Silence reigned.

Almost.

Buffy had never known that silence was deafening, not even on the morning after she learned that she was stuck in this world. Beyond the roar of nothing it was as if other sounds had ceased to exist and she knew without a doubt that this was what always came before passing out, so she let herself drop to her seat. After a few moments of struggling for breath, Buffy stood up and grasped the glass of Madeira, gulping the wine as a way to hang onto consciousness. When the silence began to give way to the sound of the clock and her own labored breathing, Buffy shakily dropped the glass onto the table and proceeded to unbutton her blouse, tugging at the corset.

The sound of the glass shattering startled her, but she redoubled her efforts. Scant seconds later the door opened and a cautious Felicity peered into the room, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her.

"Damn it!" Buffy swore, unable to reach the fastenings on the back.

"Milady," Felicity said as she hurried to her mistress' side. "Let me."

Buffy smiled gratefully, and moments later the offending and restricting stays were loosened. Finally, she thought, I can breathe again. Sinking back into her chair, she took several deep breaths before leaning down to put her head between her knees, all the while her mind struggled to reconcile what was in front of her with what she knew to be true. When she finally faced the two other women she was still pale, but there was color in her cheeks once more.

Felicity took this as a sign of approaching normalcy and asked, "Will you need anything else tonight?"

"If you can find a pot of tea and some of those little pastry sandwiches, I'd appreciate it. A big pot," she amended, glancing at Alicia.

The other Slayer smiled ruefully as Felicity departed and the two sat in silence, each taking the other's measure, until the young maid returned with a tea, coffee, pastry and pasta laden tray. When Buffy gave her a questioning look, Felicity responded, "The cook speaks little English ... I speak little Italian... " she shrugged. "Besides which, you appear to be in need of the nourishment."

And before either Slayer could respond, she was out the door.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Blunt little thing, is she not?"

Buffy snorted in agreement. "She's right though, and usually is ... hard as it is to admit."

"She knows?" Alicia questioned, although she could already guess the answer.

"Most of it," Buffy told her. "Living with me, traveling with us, she could hardly not know."

"Still ... " Alicia mused. "I suppose *he* keeps her in line?"

Buffy stiffened.

Alicia smiled sardonically. "I can see, Buffy. He might not ever touch her, but he has no need to do so, does he? She can hear and see him ... how he treats you like a prize to be kept carefully ensconced in a gilded cage ... and how he treats those who threaten him. And you ... especially you."

Buffy's silence was answer enough.

The redhead shook off her thoughts. "However, I did not come here to criticize. I need your help."

"How?" the blonde Slayer asked.

"I need to hide, at least until the child is born. Afterwards," Alicia's voice faltered for a moment, but soon returned to its previous pitch. "Afterwards matters little, now ... I have to live until the birth."

"The Council?" Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.

Alicia nodded. "I hid the truth for as long as I could, but three weeks ago Sir Reginald discovered my condition when I was caught out in a storm after losing a fight with a fledging. The look in his eyes ... I knew I had to get away, I knew what they would do to me if I stayed."

Ignoring the more pertinent questions that were burning in her mind, Buffy phrased her words carefully. "And the father ... ?"

A look both joyous and heartbreaking crossed Alicia's face. "Olivier," she whispered sadly. "He will never know ... he can *never* know ... "

"Why?"

"Because he is married to my sister," Alicia stated.

Buffy just stared.

Seeing the confusion on the other Slayer's face, she apologized. "I am sorry ... I occasionally forget that you were not raised by the Council in your world. Olivier Wyndham is a third generation Watcher whose family is, to be quite blunt, exceedingly wealthy from years of astute investing. My father is a twelfth generation Watcher who has seen our family fortunes plummet due to his father and grandfather's lack of foresight. Both have what the other wants, so they agreed for their children to marry on the condition that Olivier would take on the family name, as would his issue. Had I not been what I am, I would have married him ... of course, had I been other than this I would be a different person, no doubt."

Buffy frowned. "Still confused. If he's marrying your sister, then why ... ?"

"Because we could not help ourselves," Alicia said simply. "Surely you understand? How it is that you can see someone and know? How to be apart is physical agony and burns you to your very soul?"

Angel! her heart cried. Buffy fought the tears that welled in her eyes and stood up, walking towards the window where she stood staring at the lights of Florence as Alicia continued. "I know," she whispered to herself.

"Olivier does not even know that I am the Slayer, but very few are privy to that information. They may know a name, but not a face ... and even then I am simply Alicia," the redhead stated. "And it was my younger sister, poor little Evelyn, who introduced us at the engagement party that Sir Reginald allowed me to attend ... and she simply called me by my pet name, Aly. No one knew that he stole up to my room every night for the next week, that I awaited him in garden when I was supposed to be studying... and when I had to leave I thought I might die."

Buffy closed her eyes. "Go on."

"I realized I was with child three months later ... I often did not bleed for whatever reasons so I thought nothing of it until I found myself sick every morning and gaining weight. You cannot imagine my terror... "

"Why not tell Olivier the truth?"

Alicia's laugh was brittle. "I love him, even now, but he so desperately wants to be accepted as a Watcher, to be trusted with a Slayer or to have his children entrusted with that responsibility ... and the recently wedded Olivier Wyndham-Price will not compromise that possible future. No, if he knew that I was a Slayer and that I was having a child he would tell the others ... and I would die."

Buffy started violently, the shock of actually hearing what she knew was the truth spoken aloud by another person rattling her on a primal level. "So you ran."

"I hid it until I was discovered then, yes, I ran ... to the one person I believed could help me, could hide me. Can you help me, Buffy?"

The clock ticked as Buffy took in the full account and her mind began to develop and discard ideas. She dropped the drapes back over the window and crossed the room to the tray that sat on the table and stirred a shot of whiskey into her tea as she eyed her friend, asking, "But I still don't ... this isn't even supposed to be possible! I mean, Slayers can't have children. Giles always thought he kept those books locked up, but I found them when I was looking for something else ... "

"And," her voice faltered slightly. "I think that, deep down, I've always known that children weren't a possibility."

Alicia nodded. "Not in the normal course of events, no. However ... Buffy, as much as you were an odd Slayer to the Council in your world ... you were still Slayer born."

Buffy stared blankly. "As opposed to ... ?"

"I was not Slayer born," Alicia told her bluntly. "I was Slayer made."

The spoon clattered to the tray, the hand holding it no longer able to retain its grip. Slowly, ever so slowly, the fingers began to flex and the hand soon followed as Buffy recovered from yet another bombshell. Will it never cease, she wondered. Will I ever stop having my beliefs turned upside down at every available opportunity? She raised her eyes and met Alicia's steady brown orbs, searching the other Slayer's face for any hint of Wesley. Finding none, she leaned back and poured another glass of whiskey, resolving not to count how many this made.

"Okay," Buffy exhaled. "Explain."

Alicia pulled herself out of her chair and began to pace the room slowly. "It began over six years ago when the Slayer, Eunice, was killed. The Council had been worried for months because not one of the potentials showed the signs of being the next Chosen One, and when none of them manifested the abilities upon Eunice's death, they truly began to panic. Watchers scoured the globe looking, all the while trying to pretend there was no problem, that they were simply contemplating options. They finally found Marie-Cecile in a small house in Marseilles ... "

"And ... ?"

"She was only seven years old," Alicia told her.

Buffy paled. "How the hell ... "

Alicia shook her head. "No one knows how or why ... perhaps Eunice Cardwelle died too soon, or perhaps her predecessor, Zhusannah Olenski, did not live long enough ... "

Her mind reeling, but nonetheless functional, Buffy began to sort out the story for herself. Of course the Council needed a Slayer, and not even they would send a child (literally) out to fight battles waged by demons and adults. She narrowed her eyes at Alicia, still unsure how the redhead fit in. "And you enter the picture, how?"

"As I told you, I come from an old family of Watchers," Alicia said softly, sinking onto the chaise next to Buffy. "From an early age I was taught discipline, the lore and the fighting techniques ... it was simply assumed that even if I was never entrusted with the care of a Slayer or Potential, a highly unlikely scenario considering my family, then I would marry a suitable Watcher of a similar family and produce and raise future Watchers."

Buffy made a face.

Alicia laughed. "I suppose that does sound strange to you, after what you have told me about your world, but that was my reality. But ... after they entrusted Marie-Cecile's upbringing and training to Lord and Lady Ryder -- "

Buffy shuddered, recognizing the names from a party Louise had thrown. I was very lucky not to run into them, she thought.

"They soon realized that they simply had to have a Slayer, especially since Lady Ryder forced a consensus to promise that Marie-Cecile would not be sent to fight until she was fifteen, and then only if it was absolutely necessary. Faced with nearly eight years to account for, they turned their archives upside down until they found it."

"Found what?"

Alicia closed her eyes and shuddered. "A spell to summon the power of the Slayer."

"What?!" Buffy's eyes grew large and round, and she found herself on her feet before she realized that she had even moved. Alicia looked slightly taken aback and, Buffy thought, a little envious. For the second time that night, she looked hard at her friend, this time ignoring the surface details for a deeper glance. Tiny, fine wrinkles gathered near her eyes and her lovely red hair contained a few scattered streaks of silvery-gray; she still held herself well, though she seemed more tired and less confident, things that could easily be attributed to pregnancy and her current high stress situation.

However, these were still only the visible details, so Buffy closed her eyes and concentrated, finding her center and summoning her senses to the foreground. A lifeforce, a human, drifted in the background; Felicity, she thought. Gathering her scattered energies, she narrowed her focus, concentrating on the room ... on the walls and floors ... and finally on the woman in front of her. Unlike Kendra and Faith, Buffy did not feel that tiny spark of kinship that identified them as sisters ... but there was something there, something that called to her as surely as her own nature, the wild and savage need to hunt, the power ... but it was harnessed to a human ...

"Magick," she breathed, opening her eyes.

Alicia bit her lip and nodded, and Buffy saw her for the first time as the Slayer would. A human, bound to a power beyond her understanding by a strong magick ... magick that, she realized suddenly, was slowly slipping away.

"Yes, magick," Alicia whispered. "They had the spell and knew that it had been done before, over a thousand years ago ... it was dangerous, yes, but they felt leaving the world unguarded for eight years was a far more horrid reality."

Buffy leaned against the wall. "Why you?"

Her friend laughed, a broken and angry sound that struck at the heart. "My family," Alicia reminded her. "They are one of the older families, after all. The members of the ruling board brought all the daughters of the eldest families and of a certain age together and they tested us, seeking someone strong enough to handle the power, but someone they could still control."

"Of course," Buffy muttered. "Bastards."

"So they immediately cast out all those over sixteen and under twelve ... that left only four. I felt sure Henrietta Giles would be selected, but they said she was too strong willed ... among other things," Alicia reflected.

Henrietta Giles? I wonder how she fits in, Buffy mused, her mind detached out of shock.

"The spell itself," Alicia shuddered, her teeth drawing blood from where she bit her lip. "The Watchers found the most adept spellcasters among them, and those more comfortable with magick, and they formed three circles with me in the center. An inner circle of four, then a circle of eight, then a circle of sixteen surrounded me as they called on the power ... "

The redhead struggled to contain her tears. "You don't know how it felt to be ripped apart, to have a foreign energy placed inside of you and sealed with magick at the tender age of thirteen, but at least I survived. Over half of the casters died that night ... another handful died before dawn the next day ... only three of those who cast the spell that night still live and one has gone mad."

Buffy swore. "Those bloody bastards ... But how did you manage to cope, Alicia. I mean, you were a baby Watcher, yeah, but all that power ... "

Alicia was silent for a long time, the only sound that of her labored breathing and the occasional hitch as tears continued to fall. She pinched and rolled the muslin of her overskirt between her fingers, marveling in a detached manner at the fine weave and wondering why she had bolts of the material in gray but no other color, all the while forcing herself to relive memories locked away years ago. For so long she had denied the memories of that night and the days that followed to the Watchers, even to herself, that now making sense of the jumbled images that had been plaguing her since the discovery of her pregnancy demanded a concentration she was fast loosing.

She shook her head. "It is ... my memories are so jumbled and scattered. All I have are fragments, Buffy, pieces of a whole that I never fully understood, except ... "

Buffy closed her eyes against a terrible understanding that was slowly creeping up her spine. Although still a bit rusty, she trusted her Slayer senses implicitly and what they were telling her about her friend was beyond unfair ... and absolutely despicable. The power was draining from Alicia at an ever increasing rate, partially because the spell to contain it was unraveling due to lack of maintenance and because of her pregnancy.

The redhead knew that the blonde Slayer had deduced the situation by looking at her face and body language, so she did not bother to make herself redundant but voiced points that needed to be made. "I imagine the spell is disintegrating because Marie-Cecile is thirteen, fast approaching her menarche and the age when most Slayers are Called ... the power of the Slayer will, of course, find its way to her."

"I can no longer fight, Buffy," Alicia appealed. "If Olivier does not know by now who I am he will know soon; whether he will tell the others of our affair once Sir Reginald reveals my pregnancy, I do not know. But I know I cannot return, I simply cannot ... I won't!"

"I want to bring my child into this world, Buffy, and I want her to be safe," she whispered. "And even though I despise what you have allowed yourself to become ... the way you willingly ignore the evil the demon you call husband wreaks on humanity ... how you have abandoned your heritage and your Calling ... Despite all this I know that you still care ... and you are my last and probably best hope."

Buffy leaned her forehead against the beveled glass of the window and stared out at the night, her mind awhirl. To harness the power of the Slayer and seal it into a human was anathema to her, but a part of her envied Alicia ... this magick-made Slayer had something she would never have. Oh, yes, the Watchers could lie and deceive when it suited them, but Buffy had known even before the spell misfired that children were not in her future -- at least not those born of her body. After all, how could a being that was not human, produce human offspring? The books had been vague, but Buffy knew the truth when she felt it within herself.

Yet ... this slip of a young woman had managed to withstand the rigors of the Slayer for nearly six years, with nothing to show for it but a child she had conceived because the power of the Slayer was only something she had been given. Alicia had always been human, even during her prime days as a Slayer.

It was enough, she thought, as the raucous yells from the city were carried up the hills by the wind. Although it would take a little finagling and would mean putting herself in debt to another, Buffy knew she would help. All that remained were the details and the execution of a plan.

"Alicia," she said softly, turning to the other woman and crossing the room to sit beside her. A pale hand trembled as Buffy clasped it between her two steady ones and continued, "I'll help you, but you have to trust me. And you have to be willing to trust whoever else I bring into this ... no matter what ... "

Well, Angel, I've done it now.

I've helped Alicia the only way I know how because, as much as I hate it, she's right. I have all but abandoned my Calling ... I no longer even bother asking them to hunt only criminals and the dying ... and I ignore the murders that occasionally turn up. She's right, though, I *do* care.

But my hands are tied.

I have so little control over my life here, but I know I have more than I would have if I'd chosen to stay with the Watchers. Maybe that's what Whistler was trying to tell me when he said that in this world, at this time, women had few rights. Oh, widows like Louise and unmarried women over twenty-one such as Georgina can control their money and property, but they're the exceptions. Look at Alicia, though -- the Council controlled her entire life up until the day she fell in love (or was it just lust disguised as love? I wonder ... ) with Olivier Wyndham and proceeded to have a short, passionate affair. I shudder when I think of how they would have treated me.

At least with Angelus I get an allowance of two hundred pounds a month, which is more than a lot of people make in a year. And in London, I have credit accounts with all the shops; I'm not sure what my limit is, but so far I haven't had a problem.

And believe me, I shop.

So, as I sit here and stare at the letter I've written, I know I made the best choice ... or at least, the lesser of the two evils. Alicia may disagree, I might doubt my choice at times, but it was the right decision. Oh, yes, Angelus is a ruthless bastard ... a very powerful and still mercurial demon ... but I'm discovering that I can love him and William, and they can care for me. Yes, he's violent and remorseless and has some very jaded appetites (I would be in a position to know, after all) ... but he can be kind and tender. He can be entirely too possessive and restrictive, but he also indulges my whims, as he calls them. He wants me to be this perfect, submissive mate, but he makes sure that I get all the training I need to stay in shape.

Yes, I think I have the better deal.

But when I saw Alicia, round from pregnancy, I couldn't help myself, Angel. Although it's impossible, a small part of me would've liked to have been able to have a child. Of course, even if I could, I would have left it motherless, but still ... And then there is the other, larger part of me that is relieved that babies are beyond my capabilities. After all, the only reason Alicia was a Slayer to begin with was the spell ... unlike me, she's completely human.

I'm going to help her, even though it means putting myself in a position I don't want to be in ... at least not this soon. I'd have asked Angelus for help, but I doubt he would have cared -- what's one Slayer, more or less? He's killed twelve, why not add another? Even for me, I don't think he'd help. Besides, he's still overly concerned for Penn, and I can only imagine his ire (look, another fancy word!) if I suggested that he take the time to help a Slayer -- a Slayer! -- rather than search for his Childe.

That so wouldn't go over.

So, it's done. All that's left is setting the plan in motion and keeping it from Angelus.

I just hope I never regret this.

Six weeks later, Buffy once more stood at the window looking down on the city of Florence. For over a month she had wondered when this day would come, when she would have to make good on her promise made on Alicia's behalf. The letter had arrived only a day earlier and she had allowed herself only an hour's panic, pulling herself together and enjoying the Valentine plans that Angelus and William had concocted. And, oh, how brilliant they were ...

She shivered as she remembered William's surprise ambush in the gardens above the villa, just an hour before dawn when the moon had set and the sun had yet to rise. Believing herself alone she had allowed her mind to wander, and her instincts had kicked in scant seconds too late and she had found herself pinned by a lusty, growling vampire. They had battled among the crushed petals and fragrant earth, each striving for dominance and yet each seeking to yield to the other.

And later ... Just after dawn she had headed for bed only to find a length of black silk cord trailing down the hall toward Angelus' room, and upon reaching its end she had found the dark male waiting for her. Shudders wracked her then as they did now, her wrists tingling from their imprisonment in the silken cord and nipples aching from the heavy clasps despite her altered healing. He had been merciless, driving her to the edge with a combination of pleasure and pain before crooning his adoration. So possessive, he'd been, likely because of his imminent departure.

So here she stood, shaky and aroused by memories ... and thoroughly wishing that Angelus had not taken William to China with him in order to bring home a recently discovered Penn. Unwilling to take her into a war zone, and equally unwilling to leave her alone in Italy, Angelus had been on the cusp of sending her back to London when the letter arrived. Assured that she would remain in Florence and be protected until their return, they had kissed her and reminded her to remember her place.

As if she could forget, she thought, an icy hot sensation rushing up her spine as her protector entered the room and came to stand behind her, their bodies not even touching but still igniting a rush of renewed desire deep within. Inhaling deeply, she cleared her throat. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"And the baby?"

"A girl, called Corrine," Indara responded, her cold fingers pulling Buffy's hair from its artful arrangement until it cascaded down her back. "Healthy enough, for all it was born a month too soon. I saw that she was placed with a Watcher family by the name of Moresby, who will raise her as their own and ask no questions as why she may not wed a Wyndham or a Price."

"Why?" Buffy asked.

Indara understood the unspoken question. "She simply could not handle the power once the spell was gone, little one. After years of channeling that energy through a human body the pregnancy was killing her ever so slowly, and the labor itself was simply too much."

Buffy blinked back tears. "Did she ... ?"

"Yes, she held her child ... named her, as well, before she slipped away."

"And the Moresbys?"

Indara lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "They are a family that has fallen to the wayside, an offshoot of a once powerful family that led the Council well over a thousand years ago. There are those among them who are my partisans ... "

"Oh."

The Ancient studied her young protege carefully, a small smirk splitting her lips as she inhaled. "You quite surprised me with your request, little bird," she told the young blonde as she unbuttoned the deep yellow silk that adorned the Slayer. "Oh, not the reasons ... but your offer was too enticing to ignore ... and subverting Watchers is always a thrill ... "

Buffy shivered as the last of her muslin chemise slid to the floor, gooseflesh spreading over her bare skin as Indara trailed cool fingers along her silken shoulders. Closing her eyes, she swayed as desire burned beneath her skin and pooled between her thighs, but opened her eyes with shock when something sharp bit into her breasts.

Indara smiled as the heavy clasps tugged on the still bruised nipples, tugging on the dangling gemstones and eliciting a moan from Buffy. "So lovely ... exquisite ... you were made to wear these," she murmured, closing the matching cuffs around the Slayer's wrists, effectively trapping the younger woman. "You were made for this ... "

Tresses the color of honey floated about Buffy's shoulders and mixed with the sparkling diamonds set in platinum. She whimpered at the pain and trembled in fear and anticipation as the vampiress stroked her face, finally opening her eyes and gazing into the fathomless black pools. Yes, Indara wanted what she had offered, had likely wanted this from the beginning but was stymied by Angelus. Now nothing stood in her way, and Buffy acknowledged that she had surely known the outcome when she asked the Ancient to help her hide Alicia.

She was repaying her debt, yes ... but on some deep, dark level, Buffy admitted that she wanted this.

Indara's eyes grew golden as twin ivory erections sprouted, her face shifting as she leaned forward and ever so gently bit down, Buffy's sanguine nectar rushing over her tongue and firing the stolen blood that raced ceaselessly through her veins. The Slayer keened and cried out as the pain became a dark, erotic pleasure that sent her over the edge, mewling when the vampiress pulled away and gasping when she felt Indara's hands twine in the loose blonde locks. Opening eyes that had closed in ecstasy, Buffy watched with desire and despair as Indara used a sharp nail to slice open her breast, and failed to suppress a tear as the blood filled her mouth and trickled down her throat.

Hissing in pleasure, Indara cradled Buffy's head as the young woman lapped at the blood that remained as the wound closed. Now she would truly own the tiny Slayer that had slid to her knees and was kissing her inner thigh, she mused hazily. The sharing of blood sealed the pact that had been made months ago in Paris, a pact that had given her a Sire's right to the blonde at her feet, but no means to enforce it save her power over the Elders and the honor due her as the leader of Clan Eleusinia.

Until now, she thought triumphantly. As Buffy's mouth closed over her womanhood at her silent urging, Indara delighted in the bond that was forming between them. So many things to teach my little one, but there was plenty of time now, she thought as her pleasure began to spiral out of control, growling as she fell over into an abyss of ecstasy.

Long moments later the only sounds in the room were the beating of a heart and the ticking of the clock, and Buffy looked up at her, eyes the color of jade meeting ancient onyx in a silent question. Indara only smiled in response as she guided the blonde's head back between her thighs to the seat of her pleasure. Yes, there were still so many things to teach her lover, but there was time.

"All the time in the world," she whispered.

 

The End