Prologue

The dark lights barely lit the crowded room. An arrangement of colors blinked here and there as laser lights shot across the haze of smoke that filled the air. Slow, seductive music pumped from the band on stage and bodies moved together on the dance floor. Alcohol, cigarettes, sweat, all infested the air with their different smells, blending together to create one painfully familiar smell. It smelled like him.

Carefully, black boots clicked on the wooden floor, barely heard above the other sounds of the nightclub. There were no smiles, no traces of laughter in this place. Only darkness. A darkness that hummed through her veins and called to her, beckoning her to forget her purpose and surrender to the night. Regretfully, she couldn’t. Not tonight. Tonight, she had to work.

Long black coat swung lazily at her heels as she moved, cautious eyes taking in every creature she bumped against. Smoothly she made her way to the bar, taking a seat on the closest stool she found. Manicured black nails clicked on the marble top of the bar, one nail after another, until finally, the bar tender turned to regard her. He nearly dropped the glass he’d been cleaning.

Quickly he slapped the white towel on the counter, set the cup down, and turned to regard her. From where he stood, clothed in light, she must have looked like something from a nightmare. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning over the bar to catch her words. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t raise her voice, and she wouldn’t repeat herself.

She regarded his brown hair, slicked back with some sort of jell and then set her gaze to glare into his green eyes. “I’m here on business.” Her words were short, cutting, emotionless. “My boss has a bounty for a man I’m sure you’ve seen in here more than once.”

The creature turned his green eyes to the crowd dancing on the floor, then to the tables of card games in the corner. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Not like dealing with you is bad for business anymore. You’re as bad as most of my business.” He laughed, a dark sound and nodded at her. “Who’s your mark?”

“Names Brutis. Demon. Male. Comes in here around nighttime.”

“You know,” the bartender mumbled, “You’d think your boss would give you more to go on than that.”

Growing frustrated she leaned closer, relishing in the way his body tensed unconsciously, showing the fear he refused to allow on his face. “Do you know him, or not? I’m running short on time and patience tonight. You know how I detest places like this.”

He nodded, quickly. “Vampire,” he stated, picking up the towel and soapy glass and starting at it again. “Currently playing poker at the far table. Cheating too. Black hair, white eyes. Can’t miss him.”

“Blind?” she half scoffed. He shook his head.

“Some sort of accident before he was turned. Uses it to his advantage though. Pretends to have that girl read his cards to him. Can see as well as you or I.”

She nodded. Good. Otherwise, this would have been a wasted effort. Without another word to the bartender she rose and made her way toward the tables.

Reactions were always different to her. Some demons recognized her, and with wide-eyes they dropped their glasses, not caring that they shattered on the table, and took off without a word to anyone around them. She ignored those. She ignored the catcalls, she ignored the eyes turned to watch her or scan her. She ignored it all. Tonight wasn’t a good situation. The environment, the mark, all bad. Tonight, she’d be out for more than blood.

Her eyes never left her mark who, like the bartender had said, was playing poker with a bunch of demons. One demon recognized her as she approached, dropped his cards and without even grabbing a kitty took off out the bar. She didn’t even glance his way. But now she had the attention of everyone at the table, even the blind man and the woman leaning over his shoulder. Bimbo whispered in his ear but it was fake. His eye’s had widened the moment he’d recognized who had just stepped up the table. Now let’s see how long the ruse lasted.

“Room for one more.” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement, and without being asked she plopped down in the now vacant seat, reaching forward to scratch the top of the nearest kitten. It shivered and she patted its head before picking up the discarded cards. Full House. Idiot should have stayed. She laid the cards back down, face down.

“Bets to you,” the demon on her left stated, apparently not recognizing her. Good. She preferred it when they didn’t.

“All in.” she stated without picking her cards back up. Everyone at the table made their bets, flipped their cards, and cursed. She’d won. Without another word she pulled the basket full of kittens to her and rose, closing the lid of the basket and ignoring the mews from inside.

“Been nice,” she stated and then turned to lay her eyes on Brutis. “Mind if we have a chat, Brutis?”

“How do you know me?” he asked, his knuckled turning white as he folded them on the table in an attempt to seem in control.

She walked around the table and stood next to Bimbo. “Through a friend,” she stated and lowered her hand to his shoulder. Without hesitation she made a fist in his shirt and yanked him to his feet. “Walk.”

He stumbled forward and Bimbo moved to help only to freeze at the look she got. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she hissed and Bimbo took a step back, “I’ll guide him.” And then she shoved again and waited for Brutis to stumble out the back door and into the alley. As soon as the door closed behind them he rounded on her.

“Now look, I know I’m not blind, but is that really any reason to kill me?”

The woman cocked her head to the side and smirked at him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course,” he spat. But she shook her head.

“Say my name.”

“Elizabeth the Bloody.” He answered.

“Know why they call me that?” she asked taking a slow deliberate step toward him.

“Something having to do with loving the blood of your victims.”

“Look who pays attention,” she licked her lips and stopped when his back his the brick wall behind him. He shifted into Game Face and she raised an eyebrow. “Vampire Blood,” she stated, “Is my favorite.”

“Look, I’ll give George his money back. I’ve got it, back in my apartment. Just let me go get it and…”

“You had all week to go get it, Brutis.” She set down the basket full of cats and closed the gab so she was right in his face. “Times up.”

He launched himself at her but she nearly ducked and let him fly right over her shoulder. He landed on the road, bounced back and leapt again. This time she caught his wrists and brought her knee up to connect with his jaw. He stumbled backwards, rubbed his jaw, and cursed at her. “Bitch,” he addressed and turned to spit blood out of his mouth. She closed her eyes, breathing in loudly and then opened them again, perfectly aware that they were yellow now.

“You should be begging,” she sing-songed and launched into him, bringing her fist to connect with his left cheek. She heard the crunch of the bone just as she spun to deliver a roundhouse kick to his other cheek, which other crunched. Her elbow connected with his nose and just as he recovered from that she yanked her weapon out from inside her trench coat and plunged it into his heart. She could feel her fangs on her pressing against her upper lip but ignored it. An instant latter she was showered in dust.

Huffing she slipped her stake back into its pocket and dusted herself off. Without glancing back at the pile of dust she walked toward the kittens and once again hefted them up over her shoulder. Then she headed back out into the street. Humans passed all around her, skirting around her unconsciously as she walked among them down the lit street. A kind of danger sense he had said. Humans wanted to avoid them…well…the intelligent ones.

Her feet lead her into the neighborhood and she stopped in front of the orphanage. For a moment, she simply stared at its decaying exterior in disgust. Then, she yanked open the gate and walked up to the front steps. Without pause she put the basket of kittens down and rang the doorbell. By the time the door opened, she was already back in the city.

---

“How’d it go?”

Elizabeth didn’t even look at George as she moved past him to the couch that was sitting in front of the television. Without answering she plopped down on the sofa, aware that she now had everyone’s attention, and seeing as this was a mansion, it was quite an audience.

Dressing in his usual black slacks and black button up shirt, George walked toward the couch, ignoring the murmurs and whispers that echoed around him. “I said,” he repeated himself, “How’d it go?”

Before he could speak she was up and in his face, Game Face on and hissing. “I told you I don’t work those kinds of marks. You got a human mark, fine. Any demon mark, whatever. I don’t work vampire marks. I especially don’t work vampire marks who happen to play kitten poker in a local demon club. You want those kinds of kills, ask one of your other lackies.”

“I wanted the best.” Not a single one of his three eyes so much as batted at her! God she hated that man some times!

“I don’t do those marks.” She hissed again, but she slipped out of Game Face and returned to glaring.

“Let’s talk in my office.”

The group that had gathered around her, the team, dissipated as George and Elizabeth walked through them. A moment later they were in his sound proof office with the door locked. He spun on her instantly. “Don’t you ever disrespect me that way in front of them again! Do you know how hard it was to get this big of an organization up and running. I don’t need anyone questioning my authority, especially you!”

“That’s my job,” she spat back, crossing her arms and leaning back against a wall. “To question your authority.”

“You’re only here because…”

“I’m the best,” she answered for him. “Because no matter what is it, human, demon, vampire, monster, god, I can and have killed it.”

“Both your human and your vampire counts are low. I can’t keep giving those marks off to the others just because you have a soft spot for them. Now, if some part of the Slayer Soul is still lingering, Buffy…”

He never finished. She was in Game Face and at his throat faster than he could even gasp for breath. “One more slip,” she hissed, “One more reference to my past, and I’ll rip your throat out before you can even think enough to scream. That is not my name. My name is Elizabeth! Elizabeth the Bloody. Don’t make me remind you why that’s my name.”

He nodded and she released him. “I’m going to bed.” She hissed.

“One more thing,” he called. “Your Watcher was in town today, snooping around. I don’t think you managed to convince him you’re dead. Might want to keep your eyes peeled.”

Elizabeth never stopped walking, never looked back at George, never even paused to register his words. Not until she was in the safety of her own room on the third floor. Then, every muscle in her body tensed, and with a feral scream she flung a lamp into the wall. Just what she needed. That ancient man clinging to some hope that Buffy the Vampire Slayer was still alive. Well, she was dead all right. Or Undead, rather. If only he knew the Slayers he’d awakened to close the hellmouth were now hunting his precious Buffy with every breath in them, would he still be looking for her with open arms? Or would there be a stake in one hand? The worst part of it all was that either way, she didn’t care.

“Rupert Giles.” The old man froze, eyes wide as he looked at the suited man standing before him. “The Council needs to speak to you.”

“So speak.” Giles stated, shoving his hands into the pockets of his own suit.

“You can not continue this search,” the man in the black suit stated and Giles rolled his eyes. “Not only is it an unnecessary strain on yourself, and your girls, but it is futile! You have a job to do, Rupert.”

Giles took a step closer to the man. “My job,” he began in a low voice, “was to guard all the girls you put into my protection. To train them, to watch them, to protect them. To guide them when their lost. To find them.”

“She’s not lost.” Gile’s heart tightened and he turned around to face Xander. “It hurts, Giles,” Xander continued, “But she’s dead.” The boy before him took a step closer and shook his head. “You’ve got to stop this.”

“How did you find me?” Giles demanded, frowning at Xander.

“You mentioned a Hellmouth was in Cleveland. I knew you’d come here.”

“Because she would.” Giles answered back.

“She’s not alive! It’s been two years. She’s not coming back this time.” Giles lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Come back with me, G-man.”

“Give me a week,” he turned back to the man in the suit as he spoke. “One week here. If I can’t find her by next Wednesday, I’ll give up the search completely.”

The man considered this for a moment, and then nodded. “But Wednesday you, and your team, are flying back to London.”

“That’s perfectly fine.” Giles responded and the man turned and headed back down the alley. Giles turned to Xander and sighed.

“I suppose the rest of them are here, too?”

“Just me and Dawn and Willow. The rest stayed in London.”

“Might as well stay in your hotel. I’m sure it’s much nicer than the one I could afford with what little cash I had on me.” Xander patted Giles back as he walked by, and couldn’t help glancing up and around him as they headed back down the alley.

It had been two years since they had buried Buffy for the second time. A vampire had gotten her. A vampire who was now dust in the air. But nevertheless, she was dead. And this time, she wasn’t coming back. Immediately, Dawnie had begged to have Willow resurrect her sister once more. But they had all eventually agreed that maybe, just maybe, she was supposed to be dead. Perhaps she had been destined to die the first time, in that pool of water before Xander had revived her. Or she had been destined to stay dead after she sacrificed her life to save the world. Either way, this finally time, death had won.

hh

The being shook it’s head as it watched the young man gently guiding the Watcher into his vehicle and then driving off. Such sadness. “It’s not supposed to be this way.”

“Death won, Yenoda.” A deep voice answered. “We couldn’t prevent this. Just as we could not prevent the others.”

“But,” Yenonda turned to the man standing behind her, the logic to her emotion, the other half of the Powers That Be. “Buffy is different. She was special.”

“We did all we could,” Benonde stated. “She still exists. Death eventually had to claim the Slayer.”
Yenonda knew he was right. That’s why when Death came after Buffy for the third time, the only way they could save her was to have her come back as a vampire, a soulless being. The Slayer was dead, but this new creature, Elizabeth the Bloody as she called herself, was nearly unstoppable.

Of course, Death had been beyond pissed at not being able to finally have Buffy. But no matter what he threw at her now, she was unstoppable. Her powers as the Slayer still remained, but her drive to do good was completely gone. As a vampire, she felt no remorse, felt no pity, no guilt, no emotions whatsoever, save a constant pain and hate. A hate that she took out on her victims.

“I almost wish we’d given her to him,” Yenonda whispered, now looking down upon the sleeping form of Buffy. Even in her sleep she wore a scowl, her jaw locked, and her hands fisted. She never truly relaxed anymore. Yenonda waved her hand over the image and what Buffy was dreaming appeared.

Instantly Yenonda felt her heart tighten. She was dreaming of her lost champion. She always did. But in the morning, she never remembered. In her dream, she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer again, and she and her champion were patrolling, playfully bantering. If Buffy had had a soul left, Yenonda would have heard it crying out in tortured agony.

“There are other things for us to attend to, Yenonda,” Benonde warned and Yenonda sighed, “Leave your favorite alone for now. There is nothing we can do.” She didn’t believe that, but for now, she’d obey.

HH

“Give me something to kill.” Elizabeth didn’t even pause as she marched into George’s office and then moved to bend over his desk, placing her hands on the cool polished wood. She could feel that the sun was just going down outside the tinted windows of the office and she was itching to hunt.

George snatched a file from the shelf behind him and slammed it down on the table. “The client is a Polgera demon from London. Wants us to take out a woman whose apparently become a nuisance to his territory. He would have done it himself but he’s just learned that she flew out of town. She’s staying here in a local hotel, sight seeing apparently.”

“I want to hunt something useful. Not another lousy human.”

George smirked. “She’s not human.” He handed her the file and Elizabeth snatched it from his hands. She straightened as she read the papers and a sick grin spread across her features. “She’s the former key.”

Elizabeth nodded, laid down the folder and crossed her arms over her leather clad chest. “Who is here with her?”

“The Watcher, the Witch and a young man.”

“Xander.”

George nodded. “The Witch will be a problem. The Watcher will just be too shocked to see you, and the young man…well, he is just a human.”

Elizabeth nodded. “She’ll be dead by the end of the week.”

George laughed. “Good. You’ll like this pay, Elizabeth. A million dollars each.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. “I don’t want the money,” she stated, “I just want the kill.”

HH

Benonde was busy with a war, so Yenonda had been able to tune back into Buffy’s world for a moment. Her eyes widened as she watched Buffy happily agree to kill the sister Benonde and Yenonda had given her. Well, if that wasn’t a sign that it was time the Powers that Be intervened, Yenonda wasn’t a power that be!

“Benonde,” she called and immediately he materialized before her. “Henondi.” A moment later the other being appeared, not man, not woman, but a majestic lion who cocked his head at the two. “I seek to intervene in the lives of Buffy and Dawn Summers.”

“Again?” the lion spoke, those its jaws never opened. “What reason do you have now? The Slayer is dead, yet your Buffy is alive. And her sister is no longer in any harm of ever becoming the key again.”

“Because Buffy has just agreed to kill Dawn.”

Henondi’s brown eyes shifted to Benonde who looked down at his feet. “You believe you can stop this?” he asked Yenonda instead and Yenonda nodded. “How? She’s undefeatable. Anyone you send to guard the sister will simply be killed. The only way to stop Buffy is to kill her. If that’s the case, I’ll notify Death that he can finally have his favorite victim.”

“I’m going to send the champion to protect Dawn.”

Benonde’s eyes widened and he looked to Henondi, who looked as if he were pondering this. “She won’t kill him. She still loves him. And maybe, he can save Dawn, and Buffy. He got his soul for her, why shouldn’t he be able to convince her to get a soul for him?”

“And what do you put on the line?” A deep voice asked and a moment later black smoke swarmed around them and a black robed man appeared. “If I were to release the champion back to earth, with his soul intact, I want something in return.”

“Anything.”

Death pointed to Yenonda. “If the champion can not save the sisters, I receive all three of them, body, mind, and soul.”

“And if he does?”

“Then they go free, and I will give up my attempts on their lives.”

Yenonda turned to Henondi who sighed and then began to disappear. The last thought that entered their minds from him was, “Take the offer.”

“I agree.”

“It’s settled then,” Death laughed. “Which champion am I sending back?”

HH


The scream echoed in the empty alleyway as the wind picked up and began to swirl. A moment later bits and pieces of human bone and flesh began to pick itself out of the air and connect back together again until what remained was a vampire, fully clothed and bent over in agony.

Another moment passed and slowly, he lifted himself until he was standing straight, panting, though he didn’t need the breath, but standing. He looked around him, brown eyebrows coming down into a look of confusion as he took in his surroundings.

He sniffed the air and immediately recognized a scent. He took off at a run, thankful that it was dark out, and a moment later he was standing in the middle of a very busy city. His eyes widened as he looked up at the skyscrapers and around at all the people hurrying to and from the still open building. A nightlife? He never got to finish that thought because a moment later he heard a gasp and turned to see a woman standing before him.

“Spike?” Her eyes were wide as she stared at him and he stared back.

“Niblit?” he blinked in confusion and then cried, “What the bleeding hell is going on?”

It couldn’t be right. The woman standing before him couldn’t be his little bird. She was tall, lean and…curvy! She had curves! And who on earth had let her out of the house wearing that outfit! Tight black leather pants, a white tank top, black leather vest, a stake on each pronounced hip and a hilt of a knife sticking out of her left knee-high boot. Long brown hair was pulled into a no-nonsense bun and she was wearing make-up!
“Spike?” she repeated, taking another step toward him. He could do nothing but stair. He continued breathing in her scent and trying to connect the familiar smell with the woman standing before him. “Spike,” her voice was different, matured along with her features. This wasn’t his little girl anymore. “It’s me, its Dawn.” She held out a tentative hand to reassure him, and then it dawned on him what she was doing.
“I know who you are, you daft bird! What I don’t know is how you got so bleeding…” he paused, struggling for the right word, “curvy!” That wasn’t it. But he didn’t have time to find another one because in that instant she launched herself at him and was in his arms, hugging him so tight, if he’d been human, she may have broken a bone.
“It’s you! It’s really you! Oh Spike you have no idea how good it is to see you! How are you alive? That doesn’t matter. Should have known you wouldn’t stay down. Not in you to give up the fight! Wait until the others see you!” she pulled away from him, grabbed his hand, and yanked him with her down the street at such a fast pace he had to jog to keep up with her. Which was saying something cause, hello! Vampire here!
“Do us a favor, luv” he began yanking his hand out of hers, “And tell a chap where he is!”
She stopped, frowning. “Cleaveland. There’s a hell mouth here.”
Wasn’t there always. He cursed as he looked down to the concrete beneath them, as if expecting to see another opening like the one that had swallowed him whole. “I suppose the slayer’s loving the fact that she doesn’t have to quit her day job. More demons to kill. Another hell mouth to close, and I bet they even gave her a nice welcome party.”
He didn’t look up from the ground as he contemplated the fact that he was in a new place. He missed the look of pain that crossed Dawn’s features and by the time he looked up she’d moved the mask she’d worn for two years over her face and was beaming at him. “What about the bitty slayers?”
“Scattered,” she resumed her brisk walk and he turned to follow her, “A lot of them are in London. Giles started a school there with the council to train the Slayers. Faith and Robin are in Japan, finding recruits and sending them to the school. A lot of the others are just doing the normal thing. Slaying whatever crosses their path. Giles is here though, and Xander and Willow.”
Couldn’t’ say he was particularly excited to see that lot, though he was starting to be found of Red. The boy and Rupes on the other hand…Dawn was still jabbering on about the other Slayers, and suddenly, Spike realized something. “Dawn,” he stopped walking and, after a moment, she did the same. She wouldn’t turn to look at him, and the feeling of dread in his stomach increased. “How long have I been dead?”
“Three years.”
He took a deep breath and asked the question he‘d wanted to ask ever since he was thrown back on top of another hell mouth. “Where’s Buffy?”
“She’s dead.”
It hit him like a ton of bricks. Instantly the image of her body lying on the ruble of Glory’s tower rushed back at him so fast he hit his knees. He gasped for air, though he didn’t need it, and felt the prick of tears coming to his eyes as his soul cried out for her. It was so much worse this time. So much more painful with his soul morning with him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t see to stop the tears that were slipping from his eyes. Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.
“This some kind of sick game?” he shouted, his head snapping up to look at the heavens. “Couldn’t let me end my suffering by going out with a bang? Had to bring me back to his bleeding hell hole? Without her? Without my only reason,” he chocked on the words. “Think it’s bloody funny?”
No one answered him, and when he turned his attention on Dawn, she wasn’t looking at him, but her shoulders were shaking. Then it hit him. The wind picked up and blew into his face and he finally took a deep breath, and everything in him froze. Buffy. His eyes widened as he looked around. But there was nothing. No one. He had to be imaging it. If the bit thought Buffy was dead.
“How?” his voice was deeper now. Calmer. He rose from his feet slowly with the help of the side of the building they were near.
“A vampire. We buried her in the remains of Sunnydale. With Tara and Anya and mom and y…”
She’d been about to say him. But he wasn’t there anymore was he? No. He’d been brought back to earth, without her. Had she been where he was? All this time? He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember ever feeling that buzz that seemed to course through him whenever she was near. Better than anything a drug or alcohol could give him. But he felt it now. Much smaller than it had ever been. Almost like a whisper of it, a drop that went straight from his neck down to his soul. He turned once more to survey the area but there was nothing.
“Come on,” Dawn’s voice was tired now, her eyes red with tears. “The others will start to worry if I’m not back soon.” Spike followed silently, all the while feeling like he was leaving something behind.

BTV

It was so easy to find where they were staying. The hotel was posh, and expensive, and right near the airport. It hadn’t taken rocket science to figure it out. She’d been with them enough before she’d…become undead to know that Xander had begun preferring the higher places in life. The ones they could have never afforded before. He would die to see the money she had now. Of course, he would die for the money she had now. As soon as his name was put on one of her contracts.
The building across from the hotel was anther hotel, a little more down-scaled, but with a roof as high as its rivals. Upon it, like a silent gargoyle, she perched, and waited for her prey. She smelled her long before the woman stepped through the lobby doors out into the night air. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of youth and vitality and humanity. Her mouth watered, her fangs slid down, her true face slid forward and she grinned as she leapt from the rooftop to the neighboring one, fallowing the woman.
What a foolish girl. She’d been trained better than to leave alone. On a hell mouth. Elizabeth, no Buffy had trained her better than that. It would be so easy for her to leap down behind her, rise slowly letting the girl see who and what she was before she sank her fangs into her neck and drank deeply. The blood was singing to her, pounding in the woman’s veins. But Elizabeth could wait. She needed to wait. To make sure the woman was alone, that no one would see or suspect. So that, when she came for the others, they would have no clue what the face of their demise looked like.
Finally, the girl rounded another corner down a deserted street and Elizabeth saw her chance. She leapt from the top of the building into an alley nearby and crept to the end, waiting for the woman to pass. Only, she didn’t. Elizabeth never got it wrong. She never mis-judged a victim. She was the best! There was a reason she was the best! She slipped forward to glance around the corner only to see the woman facing away from her. Fine. She’d slip up from behind this way. But before she could move from the shadows, the wind picked up an a horrible scream echoed in the silence.
Her over sensitive ears echoed and she screeched herself, not loud enough to be noticed, as she slipped into the ally in an attempt to get away from the sound. She backed against the wall at the end and crouched, covering her ears as tears streamed down her face. What demon was capable of this! And damnit it was going to get her kill! That thought sobered her. Like hell it would! She leapt to her feet and lowered her hands ready to move regardless of the sound when it finally stopped. She sighed in relief and then marched forward, determined to let the other demon know who she was and that this was her kill. She poked her head around the corner, and crashed into an emotional wall.
“Spike?”
“Niblet?”
No! Wide yellow eyes took in the man standing before her prey. The vampire. Black jacket, black jeans, black boots, bleached blonde hair. No! No! No! She hissed and spun away from the image of the man she’d once loved. Not man. Vampire. Was there a difference now? Anger coursed through her, anger and hate. She spat at the ground, and paced like a caged animal in the ally. Back and forth. Back and forth. Why was he here? How as he here? She froze. It didn’t matter. Why was she letting this affect her? He wasn’t her mark. When she looked back around the corner, they were further down the alley walking, until they both stopped.
It presented a problem. That was all. His appearance did nothing but add another person to her list of people that would stop her from getting her kill. And she always got her kill. “This some kind of sick game?” She jumped and turned back to look and see the vampire on his knees. He sounded upset. But then that‘s what a soul did to you. Cursed you. Made you feel emotions. Made you week. She smiled as she recalled exactly how week. He wasn‘t the big bad anymore. If he got in her way, she could take him. She‘d done it before she‘d been gifted. “Couldn’t let me end my suffering by going out with a bang? Had to bring me back to his bleeding hell hole? Without her? Without my only reason…think it’s bloody funny?”
Her? He was mourning Buffy. “Fool,” she hissed and then shrank around the corner when suddenly those baby blue eyes turned in her direction. There was no way he could have heard her. She was unique in that way. Vampires couldn’t even hear her. But he was looking her way, and when she glanced again, more careful this time, he had risen, looking as if he wanted to walk in her direction. But then he looked around and she relaxed.
She leaned against the wall as her thoughts raced. She needed a new game plan. She needed to figure out how to get through the protectors and kill Dawn. The human and watcher would be easy. She’d use their emotions and love for her on them and kill them while they wept tears of joy at her return. But once she killed them, the witch would be at her, she’d have to kill her first. And if she killed the witch first the vampire would figure out she wasn’t on the side of good and jump in. How to kill the vampire?
She slipped back up to the rooftops and headed back to the mansion. She needed a drink, and a smoke, and why hadn’t she brought them with her? She slipped back into the mansion unnoticed and slid into bed. How to kill the vampire after she snapped the witch’s neck. It’d be easy enough to do. Convince her she still had her soul, like the other one, that she’d been searching for them. Snap her neck while hugging her. But then the vampire. A simply stake could…no that’d never work. Why wouldn’t it work? She cursed colorfully as she rolled over in bed and finally forced her eyes to slip closed so she could get some sleep. She’d figured out how to kill them all in the morning.
In the darkness of the mansion, just outside her door, a hooded figure smiled ruefully as he moved away from her room. “Sleep soundly, my friend,” he whispered, “you’ll have their heads soon enough. And then,” he chuckled darkly, “I’ll get all your souls.”