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Hazing clouds rain on my head
Empty thoughts fill my ears
Find my shade by the moon light
Why my thoughts aren't so clear
Demons dreaming
Breathe in, breathe in
I'm coming back again
Godsmack - Voodoo

He slept for two days. Well, not the whole forty-eight hours, but close enough. He woke up once in a while, laughed, cried, and drank a pint of blood, then he went back to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Since the Master was dealt with, all his stress and guilt over Angel and everything else he’d changed caught up to him.
Once he was completely awake, he laughed until his belly ached, cried until he had no more tears, drank until he was full, sat down, and took stock.
As far as he was concerned, things were looking up. Of course, he hadn’t been able to stop some of the events from taking place, but at least he’d managed to limit their impact. The bug lady, the hyenas, and even the perverted little puppet’s demon target barely had time to show their heads and were taken care of. Others, such as the Order of Taraka played a much bigger role, and a lot earlier than in his world. Still, the Scoobies were larger, more united, and more open-minded than ever, so he could safely call it all a win.
In fact, he realized with a start it had been almost a year since he’d landed in this universe, and he felt good about it. Most important of all, he was Buffy’s boyfriend. He was sure he would get to the point when that thought wouldn’t immediately cause his lips to curl up into a smile, but that day was still a long ways away.
His eyes got big and he dropped his smile when his wandering mind stumbled upon a realization. When he thought of ‘his’ Scoobies, he’s stopped thinking about the ones he’d left behind, their place being taken by these… younger ones. When the hell had that happened?
His pensive mood was disturbed by Tara’s return from school. She’d enrolled—with Jenny’s help, and thanks to Principal Flutie’s laid-back style of management—in Sunnydale High, and was beginning to make the Hellmouth town her home. When she saw him she stopped, frowned, and sat next to him. “You okay?”
Spike smiled at her. “Was just thinking, pet. It’s been almost a year since I was… put here.”
“A—and?”
His smile turned into a genuine grin. “And I have it better than I ever did.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “I think… you deserve it.” She blushed and lowered her gaze.
“Thanks. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He looked up to the ceiling in panic. “That’s not a challenge, okay?” The last thing he needed was for the Powers to screw things up for him.
He had a long list of things still left to do: get the Gem for him, the Scythe for Buffy, the Amara Treasure for everyone, and go after the rest of the group. He knew Gunn was probably starting up his gang days, but he could take care of himself. Wesley was still busy trying to be a model Watcher, and all-around useless human being at this point. Anyanka was happy being a vengeance demon, and Spike wasn’t entirely sure he should change that. He’d have to see how Xander shaped up.
Those were the easy decisions, though. From here on things got murky. Would Oz start dating Willow this time around? Perhaps Spike should warn him about... hmm. He didn’t remember exactly how it was the kid became a werewolf.
He needed to go get Faith. If what he got from what she’d let slip about her past was true, she was stashed away in some foster home. A foster home where the man of the house perved on her almost as much as the other teenage boys sharing the same roof. Sometime soon she’d run away and try to get by on the street. He couldn’t just let her get lost in that world.
There was also the problem with Fred. Poor, smart, trapped-in-another-dimension Fred. The trip there needed some research, time, and allies. Even if she was probably worse off at the moment than Faith, she’d survive. So she could wait a while as he put things in motion.
He blinked away his thoughts to find Tara looking at him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not really thinking happy thoughts.”
He got ready to reply, possibly with something rude, when he decided to change tactics. He liked how Tara had become so assertive as opposed to how he remembered her being when they’d first met in the ‘other’ world. Maybe if he included her in his plans, she’d open up even more. “I was thinking of some people who need my help.”
“Who?”
“There’s this girl, Faith. She acts all tough and street-wise, but inside she’d fragile. In my old world she got Called and it changed her destiny. It gave her a destiny. Here, since Buffy didn’t die fighting Old Batface, Rogue won’t have that chance. I… I feel responsible, so I’d like to help her… Like I helped you.”
Tara ducked her head. “Can I h—help?”
“I was just thinking I’d want you to come with. I’m not sure where in Boston she is now, so it might take a few days.”
Tara frowned. “And is Buffy coming too?”
“Don’t know. I’ll have to ask her and Joyce.”
“Maybe Wi—Willow can help.” Ad his raised eyebrow she blushed. “With the foster home. She’s good with computers so may—maybe…”
He snapped his fingers. “You’re right. I bet Red could find out where she’s supposed to be at. Good idea, Glinda.”
Tara nodded her head and hurried to her room.
~~~***~~~
*near the Master’s former lair*
Spike strode into the warrens with confidence. As opposed to his previous entrance, this time he wanted to make as much noise as possible. Taking the crown is loud business, after all.
Soon enough he reached the vaulted room the Master had been trapped in. All of the remaining members of the Order of Aurelius were gathered there, listening to one of them preach the return of the Master.
“He’s not coming back.” Spike threw a stake through the heart of the undead zealot to accompany his words.
Shouts of ‘traitor,’ ‘slayer’s slave,’ and ‘walking dust’ could be heard from several of the vampires. Spike made a mental note of all the more hostile-looking of the bunch.
“Quiet.” His voice boomed and reverberated along the chamber walls. “I’m here to tell you the past is done, and it’s time for a little less ritual, and a bit more fun.”
A vampire with a Neanderthal’s forehead stepped forward. “Who are you to think you can give the orders here?” Spike narrowed his eyes. The big lug seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him.
“I’m the oldest, and toughest vampire around here, that’s who.”
The other vamp snorted. “I was at the Crucifixion, so I got you beat.”
The boast triggered a memory in Spike’s mind. It was the same minion he’d used as bait for Buffy the first time he’d laid eyes on her in the other world. “If every vampire that claims to have been at the Crucifixion was actually there, it would have been bigger than Woodstock. I should know: I was actually at Woodstock. Fed on a flower person and watched my hand move for hours.” He used the diversion he’d created with his play-acting to stake the boasting Neanderthal. Putting on his most fearsome facial expression, he issued his claim. “I, William the Bloody, childe of Drusilla the Mad, scion of the Order of Aurelius, declare I am the new Master of Sunnydale. Obey me, challenge me, or be gone from my dominion.”
His words were met with silence at first. Some of the vampires—Dalton among them, much to Spike’s delight—lowered their heads in obvious deference to his claim. Most of the ones Spike had already marked as threats were urging each other on to challenge him. Spike readied himself by retrieving another stake from his coat pocket and the machete from his hip holster.
Battle was joined. He staked two vampires, decapitated another, and left two more crawling on the floor with missing limbs even before the non-combatants made room in the middle of the chamber. With the first wave taken care of, he concentrated on the remaining five challengers, now looking a lot less confident in their chances.
A series of kicks, leaps, and some swipes of his machete, and he’d rendered all his opponents either dust, or unable to fight, leaving just the ones who’d submitted to his rule unharmed. He was about to shout his victory when from the corner of his eye he noticed movement. He ducked in time to avoid the wild swing with one of his own discarded stakes by a vamp who’d snuck up on him. A red blur flew into action and ripped the offender’s head off before Spike had time to regain his footing.
“Thanks, pet.”
The leather-clad vampire bowed her head. “He was attacking my Master.” Despite the words and the subservient position, Spike could detect a vibrant and independent creature.
He made a mental note to see what she was capable of as a minion. He would need a worthy second in command. He surveyed the remaining vampires—some had slithered away while the fighting took place. He had a good couple dozen vampires to lord over, some of them old acquaintances, like Dalton. Time to set them straight. “Listen up. I’m not hardly what the bloody Bat was, nor am I like any other Master vamp out there. One of the things that sets me apart is who my consort is. As at least some of you know, I’m talking about the Slayer.” He didn’t give anyone the chance to comment and forged on. “That means my minions are as much hers as they are mine. It also means you lot will be bagging it, or you’re dust. Anyone got a problem with that, you’re free to leave, but this is your last chance. Do I make myself clear?”
Most of the minions started nodding their heads frantically, while a few left, mumbling about ‘whipped’ Masters asking for impossible things. Spike thought twenty was a good enough number, so he didn’t mind the losses. Better to have a few loyal followers than a lot of disgruntled would-be back-stabbers.
After the remaining minions had gathered in front of him to swear their fealty Buffy made her entrance the same way Spike had, and took her place next to him, just as they’d discussed before he went there. She looked the part, but more importantly, she played the part. Head held high, back straight, looking over the minions as a queen looks at her subjects. She met the stare of the few who’d raised their heads from their bowed positions and made them lower their heads one by one.
“Hi there. I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. You heard what your Master said: you bag it, or you’re dust.”
The redhead who’d fought for Spike spoke up. “No exceptions? Not even ‘catch and release?’”
Buffy pretended to think it over. In fact, the terms and conditions had been ironed out at the Scooby meeting earlier that evening. “No, I don’t think ‘catch and release is a good idea.” Before any of the minions had a chance to even think about mumbling, Buffy went in for the kill. “I’m thinking ‘catch and turn in’ is better. You can drink from criminals, as long as you leave them on the police station’s doorstep.” She pinned the vamps that seemed much too happy at the thought with her best ‘Slayer’ glare. “Alive.”
The minions tripped over themselves trying to reassure Buffy they would abide by her rules. It was funny watching twenty game-faced minions all but cross their hearts and hope to die in front of the Slayer.
“All right, you miscreants. It’s time you got out from these tunnels, and started unliving in the town above. There’s an abandoned factory with our name on it, and it’s not going to fix itself up.”
“But, Boss, what about our stuff?”
Spike gave the guy who’d spoken a once-over. That particular minion wouldn’t win any brainiac contests. “There’s no mob with pitchforks and torches battering down the doors. Take your time, take whatever you need, and then trot along, like Santa’s good little helpers.” He gave them the address of the factory and tried his best to ignore whatever they were going to do.
While the vampires were milling about, trying to find whatever meager belongings they had, Buffy brought out a hammer and handed it to Spike. “You promised me something last time we were here, remember?”
“Consider it done.” He bashed and ground the Master’s bones into dust, and then collected it in a Ziploc bag for Giles to sprinkle over a river later. Once he was done he let his eyes roam once more over the cavernous chamber. He found himself wondering, once more, about his times as an evil vampire. Sure, his minions were on their way to the same factory he’d called home once upon a time, but it still felt different. He already had plans to upgrade it, transform it into someplace livable. He had thoughts about jobs for the crew, methods of getting blood delivered, and other such details. Back in the day his thought process concerning minions was ‘dust whichever one is most useless.’
He’d known the time spent around Buffy and the Scoobies had changed him, even before the soul, but reliving this year, bathed in blood as it had been the first time, really put things in perspective. He shivered from head to toe. Thank everything unholy for the bloody chip; without it he possibly never would have ended up where he was now.
He pulled out of his introspection to find Buffy giving him a puzzled look. “Just thinking about what to do next, love.”
“I think your fist order of business would be to take your Mistress out on the town. Otherwise she just might sick the minions on you.”
He gave a hearty laugh and offered her his elbow. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, my Lady.”
They walked back to the tunnels side by side, trailing the scrambling minions, and leaving the Master’s lair deserted behind them.

Godsmack – Voodoo lyrics copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group





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