Pain then. A dumpster. She had wrenched her shoulder as she had stumbled against the metal. She knew what to do. She needed to reset it. Leaning against a wall, she drew in a breath. Force of habit. She screamed once as she slammed herself hard against the brick mass and her shoulder popped back into place. She collapsed to the ground, her legs giving out from under her.

Footsteps coming closer. She could here them quicken. The smell grew stronger, and she suddenly understood what it was her senses were telling her. As the man leaned down to see if she was okay, she seized him with strong hands, wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. Under her skin, she could feel her bones shift, taking on a new aspect. Sinking her new fangs deep into the man’s neck, she moaned as the first splash of copper sweetness rolled over her tongue and down her throat. And then she drank deep.

A short way off, her sire watched with pride and pleasure. He ran a hand through bleached blonde hair and smiled to himself. Withdrawing a cigarette from his pack, he put it to his lips and lit it, inhaling the first drag deep down. She was perfect. The strengths and skills of two opposing natures combined. That of the vampire, and of the Slayer!

                                    ***************************************

Tinny country music that blared from a transistor radio behind the counter filled Wesley’s ears as he stepped through the door of the diner. He walked over to a booth and sat on the side that would offer him a view of the door.

“What’ll ya' have sugar?”

Wesley looked up into the face of the waitress standing poised beside him, a pencil hovering over her pad. She was in her early forties and had a smile fixed in place. But her eyes told a story she would not allow her face to show.

“Coffee please.” he told her.

She nodded, and headed back behind the counter to get his drink. She returned moments later, setting the coffee down in front of him and he nodded his thanks. As she walked away, Wesley picked up the teaspoon which rested on the saucer by his cup, and meticulously measured out two spoonfuls of sugar from the decanter on the table. Then with equal precision he stirred the coffee three times anti-clockwise, and three times clockwise. Setting the spoon down, he leaned back, and raised his eyes to the door once more, to watch for their arrival.

He had drunk about a half a cup before the door opened to admit the people he was waiting for. The first was a man in his mid forties, with grey-shot dark hair, and a careworn face. A small silver ring dangled from his ear. Gone were the tweeds that Wesley had associated with this man, replaced now by denim jeans and a black shirt, with a single breasted jacket buttoned up over it. His expression was grim.

The girl beside him had also changed since the last time he had seen her. Her auburn hair was cut into a short stylish bob, and framed a pretty face. She was dressed casually, in a long black skirt and peach colored blouse. Her expression was not unlike her mentors, set into not quite a frown, but certainly not a smile.

“Giles. Willow.” He acknowledged them as the came to a stop beside him.

Giles leaned forward, placing his hands evenly apart on the table as he brought his face closer to Wesley’s. “You’re a bloody fool Wesley. What on earth did you think you were doing?” he demanded in a quiet, but authoritative voice.

Wesley fixed him with cold hard eyes. The older man returned the gaze with a coldness of his own.

“Perhaps you should sit down.” Wesley began. “You’re drawing attention to us and I thought you chose this location for the anonymity it afforded us? Oh, incidentally, I don’t recommend the coffee. It’s a little stale.”

As the two of them slid into the booth, the waitress crossed over to their table once more. “Can I you folks anything?” she enquired.

“I’ll have a Pepsi.” Willow responded.

“Tea. Darjeeling if you have it.” came Giles reply.

The waitress shook her head. “We only have the regular kind I’m afraid, sugar. Will that do?” She turned to Wesley. “Can I get you a refill hun?”

When Giles and Wesley nodded their acceptance, she moved off once more. The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence until she returned with their drinks and left once more.

“Well?” Giles demanded finally, breaking the silence. “Do you want to explain yourself?”

“Not really. The Watchers Council doesn’t exist any more Rupert. I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else.”

Giles face turned red with barely controlled fury. “Wesley. This new attitude does not become you. You broke Faith out of prison and sent her after Spike. If nothing else, what you did was illegal.”

“Faith has always been a loose cannon Wesley.” Willow added. “You had to know it would be dangerous to send her after him. She’s almost as bad as he is in her own way.”

Wesley looked at the young woman for a moment. There was sadness to her eyes that he had not seen the last time they had seen each other. He’d heard the tales that had come out of Sunnydale, but chose not to mention them. He was no stranger to pain and loss. Despite the pompous righteousness these two were showing him right now, no-one deserved to have painful memories dragged back into the cold hard world.

“I did what I thought was necessary.” he replied. He turned to Giles. “You yourself told me that Buffy was not equipped to confront Spike again. There was only one other person in the world who could possibly take Spike on. Only one other slayer in the world. I sent her after him because I thought she would be able to handle him. I thought she had reformed sufficiently.”

“And now?” Giles asked.

“It’s hard to reform when one doesn’t have a soul.” Wesley said flatly.

“So you have heard then. You know what’s happened?”

“Yes. I wasn’t so irresponsible that I sent her out without tailing her. But when it happened, there was nothing I could do to prevent it, or to stop it afterwards.”

Giles sighed, putting his head in his hands. When he finally looked back at Wesley, there was a steely determination in his eyes. “We have no other option. Buffy still has her hands full back in Sunnydale. There is only one person who can help us now.”

Wesley shook his head. “I will not go to him.” he stated.

“They are Children of the Aurelius line. Who better to take them than the oldest surviving member?” Willow asked.

An idea started to form in Wesley’s mind. As it grew and shaped itself, a slow smile spread across his lips.

“What’s so bloody funny?” Giles asked him hotly.

“I won’t go to Angel for help Rupert. He probably wouldn’t listen to me anyway. But there is another member of the Aurelius line, who might be able to help us, and she’s older than Spike.”

“You have got to be joking. First Faith, and now this? Are you sure you didn’t loose some of your wits when that woman cut your throat.”

Wesley’s face darkened at that, and his hand went to the scar at his throat, but he pushed those dark thoughts aside and stared back at Giles.

“Their relationship is the thing of legends Rupert. For almost two centuries, they were the scourge of Europe. I’m certain we could enlist her aid if she were made to be sufficiently jealous. And even if she fails, we’ll still be rid of one of the Aurelius line.”

Willow leaned into Giles ear and whispered briefly. Giles nodded. “Very well.” He said finally. “We’ll try it your way. But if this doesn’t work, we go straight to Angel. Agreed?”

Wesley sighed, but nodded. “Agreed.”

“Good.” Giles said matter of factly. “Now all we have to do is locate Drusilla!”  

                        ****************************************

Faith rummaged through her victims clothes and located what she was looking for. She drew two cigarettes from the packet she had found and lit them both, handing one to her lover.

“You know we have fangs, don’t you.” Spike asked, his voice tinged with reproach.

Faith smiled as she licked the blood from the blade of her knife. “Yeah, but I like the feel of it when the steel cuts them.” she told him, grinning now.

“You waste too much blood that way pet! I’ve no problems with you playing with your food, but you should never waste the blood. If you’d ever tasted pigs blood you’d appreciate that more.”

Faith stepped over to him, and pulled him to her by the collar of his leather trench coat. Her body sang with anticipated pleasure as she felt his arms wrap around her waist. She kissed him deeply, their tongues entwined in a dance of exploration. When they broke, she continued to hold him, her arms snaking up round his neck so she could look into his eyes, their faces close to each other. “No more pigs blood for you though lover. Never again!”

He smiled. “No. Never again.” he agreed. “Come on. We can’t stay here all night.”

They left the alley way, its dead occupant now forgotten as they walked out into the night, their arms crossing as they held onto each other. The boulevard was crowded with people as they celebrated, dancing in the streets, painted masks flashing myriad colors in the light that spilled from the many bars and taverns. Loud music filled the air as they wove through the crowd of humanity like two sharks swimming through a school of fish. The temptation to strike was there, but controlled.

“I love New Orleans at Mardi Gras.” Spike told her. “Everyone having fun, getting drunk, and loosing all their inhibitions.”

 “Easy pickings.” Faith replied. Spike laughed, and it sent a shudder of pleasure through her.

“Did you always think with your stomach love?” he asked, “Or was it the change that made you so blood thirsty?”

“I can smell them.” she replied, as they wound their way through the press of people to their hotel at the end of the boulevard. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before; don’t know why I tried to fight for them. They’re sheep. Prey for the wolf. ”

“Yes they are!” he agreed. “But every once in a while, one stands out from the flock and becomes one of the wolves. And she’s a pretty wolf at that.”

Faith smiled and turned to face him once more. Again she drew him into a kiss, running her sharp teeth across his bottom lip to bring up a small amount of blood. They kissed around that sweet copper.

When they broke this time, she turned quickly, pulling him by the hand towards a dark cemetery.

“Where are we going love?” he asked her.

“Somewhere private.” she told him over her shoulder. “I want you. Now.”

*************************************

She held her hand up towards the light, inspecting her exquisitely manicured nails. The red nails with their white tips were long, but not to the point of being grotesque, and seemed to lengthen her already long fingers pleasingly. She wiggled them slightly, watching the light play in a path from the white tip, down through the deep red. She almost found it a wrench to eat each manicurist after they were finished with their work. One day, she would have to bring one over, to keep with her for all time. She glanced at the clock on the wall across from her, and grimaced at the time. Not too much longer till dawn, and she did not want to be here when it came. A crack in the wall running from the nail which held the chord the clock was hung by caught her attention then, and she followed it up the wall with her cat-like eyes to its terminus just above her head on the ceiling. The world was just as cracked as the wall. She could hear its monumentous voice screaming out its pain, but she did not really care.

The demon lying on top of her finally grunted, and rolled off. He was a pretty thing, she told herself. She had liked the way his green scales had shimmered in the moonlight. But he was a boring lover, and she’d had enough of being bored. She craved a little excitement. With a soft smile, she remembered Spike. He had always kept her interested. He had never been boring. He knew exactly how to excite her.

But she was angry at him, wasn’t she. He’d chained her up, said things to the Slayer that had made her nervous. Her eternal love had forgotten her. He had chosen someone else. He must be punished.

Maybe Angelus would punish him for her. No. He was not Angelus any more. He was Angel. He too had betrayed her love. What was it about this Slayer that had wrapped up her beautiful men so tightly around the blonde tarts finger? Wasn’t she so much more beautiful than the Slayer? She knew she was.

A sudden crash brought her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see the door to the room had been smashed open. Standing framed in the doorway was a woman. She seemed vaguely familiar to Drusilla, but it was the scent she recognized. Two figures stood to either side of her. Dru did not know them, but she recognized at once that both were dead, not quite in this world, and not quite in the next. They were but two aspects of the woman’s soul. The dark and the light.

“Hello little witch.” she said calmly. “Did you know you have a flayed man and a dead lover following you?”

The woman nodded, and then looked at the demon lying next to Dru. “Get out.” She commanded. Her voice was steady, but it was filled with raw power, and the demon could sense that. He rolled off the bed, grabbed his pants, and ran past her out of the room.

Dru sat up, and watched the witch walk further into the room. Her nakedness did not bother her, but she felt that in some dark recess of the witches mind, she was enjoying the view. Dru smiled.

“A lot has happened to you little Willow Witch. Your victims scream in anguish, and your friends fear what you have become.”

“We all have our burdens to bear Drusilla.” Willow replied, coming to a stop at the bed, and sitting on it with her back to the vampiress.

It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke more to Dru than a thousand words. In times past, this girl had been mortally terrified of her and her kind, but there was no fear now. Dru hated to admit it, but she felt a modicum of respect for this one. Her power was immense, far more than Dru’s own talents. Dru was a seer, but this one, she was a goddess of the crafts.

“The two who stand before you. Who are they?” Dru enquired.

Willow paused for a moment before answering. “Tara was the other half of my soul. She meant more to me than life, more than reason or rhyme. The flayed man is her murderer.”

“And your last victim.” Dru said sagely.

Willow nodded, and then turned to look at the vampire who lounged languidly on the bed. “I have some news for you.”

Dru sat completely upright now. She regarded the witch with a quizzical look. “Oh?” she asked. “And what do you have to tell me that I have not already seen?”

Willow smiled a cruel smile. In part, she enjoyed the revenge this would give her for the vampires’ hurtful question. “Spike has created another vampire.” she started.

Drusilla shrugged. “We have both sired one or two in our time. What is it to me if William grew a little lonely?”

“Oh I think this will interest you more than you think Drusilla. He has taken another lover. One who rivals you in ferocity and evil. In fact, I would say she is doing her best to surpass you. They are together committing atrocities worse than you and he ever did.”

Dru snarled at this news. “Who? Who would dare take my place and my reputation?” she thundered, truly angry now.

Willow turned her back on Dru and stood once more. She walked to the doorway and paused. “Her name is Faith.”

There was silence from behind her. She turned around to see if Dru was still there.

Drusilla’s eyes had rolled back into her head, and she was swaying as she was gripped by an almost maddening vision. Images of a raven haired woman wrapped in the arms of her bleached blonde lover filled Drusilla’s mind and she screamed internally with fury. Suddenly her dark eyes snapped back into focus. An evil smile spread across her face, and she licked her lips once, hungrily.

“The Dark Slayer.” she said quietly, her voice low and mysterious.

Willow looked upon the vampire sitting naked on the bed, and despite all her power, she shuddered in a wave of fear at the malevolent gleam in Drusilla’s eyes.