Buffy had risen late that Sunday morning. It was pleasantly cool that day in the growing little settlement of Sunny Meadows as she strolled down Second Avenue in her aran fisherman’s sweater, navy capris, and bare feet. (Never much of one to go shoeless in the home world, Buffy had nevertheless gone along with the locally evolved custom. Some magical force in these low mountains and in the peninsula to the south had mutated the post-pubescent women so that their feet were more resistant to injury, pain, cold, and skin diseases than those of a normal human even with well-made socks and shoes. So, in the colony, footwear and hose were worn almost entirely by the men and small children.)

It was a rare moment for herself; Little Wilhelmina was sleeping over at Willow's and Tara’s. The golden-blonde woman reached the boundaries of the “capital city” of the Commonwealth of New California and strolled through a grassy field, enjoying the view, which was still new and inspiring after several years here. The oddly marbled sun shown down brilliantly, warm on her back as she gazed off to the west, watching the vaguely endless horizon fade off and into the sky until it became the silvery silhouette of the ring.

The church pavilion was right at the edge of the field, her Slayer’s hearing understood perfectly the words of the canticle, “Let the vineyards be fruitful, Lord, And fill to the rim our cup of blessing.” Unexpectedly, she heard something else, the most familiar voice in her personal world calling out, “Hey sweetheart, I didn’t expect to see you for at least half an hour.”

Buffy turned around with a smile matching the one on her husband’s face. The blonde vampire walked to her and they shared their first kiss of the day; he’d gotten up well before her, which was not unusual, and left, which was only usual on Sundays.

They rubbed noses a little while, and then she asked, “Ditching church early, Spike? How many demerits will Jared give you for that?”

“I know you haven’t been in a while, pet, but remember, even though Mr. Milek was never ordained, we vampires can’t take a chance, and it is Communion today, and you know I don’t feel comfortable sitting out, so I leave, so does Dru. Better than a burnt mouth or maybe going like your old sparring partner Zach Kralik. “

“And Theresa and Darla, excuse me, Nell, sit there demurely and just listen, and Angel never attends, for his own reasons, but I’ve seen Harmony receive.”

“Hey, you know how important it is for her to always look right. When Jared first started services here, she asked him to put some bread and wine aside for her ahead of time, away from the altar, and she takes those.”

“You know, I’ve gotten to like the person she’s become since we’ve been here, but she’ll never really overcome her inner bimbo, will she?”

“Jared’s okay with it, I think he had a crush on her when you were teenagers, like he did on you.”

“Oh, yes, indeed he did, and on Cordelia and all the other Cordettes, and on Willow and Amy and Theresa and Anya, and on some older ladies who didn’t join us here like Ms. Calendar and my mother, possibly Drusilla, he was totally nuts about Tara once he’d met her, and he was starting to have one on my sister before we came through the wall. That’s one reason why he prays so much, he’s a horny s-o-b and knows he needs the strength. I just wish on of our huge population of single women would marry him and put us married ones out of our misery.”

“Why does he still hang around you all so much?”

“Because, he says, if he spent too much time with an unattached girl, people would gossip, and in his “position” he can’t afford that. We’re safe company because everyone knows none of us would ever do anything with him. And when I’m this close to you, I don’t want to be discussing our self-appointed Metropolitan and Patriarch, so shut up and kiss me agaiphphph. . . “ she said and he did, more quickly than she’d anticipated.

After a bit, she stepped back, looked him up and down, and said, “Hey, not bad, your brown corduroy sport coat with the suede elbow patches, your cream turtleneck, chinos, and deck shoes. You should dress up like this more often, you bastard, it looks good on you.

“Slayer, are you trying to seduce me ?”

“Oh, I have to try now ?”

Buffy noticed some movement, low down, in her peripheral vision. Spike, who had seen the same thing more directly, said, “What the hell are those ?”

From back up the street, they heard “Spike, Buffy, help!” and they ran in that direction.

Cassie, who had called out to them, was standing on a picnic table while Drusilla was furiously stomping at things in the grass, which were fanning out in all directions. The other two joined her in crushing the slithering creatures, which looked like nothing so much as living, washed-out, transparent, black-and-white photographs of snakes.

Just as the infestation in their area seemed temporarily under control, they all heard isolated screams from various directions and a generalized sound of panic from the church. As they turned in that direction, they saw Gwen step out from the pavilion and lay down a blanket of electrical bolts, which fried the serpents by the dozens.

But still more of the things kept swarming in from all directions, and Buffy, Spike, and Dru couldn’t kill them fast enough. Buffy for one took a hit on her left calf. Site itself burned like a whole pack of lit cigarettes and her entire leg tingled.

By then, Tara, Willow, and Jonathan had run up, Tara calling out spell in Latin. As she finished it, Willow laid her hands on her lover’s shoulders and a wash of transparent force spread out in circles from the two witches, and those snakes still moving disappeared.

But the people still had to deal with the effects of the bites. Buffy herself had lost all feeling in her left leg and felt an odd stiffness in the muscles of her back and neck.

People poured out of the church pavilion, unbitten or slightly stricken helping those worse off, some looking vaguely uncomfortable, more staggering and stumbling, others having to be carried. Theresa had an adult over each shoulder. Jared was carrying tow small children and, as he always did when frightened, singing doxologies. Harmony, quite visibly showing in her fourth month, shuffled out, holding an unconscious Wesley in front of her. Sinking to her knees, she set him down gently, said “Come on, my sweet English Shorthair Black, please wake up,” before collapsing across him from the more than a dozen bites she’d received herself.

The uninjured and walking wounded went to help those worse off. Buffy was next to Tara and said “Who’zh wit’ the kidzh?”

Tara answered, “Amy and her crew dropped by just before we heard the screams. Buffy, I think you need to lie down.

“M’okee, m’okee,” Buffy responded, loosening Fred’s blouse while Tara dressed the unconscious woman’s wounds.

Meanwhile, Willow had just been standing in a brown study. The, she began an incantation. I t wasn’t in one of the languages she or anyone ordinarily used for spell-casting, and Tara felt a severe chill, and not just down her spine.

The red-haired witch’s voice built steadily, from a normal public-speaking tone to a crescendo which wasn’t truly a shout, but something far louder, powered by what I can’t say.

All at once, the entire settlement took on an orange glow, which quickly intensified, then, just as it hit its maximum, switched off. With it, the effects of the bites vanished. Buffy sat down hard on the ground as she and the other victims slowly recovered. Spike came over, knelt and began massaging the back of her shoulders.

As for Willow, most of her body was unnaturally stiff, still as stone. But her head and hands were twitching incredibly, unhealthily fast. Orange sparks danced about, flying off her head and hands to disappear. Her eyes were closed.

Tara stood up and looked straight at her lover, showing in her face none of the fear she felt. Pointing with her whole hand, she spoke words in Hebrew which roughly translated as “You, (unpronounceable name), leave her alone,” and walked toward the stricken girl.

Jonathan was standing well away from them, hands positioned like a baseball shortstop’s, shouting, “Tara, remember, send some of it to me. It’s too much for one person.”

The ash-blonde came closer to Willow, saying “Baby, fight it. You can. You don’t have to go there, darling,” and threw her arms around the redhead.

Instantly, Tara was paralyzed, quivering like an electrocution victim. Her head flew back, mouth gaping, eyes rolled so far back all that could be seen was white.

“Damn!” Jonathan exclaimed, “She didn’t have the chance to do anything. I juts hope I can handle it,” and he began a spell in Olde Russian, waving his fingers as if beckoning something to him. He had grown braver over the years.

He didn’t know until they had each placed a hand on his shoulders that Anya and Cordelia were behind him. The two demonesses raised their free hands skyward as Angel came behind them and placed his hands between their shoulder blades.

Jonathan’s magic worked. A current of orange force flowed from the stricken witches to his hands, then through him into Anya and Cordelia and out their raised hands to the sky. Angel grimaced with the strain of supporting them.

When the flow ceased, all six went to their knees. Willow and Tara held each other in a death grip, much like the one they’d shared upon first finding each other in this world, but without the sobs and tears. Angel and Cordelia sort of sagged into each other’s arms, while Katrina and Xander ran to Jonathan and Anya respectively.

Buffy, recovering almost instantly, walked quickly over to Willow and Tara. All she could think to say was “You guys okay?”

Tara turned her head and said, “We are, Buffy. Willow and I will never let anything happen to each other for too long. Of course, it helps to have friends like Jon, Cordy, Anya, Angel, and you; did I forget anyone?” she said with a half-smile. She and Willow began struggling to their feet.

Buffy smiled back weakly, then said, “Hey, Wil, I know you know this, and I don’t want to tell you your business, but wasn’t there a less risky spell to cure us all? It goes without saying I get scared when stuff like this happens to you.”

“I’m sure there was, Buffy, but I didn’t feel I had time to think of it. I had no way of knowing what the poison was doing to you and went for the strongest appropriate spell I could think of; I just didn’t know what we were facing.”

“Twilight serpents,” came the voice of Decius Nenno, stepping up beside them with a dead snake in each fist. An ex-slave, once a scribe to a powerful demon merchant, he had been one of the first fugitives to come to the colony and was now Commissioner for Refugee Affairs.

“They’re magical creatures. The bite is seldom fatal; it produces pain, fever, mild convulsions at first, then tremendous lethargy for days, combined with acute anxiety. Most of the town would have been helpless the better part of a week.”

Those who heard this considered it briefly when they were distracted by Drusilla’s voice.

“Ohhh, they’re coming, five halves of a century and more, wagons, beasts, chains, and ropes, they’re well on their way, be here soon.”

After a few seconds silence, Cassie echoed this more plainly, “Yes, a force of over 150 mercenaries and slave catchers are approaching the border, should cross our boundaries about mid-day Tuesday.”

Connor, in his usual impulsive way, said, “Well, some of us will be there to meet them!”

“Lets’ not go off half-cocked, there, lad,” Spike said with a quarter-chuckle, “this isn’t a small gang looking to kidnap back one or two fugitive slaves. This is an army.”

Before the two hotheads could continue the discussion, Wesley said, “Yes, it’s an army, but we have one of our own with which to meet them!”

Tara looked at him. “Wes, you’ve always said a small community like ours has to give peace every chance. Now what, you’re saying we should give up on talking? Isn’t that half-cocked ?” she asked.

The Englishman smiled at the spirited young woman. “Not at all, Tara,” he said, “we should keep talking as long as possible, til they reach the borders, even after if we can. But this is a declaration of war, and they’ve made it.”

His face grew cold as he continued, “And if it’s war that they insist upon, then that’s precisely what we’ll give them. By Jove, that we will.”