest with my daughter’s well being, Spike?” Joyce asked in a soothing voice, the same tone she used on her daughters to catch them when they tried to hide something.

Without thinking, Spike answered, “I love her, mum, and I always protect the ones I love!” As his words registered inside his brain, his eyes widened and he locked gazes with the reeling Slayer. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, love, but it’s the truth. I’m not asking for anythin’, just that you accept it and let me continue to be there for you. As I told you, love, all we ever did was dance. Well, the dance has led me here and if you could tell me that there may be a chance in the future…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, overwhelmed by his own momentous admission and he mentally cursed at the two Gods responsible for bringing his feelings out in the open. He tried to prepare himself for another rejection, the only thing he could possibly expect from yet another unattainable woman he managed to fall in love with.

The only sound that could be heard for the next few minutes as all eyes were turned to the vampire that had just revealed his hand and heart was Dawn’s muffled squeal. As the tension became uncomfortable, everyone waited for Buffy’s answer and the two Gods exchanged knowing looks. For a brief moment, Willow’s eyes turned black again, but a frown from Bendis froze her in her place, something that didn’t escape Tara’s attention.

Buffy was shell-shocked. Spike’s declaration had come… not out of the blue actually. Looking in retrospect, the signs were there, if one just took the time to look closely. His little speech in the alley after he’d told her of his Slayer kills was just the latest in a series of things pointing in the direction of Spike having fallen for her. The question though, was what was her stance on it?

Had this happened before the Gods came along she could admit she’d probably acted all grossed out and ewey and probably would have done a disinvite from her home.

But would that be the truth or just a sham she’d put on for others? Considering she felt no inclination to do any of those things, the answer was blatantly obvious: it would be acting. Apparently acting was something she had become proficient at. And the god’s weird auras were causing some heavy-duty introspection.

She had to admit to herself how much she enjoyed bantering with Spike, fighting with and against him, his uncanny ability to cut through layers and layers of masks and call one out on the inner workings of one’s brain. He’d used his knowledge to almost bring the Scoobies to their knees for Adam, to cut with his tongue when he was unable to physically fight. In the same position, she’d have done the same.

So what did she feel about him loving her? She could have said he was incapable of love, had the same thing that was preventing her from her usual denial not had the same obvious effect on him. He was truly in love with her, apparently. So what did she feel about it?

Buffy looked deep into the eyes of her former mortal enemy. What she saw there made her lose focus of anyone else in the room and just concentrate on the one that had laid his heart out on a platter for her. “Spike. You once gave a speech about love,” she smiled wistfully at the memory and continued, “and I didn’t want to hear it at the time. Now you spring this on me. I haven’t even been broken up with Riley for a day now and…”

She took a deep breath and sighed heavily trying to put things she wasn’t sure of herself into words. “Look, you’re hot; we’ve kissed before and it was, well, great; and I’ve seen you love. She was a complete ho-bag, but you were so devoted. And Harm better be history or I’ll be very pissed. And you don’t want a pissed-off Slayer on your ass, mister!” She had a determined look to her, eyes flashing murder at the thought of the previous women in her vampire’s life. ‘My vampire. Sounds right!’

“What are you saying, luv?” Spike was weary of hoping, but if he understood her ramblings correctly… Could it be?

“I’m saying that it’s too early for me to… We’ll talk about this later,” she said, startled when she seemed to notice for the first time where they were and who was watching, “and in private!” She gave a pointed look to her sister who was beaming a megawatt smile, the bubbly happiness so evident on her face that it was hard to keep a stern face. The others were either subdued or benevolent in their countenance so she relaxed as if after great exertion.

Spike was stunned, halfway between believing he was still asleep and wanting to jump up and down howling with glee. He settled for leering at her, tucking his tongue between his teeth and winking. “Whenever and wherever you want, luv!”

“This reminds me,” Anya cut in the somewhat awkward moment the rest of the people present were experiencing, “if there are no demons, just expats, where does the soul-less part of the vampire descriptions fall in? There is a clear difference between Angelus and Angel and the original Liam. So what happened to them? And would this make the rest stop looking down at Spike for not having a soul?” Her earnest question caught many of those present off-guard.

Buffy, more than anyone wanted the answer to those questions, especially since she had a feeling that the answers from these gods would bear great importance on her future with Spike.

“Funny you should ask, Anya,” Zamolxis was pleased at the way things were going and so his voice was smooth and charming, “I was just about to start talking about that before that whole nasty business with the meat-for-brains.” Chuckles were heard from everyone save Buffy at the description. “The story is a rather convoluted one, so if everyone will take their seats and promise to let me finish I shall proceed.”

Despite the blatant show of ignorance at the fact that they had been forced to sit still and listen to the gods’ accusations towards Willow, the humans and the vampire nodded in acceptance. At this Bendis sent them all a reassuring smile as Zamolxis seemed to take a second to compose himself.

“The story begins at the end of the last one, really.” He winked at them and tapped the Draco imprinted on the collar of his leather jacket. “After the werewolf debacle, things were no better off for the humans of this world. Guardians were still needed to keep expats in line, or so the Powers argued.” At Bendis’ scowl, he chuckled low in his throat and continued the tale with a flourish.

“You see, they claimed the disaster was entirely because of the wolf-spirit’s baser instincts taking over the human intellect, small as it was back then, and making the empowered ones mindless animals.” He waved a hand dismissively at this. “Leave it to the Prosecution to get their facts wrong and blame the poor expats.”

Sending a cheeky grin towards an ever-increasingly thunderous Bendis, he continued his story. “So they changed tactics, you see. They took the essence of an extinct race of expats and merged it with what they deemed to be the best and brightest.” He snorted as if to underline his low opinion of the plan. “So they took some of the greatest warriors and chieftains that humanity had to offer and imbued them with mystical powers to make them better warriors. How did they do that, you might ask. Why, very simple. It involved an initial ritual, involving 15 very powerful champions. They were basically transformed into half-expats.”

He took a deep breath and modulated his voice to resemble a narrator on one of the Discovery Channel documentaries as he went on. “They were built for stealth and hunting. Most of the systems that could have given them away were repressed. Even their heart was stopped to prevent them from being betrayed by the sound of its beating. Enhanced night-vision and the ability to grow fangs and claws at will completed the package.” He smirked as his words made the desired connections inside the heads of the people gathered there. Spike was slack-jawed and the others were looking at him with a hint of wonder in their eyes.

Before anyone could get out of their stupor and interrupt him with questions that would just lengthen his story, Zamolxis started speaking again. “The initial fifteen were called Maestri Vampiri and their offspring, or Childer as you would call them today, were called Vampiri.” Holding up a hand to stall the questions threatening to spill from everyone’s lips, he added more information in a calm tone. “They were deemed perfect for the job and, taking in consideration everything, for a while they were.”

“Until they started snacking on the populace, right?” Xander snarked.

“Your opinion was not asked for and you were told to stay your questions. As usual, you’re not that good at taking orders from the ones superior to yourself, are you?” Zamolxis shot the still sulking young man down again. “Regardless, the blood was a tribute freely given by the tribes to their champions. You see, the demon essence did not replace the person it inhabited, the consciousness and memories of the turned ones were still present. Their ties with their human families were exceptionally strong back then. Also, they were dependant on the tribe’s well being to survive, by having to drink the donated blood – also a method of uniting with their tribe in an almost sacred ritual.” Zamolxis was looking at each participant in turn as he spoke, searching deep within their eyes for any sign that his words had the desired impact.

“The details are unimportant; however you must know that it all worked quite well for centuries. Nevertheless, as you might have guessed something went wrong. At one point, some of the group became disgruntled. They were swayed by the words of some of the expats they were watching and hunting. They had problems at home, loved ones dying and such. Anyway, the reasons are both somewhat unclear and irrelevant. What is relevant is the result.”

He looked straight into the eyes of Spike as he continued his story. “There was a civil war amongst the Vampiri clans. The renegades were allied with the expats while the ones faithful to the old ways had precious little help from the human populace and some of the ‘tamer’ expat races. As you can imagine, the faithful were decimated. In fact, the rout was so complete that only one was left by the end of the last battle. She was one of the original fifteen and, as such, of considerable power and knowledge.”

He turned his penetrating gaze towards Buffy, whose eyes had grown large, betraying the rapid-fire thoughts warring inside her reeling mind. “She had been one of those responsible for the spell to make the sunlight harmful to vampires. So as Amara lay dying,” the name drew a collective gasp from the Scoobies, who were very familiar with it, “she transferred her essence, expat and human alike, to her favorite human, the one she was grooming to become a Childe. Aided by her personal servants, she made Sineya the First Slayer, giving her everything.”

“NO!” Buffy shouted, rising from her chair and backing up while shaking her head.

“I knew it! You’re just here to twist Buffy’s mind, you’re just…” Xander didn’t get to finish as Willow attempted once again to regain her control.

“I command thee…” the rest of her words died out in a gurgle as Bendis and Tara both threw her scalding looks and the goddess silenced her with a thought.

Anya stated commenting about the human / non-human ratio and the benefits of having an expat background to fall back upon, while Giles tried to get more answers from Zamolxis.


As the pandemonium created by the god’s words raged on, Spike, Joyce and Dawn approached the skittish Slayer, who had entered a state of shock. She was repeating “No” over and over, while Joyce and Dawn hugged her tight and Spike tried to reassure her about her goodness.

“You’re the best bloody white hat there is. Who cares what some chit did eons ago, you’re your mum’s daughter and that doesn’t change by being Called. The whole lot of them are lucky to have you as the Slayer. And whatever they say, the Slayer’s a bloody Champion!”

Inside, Spike was torn. He’d never known about this story. Nobody he knew had, in fact. So inside him something was initially a servant of Good. And he and the Slayer were closer than either had ever imagined. He took a second to snicker about him being called a traitor by the other expats. In fact, he was apparently just reverting to his original intended purpose. Bloody Hell! Seeing the Slayer in such a state of shock though took prevalence in his mind, so he focused solely on comforting her.


Bendis approached Tara and started speaking to her in a hushed voice. “The red witch is powerful, we know that. She has done wondrous things and her future would have had her do a lot more. However not all powerful things are good, as you well know.” At Tara’s flinch, she put her hands on the young wicca’s shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes. “There are many things that will happen and you can help tremendously, despite some mishaps that you have had in the past. We need you, all of you. And what I need you to do is very important.”

“What’s that?” Tara was surprised at her lack of stutter but considered it to be another one of the god’s ways of influencing people.

“I will take you to a place that has been hidden for millennia. It holds one of the last ones to remember the faces of both Sineya and Amara.” Bendis smiled encouragingly at Tara’s gasp. “She has much to teach you. And together you will help your lover overcome her lust for a power that does not belong to her. She has the potential for much grander things, if she can just let go of her selfishness.”

“I’ll learn. I’ll do whatever I have to.” The usually reserved woman squared her shoulders, ready to take on any responsibility that meant helping the ones she cared about.

“We shall go there tomorrow, when the sun is highest. Be prepared and tell no-one, as the things you are to learn are for your ears only until the time is right for the others to know.” With those words, the goddess left Tara to contemplate on what was to change and made her way to the Summers’ women.


Meanwhile Zamolxis was left to deal with the combined forces of the Scoobies as they tried to dispute the things being said or gather more information. However entertaining he found chaos, some of their whining, as well as the level of obtuseness shown by the young male especially, was starting to grate on his nerves.

“You can deny all you want, but the facts remain the same.” He stated for what seemed like the tenth time in the last couple of minutes.

“The Watchers’ Council has never revealed anything that would corroborate your statements, nor has anything we have found even remotely hinted at anything of the like being true. Even Anya with her centuries of experience hasn’t heard anything of this.” Giles was torn between being outraged and inappropriately delighted at the revelations. If all of this was true, he was the first Watcher to learn the truth since the beginnings of the Slayers and the rogue inside of him was pleased by the overturn of the situation.

“You’re casting spells on us, you’re restraining us and we should believe you?” Xander fumed again.

“If we had wanted any of you dead you would already have ceased to exist. We don’t want to harm you; on the contrary, we want to rectify some wrongdoings that could mean something akin to an apocalypse in not only this dimension, but many others as well. Just think about it, you and hundreds of other Xanders throughout the Universe all dead because you choose to ignore our warning. Moreover, not just you. Everyone you care about, everyone you have ever cared about and everyone else in countless worlds dead because you found some truths too hard to swallow.”

Zamolxis pinned him with a cold stare that promised fire and brimstone. “What we have told you since the beginning has all been meant to help you, not destroy your unity or anything of the sort. Do you remember when Spike almost broke your group up at the end of Adam’s reign of terror? He did it by playing with your insecurities, your deepest desires and your half-truths. Had he been truly gunning for your destruction, you would all be dead now. Keeping things hidden will do nothing but allow the next expat to actually pull it off.”

He got a sardonic look on his face as he explained things another way. “Imagine if Dracula, for example, had learned of your attempted rape. He already knew you were filled with lustful thoughts towards the Slayer, that being the reason why you succumbed to his thrall so easily. Had he known everything, Buffy would have already been turned and the world would be a very different place.”

“Well if what you say is correct, the Slayer being turned would mostly be her reverting to a previous state, would it not?” Giles wanted this issue clarified.


Bendis made her way over to Joyce’s side and started talking to the three members of the Summers’ clan. “I am sorry that the news we have imparted has had such an effect on you, child.” She said as she ran her fingers down the Slayer’s cheek.

“Is it true? What you said, is it true? Is my daughter possessed by some mystical thing from centuries ago?” Joyce asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. However, Buffy, can you hear me?” She looked deep into the unresponsive Slayer’s eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are not a demon. You are surrounded by the supernatural every day; your normal is so much different than the rest of humanity’s normal. You have friends that number witches, vampires, former demons and the people that hunt them. Is the fact that you are different than you envisioned that difficult to accept?”

Seeing a flicker of understanding in the girl’s eyes, she continued her coaxing, “You are the Chosen One, you protect all the world from becoming an expat playground, so why do you care where your powers derive from so much? In addition, Amara was goodness personified. She was kind; she was wise beyond comparison in those times; she had power the likes of which have seldom been seen on this planet, but never let it corrupt her; she was revered by her tribe and considered the greatest champion for humankind before her fall and the Council’s decision to expunge all records of her.”

Seeing that Buffy was slowly pulling herself out of her dark place, she decided to throw caution to the wind and explain more, “She was a teacher, a leader and she even had a daughter before she was Called. Sineya was her direct descendant, in fact. Why would your connection to such a great warrior for the side of what you call ‘good’ make you any lesser than you are? Snap out of it and accept your heritage. The same heritage that her former servants, the ancestors of the current Council tried to keep hidden from what they saw as ‘their slayers’ in order to make them more malleable.”

As the Slayer came back from her catatonic state, the next words Bendis spoke woke her up completely. “The Council tried to kill you in order to keep you from this secret, as they have done to Slayers throughout the years. Why would you allow their teachings to pollute your mind?”

“So if I’m related to vam…” She was cut off when she heard Giles’ question to Zamolxis, so she pinned the male god with her still teary but determined gaze and asked as well, “So if I were to be turned, what exactly would happen?”

Once again silence reigned throughout the Magic Box. Joyce idly wondered if that was how every meeting took place when a new threat to humanity was discovered. Probably not. She did note the look of apprehension on Spike’s face, though. Apparently he wasn’t too fond of the idea of her daughter being turned, despite the revelations. Good! She concentrated on Zamolxis again as he prepared to respond the question he’d been asked.

“As always, there is yet more background to reveal before I can answer.” After a groan of protest from Xander, for which he was scolded by Anya, he continued, “After the Corruption, the name the civil war amongst the Vampiri was given, vamps lessened, for lack of a better word, in humanity. Their demons started dictating more and more what the newly-turned individuals did, the people turned weren’t privy to the old tales of Vampiri champions anymore, so the newly risen vampires thought of themselves as evil, not knowing any better.”

“Right, not knowing sucking people’s blood is wrong is so common,” Xander just couldn’t help the snark. Again, Anya elbowed him and then she shook her head almost in defeat.

“Grow up, Xander and stop the bigotry, or you’ll find yourself having orgasms only with the magazines you have under the tools in the utility closet.” The former expat glared at her boyfriend and crossed her arms over her chest. “You knew rape was wrong but still tried it, didn’t you?” A part of her relished the way he flinched every time the event recently made public knowledge was mentioned.

The two gods exchanged a brief look of approval. Apparently Anya knew just how often to use the attempted violation, like one used a rod on an unruly child in times past. Too much and the effect is lost, too little and the point isn’t made, just the right amount of times and wrong intentions are curbed.

“Exactly!” Zamolxis drew attention to himself again. “First of all, remember that cannibalism was only extinguished amongst humans about 40 years ago, or so the official reports say. Back then, finding nourishment wherever and whenever you could was pretty common. So, young people, coming from communities that related all their knowledge without writing and most of them turned before reaching maturity by any standards, had to be taught by the other vampires how to behave.”

He looked at Spike with intent as he said this, knowing his history all too well. “To integrate, they had to learn to fight, kill and torture their human victims. Failure to be evil meant torture at the hands of the other expats and vamps and being left for the sun.” He looked at all around him, challenging them to deny his words again.

“But what of their souls, wouldn’t they have encumbered them in their swathe of bloodshed?” Giles wanted to clarify this once and for all in his mind, although he could already see where it was all going. Bloody brilliant that is, too.

“Souls?” Zamolxis snorted. “Souls are possessed by serial killers, pedophiles, rapists, dictators and the like; human souls, 100% pure by the Council’s teachings. How exactly are they pure?” He all but growled the next words. “The filth of humanity surpassed anything any expat ever did. Humans such as Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin and Torquemada, to name just a few of the most famous ones, have killed more humans than all the expats who were their contemporaries put together. So how much do souls really count for, hmm?”

After allowing them a few moments to absorb his words, things he considered clear as day and yet seemed to be news to the Scoobies, he continued his tirade, “So yes, the vampires still possessed human souls within them. They still have them to this day.”

“Bugger me, that’s rich! You meanin’ I’m no better than the Great Poofter, then? Not bloody likely!” Spike interjected.

“Are all humans alike? No! So why would you think all expats or even worse, all vampires are alike? They each have their own personalities, such as their respective species permit. Vampires, however have warring personalities: expat and human, derived from their human souls and expat spirit. Because of the Corruption, however, the expat part has grown in power throughout history, becoming stronger than the human side, to the point that they began to be considered ‘soulless’. To an extent, that is true, as many relinquish all ties to their humanity.”

He turned to the Slayer now, finally able to answer her question with a chance she could fully understand. “If a Slayer were turned, she’d become a Vampir of old, but with a double dose of expat and a double dose of humanity. Remember, Amara transferred both sides of her to Sineya. The few times such a thing was attempted, the newly risen Vampir went berserk, unable to process what had happened. Their essences fought within them until, ultimately, they all greeted the sun, killing whomever they came across, be it expats, vampires or humans.”

“No!” Buffy was on the brink of another cataleptic fit at the news.

“It wouldn’t happen to you, though.” Bendis’ statement froze everyone in their tracks again. “Amara’s essence has passed on to the next Slayer: Kendra and Faith after her. You are the new one, the first one of the new breed.”

“So… what? Should I join the circus?” Buffy asked with a crooked smile on. “Come and see the amazing new breed, sooo much different than the old one,” she sing-songed the pretend catchphrase, a hand twirling through the air.

“It means that you are neither Slayer, nor Buffy. Once you died at the hands of the Master and were resurrected, something that has never happened before, you were forever changed. Your power split from that of the initial spell, making you unique. You are you, there is no conflict within you except between accepting that which you are and clinging to a futile dream of being some vacuous youth, only interested in fashion, boys and fun. Is that truly your ideal of normal?” Bendis smirked at this, the thought seeming to entertain her greatly.

“No. I just want to… I mean… GAH! I just wanted to…” Buffy pouted, not able to defend her rapidly fading dream of “normal” in front of the candid face of the goddess in front of her. “This isn’t fair.” She crossed her arms across her chest and took the pose of a spoilt child denied candy.

“You are so much more and have the potential to be even more than that. And if you were turned, you would probably be able to either control the, well, demon by facing it head on and accepting the changes within you, or you would be subdued by your own fears and misconceptions. It would all depend on you and your confidence in yourself. And therein lays the problem,” Bendis said, her eyes saddened when she got to the last sentence, as if memories of some great sorrow were plaguing her.

“What’s wrong?” Joyce wanted to know. She had the distinct impression she wasn’t going to like the next part one bit. The male god once again took center stage.

“The thing is, Joyce, that some of the events we’re here to rectify have something to do with exactly that: what happens to a turned Slayer.” He turned accusing eyes on Willow again, making sure she noticed it before he spoke. “At some point, a witch decided to play God, creating an army of Slayers, using both the old and new branches. The result was unforeseen, both by the Powers as well as ourselves. During the final confrontation in LA which I already told you about, some new Slayers were turned. The resulting hybrids, untrained, unknowing of lore and custom, either killed themselves to ‘protect the innocent’,” he spat the words out like they burned him, “or were killed by their comrades in arms, or became the chieftains of the greatest expat army ever seen.”

Gasps of horror were heard from almost everyone. Despite knowing the war had been big enough to warrant the return in time of two such obviously powerful agents, the news that turned Slayers headed the rampaging army that burned its way across dimensions was like a punch in the gut.

“So what does this have to do with Buffy? She’s the new branch, isn’t she?” Joyce clutched her daughter even tighter in her embrace, her heart breaking at the quiet sobs tearing through the frightened Slayer.

“Due to some other events we are here to prevent, her strength of spirit was all but crushed on a number of occasions. Suffice it to say that she was unable to stop things going from bad to catastrophic.” Zamolxis locked eyes with the cowering Slayer, his words burning deep within her. “Stop crying for failures that could have been and become what you should be. Accept who and what you are and everything will work itself out.”

“Listen here you bloody wanker,” Spike grabbed Zamolxis by the throat in a vice-like grip that didn’t seem to phase the higher being, “lay off the chit. She’s the best there is. The best there ever was, I’d wager, even better than that Amara bint you seem so fond of. She’ll fight and she’ll win ‘cause that’s what she does.”

“I know.” Zamolxis said, not even bothering to remove the hand squeezing his neck. “That’s why we’re here, to give her the knowledge she needs to prevent and defeat the threat.”

“How do I do it?” Buffy’s steely voice was no less scary even with tears still streaming down her face. “How do I not lead their army?” At Bendis’ startled look, she chuckled darkly, a sound that was in no way related to happiness. “You’re not as cryptic as you thought, are you? I’m the one leading the Turned Slayer Army, aren’t I? I’m the reason you’re back, to stop me from going rogue.” She fixed her eyes on Zamolxis, who had removed Spike’s slack hand from his throat. “What do you want from me?” As she said this, she got out of her shocked mother’s embrace and took menacing steps towards the snickering deity.

“I always knew you were smart, Buffy, make no mistake,” the god replied warmly, addressing her like a friend. “The reasons for your fall and the future turn events took are numerous, however I cannot disclose some of them, as they aren’t going to happen this time around. What you need to do… we’ll get to that soon. Before that, there are some things still to be discussed.”

Buffy got right in his face as he spoke, however Zamolxis didn’t back down or show any fear, just a welcoming smile. “You are so much closer to defeating your own demons than you would have been without our presence. That is what is required of you: to stop being afraid of being the Slayer.”

Buffy snorted at this. “I’m not afraid of being the Slayer. I just want to be a girl sometimes, too.”

“That’s bollocks, that is. You are a girl, what with your frilly clothes, exploding temper and tenacity at finding wankers to date. And as for being afraid… Hell, Slayer, you feel so guilty about enjoying a good scrape with the… expats you meet it’s not even funny. Admit it, you love being what you are and enjoy it!” Spike made his point in his usual manner, pointing exactly to where there was a sore until the person targeted couldn’t ignore it any longer and had to deal with it.

“That has always been a problem, hasn’t it?” Zamolxis spoke up again, tag-teaming with Spike against Buffy. “That is what brought you down. You just shut down, unwilling to admit that you had been turned, unwilling to face the consequences and horrified at what you were supposed to do as a vampire. So in doing it, you allowed the demon free reign, becoming something so twisted that it warped reality.” His entire countenance was somber as he relayed his message. “Losing loved ones does a lot of damage to one’s inner strength. By the time you were turned, you had almost no fight left in you.”

“Who?” Buffy dreaded to find out, but if she was going to be prepared to overcome this, she needed all the info she could get.

“Nobody, if we have any say in it!” Bendis stepped behind Buffy, caressing her shoulders gently and turning her around. “That’s one of the things we’re here to do. Ensure that nobody else dies.” Buffy nodded her acquiescence, realizing for the first time that she was glad these gods had shown up. The thought was a sobering one.

“Still, what about Angel’s supposed soul? It is very rude not to answer questions, you know that?” Once again, Anya had the dubious pleasure of breaking up an awkward moment with her question about Buffy’s “soulmate”.

“He was a poor excuse for a human, a perfect specimen of a sadistic vampire, although fighting was never really his forte, and is now a tortured being seeking escape.” Zamolxis didn’t spare a second in giving his verdict.

“Escape from what, the threat that gel wouldn’t hold up his hair anymore?” Spike snorted in derision.

Even Buffy barely contained a guffaw at the vampire’s verbal antics. Especially with the eager and questioning expression he had on.

“Well…” Zamolxis said with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “as catastrophic as that might be, no, that isn’t what he’s trying to break free from.” Turning serious he continued his lecture on the things that this group was supposed to know, “Actually he himself isn’t aware of it, but what he’s trying to escape is the forced-upon conscience.”

“You mean the Gipsy curse.” Giles was particularly curious about the answer to this line of questioning. Sensing the elderly Brit’s distress, Joyce decided to let Buffy be comforted by Dawn, Spike and Bendis and moved next to the man she intended to create room in her life for and placed her hands on his left forearm. With a tight smile and a curt nod, Giles placed his right palm over her hands.

“The curse was inexact, due to the fact that so much knowledge had been lost. However, it seems that someone deemed it appropriate to answer the request in the spirit in which it was made.” He flashed a quick look towards Bendis, so quick that none of the humans present caught it. “There is a philosophical debate throughout the Court as to whom it was exactly that did it, but the effect was clear. Since his turning, the human part had been standing back, allowing the demon full control. That human part was redoubled in strength and purged of evil intent.”

He looked all around at the pensive faces before him, chuckled and continued, “You don’t grasp the energy required to do such a thing, but-”

“I know exactly what was needed. I performed the spell the second time, didn’t I? So you can-” Willow was cut short by Bendis just as she’d interrupted Zamolxis herself.

“We can tell you that you had some very serious help. Changing the balance of human and demon, something that hasn’t been done since the Corruption, would take about as much power as to create a Slayer Army. And trust me, half the deities helped create that.” She was getting tired of the upstart witch.

“But I was-” Willow once again didn’t get to finish her outraged spluttering.

“You nothing! You forget it takes the invocation of the gods and goddesses to perform even the simplest healing spell.” Bendis looked at Tara, gaining her support in a fraction of a second and then turned her gaze to Willow.

“Sweetie, listen to what she has to say, you know it’s true.” The gentle witch tried to soothe her distressed lover. “We have power of our own, but without the guidance and help of the gods, we wouldn’t be able to control anything. That’s why we have to thank the gods for their help after every spell.”

“Not that the witch named Willow is in the habit of actually thanking the higher ups, is she?” Zamolxis felt the need to hammer the point home. “I mean, why should you, oh, powerful one!” the god continued to mock her. “You need to learn the length of your nose.” At the blank faces around him he shrugged and said almost sheepishly “Romanian saying meaning someone should know their worth… or lack thereof.”

“What about ANGEL?” Giles bellowed, wanting the matter clarified once and for all. “Is he…” He couldn’t continue his sentence, the memory of a candle-lit bedroom with a dead body in his bed overwhelming him. Joyce kissed him lightly on the cheek, lending him the strength he needed to compose himself somewhat.

“Angel’s demon is restrained, but not subdued. His human part is without evil intent, but not unlike the haughty, know-it-all Irishman he used to be. He needs control and better yet, someone to control him.” Bendis spoke clearly, her eyes softening at the sight of the former Watcher’s distress. “There is one that could do it, but things have to go the right way for that to happen. Right now his human part, Liam, is almost deluded as to its mission while the demon, Angelus, uses any slip to gather its strength while attempting to corrupt Liam again. The resulting conflicted and brooding being is Angel.”

“So who gets to control Deadboy?” Xander asked, feeling that he should at least be able to get away with nicknaming Angel, if so many other things were taken out of his grasp.

“The Giant Forehead himself? Controlled? What, you lot plan on getting Darla back? Only that ol’ trollop could make him run through hoops.” Seeing the slightly uncomfortable look on Zamolxis’ face, Spike felt all the borrowed blood running through his veins rush to his head in a murderous rage. “You bloody idiots! What the bleeding fuck were you thinking? That diseased whore should stay dust.”

“What are you saying, Spike?” Xander wanted so bad to believe that this was all just a bad dream that he, despite himself, stopped caring that he was addressing a vampire and just saw another male member of the group. The slip startled him.

“Why don’t we let Loki here tell everyone what exactly Hell’s lawyers decided to do.” His fists clenched, Spike’s ice cold eyes pinned the male god with outrage.

“It wasn’t me exactly. Some of the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart decided to get rid of Angel’s soul. Their estimate was that their best bet, as they were unable to get Buffy to do it, was to resurrect Darla and have her do it. Their plan failed.”

“Failed as in poof, I have dust on my shoes or failed as in she’s back and she’s useless. Define failed before I pick one and beat you senseless with it, almighty as you might be.” Buffy by now had bounced back and forth between despair and anger so often that not even she could tell which was which.

“Failed as in they managed to make her human and had her sleeping with Angel.” A fresh wave of gasps followed every revelation. “He was… is tricked into believing he’s dreaming the encounters. By the time he finds out the truth, it’s too late to save her human form.” He looked pointedly at Spike.

“I did say diseased.” The vampire just shrugged his shoulders then thought better of it and decided to expand. “Syphilis, if Dru remembered correctly. Barmy as she was, it’s questionable, but there must’ve been some truth there.”

“She was right, at least in this.” Bendis replied.

Despite his hatred of the vampire that killed his first best friend, Xander felt a pang of compassion, remembering his own experience with the debilitating disease. On top of that he was getting a mild headache from all the changes he had to accustom himself to: vampires weren’t always evil; Spike in love with Buffy and her telling him he had a chance with her; Darla now human; Anya… He caught sight of Anya looking at him in that special way of hers. The warmth he felt was unmistakable and, unable to delude himself any longer, he knew he would have to make some changes in his views if he didn’t want to lose her. And he didn’t.

“So she dies. Tell me I don’t have to save her.” Spike considered Buffy’s whining adorable in this situation. Bloody hell, she’s pouting!

“No, Slayer, you don’t have to save her.” Zamolxis laughed silently to himself at Spike’s glazed over eyes. “But Angel’s… Handler will have to deal with the aftermath and you’ll all have to help her.” Silent chuckles greeted the new Dune reference.

“So, who is the unfortunate creature cursed with herding Angel about?” Xander was on a roll and apparently nobody was admonishing him for it. Ah, good times!

“One Cordelia Chace.” The female divinity answered in a flat voice.

Xander was doubled over with uncontrollable laughter. Giles was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face and Spike was leaning backwards in his chair in such a manner he was dangerously close to toppling as his entire body shook with the force of his mirth. Even the sterner Joyce and the more subdued Willow snickered in derision, while all Buffy could do was blink.


“Cordy? The Cordy we all loved to hate back in high-school? The same Cordy who thought I was deranged for getting involved with a vampire and then moved away as fast as she could to escape Sunnydale? That Cordy?” Her mind refused to process the information at hand.


“She was very inventive with her wish-making, even though it cost me my powers. I can see how someone as ruthless as her could control one of the most sadistic vampires to ever walk the earth.” Anya appeared pensive for a second before continuing with her usual matter-of-fact tone, “I think their coupling would produce many orgasms, so the ‘soul’ issue will have to be dealt with, though.” Happy that she’d relayed the important information, she went back to counting the money in the cash register for the fifth time that evening.


“Who said sex with Cordy would make Dead Boy’s ‘soul’ fly away?” Xander said in between bouts of laughter. “I mean, she will just, you know, tie him up and call him a fashion victim or something and he’ll brood so much that happiness will be the last thing on his forehead-shaped brain.”


“Oi, Harris, you forgot about the fact that she actually has a bloody clue as to how a woman should be treated, I’d wager.” Spike found himself talking to Xander as if to a pal over a pint, much to his chagrin. “Sorry, Slayer, but you know he’s got a soft spot for impressionable virgins. I’m betting the Cheerleader will wipe the floor with him if he tries his rot with her.” And with that said, the chair actually gave way and the Master Vampire found himself on his back, his legs and hands sticking in the air, like some giant turtle overturned. This prompted new gales of laughter from the males in the shop, himself included, and undelicate snorts from the Summers women.


Pandemonium reigned inside the once-silent Magic Box for a few more minutes, each time the silliness tampered down, someone making another rude comment about the newly-revealed “soul mates” and the howls of laughter would start anew, the men being the worst of the bunch, but slowly the others joining in the good humor.


Finally the two gods, after having chuckled silently on their own, managed to get the others’ attention back and tried to steer them towards more pressing matters. “As for Angel’s, ahem, soul… it’s all a matter of intent, really. If he ever truly embraced the right path for the right reasons, he’d be home free.” Bendis had a slightly disapproving frown on her face as she spoke of this, something seemingly bothering her, but refusing to bring it to the fore.


“What do you mean?” Buffy had gone past her shocked state and now was in ‘Slayer trying to find answers mode’. “Tell me everything and it better be good.”


“Look, Slayer, most of this is going to happen no matter what you or anybody tries to do about it. There were some things put into motion a long time ago, the current events being plans from eons ago finally coming to fruition. Whose plans – now there’s the question.” Zamolxis looked almost like an old man telling stories to his grandchildren.


“As with turning a Slayer, using Angel or any other vampire with his peculiar condition to sway people to one side or the other has been a pet project of the major players since the days of the Corruption.” He shook his head at their disbelieving stares. “Did you think that it happened only once?” After a hollow and mirthless laugh he continued, “It’s something that happens every thousand years or so: a vamp gets cursed, a Slayer gets turned and everyone holds their breath asking the same question ‘will they be the ones?’ Meaning will they be the ones to bring everything down or purge it?”


Taking in Spike’s dejected look, Zamolxis decided to elaborate further, “Having one of these on one side or the other gives that one side the edge. Having both would spell trouble for the opposing side. Having more of them fight on the same side? Priceless!” He smiled at his own pun. “Look, if things continued as they were, there would have been an army of turned Slayers, two ‘souled’ vampires and a plethora of half-breeds and mates of the two types running around creating havoc.”


Joyce picked up on this and just had to ask, “Two vampires? Angel and who else?” Of course, she had her eyes firmly set on Spike as she inquired about this.


“One who would have sought the ‘affliction’ of his own volition, truly the first one to do so. And for the same reasons he put a leash on his demon, he would unleash the armies of Hell,” Bendis answered in half-veiled references to the one Joyce was already suspecting, without most of the others catching on.


“So, who is it?” Buffy asked, her mind tearing through the information she already had at astonishing speed for whomever thought she was slow. The only likely conclusion was clear, as were the reasons. The warmth and dread this brought on was sobering as she raised her eyes to meet Spike’s clear blue orbs which were practically screaming he would do it. For her.


“I’ll let you all guess that one, but the point is moot anyway,” Bendis decided to steer them away from the subject. “The important thing is that changes will have to be made and soon.” Raising a hand to prevent the protests the others had for her cutting short the explanations, she started giving orders in the same tone a mother uses on her wayward children. “Tomorrow afternoon, Joyce and I will have to have a chat about her future participation on all this.”


“Why mom? She’s not feeling well, so you don’t get her involved in this, or you’ll have a pissed off Slayer on your hands.”


“Really simple, Buffy. Since we plan on enlarging your power base exponentially, we shall require the services of as many as possible in this endeavor to strengthen the forces of righteousness.” Zamolxis smirked at the blank look his statement garnered on the Slayer’s face. “In terms less like the ones your Watcher would use, we’ll get you lots of allies and making them all work together will be a team effort. So we’re enlarging your team to fight the good fight.”


“Why couldn’t you say that in the first place?” Buffy rolled her eyes as she spoke. “You old and powerful guys always have to sound like some documentary nobody cares about and make my brain fry with boredom even when you’re making sense.” She frowned at herself a little. “And now you’ve got me speaking in tomes.”


“Your mom is just part of the issue.” With that said, Zamolxis changed his countenance again, a gloomy disposition darkening his features. “Amara and the rest were in possession of a great power, being the wardens of this world. They had within them the powers to lock or unlock the doors to other places.”


Seeing that Buffy was catching on to his next revelation, he continued before she could interrupt him. “They had the Key within them, the same Key that Glorificus now seeks in order to return home.”


“So what happened to that key, and why does Glory think we have it?” Willow got back into the discussion, still stinging from the things that had been said about her, but eager to find out more.


“Because after the spell that the last of the Vampiri performed to weaken their former brethren, some of the powers went into a few artifacts: the ring, a couple of weapons and a few other trinkets. The main part of it was kept in its energy form, every time one of the other items was destroyed, the energy returned to the source.”


“So when the Poofter broke the Gem, it just went on its merry way back to mummy?” Spike asked with a smirk, thinking about another thing his grandsire had bollixed up.


“In essence, yes. The energy is impossible to destroy, you see, simply changing its form, but never ceasing to exist.” He took a deep breath and finally broached the subject fully at hand. “The latest shape that energy has taken is that of a young and impressionable girl, a last ditch effort by some monks of an ancient and now extinct Order to keep the Key from falling into the wrong hands.”


Joyce felt a hot knife slash through her heart, but decided to ask the question on everyone’s mind anyway, “Who’s the girl?”


Bendis’ simple answer was received like a thunderbolt, “Dawn.”


“What do you mean ‘Dawn’? You mean some other Dawn, don’t you? It has to be another Dawn! I’m real!” Dawn now broke down in tears looking wildly at the people in the room for some support or for someone to refute what had just been said. Most of them seemed bewildered, while Buffy, Giles and Spike were suspiciously composed.


“Dawnie, it’s OK -”


“You knew! You knew and you didn’t say anything.” Dawn turned accusing eyes on her sister. “How long have you known? Did everybody know before me?”


“Dawn!” Bendis managed to break through the clamor made by the others, leaving an eerie silence in the shop. “You are real, as real as Buffy is the Slayer and as real as the witchcraft done by Tara and Willow. You are, for all intents and purposes, a Summers girl, sharing your sister’s blood. The fact that the monks created you just a few months ago and then altered everyone’s memories to include you does nothing to diminish who and what you are.”


“So I didn’t even exist before then?” Dawn wailed, collapsing on the floor and sobbing her heart out. Joyce and Buffy quickly moved to her side, hugging her from both sides and trying their best to comfort the distraught teen.


“As my companion stated earlier, the Key cannot be destroyed. For all intents and purposes, you are Dawn Summers now, as part of you was once the Gem of Amara, as you were once an integral part of the Vampiri Council and so on and so forth.” Smiling kindly, Bendis kneeled beside the young girl and placed a hand on hers. “You are human now, just as you were energy before. The laws that apply to humans apply to you now as well. You can be hurt, you can feel joy and sadness, you can love and be loved…” she trailed off, directing eyes to those surrounding them, their faces open and loving. “You are loved very much, Dawn. Remember that before all else.”


“You’ve got Summers blood, Dawnie, that’s what the monks told me. They made you from me. And I love you,” Buffy told the somewhat calmer teen.


“Whatever happens, you are my baby girl and nothing’s going to change that, you hear me, Pumpkin-belly?” Joyce also tried to soothe her youngest.


As the others hastened to offer their reassurances, Xander felt fit to add his two cents. “Great, now I’m the only freak again.”


“How’s that, Whe… ahem, Harris?” Can’t bloody hurt bein’ more civil to the bloke. We could share Angel anecdotes later on. As long as he doesn’t even look at the Slayer the wrong way, but even then, he’s got the Demon Bird to give him the what for.


Startled by Spike’s unusual care to say his name, Xander clarified, “Well, look at us: two representatives from powerful godlike thingies, a Watcher and ex-rogue Merlin, two witches, a Slayer and her mom, a mystical Key, a lovely ex-demon… expat… whatever, and… well… me.” He grinned as he went on, “I guess I’ll never fit in anywhere.”


Even Dawn laughed at Xander’s assessment of his status and Spike patted him on the back in a friendly manner for lightening the mood.


“With your dating history, you fit in just fine.” Buffy snorted. “I mean, come on: Inca mummy, Mantis lady, Cordelia and now Anya.” She turned her eyes briefly to the girl in question. “Sorry, but you’re not exactly what is usually considered normal either.” Again frowning a bit to herself, she corrected herself, “Although I guess for us that is normal.”


“No problem. It’s good to see that you are starting to accept that and I’m sure once Spike starts giving you orgasms we’ll trade many stories together.” Anya stated in her usual blunt manner. As an afterthought, she also turned toward Dawn and told her, “Maybe you can learn how to open doors so I can go to Arashmahar and kick D’Hoffryn for lying to me.” And with that, she returned to her counter and her usual stack of bills.


Buffy was scarlet thinking about Spike and the possibility of… Oh, my God, this is just like Willow’s spell, only for real. Spike. Lips of Spike. She looked at the smirking vampire while he gave a suggestive thrust with his hips jutting forward. Spike of Spike. Oh, my God. And her blush deepened.


Joyce caught on to the interplay between the two and smiled to herself, guessing that her daughter was more attracted to the blonde vampire than she’d previously let on. Xander was a bit flustered by his love’s words, but refrained from speaking up due to his recent epiphanies, so he let it slide. Giles was too busy admiring the way Joyce’s ass was sticking out in the pants she was wearing as she was crouched on the floor to bother with other couples’ orgasms. Anya stopped and turned around, startled that nobody had attempted to correct her. Seeing no disapproving stares, she shrugged and went back to work.

“Listen,” Zamolxis cut through the uncomfortable silence that had descended, “why don’t we all just call it a night, as it’s getting rather late, and reconvene tomorrow evening, say around seven?” As everyone nodded their assent, he rubbed his palms together and extended his hand, palm up toward Bendis. As she took his hand, their fingers entwining, they bid everyone farewell and exited via the front door.

Behind them, the mentally exhausted Scoobies picked themselves up and went home, one by one.

“Harris! Drop what you’re doing, the boss wants you in his office,” the burly foreman said to the young man, his calloused thumb bent to point toward the trailer where the project manager had his office.


“What does he want?” Xander asked, thinking that his last raise had been too recent for it to be good news.


“I don’t know, but you better get in there now.” And with that he strolled over to where some workers were busy trying to position one of the beams for the next level.


Knocking tentatively on the door, Xander walked into his boss’ office.



Ten minutes later, a bewildered Xander had an envelope with his name on it in his hand and no job. Fuck! What am I gonna say to Anya: ‘Sorry, hun, but I got sacked for who knows what and now I have to move back in with my parents’? I’m screwed!


Walking in a daze, he all but collided with an armor-encased chest. Raising his eyes, he met the dark brown gaze of Zamolxis. “You! This is your fault, isn’t it? You’re the one that got me fired! What, getting everybody pissed at me for something that happened years ago and wasn’t even my fault not enough for you?” Xander said as he pushed at the other man’s chest.


“Will you allow me to explain what happened here?” Zamolxis raised his arms as if to surrender in front of the distraught young man in order to placate him.


“You screwed me over, that’s what. I’m on to you and I’ll find some way to get the others to listen. Don’t think you’ll get away with this!” Xander was ready to leave in a huff, when Zamolxis’ next words stopped him.


“I need you to take command of an army.”

*****

After the brand new Hummer H1 came to a stop near the top of one of the hills outside Sunnydale, Xander and Zamolxis exited the vehicle and started walking at a leisurely pace towards the peak.


“So, did you enjoy driving that car?” Zamolxis asked with a twinkle in his eye.


“Yeah, it was okay,” Xander answered, a bit self-conscious about not having taken his car.


“Good, because you should get used to it; it’s yours from now on,” the male traveler told the bewildered young man with a knowing grin.


“You’re kidding, right? You’re not kidding. Well, I won’t take it. You’re not bribing Xander Harris!”


“This isn’t a bribe, it’s an investment. You will also find the address and keys to an office building and the number for a bank account in the glove compartment. The account has some money to get you started,” Zamolxis continued, smirk firmly in place.


“Started on what? You still haven’t told me much, you know.” The former carpenter was still uneasy about what this all meant.


As they reached the ridge and the valley beyond was visible, Zamolxis made a sweeping gesture with his hand, encompassing a camp with some two hundred men milling about in military fashion, all of them dressed in armor. “Started on this. These are the Knights of Byzantium. Well, that’s what they’re called now, at least. Their job is to keep Glorificus and any other of the hell-gods from getting the Key, by whatever means necessary.”


“So they’re our allies?” Xander asked, excitement and hope clearly discernible in his voice.


“As they are now, they would not refrain from killing Dawn in order to keep Glory from getting to her.”


“What? That’s not possible!” Xander was outraged at the mere thought of someone harming the younger Summers girl. So what if she was this Key thing, she also was Dawn Summers and as such, someone to protect.


Smiling benevolently at the man’s fire, Zamolxis went on, even as he felt the Knights’ scouts approaching. “They have a very limited world view. For them there is only black and white and what they call a holy mission. They were ordered to ‘sever the link’ and are set about to do so, regardless of what it means. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take control of these men and turn them into valuable allies, knowledgeable in the ways of the world and aware that there is as much grey out there as there is white or black.”


“So will you self-destruct in five seconds, now? I think it would save me a headache,” Xander quipped without missing a beat.


“No, but the ones holding their bows trained at our heads might try to end my existence anyway.” The older male smirked. I knew I liked this boy for a reason.


“Stop! Who are you and what is your business?” a fierce looking young man asked, dressed in the same armor that seemed to be the Knights’ uniform and wearing a helmet that partially covered the sides of his face.


“Take us to your leader,” Zamolxis said in a drone-like voice; Xander, in the meantime, tried to stifle a chuckle at the man’s antics. Despite himself, Xander was actually beginning to enjoy his playful nature. Spike had been right – and didn’t that thought cause a chill to run down his spine – when he’d called the god Loki. Anya had told him after the previous night’s meeting about the Norse god of mischief and Zamolxis did resemble him in many things.


They were blindfolded, stripped of any weapons and marched down the slope, stopping after some time, presumably in front of the general’s tent.


“What are these men doing here? Our mission must be completed with haste. How did they get into the camp?” a male voice could be heard asking, hoarse from what could have been countless nights sleeping in rudimentary conditions and riding through all kinds of weather.


“General. I was sent to relay a message,” Zamolxis spoke in a booming voice, startling even Xander with its clarity. “The message is the Beast is all but dead. The link has been severed. Such was the will of God!”


“Take off his bindings!” the general ordered his men and, after the guards performed what was asked of them, he approached the former captives. “Is it true? What do you know? Tell me.” His voice betrayed a deep need and almost feverish desire.


“It is as you have heard. The mission as you have known it is over. I am here to give you new orders,” Zamolxis’ voice was level and calm, with no emotion shown whatsoever, just steely determination, the conviction of a man that knew how things should be.


Xander took his time looking around, taking in the stern faces of everyone in the camp, the efficient movements and the sparkling eyes as the Knights waited for his companion to deliver them from their task onto the next. Turning back to the conversation taking place next to him, he noticed a glowing pattern on Zamolxis’ previously clear breastplate. And it had been clear; as he'd taken a very close look at the area back at the construction site when the two of them had collided, he was sure there had been nothing there. Instinctively jumping to the side and away from the source of light, he got a broader view of said pattern, and barely held in a gasp when he realized it was a perfect match to the tattoos adorning the Knights’ foreheads.


“From now on, your new commander is my companion, Alexander Lavelle Harris. He will teach you new ways you will need to perform your new duties. You will listen to his orders, you will perform your duties as they are assigned and you shall forget everything you know about the Key. Your new knowledge is Mr. Harris’ to give and you shall act accordingly. Is that understood?” Zamolxis said in a stern tone that brooked no argument.


“Yes, my Lord. We shall do as God commands. Such is the will of God!” the general spoke with reverence.


Xander smiled. “So, did you guys watch Conan?”

*****

Tara McClay waited nervously in the middle of the Sunnydale campus as the clock rang twelve. The fact that she’d kept quiet about meeting the goddess had been a harrowing experience for her, as she wasn’t used to keeping things from those she loved, something that had been made perfectly clear when her family had visited.


A gentle hand touched her shoulder, pulling her out of her reverie and she turned around to come face to face with Bendis bathed in sunlight. The sight almost took her breath away. She was dressed in a white blouse and jeans, but looked as if she were glowing.


“Ready to go, child?” Bendis asked with warmth in her voice.


“Yes, but where are we going?”


“Just trust me.” And then everything changed.


Tara found herself in a strange room. It looked more like a museum exhibit. The air was stale and dry, the lighting was provided by candles and torches hanging from the walls and in the middle there was an old lady who looked frail and worn out, dressed in flowing white robes. She didn’t know exactly how they’d gotten there, no spell she was familiar with could have been performed that easily, and especially not on more than one person. She took a glance at Bendis and was unsurprised to find her looking just as fresh as always. The power the goddess possessed was reaffirmed in the young practitioner’s mind.


“Welcome, I have been expecting you for a long time,” the voice of the old woman came through stronger than Tara expected, yet with the tell-tale signs of weakness brought on by age.


“How are you, my dear? Is there anything you need?” Bendis asked as if talking to a dear member of one’s family.


“You know what I need the most,” the old woman said in a wistful voice. Acknowledging Tara’s presence for the first time she continued, “Is this her?”


“This is Tara McClay. She is a Wicca and a friend of the Slayer, Buffy Summers.” The pride was evident in the woman’s voice, although Tara couldn’t think of a good enough reason for it.


“Step forward and let me take a look at you, my dear.”


Tara got closer to the old woman and allowed her to take her hand in hers. The tingling sensation when their skin touched was not unpleasant, but it made her uneasy over what it meant.


“You are almost pure, dear.” After concentrating a while more and clutching the hand she held tighter, the woman spoke again, “The power you hold is not great, but the balance is almost as it should be. Yes, we can work with that.” And with that, she smiled, seemingly losing decades of worry from her wrinkled face. “My name hasn’t been used by anyone in millennia, but you may call me Alba.” She grinned, something that Tara wouldn’t have expected from the respectable-looking woman. “It goes with the clothes and hair.”


Tara let her eyes lose focus, bringing the woman’s aura to the fore. The power and balance created a beautiful play of colors, soothing Tara as she watched. Alba’s gentle shaking of one of her hands interrupted Tara’s perusal and she smiled abashedly as she realized the older woman knew exactly what she’d been doing.


“Bendis said you knew Amara and Sineya.” At the woman’s nod, Tara went on, “How… why… there is so much I want to learn from you.”


“And I shall teach you, child, starting with what to do with that out of control lover of yours.” At Tara’s startled look, Alba chuckled and went on. “Now, let’s get out of this old tomb and start anew.”


The three women walked together into the bright sunshine outside as Alba weaved her stories of old for a very attentive Tara, and Bendis smiled.

*****

Joyce was daydreaming in the kitchen of her house in 1630 Revello Drive, remembering the phone call she’d received that morning from Rupert and imagining the things he’d promised he’d do with, for, and to her. She was startled out of her musings by the sound of someone knocking on the back door of the house. She opened it to find both Zamolxis and Bendis waiting on the back porch, wearing their usual casual clothes and smiling benevolently.


“May we come in, Joyce?” the woman asked.


“Of course, would you like some hot chocolate?” said the Slayer’s mother even as she got the kettle ready.


“That would be lovely, thank you,” Zamolxis beamed at her as both he and Bendis sat down around the kitchen island.


Zamolxis had left Xander to get acquainted with his new friends and to figure out what exactly to do with them, while Bendis had left Tara with Alba discussing about starting a Sunnydale Coven. Now they were both here to talk to the next person they needed to complete the Slayer’s team.


After making small talk while the water warmed and the chocolate dissolved, they all sat around the island, hot beverage in hand and started to talk about what the gods were doing there.


“Well, Joyce, I won’t lie to you, we’re here to change your life forever.” Zamolxis’ face, hot chocolate moustache and all, was full of mischief.


“Oh, thank God, I thought you were here to eat me out of house and home,” she answered eyeing the cookie the man had swiped off the counter without asking.


“Nothing as drastic as that,” Bendis laughed, but sobered up rather quickly. “Joyce, we have something serious to talk about. We have a proposition to make to you and I hope you’ll agree.”


“What is it? Is it going to help Buffy?” Joyce wanted to know, leaving her mug to the side for a while; a clear sign of great agitation.


“We’re both here to discuss the possibility of you acting as liaison between Buffy and both the Powers that Be and Wolfram and Hart,” Zamolxis said, stealing another cookie at the same time.


“What do I have to do?”


“Simple. You will have the authority to decide how the Powers and lawyers interact with Buffy and her group. For example, there are instances in which either side will be in need of support in order to maintain the balance of things. You are to discuss with them in the name of your daughter, negotiating to your heart’s content,” Zamolxis told her, munching away happily on the cookies he’d found.


“So I’ll decide what Buffy does?”


“You actually think she’d go for that? The things Buffy does on her own account are her business. However, when her actions threaten to destabilize the balance, either of the sides – or even both – will let you know, and together you’ll have to reach an understanding. The same applies for when something is asked of her, for example preventing an apocalypse in Chile.” The man was more then happy to explain things to an increasingly interested Joyce.


“Before I agree, I have to know...”


“What do you want to know, dear?” Bendis asked, intrigued by the steely glint in the mortal woman’s eyes.


“I want to know everything that was supposed to happen.” When she didn’t receive an immediate answer, she went on, “The only way I’ll accept is if I get to also decide on what you are here to do.”


“Joyce, we can’t show you everything before you agree. Be our liaison and everything shall be revealed. I give you my word,” Bendis tried to reason with her.


“Ok, I agree. Show me then.” Joyce braced herself for what she expected to be a harrowing experience, praying silently to be able to withstand the ordeal without passing out.


“Don’t worry about that anymore.” Zamolxis winked at her. “The problems you’ve been experiencing and what you’ll see was supposed to happen will no longer occur. You are completely healed.”


“Healed from wh-” And the memories flooded in.

Buffy walked in the Magic Box alone. She’d found a note from Joyce telling her that she and Dawn were out and would meet her later. The Slayer had used her time alone in the house to take a long bath and to get ready for patrol. At least that’s what she kept telling herself while she was putting on make-up for what felt like the first time in months. Not that she hadn’t worn make-up, but for the first time in a while she actually took time to notice how it looked on her. Smoky eyeliner and blood red lips gave her a sultry look, especially if she was planning to catch the eye of a certain person of the dead persuasion. Her knee-high boots with spiked heels, black leather pants and form-fitting halter top were just the thing for fighting expats, or at least they had been once, while patrolling with Faith and playing at being a bad girl. Now she was patrolling with Spike and that excused many things.



She had expected to see everyone already gathered for the night’s meeting, especially due to her grooming time making her late, but the only ones present were the two gods and Spike. She took her time observing him, no longer relegating him to just an irritation on the periphery of her world. He was wearing his trademark duster, tight black jeans, black shirt that molded to his muscles and a dark blue button-down that she had never seen before. Her thoughts had wandered once or twice in the territory marked “dirty little secrets”, trying to envision him in other colors than black and red. He looked better in real life.



The gods were wearing black leather clothes complete with dusters and boots that looked even more menacing than Spike’s Docs did. Also somewhat unsurprisingly, Zamolxis was smoking cigars and was just presenting Spike with a box of Cubans of his own. While the men bonded, Bendis approached the Slayer, her movements exposing the fact that she was armed to the teeth with all sorts of knives. She laughed at Buffy’s automatic tensing of the muscles and motioned for them to step to a side, presumably so that the men wouldn’t hear.



“How are you, my dear? I see an improvement in your taste for dressing up.”



“It’s just something I threw on for patrol later on,” Buffy replied, somewhat wary of the possibility that tonight the two visitors might just attack them.



“Relax, Slayer, I mean you no harm, this is just an attire to aid us in tonight’s activities, but more on that later. First, let me ease your mind about the others. Joyce and Dawn are with Giles at his place researching some leads regarding her abilities and importance as the Key.”



“Couldn’t you have told them about it yourselves, or aren’t you like Simon in everything?” the younger woman asked with a smirk.



“We could have, yes, but the journey is half the prize. Dawn cannot just be told who and what she is, she must grow into it. That kind of gentle aid is much better suited for your mother and Watcher, wouldn’t you agree?” Bendis asked raising one of her eyebrows.



“And what is she supposed to do?”



“Many great things, just like you. Telling you more now would be no help to Dawn’s quest, as she needs you to support her as she develops. Sometimes we have found that people tend to lose focus of the intermediary steps when the end result is clearly defined. To that end, I shall let your mother explain the rest, as she is more than entitled to do.”



“Could you stop speaking in riddles? I thought you were done with the Sphinx routine.”



“You are right,” Bendis laughed, “no more Sphinx routine. However, that is all I can tell you about that now. Xander and Anya are busy with a new business venture. Once they have established what it is they want to do, exactly, I’m sure they will inform everyone about the details.”



“What business? How come nobody tells me anything anymore?” the Slayer all but whined, trying to remember if she had heard anything about it before.



“Fret not, it’s of no consequence for the moment. As for Tara and Willow, they are planning the establishment of a Coven in Sunnydale. It’s long overdue that the Hellmouth be protected by one.”



“And how come nobody told me? Aren’t you pissed that they stood you up?” Buffy tried to find out more about something she was unfamiliar with – being alone with the gods while everyone save Spike was busy elsewhere.



“Relax, Buffy. They’re each taking on the new responsibilities they’ll have to cope with in order to help you better. They haven’t abandoned you, nor would they. As for the four of us,” she said raising her voice and turning slightly towards the two males that were pretending not to eavesdrop, “we are going to patrol.”



“So that’s the reason for the Farscape gear. I thought you weren’t here to aid us underlings with the manual labor,” Spike said while stashing the cigars out of sight so that he could retrieve them later.



“Far-huh?” Buffy felt the need to inquire.



“Quite right, young man. A bit flashy, I’ll admit, but I found it fitting. It’s a Sci-Fi show, Slayer. Anyway, before we’re off to fight the forces of evil and all that, we have some gifts for you, as tokens of our appreciation.”



Zamolxis pointed to pair of bundles made of expensive-looking cloth on the counter. Taking the larger one, he peeled off the layers of material to reveal a shimmering chainmail that looked like silver, but not quite. The chainmail had some intricate designs around the edges as well as the depiction of a flying beast of some sort on the chest, right above the wearer’s heart in the same eerie metal.



“This is Truesilver, brought here from a different world, where such things truly do exist. It’s meant for you, Spike, to wear underneath your clothes so that you might have an added level of protection.”



“Silver… seriously?” Buffy asked cocking her eyebrow.



“Mithril, Slayer, not just mere silver. Didn’t your watcher teach you about gnomes and dwarves?” Spike said, his eyes focused on the mail.



If what they said about the magical metal was true, it would be like wearing a tank that weighs a feather. Reverently almost, he touched the garment and was amazed that it was even lighter than he had anticipated. Without a care in the world, he stripped off his duster, button-down and shirt and put on the chainmail directly on his naked torso. The mail fit him like a glove, the ringlets adjusting and flowing over the planes of his body like latex. Turning around he caught Buffy staring at him with lust clearly written on her face. Smirking he made a show of stretching every which way, enjoying the way her eyes followed his every move as if in a trance. When she finally pulled out of her reverie and blushed, he smirked and put his fingers in the belt loops, framing the bulge her presence always caused to appear in his jeans.



“Like what you see, Slayer?” Spike added with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow for good measure.



“I want one!” blushing even more, Buffy corrected herself. “A mail. Not as in female and male. Gah! I want a silver thingie too!” She said turning hopeful eyes towards Bendis that was unwrapping the second package to see what she got as well as to hide her blush from the smirking vampire.



“No, you do not get a mail, since that is for the protector. You are the executioner and to that end you deserve a weapon unlike any.”



She held up a fierce looking dagger, unadorned by jewels and yet with such exquisite carvings on the handle and blade that it dazzled. By the looks of it, the same material had been used as in the chainmail and most likely by the same craftsmen. Pressing on the handle in a specific way, a dark spike came out of the bottom, covered in equally intricate carvings.



“This dagger is made of Truesilver as well, except the spike that is made of a wood even sturdier than ebony. With this, there is no creature anywhere that is truly safe from you should you wish them ill. The runes engraved both on the chainmail and the dagger are there to enhance their native properties and aid the wearer.” Bendis presented the dagger to Buffy, who took it and immediately checked it for balance and ease of handling. Satisfied with her findings she stopped her fencing routine facing Spike, her arm outstretched with the tip of the blade feathering over the engraved animal on his chainmail. Their eyes locked and the world narrowed to each other’s pupils.



Clearing her throat, Bendis decided to intervene. “I would advise against testing the theory regarding the unmovable object and the unstoppable force with these gifts we have bestowed upon you. The results could go either way and I’m sure you are mature enough to wield these instruments.”




Zamolxis laughed good heartedly and patted Spike on the back. “Come, children, let us try out these instruments before you start testing others.” Winking at the now flustered Slayer, he passed them both and offered his hand to Bendis, leading her out of the Magic Box.



“Ready, Slayer?” Spike asked, putting on his shirt and duster.



“Always ready,” she replied only to add almost as an afterthought before going out the door: “Mister Protector.” Giggling, the Slayer bolted out of the store with a vampire hot on her trail screaming bloody murder and demanding she take it back.


~~~***~~~


It was their second run through this cemetery and there appeared to be no more movement. Having gotten such an early start on their patrol, the four had managed to make two complete rounds of all of Sunnydale’s cemeteries. Zamolxis had killed two vampires after announcing them their contract renewal date was overdue while Bendis had gotten three, not before condemning them to execution. Buffy had tested her new knife on eleven vamps, while Spike only got seven, more preoccupied with keeping an eye on the rest of the group.



The numbers could have been larger had not half of the undead population fled at Glory’s appearance into town a few weeks back. The other demons seemed to be sleeping for the night. Zamolxis had grown quiet over the previous quarter of an hour and Bendis was equally deep in thought. All of a sudden, Zamolxis took off on a dead run.



“We’re to follow, but not at a run. It’s time for larger prey to be put out to pasture.”



“Who?” Buffy asked, even though she could almost feel the answer to her question in her bones. There was no response coming, but she was sure Glory’s number had come up. By his grim look, Spike had probably sussed out the same thing. A single nod was all it took for the two to assure one another that they had each other’s back.


~~~***~~~


“So you are the Slayer’s lost pet. You will tell me where my Key is.”



“What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bitch? I don’t know anything about a key and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” Riley spat, one of his teeth flying with the spittle.



“That’s where you’re wrong, you miserable toad!” Glory declared hautily and thrust her fingers inside the squirming human’s skull, drawing out everything she could. When she extracted her fingers, the body of the once proud soldier slumped to the side, the latest exertion proving too much for a body that had been battered and beaten by all manner of monsters ever since he’d been left in that alley by his ex and her slave vamp.



First he had been used as a punching bag by some neighboring demons for bringing the Slayer so close to their homes, and then he had been dumped unconscious in the city dump. Some rabid dogs had all but chewed their way through his leg by the time he finally escaped only to trip and fall in a gutter before managing to get his bearings. When he had woken up next, he had been losing too much blood to manage to walk on two feet, so he had dragged himself closer to the hospital. Seeing a car stop, he thanked God for sending someone to the rescue. The guy proved to be a young intern and offered to drive him to the hospital to take care of his wounds. He woke up severely beaten and chained to the ceiling with a woman slapping him awake, each slap shredding more of the skin on his cheeks and loosening his teeth inside their gums.



So when Glory finally sucked out Riley’s brain, she unwittingly killed the broken man. While she enjoyed his memories, an intruder disturbed her.



“What have you gone and done? You do realize that your fate is sealed as we speak by the cooling body at your feet, right?”



“Zamolxis, to what do I owe the displeasure? I told your lawyers that they shouldn’t interfere here.”



“That is exactly why I am here. Our fee would have to be multiplied by a thousand to hire us for this case. You failed to provide appropriate payment, as well as violated the terms of your parole, an entirely different case altogether. Coupled with this most recent act of aggression directed at the Slayer’s camp, I have been authorized to announce you that the services of our firm are no longer elligeable for you. I am truly sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, but the terms are final.”



“You can’t do that. I’m a god!” Glory retorted stung by his audacity.



“Oh, but we can and we have. As for your status, that is highly debatable.” Zamolxis winked and turned around to exit the room only to be slammed from behind by the irate woman.



“You’ll pay for this!” Glory shouted only to find herself being thrown back and through the wall, landing in the middle of her underlings’ meal. “My dress! You ruined my Gucci dress!”




“We are so very sorry, oh Magnificent One, for being in your path while you flew. Punish us for our wretchedness,” one of the sniveling little monsters said while bowing repeatedly.




A loud crash sounded from the street and a clamor could be heard coming up the stairs. “See who that is,” Glory ordered while setting her sights on the man who had had the audacity to strike her. “As for you, paper-pusher, you’re gonna be sorry for ever touching me.”




With those words, Glory walked over to the smirking representative of WRH and punched him in the gut. Zamolxis doubled over, only to respond with a head-butt in her midsection. Battle was truly joined as both threw vicious punches without bothering too much with blocking the other’s attacks. When Bendis crashed through the door of the now half-demolished penthouse apartment, the sight that greeted her nearly made her snort with laughter. Zamolxis and Glorificus stood ramrod straight in the middle of some rubble collapsed from the ceiling throwing punches in turn. Neither showed any reaction to being hit, but Glory was clearly dissatisfied with her inability to dislodge her opponent. It was like looking at two grizzly bears in a boxing match.




“I am here to tell you that your parole has been revoked, Glorificus, time to say goodbye to this world.” Bendis said while wiping off some of the minions’ blood from her hunting knife.




“You bitch!” Glory screamed and decided to take care of the new threat before attacking this unusually impervious lawyer again. Her assault, despite being almost frantic, was met with the same steely endurance as the male currently lighting up a cigarette and using an expensive vase as an ashtray. “That’s valuable, you pig,” Glory screamed at the clearly unrepentant Zamolxis before Bendis grabbed her by the hair and threw her in the air where she hit the ceiling before crashing to the floor.




“You messed up my hair, you pale bitch! Didn’t your mommy tell you not to play with those superior to you?” Glory fumed as she tried to grab Bendis by the hair herself.




That is when Buffy came into the room, only to be dumbstruck by the spectacle the three supernatural beings offered. Bendis and Zamolxis had apparently gotten bored with taking Glory on one by one, so they were throwing her like a rag doll from one to the other. However, her attention was grabbed by a mangled corpse lying discarded on the floor, wearing some familiar fatigues. She tentatively drew closer to the almost unrecognizable shape of the human and rolled him over on his side to reveal the face, still contorted in pain even in death, of Riley Finn.




Despite his failings, his cheating on her and the way they had parted ways, the sight of the wretched piece of flesh before her eyes told of a horror story she didn’t even want to envision after she’d walked past him on the street near the vamp-house. A cold calmness descended upon her as her hand closed his eyes for the last time. The Slayer straightened her back and threw herself at the now bloody and battered Glory while Spike, having dealt with the last of the minions, entered the room.




The viciousness of the attack surprised Glory, who had almost gotten used to the clockwork of hits thrown at her by the first two to breach her defenses. The new opponent, despite being weaker than the previous two, obviously threw everything she had in every punch and kick, concentrating on key points such as kidneys, stomach and the already broken bones of her forearms and right leg. She saw that the Slayer was almost in a frenzy of attack, but neither her broken jaw, nor her reeling mind could formulate any response. Her eyes still looked at the nonchalant couple that had all but beaten her to death in a matter of minutes.




Zamolxis had just finished the cigarette he had continued to smoke even while playing “pass the hellgod”. He drew closer to his companion and kissed her bloodied hand, not taking his eyes, however, off Glory’s beaten form. The bleached vampire started whispering something to the two, but Glory was too weak to focus on what was being said.




“Who offed Cardboard?” Spike asked Zamolxis while he lit a cigarette of his own and sheathed the short-sword he had used against the little brown fanatics downstairs.




“Glory.”




The one in question was slowly but surely being reduced to pulp by the Slayer that was venting all the heartache of the last few months and the fear for her sister and her own future and everything else she had to vent on the now defenseless murderer of Riley. Buffy was getting visibly tired, so in one smooth motion, she raised the dagger Bendis had given her. What happened, though, caught both her and Spike by surprise.




Glory morphed into a severely beaten young man and the now male broken jaw strived to work as he pleaded for his life and asked what had happened. Buffy stood stunned with the dagger ready to end his existence.




“Buffy, meet Ben, an intern at Sunnydale Hospital and host to Glorificus. He is an amateur magician and was picked for becoming Glory’s human prison because of his practices. He invokes expats to fix his problems, he is the one that led Glory to Riley and thus sealed his fate. No matter the method used to determine it, he is not an innocent,” Bendis spoke softly to the now teary-eyed Slayer.




“But he’s human. How… what…” Buffy tired to put her fears into words, but failed to find the appropriate ones.




“And your point is, Slayer? He has broken the rules, even human ones, by giving Riley over to his darker side to torture and execute knowing full well what his fate was to be. He has willingly offered his body to house Glorificus and he has summoned other expats to do his bidding as well as hers. And he has no legal representation,” Zamolxis added while competing with Spike at blowing smoke circles.




“It is your duty as the Chosen One to defend humanity against all supernatural threats, including humans using expat tactics and powers. Here is such a man. Killing him would actually release him from his torment of sharing his body with Glory and it would in no way turn you into any more of a killer than disposing of vampires on patrol every night,” Bendis tried to persuade the Slayer once again.




“Can’t we save him somehow? He’s still human. It’s just that I’m… I can’t.” Buffy got up from her position on top of Ben/Glory, her hand with the weapon hanging listlessly at her side.




Zamolxis leaned against the wall closest to Riley’s body and lit the third cigarette in a row. “So his humanity ensures a carte blanch? Would it help if I told you he’s an expat that just looks like a man and is eating children?” Any trace of hilarity left his face for the next sentences. “Well he isn’t. He is the vessel for an expat that sucks people’s brains out, that wants to use your sister to open a portal that would spew forth enough expats to end the world. There is no stopping Glory except death, you should know that. You should also know that unless you kill her, she will kill you and possibly the entire world as well. It’s that simple, really. In some universes, she has already succeeded.”




“What do you mean? Does she, well, kill me?”




“Absolutes are really very relative, my dear. All you need to know is that this man has volunteered for the job of containing Glory’s essence and she wants to destroy the world. Also she has been sentenced to death, so it’s your duty to kill both her and her vessel.” Bendis tried to convince her once more.




“Really, when Ben here made the deal he was ready to sell even his mother’s soul to become part god. He knows that once Glory dies, his life is forfeit even if you don’t do it. What, you think either of them has played nice with the other expats? That is why we do not represent her anymore. Even if you killed just her, he would be hunted down, tortured then transformed into zombie food. So killing him quickly – that would be a favor,” Zamolxis added, flicking the ash from his cigarette on the floor.



~~~***~~~



Giles got up from his chair and stretched his leg muscles. They had been researching for the better part of the evening now and the more they found out, the more they needed to know. When he had first researched the Key, he had not known all the books to cross-reference, but that had all changed over the past few days with Bendis and Zamolxis’ input. Now it seemed like almost every book they read held some piece of the puzzle that was Dawn. The girl had been avid to learn as much as possible and was going through books with what could only be described as pleasure. If only her sibling had shown the same inclination towards research.



There was one other member of the Slayer’s family that was on his mind, though. Joyce was in the kitchen preparing dinner for the three of them, after she had done her part in the research. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was also something different about the woman. It was as if she was flying while carrying a huge load. He decided to get to the bottom of things and made his way to the kitchen after he made sure Dawn was off in her own researching world and was oblivious to anything around her.



Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted with a sight that made his mouth water and hic cock twitch. Joyce was bent over, putting something in the stove and the way her dress molded to every curve was positively sinful. As he was a mere mortal, he couldn’t resist walking up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and grinding himself in the cleft of her ass. She was more than responsive, triggering what could only be described as a session of dry humping that made him curse not being alone with her. Through the fog of lust that had enveloped both of them, he finally acknowledged that she was trying to communicate and her movements had stopped.



“Bloody hell, woman, are you trying to kill me? Either shag me or slap me, but stop teasing, will you?” In all honesty, he did not expect the slap he received.



“Listen up, mister. I’ve had a very hard day and I still haven’t figured it all out in my head. What I do know is that either you work with me and my daughters, or you can go right now back to those stuck up former employers of yours. And just in case you’re wondering, just one of the options includes what we almost did just now,” Joyce stated in such a matter-of-fact tone that Giles briefly wondered about possible connections to Anya.



“What’s this about, then?”



“It’s about you deciding what’s best for Buffy. It ends now, both with her and with Dawn. I will not have you ruining her life, do I make myself clear?”



“When did I do that? I really don’t see where all of this is coming from,” Giles said, feeling his ire rising at the accusations that were thrown his way seemingly out of the blue.



“Fine, then. Since we’re both here and you seem willing to listen, let’s begin. Bendis and Zamolxis paid me a visit earlier.”

Buffy walked out of the building on shaky legs. She had human blood on her hands. A tainted human, an apparent low-life from the supernatural point of view, but human nonetheless. She refused to meet Spike's eyes, fully aware that he was watching her like a hawk. She felt dirty, especially remembering Faith, but she knew she had done the right thing. The fact that she knew that was even more surprising. How come, in just a few days, her world view had changed so drastically that she now considered killing a human the right thing to do? There was so much she had to get accustomed to. What she needed now was a long bath and some of her mom's hot chocolate.



Spike was walking slightly behind the Slayer, smoking a cigarette with slow, calculated breaths and trying to discern what he could do to relieve her of her burdens. His unbeating heart ached when he saw her slumped shoulders, but at the same time he knew she had to go through the choice to kill Ben, so that she could finally understand that the line between good and evil was not drawn according to one's humanity. And even one's humanity didn't depend on him being human or not. Clem was more human than many of the pulsers he'd met throughout his unlife. Still, her distress hurt him on a physical level and his mind was racing trying to find some way to help her. He was pulled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder.



“You can't help her yet. Let her sleep on it and maybe the conclusions will sink in.” Bendis stopped talking for a moment and looked sadly at the Chosen One. “Or she might decide to go into denial again. Whatever happens, pushing her anymore tonight would only lead to a rift between the two of you.”



“She wasn't supposed to be a killer. I should 'ave done it, not her, she doesn't deserve this.” Spike felt like tearing the head off something, anything to diminish his torment over the sadness he could see in Buffy's defeated demeanor.



“It's part of her destiny; a part that was hidden because of failing traditions. Just give her some time to adjust.” As an afterthought, Bendis placed her hand on Spike's shoulder again, in a comforting gesture. “Be there for her, if she needs you.”



“I'll be there, if she wants me or not.”



***~~~***



Giles walked stiffly towards the door of the Summers’ residence, flanked by Joyce and Dawn. He didn't really react to anything around him, as his mind was lost in a fog of memories and possible scenarios.



“Mom, when is Giles gonna stop being broken? I mean, it was fun the first few minutes, but now it's getting silly.” Dawn emphasized the state of the man beside her by waving her hand in front of the distraught Brit's face.



“Dawn! That's not polite.” Despite the stern tone, Joyce's lips were close to turning upwards in a silly grin. The man traveling beside her was almost sweet in his ability to focus on just one thing, like a child thinking about candy. “We'll take Rupert to the couch and then go to bed. I really don't trust his ability to get home right now.” She leaned against the outer wall of the house as she fumbled with the keys and opened the door.



“Well, he insisted on taking us home. It's not our fault that he went to la-la land on the way over.”



Together, the two women led Giles to the couch, where he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Joyce sat down beside him and touched his left cheek with her hand. She leaned in and whispered close to the man's ear. “Rupert.” Getting no response, she raised her voice. “Giles! Giles, can you hear me? Dawn, time to go to bed.”



“But moooom!”



“Don't but mom me. Off to bed with you, young lady. It's nearly morning and you have school tomorrow.”



“Can't you give me a note or something? Please mom?” Dawn added puppy dog eyes to her pleading tone, going all out in her attempt to get time off from school.



Wavering, Joyce looked at the clock again. It showed half past two in the morning, meaning her daughter would have little more than four hours of sleep before a difficult day. All of that, coupled with the huge revelations—especially the news of her illness—during the last few days, finally convinced her to be more lenient. “Fine, but that's the last note for the rest of the school year! Now off to bed with you.”



Squealing, Dawn ran to her mother and hugged her tight, then bounded up the stairs to sleep, presumably. Joyce watched her go with a smile. Her daughter was growing up so fast it almost scared her, especially considering her Key origins. Silently thanking the godly couple for allowing her more time with her daughters, Joyce focused again on the man seated beside her, still staring off into nothing. The things she had seen in his future had enraged her at first, but she now hoped he would be... what? What exactly did she want from that man? She didn't know for certain, but if the previous days were anything to go by, he could just be a vast improvement of Hank, both for herself and for her daughters.



After some more gentle prodding, Giles finally managed to acknowledge Joyce's presence, still seemingly through a fog. “Have we arrived yet?” Letting out a relieved laugh, Joyce kissed him deeply, hoping to get him back to normal through passion.



Just as things started to heat up between the two, Buffy opened the front door. Jumping up from the couch like a teen caught doing something naughty, Joyce rushed to the side of her eldest daughter. As soon as she saw her, the mighty Slayer burst into tears and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Holding her daughter tight, Joyce motioned for Spike to go to the kitchen. Zamolxis and Bendis waved at the Slayer's mother and then walked down the street, leaving the vampire to explain the events of the evening. Giles followed Spike to the kitchen and demanded to be brought up to speed. Meanwhile, Joyce brought Buffy slowly up the stairs and into her room, constantly whispering soothing words.



That night, nobody slept well in the House on Revello Drive.



~~~***~~~



The next day, Dawn woke up at noon to a full house. Buffy was still in her room, apparently still sleeping off the night's events, Giles and Joyce were in the kitchen, discussing Ben's demise and Spike was sleeping the day off in the basement, at Giles' insistence.



“So what happened?” Dawn asked, eager to find out as much as possible. She watched as her mother and Giles seemed to question each other on whether they should tell her. “Fine, treat me like a kid again.” She banged the door of the refrigerator after getting some OJ to go with the pancakes Joyce had prepared for her.



“Glorificus is dead.” The simple statement made by Giles stopped Dawn in her tracks. The youngest Summers turned hopeful eyes towards the Watcher.



“So it's over?” The question was posed in such a high tone that Giles couldn't help cringing. Dawn threw herself at the Brit, looping her arms around his neck and jumping up and down. The bemused man looked at Joyce for help.



“Yes, Dawnie, the threat to you is over.” Dawn let Giles go and hugged her mother, still bouncing, relieved that the danger was over.



During the commotion, the door to the basement opened and Spike blearily looked at the scene in front of him. “What the bloody hell is going on up here? Can't a poor bloke get some kip ‘round here?” Before he knew what was happening, a squealing, giggling, and at the same time crying Dawn had launched herself towards him and he had to use all his strength not to be propelled backwards, down the stairs.



When Dawn finally calmed down enough, Spike had to tell her the story of Ben's death, leaning against the basement door and fiddling with a cigarette. He left out the state of Riley's body. While he was talking, he felt Buffy approach, but when she just lingered outside the door, he continued his tale. When he finished, Dawn was a bit more subdued, while Giles and Joyce were troubled by what the future would bring.



Finally, Buffy came into the kitchen, looking sad and aloof. Regardless, Dawn enveloped the Slayer in her arms, thanking her sister over and over for saving her from the crazy woman and her stupid host-guy-person. If there was anything in the world that could bring a smile to the Slayer's face, it was Dawn's display of unbridled happiness. Pretty soon, both Summers girls were holding on tight to each other and speaking in high-pitched voices. With a wistful smile on, Spike retreated to the shadows of the basement, content that his girl was going to be all right.



Giles moved behind Joyce and placed his arms around her hips, letting her lean into him as they watched the two sisters celebrate the end of another ordeal. The Watcher still had a lot of worries about his charge, but with the help of her family, friends, and—by the looks of it—the Powers and Wolfram and Hart as well, he hoped she would be the longest lived of all her predecessors.



After the enthusiasm wore off enough for Dawn to stop bouncing, the talks and explanations continued until the four people took their seats at the table and had lunch.



~~~***~~~



Bendis was lying naked on top of an equally bare Zamolxis in the bedroom of the mansion he had prepared for them. “So, what is the next step, my love?” Making circles on his chest with her fingers, she started nibbling on his ear. “We've already let them off the hook for what was supposed to happen until autumn. What are we going to do now?”



Rolling them over so he was the one on top, Zamolxis started licking intricate patterns on her breasts. “Well, they'll need to get Xander's operation going and the coven is a priority, too.” With a playful bite to her nipple, he continued, “But those can go ahead without our supervision.” Sliding lower, he started working his magic on her stomach. “Spike and Buffy, they need time to get used to each other as partners, as possible lovers and then, when they're both ready, it will happen.”



“Dawn doesn't need us teaching her what she is, she can figure that out herself.” Bendis arched her body, letting out a gasp when his tongue moved lower. “So what is there for us to do here?”



Raising his head from between her thighs, Zamolxis grinned. “We could go talk to Giles.”



She pushed his head back down and held him there. “Not just yet.”



~~~***~~~



Slowly walking down the stairs to the basement, Buffy let her eyes adjust to the dim light. There, on a cot her mom had stashed since they'd moved in, Spike was sprawled shirtless and barefoot. She took a moment to admire the perfection of his muscles and the innocence of his face without a smirk or a sneer. With a soft sigh to herself, she walked down the last few steps and stopped beside the sleeping vampire.



Without opening his eyes, Spike broke the silence, his voice groggy. “Anythin' I can do for you, Slayer?” At her lack of answer, his eyelids slid open, locking sight on her.



Faltering briefly, Buffy recovered her cool. “Dawn wants to thank you for your part in Glory's defeat.” She wavered for a second before adding, “So does my mom.”



Spike put a hand behind his head in order to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Is that so? Is it just your mum and sis, or is there someone else that wants to say somethin'?”



Thankful that the darkness would hide her blush, Buffy tried her best to sound distant. “I wanna thank you too for... being there. I...” Her voice was soft, as she turned to go up the stairs. So soft in fact, that had Spike not been a vampire, he probably would have missed what she said. “Give me some time to get over this and maybe we could... I dunno, do something together.” Sprinting up the last few steps, she didn't allow Spike any time to answer her proposition.



Spike's face split into a huge grin as he turned on his side. “I can wait a bit longer, don't worry.”



~~~***~~~



Giles walked in through his apartment door, feeling like someone had beaten him systematically with a bat. Good God, I was thinking about a blasted baseball bat instead of a cricket bat. I've been spending too much time apart from real values. Maybe I should invite Spike over to watch a game of footsie. Shaking his head at where his thoughts had led him, the Watcher sat down on the couch and took off his jacket. Maybe the bloody heat is finally getting to me.



Just as he was debating on having dinner or doing some research to ensure there was no way Glory could come back, there was a knock on the door. As he trudged to the entrance, he muttered a short curse under his breath about people interrupting his few moments of peace. Opening the door, he was only mildly surprised to see Zamolxis and Bendis standing there with benevolent smiles on their faces.



Motioning with his right hand for them to come in, Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose with the left one. “Anything wrong?”



Revealing a bottle of expensive scotch from behind him, Zamolxis placed it on the table in front of the couch. “Not at all, just thought you needed some answers and some fuel.” He emphasized his words by tilting his head towards the bottle. Smirking, the Watcher went to the kitchen to retrieve glasses, while Bendis made herself comfortable next to her partner. Zamolxis looked at her fondly and called out, “Don't forget to bring three glasses. Bendis here can drink us both under the table, if she really wants to.” She playfully swatted at his arm, but didn't disagree.



After they were all settled around the coffee table, Giles opened the bottle of liquid, taking a moment to appreciate its fragrance and color, then poured equal amounts in the three glasses. “What shall we drink to?”



Without even pausing to think, Zamolxis raised his glass. “To Glory, may she rot in the bowels of the Universe.” They all clinked their tumblers together and drank. After licking his lips in obvious appreciation of the amber liquid they were sharing, the erstwhile expat representative lay back on the couch. “So, what questions do you have? Because I could bet you have many. No self-respecting Watcher would miss an opportunity for information.” He met Bendis' eyes when she gave him a disapproving look. It's not my fault he's a bit too conservative and chooses to ignore perfectly good sources of information.



Giving his two companions a pensive look, Giles decided to play along. “Why did you give Joyce all the knowledge of the possible future? Why not someone else?”



Chuckling, Bendis relaxed, stretching her legs and enjoying the sound of leather upon leather that her Aeryn getup made. “You really like her, don't you?”



Giles seemed to sit up straighter and puff himself up, in typical male posturing. “What of it?”



With a full, hardy laugh, Bendis placed her whiskey on the table. “There's nothing wrong with that. On the contrary, we're very pleased you realized your potential. As for the images—” Trailing her finger along the brim of the glass, she continued speaking without looking at him, “She has become a sort of an Oracle. She knows things beforehand and she is able to guide those that ask the right questions on the correct path.” Dipping her finger in the liquid and then sucking the moisture off, she appeared to be completely ignorant of the wolfish hunger clearly visible on Zamolxis' face. “She will have to help her daughter by acting as a liaison between us and her.”



Getting a bit impatient with the detour in the discussion, Giles put down his own glass roughly. “But why her? She has enough on her plate.”



Bendis looked sadly up at the Watcher, focusing all her attention on him, demanding without words he do the same. “She was the perfect choice.” Tilting her head a bit, she became inquisitive herself. “Aren't you happy we replaced the tumor with knowledge?”



Squirming a bit, like a boy in front of a teacher, Giles fumbled with his next drink. “Yes, well, thank you. Perhaps, though, the burden of that responsibility could have been given to someone more, shall we say, accustomed to it.”



Pinning him in place with his strange white-less eyes, Zamolxis seemed to be weighing the Watcher. Finding whatever conclusion it was he was searching for, he then leaned back on the couch, leaving his half-empty glass on the table. “Someone like you, perhaps? Someone that had all the answers at his fingertips and yet chose to ignore the glaringly obvious facts and instead fed the same old rhetoric to his Slayer, nearly getting her killed on numerous occasions because of his shortcomings? Indeed, why didn't we choose you? I wonder.”



Gulping down another mouthful of strength-giving liquor, Giles spoke, his voice steely. “I did what I thought was best.”



With sarcasm almost dripping from each word, Zamolxis closed his eyes, seemingly in exasperation. “And if we hadn't intervened, she would have been dead within a few months, after losing her mother and almost any semblance of humanity she still had left.” The bearded elder opened his eyes—now blazing with a furious fire within, that made them seem almost golden—his stare making the Watcher sit back in his chair. “Then the really bad things would have happened, and you, my high and mighty Watcher, would have been unwilling to see the way things would have gone. Your pattern of thinking would have proven her ultimate downfall.” His eyelids hooded, head lowering, Zamolxis grabbed for his own glass and stared deeply inside it. “You would have had the most resources to use the information we gave Joyce, but she has the willingness to actually sift through it without prejudice, searching only for the truth.”



Silence reigned over the three people sitting in the living-room, as each sipped on their drinks and contemplated on the winding tricks of the human psyche. Finally, after downing his entire portion and starting on the second one, Giles managed to work up the courage to look his companions in the eye in turn. He found no recrimination there, just a strange curiosity; something that he felt compelled to answer, somehow.



Trying to figure things out for himself, he let his thoughts flow freely. “Even if things would have gone like that, I cannot be held responsible for future actions that will not come to pass.” Taking off his glasses in order to polish the almost invisible specks of dust that had gathered since the last ritual cleaning, he continued his musings, “So, if every one of the group seems to have received some sort of new purpose with your arrival here—everyone except me that is—then it is safe to say that either you desire my removal or there is something you have yet to share.” Putting his glasses back on, he met Zamolxis' now-normal—or as close to that as they could be—eyes.



Smugly looking at his beloved, the declared Wolfram representative let out a guffaw. “Ha-ha, I told you the old Ripper would catch on to our little game.” Turning to the stony-faced Watcher, he patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “You, my esteemed Rupert Stewart Giles, are charged with a very important matter. Since the dawn of the Slayers, the Watcher's Council has been responsible for aiding them, training them, and keeping the legacy alive. In the past few centuries or so, that goal has been so much further and further to the actual activities of the Council, that a change is sorely needed.”



“You want me to talk Travers into changing the way they view Slayers?”



“Travers and all those like him are expendable. We want you to replace them,” Bendis chimed in.



Looking aghast, Giles leaned forward with his entire body. “You surely don't mean...”



“What she means, is that you will become the new leader of the Watchers, with the ability to retire any and all of the mindless drones that are unable to comprehend the true role of the Council as helpers of the Slayer, not owners of her destiny,” Zamolxis' tone was final, like that of a judge at sentencing.



Slumping back into his seat, Giles saw no other way to answer such a proposition except, “Bloody hell!”

*Spike's crypt, 3 days after Glory's death*



The door banged open, the echo reverberating down to the lower level. A figure stood still at the threshold, bathed in the waning light of the sun, her shadow darting ahead of her like an advanced scout. After a few moments of hesitation, the first step was followed by another, and yet another. The door swung closed, leaving just a sliver of light to illuminate the chamber. In the silence that had descended, the sound of footsteps seemed to fill the place with a cadence that would have been good enough to set a clock to.



After a few more seconds of inner debate, the trap door to the underground was opened and then she descended. Once on the bottom rung, she turned around to look through the darkness for a source of light. All of a sudden, a Zippo flicked open and the contours of the bed's single occupant could be guessed. “I've been waiting for you. Should I put some pants on or how are we doing this?”



It annoyed her to no end that she could almost feel as well as see his smirk. She crossed her arms over her chest and motioned with her chin for him to get a move on. She refused to speak, knowing that if she did, nothing would be the same again. She looked on, trying to spot something through the darkness that had descended once again when the lighter was extinguished.



She could tell he was taking his time, trying to foresee what was to happen. In that respect, she could understand him perfectly. Like any good warrior, he was assessing the situation in order to react appropriately. What was it that he'd said? That's right, all we do is dance. This deadly and exciting game they played, this dance around each other shaped every single encounter. She tried to imagine what steps he had planned for the next part, what style, what rhythm. She was pulled out of her reverie by Spike lighting up the torches on the wall, breaking the spell that darkness had woven inside her mind.



She watched him move around the chamber, hair still ruffled from sleep, barefoot and with only his tight black jeans on. Yumm! She could tell from the way he carried himself that he was a seasoned warrior and that led her to wonder how other people perceived her movements. Did she exude the same image of quicksilver in motion when they saw her? Or did it take a warrior to detect another warrior, the civilians being blissfully unaware? And if so, how did she look like through his eyes? She didn't have to wonder for long, as he was now standing in front of her, leaning against the bedpost and watching her with a mixture of awe and reluctance. Apparently she looked deliciously deadly.



When he was unwilling to start the conversation, opting instead for lighting up one of his ever-present cigarettes, she took a deep, calming breath and tried to focus her thoughts. Failing to do that, she went with the next best thing, winging it. “Nice place, should I ask how much of it is stolen?” She didn't mean to start with a jibe, but when it came to the two of them, it was like second nature. She saw the ticking in his jaw and realized they were starting with the left foot. Again.



“Sorry to offend your sound logic, Slayer, but none of this is stolen. A vamp can furnish his home without resorting to petty theft.” Inhaling from his cigarette, he spoke through the billows of smoke coming out with every word. “So what brings you up and about?”



“I-” she stopped herself and took another breath. Deciding to switch strategies, she sat down on his bed, fighting the urge to lie down. Noticing the slight change from anger to apprehension in his countenance, she could clearly see his concern. “I came here to thank you.” The way his eyes filled with wonder made her heart constrict. Had he really been so starved for such a simple thing as a thank you? And had she really thanked him before? She couldn't remember ever saying those words to him before and the realization shamed her. “So thank you for... well, for doing my job for me.” She smiled bitterly and shrugged her shoulders.



“You know me, luv; always up for a bit of rough and tumble. No need to make a big fuss about it.” The way he was watching her, though, belied his words.



Buffy briefly wondered how long it would have taken her to really see the adulation in his eyes and how much longer still to accept it. She felt a cold chill at the answer. “No. It matters a lot to me that you were out there when I couldn't be.” She leaned forward a bit and placed her hand on his arm. That simple touch meant more for both of them than words could convey. Enjoying the feeling of his skin on hers, she whispered, “You were my Mister Protector.” They both smiled at that, even though Spike raised an eyebrow in protest.



Speaking just as softly as she had, he covered her hand with his own. “Buffy, I told you I'd always be there for you. I don't leave, kitten.”



Hearing her name from his lips was like hearing a prayer from a dying man. All of a sudden, she blurted out her biggest concern. “Are you sorry?”



Frowning, he withdrew his hand from atop hers, without pulling away from her touch, though. “What's that, Slayer?”



She tightened the grip on his arm and repeated her question, trying to make it clearer both to him and to herself. “Are you sorry for all the people you ate? Especially now, hearing about Vampiri and all of that?” She held her breath and started worrying her lower lip while she waited for his response. After a few tense moments in which his face betrayed a sway of conflicting emotions, she started breathing again once he spoke.



“I don't work that way.” Seeing her face fall, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Look, for me—for any vamp—we feel like somethin' needs to be done, we do it, and bugger the consequences. Feedin', huntin', stealin', everythin' goes if we feel like we need it.”



“So... because I'm part-”



“Don't even start with that bollocks! I know what you're gettin' at, Slayer, but you're off your bloody gourd if you think that what you did with that git housin' Glory was wrong.” She opened her mouth to protest again, so he grabbed both her shoulders and looked right into her eyes. “Possession by a Hell God does things to you. You don't mean to tell me you think he just happened to be there, do you? Even if you hadn't snapped his neck, when the bitch went home, he would have been sucked dry in the process.”



“What's that got to do with anything?” Her eyes were opened wide, and her jaw felt a bit slack at the way Spike presented things.



“It's bloody obvious. You did the bloke a right favor by offin' him so easily. He would've been consumed from the inside out slowly by the loony bint until there was nothing left of either his mind or his body.” Seeing her lower her unfocused eyes in an attempt to process, he decided to up the ante. “And never forget, it was his life or the Nibblet's. Tell me if that was the wrong choice, because me—plain old vamp that I am—I'd always choose to keep your sis breathin'.” He smirked when her gaze snapped to his, revealing the realization she was coming to at long last. “Just don't tell the Bit, or she'll blow out my eardrums with her teenage squealing.”



Next thing he knew, something so wonderful happened, he half-believed that he was still dreaming. For the first time since Red's spell, he felt the warmth of her lips on his own and after she withdrew, he sucked on his own lip to relish her taste. It was just a chaste peck on the lips, but those few moments their mouths were pressed together felt like eons to him. Before he had a chance to possibly ruin the moment by saying something stupid, she placed her right index finger on his lips.



“I just wanted to thank you. For everything.” Ducking her head shyly, she looked up at him and withdrew her hand. “It's getting late.” He felt his heart plummet at her words, but tried not to show it. “I'm not ready for patrol yet, so could I ask you for one more night of doing it alone?”



Feeling like he was used again, but finding it really difficult to mind after she'd kissed him, he tried to figure out if he should be offended or resigned. He chose to be indifferent for the time being, until she left and he could whoop with joy and then break some bottles against the walls in frustration. “Whatever you need, Slayer.”



She grabbed his arm again, keeping him from getting up and stepping away from her. “Is... is it okay if I wait for you here? I kinda need to think of stuff and when I'm with you it just comes so much more easily.” Smiling impishly, she tilted her head to the side. “And maybe when you return I'll thank you some more for being so helpful.”



Mentally calculating how he could perform the world's fastest patrol ever, he barely contained his excitement at her words. “Sounds interestin'. You know? I'd have done this a long time ago, if I'd known what the reward would be.” Winking at her and dodging the pillow she threw after him, he picked up a shirt and his boots without bothering to put them on. He then darted back to the bed and, moving lightning fast, stole another kiss from the supposedly upset blonde, after which he climbed the ladder to the upper chamber and disappeared before she could protest.



Once he was gone, Buffy touched her fingers to her lips and smiled contentedly. Things were definitely looking up from the pit of despair her mother and sister had worked overtime getting her out of. Pointedly ignoring that, for most people, it would be weird to feel safe below a crypt in the middle of a cemetery in the town built on the mouth of Hell, she curled up in the middle of his bed, drew the covers around her and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.



~~~***~~~



Throughout the entire patrol, Spike was restless. His thoughts kept drifting back to his bed, where the woman of his dreams was waiting for him. He didn't want to get his own hopes up too high, but with each step he took, more and more scenarios flashed through his head. His mind was so distracted that he was taken by surprise when a lowly fledgling tackled him from the side.



Normally, he would have relished the challenge—meager as it was—and attempted to draw out the fight for as long as possible. He had no time for such nonsense, however. With brutally efficient movements, he gained the upper hand, overpowered his opponent and dusted him in less than a minute. Without even pausing, he continued his patrol with just as much fervor as before.



In an attempt to clear his head, he wondered how Giles was faring in Britain. The man had left the very next day after Glory's defeat, declaring he was taking Zamolxis and Bendis on a tour of the Watcher's Council. If Spike were a betting man—and he was—he would put his money on the two PTB representatives setting into motion the next step in their plan. If that step meant the disappearance of people like Travers or the dissolution of the Council itself, that could only be answered when they returned, but Spike's impression was that they would salvage as much as they could of the aging institution.



He chuckled to himself imagining what a Watcher's Council might look like with Giles in command, especially now that his Ripper persona was so much closer to the surface. He wondered how many of those wankers he could put the fear of God into by flashing a bit of fang in the middle of their meeting hall. He had no doubts that if Giles was to become head Watcher, he would move the whole operation to California rather than be forced to stay away from Joyce. And Joyce wouldn't leave Buffy, who, in turn, wouldn't leave the Hellmouth. All those stuffy old Brits would be like fish out of water under the hot Californian sun, and it was clear as day what much fun could be had at their expense.



Before long he found himself in front of the house on Revello, his customary last stop of every night. He circled the house carefully, making sure no baddies threatened his Nibblet. Just as he was about to leave, though, the front door swung open and Joyce stepped on the porch. Spike lit up a cigarette, his first since leaving the crypt, and tried not to show how anxious he was to get going again.



“Hello William.” Joyce was looking at him strangely and Spike was glad for the distraction provided by smoking.



“Joyce. How come you're up and about? It's nearly midnight.”



The look Joyce gave him made him feel like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Take good care of my daughter, or I'll finish what I started three years ago with that ax.” She looked pointedly at him and leaned against the wall of the house. “And please think before you speak. You and I both know she's been hurt before. Can you handle that?”



“I c-”



“Because if you can't, you're not good for my daughter and you don't really love her.”



Spike felt like someone had punched him in the gut and speared him in the heart at the same time. “I'll do my best, Joyce. I'll take care of Buffy and I promise not to hurt her.”



She looked him over once more, head to toe, seemingly weighing his worth again. Satisfied by what she found, she nodded once and turned to go back into the house. She put her hand on the door knob and spoke without turning her head. “Now go back to her and be really careful. I know everything.” She then walked inside her home, leaving an extremely worried vampire behind her to snap out of his shocked state and trudge back to his crypt, his mood split between being glad he had Joyce's blessing and terrified at the ominous warning she'd given him.



Eventually, he reached his crypt and made his way to the lower level. On the way down, he gave a mental thanks to Zamolxis and Bendis for telling him to get rid of both Harmony and the shrine he had built for Buffy. If she'd seen either of the two, the Slayer would have probably staked him instead of...



There she was now, an angel with her hair spread on his pillow, his sheets wrapped around her like a safe cocoon. Her closed hand near her mouth looked like she was about to suck on her thumb, and made her even more adorable, if that was possible. His heart soared when he thought about the fact that it was his bed that she had found safe enough to look so peaceful in. Just one question remained, though.



Should he wake her up to maybe get another kiss, or wait for her to wake up on her own, watching her from beside the bed and memorizing every single strand of hair? Or perhaps even crawl in beside her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms? The last option would probably see him dust come morning, but he found it too hard to resist. He took off his boots and his duster and climbed beside her, relishing the fact that she snuggled into his embrace once he was settled. Inhaling her scent deeply, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep with a contented smile on his face.