Chapter Eight
We are Watchers. Buffy felt as though someone had pulled the plug on her emotions as all the anger seeped out to be replaced by confusion. Her mind reeled in mental summersaults in a futile attempt to keep up. How could they possibly be Watchers? She'd met Watchers and they had a tendency of being stuffy middle-aged British men with a disturbing affinity for tweed. By a stretch of her imagination she could probably believe that there were black Watchers, maybe even women Watchers. And who knew, the council might even keep non-tweed wearing Watchers on the sidelines just to keep things interesting. But demon Watchers? That was pushing things a bit too far. She would bet her life that the council had a strict policy against something like that. Then again, she could have betted her life that she was the only Slayer in her generation. "Huh?" She finally managed to utter. Over all she was quite proud of her reaction.

The elders watched her carefully, assessing her emotions and reactions, "did you know that nothing in this world has true immortality?" The dark vampire asked.

She stared at him, "try signaling before taking sharp conversational turns," she said acidly. "You lost me."

A shadow of a smile flickered across his pale face and was gone before Buffy could even be sure it was there in the first place. His blue eyes, however, glimmered with humor, "point taken. However, if you bear with me for a bit I'm sure things will become clearer." Yeah, I doubt that, Buffy thought. If anything she had never felt so confused in her life. "Nothing is truly immortal," he repeated, "not man, not the earth, not even demons, although they claim to be. What happens to a body whose demon dies, Slayer? What happens to all the power suffused in its once living cells?" She shook her head wordlessly, a terrible suspicion crawling through her bewildered brain. The dark elder crossed the room with feline grace, not quite invading Buffy's personal space, but way too close for comfort. "Does it die?" He hissed, "does it become a walking, soulless corpse? A ghoul? Or does it get its soul back and live happily ever after?"

Cold sweat began to drip down Buffy's spine, her throat clenched with dry fear as she stared at the elder with wide-eyed horror. "Gerrico!" The cry sounded like a command. The dark elder immediately tensed as the pale woman strode over with a warrior's gate. "Stop it, you're scaring the child," she said more softly.

Gerrico nodded, "I apologize," he said smoothly. "I wanted you to be aware of the questions we have been trying to answer over time." So much time, he left unsaid.

"Your demon's died?" The Slayer asked with wonder, searching Gerrico's face for an answer. He nodded. "Your soul, is it..."

"Not as far as I can tell," he replied gruffly turning away from her toward the fireplace.

She shook her head, this day was just too shock filled for her fragile state of mind. Confusion always linked its way back to anger in her mind, and although her reason knew it was stupid, her mouth already formed a verbal assault. "So your demon dies and you're thinking what to do with all the time you have left and come up with Watcher?" Her body tensed awaiting a violent reaction at her distrust, "I don't think so."

Gerrico smiled, "it wasn't quite that simple. But first you must consider; is a demon incapable of love? Is a man with a soul instantly devoid of evil? Where is the line drawn between a soul and a mind?" Buffy swallowed hard thinking of Spike's tenderness towards Drusilla and human abominations she had the misfortune to encounter. "Nothing is completely black or white, Slayer. We live in a world of gray and it is that world we ache to preserve."

"But Watchers?"

A look passed between Gerrico and the pale woman, one of hurtful memories and absolute trust. "Go ahead, Gammina," Gerrico conceded. "You tell it better anyway."

Gammina nodded and as she moved away from the fire Buffy noticed that her pale hair was a near white, drawing a veil of age over her otherwise youthful features. "A long time after our demons died we wandered, searching for a purpose. Most died along the way, unable to live without the powerful emotions and cruel reason that the demon had to offer." Buffy sensed rather then heard the faint rush of longing in Gammina's voice. "Few joined us, the idea of a lonely life terrifying them into instant trust. In time we became a family of sorts, avoiding both vampires and mankind, for we truly belonged to neither."

Gammina's pale features gleamed in the firelight, her beauty magnified with golden shadows. Buffy pushed down a pang of jealousy, she was beautiful and would remain so for the rest of her life. "It was pure chance that Anna stumbled along our way, beaten and dying, a little girl whose family had been killed by vampires."

"And you saved her," Buffy stated firmly, starting to understand where this was going.

Gerrico nodded, "and you can't help wondering why. How can a soulless being feel compassion? Why would a former demon help save a child of a race he once slaughtered?" His voice was tinged with unfathomable sadness, an old loss. "The answer, like most things is simpler than it appears. Life, in all its forms, is a precious thing. Especially to ones such as ourselves."

Buffy nodded, willing to accept. "And so we helped her," Gammina went on as though Gerrico's interruption had never occurred. "And we watched as wounds she had no chance of surviving healed quickly, as her body grew stronger than it should have."

"She was a Slayer," Buffy said softly, her own protective instincts awakened for a child Slayer that had long since died.

"She was a Slayer," Gammina confirmed. Gerrico turned away from them unwilling or unable to listen to the rest of the story. "They were nothing more than a myth back then, a story used to scare fledgling vampires at the break of dawn. But there were female children whose blood was infused with power, and there were vampire hunters who set out to find those children believing that drinking from them would make them strong." Gammina shook her head sadly, "We had always believed that that was what happened to Anna and her family. How the child managed to survive is still a mystery."

"They died quickly back then, some never survived the first week after they were called." Gerrico said, suppressed sorrow sliding off his voice. "Some never even realized they had been called before they died."

Buffy suppressed a shudder, thinking how easily that could have happened to her, had the Watcher's council never approached her. "She hated vampires with a vengeance, every one of them a direct reminder to those who had murdered her family. Yet she stayed with us after she healed, despite her knowing what we were, what we used to be," a soft smile played upon Gammina's delicate lips. "She was a true creature of contradiction. We did what we could for her, we taught her to fight, to kill, and to become the woman of power she was destined to be. We researched for her, becoming the first Watchers in history." Ironic much? Buffy thought looking at the former demons. "She became the most formidable Slayer in history, the demons she slew never standing a chance against a force such as her. She died shortly after her first grandchild was born, her family all around her."

Gerrico turned to stare at the flames, his blue eyes lost in memories. He loved her, Buffy realized with a flash of insight. "How long ago was this?" She asked.

"Nearly two millennia ago," Gammina replied softly. She glanced over at the hurting elder with compassion in her eyes, "her death pains him still."

They stood in respectful silence for several moments while Buffy's mind churned over the implications of a Slayer raised by former demons. Then a single frightening thought banished away all others. "Does Giles know?" She demanded, her voice sounding shrill in the hushed room.

Gammina shook her head, "very few of the council know of our existence. At first Anna's daughters and their families became the first human Watchers, despite her wishes," her eyes gentled at the memory. "They were quite possibly as stubborn as she was. Later, as the bloodline dwindled, we found it necessary to pull apart from the council, remaining in contact with few of its high-ranking members." She shook her head, her white-blonde hair gleaming brightly, "the irony of fighting demons while led by ones such as ourselves was too great for some to accept."

"So you've remained in contact from afar," Buffy said, trying not to think about Giles and what this information would do to him. "Helping only when you found it necessary, which would of course, explain what you're doing in a camp full of vampires with their demons firmly intact."

"It was the lesser of two evils," Gerrico said dangerously, his eyes flashing blue fire. Be careful of this one, Buffy's mind demanded. "This way we also gained a place in vampire society, guiding their actions as well as the council's in preparation for this day."

"You knew this day was coming?" Buffy accused.

Gerrico nodded, "Angelus' name was written in the skies long before he had even been born. It has always been his destiny to free the Evil One, destroying her is a different matter altogether."

"He must choose to destroy her," Gammina chimed in, drawing Buffy's attention away from the elder's hypnotic blue eyes. "Of his own free will. But he must also have the power to do it and that can come only of Cirta herself."

"At the present his will is fragile, worn away by grief and trauma. She aches to empower him, to corrupt him, to make him her own. She must be allowed to do so, it is the only way he will be able to gain the power he needs for her destruction."

Buffy's will seemed to crumble away to dust under the force of the elder's gazes, "I can't," she whispered.

"But he will grow stronger," Gerrico boomed on regardless of her small protest. "His love for you will sustain him, bringing death to us all. That is why he must believe in your unlove for him, he must fall into Cirta's embrace while he is at his weakest."

"I can't," her voice couldn't even carry across the room.

"You must betray him or the world will become what it once was and all will be lost."

"I can't!" Her cry echoed through the room stunning them all into momentary silence.

"But you will," Gammina stated firmly, coldly, all traces of her former compassion evaporated as though it had never existed. "You are the Slayer. It is not WHAT you are, it is WHO you are. That choice was made long ago. You are defined by it as easily as it is defined by you. This betrayal is a part of that choice that you have made as you condemned your lover to hell."

She shook her head wildly, blindly, golden locks flailing about her pale face. She needed direction, she needed to talk to Giles. The thought of her Watcher brought cold fear into her heart. He gave his adult life to the council, finding out that it was led by demons from the start could destroy him, "Giles, my Watcher," she started.

"Telling your Watcher of this is your choice to make," Gerrico said indifferently. "Keep in mind, however, that he too is needed to guide us through these times."

"I need time to think about this," she gasped, struggling to control her jumbled thoughts.

Gammina nodded, compassion returning to her eyes, erasing all traces of her former callousness. "Choose quickly, Slayer. Time is slipping away for all of us. Someone will be waiting outside to take you back to Sunnydale."

Buffy nodded, realizing she was dismissed. With her shoulders slumped and her spirit crushed she made her way out the room.

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

Angel paced the mansion restlessly. His impatient body moved with feline grace as he crossed the dimly lit room for the umpteenth time that evening. Thoughts raced through his feverish mind, fragments of memory and illusion as he tried to dismiss what his body demanded, what his mind cried out for, what his soul ached.

The taste of Spike's blood was still on his lips, tantalizing him, seducing him all the more. He hadn't even thought of taking his childe's blood, but the feel of Spike's mouth on his neck, the pressure of Spike's body against his own and the sight of his smooth, pale neck just begging to be plundered was more then he could handle. And, of course, there were the memories. It wasn't the first time they had done something like that, although the last time was lost in ancient memory.

He continued pacing, his body moving with deadly grace as he tried to shrug away temptation. He didn't want Spike's blood, he'd had enough of that. He wanted someone else's. Someone living.

"You cannot dismiss what you are!" The voice sounded in the confines of his mind. He froze, his foot stopping in mid pace giving him the appearance of a startled ballet dancer. "You are a demon, take pride in that!"

Angel snarled, his shock won over by rage at the intrusion into his mind. "Who are you?" He demanded, his face slipping into that of a demon.

The voice sounded amused, though no less commanding, "you know me Angelus!" It boomed, "I was the earth shuddering at the day of your birth and I was the sky weeping at the sight of your death. I watched you walk the earth and writhe in hell. I am yours as you are mine!"

The dark vampire shook his head in denial as his eyes sought out a physical threat. His fists clenched as his body tensed, a soft deadly growl oozed out of his throat promising a painful death to the one who dared to do this.

"I dare, Angelus!" The voice cried out with ecstasy. "You are mine and I dare! I dare to grant you power!" The voice rose to an unbearable crescendo. "I dare to give you the world!" Angel dropped to his knees, his eyes and mouth clenched tightly shut, his hands clasped against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the deafening roar from his mind. "And all I want in return is you!"

Blood began to drip through his fingers, his eyes felt as though they would burst. "No!" He grated through lips wounded by his own fangs. He had no reason to object other than for objection's sake. He would not submit to anyone like this, the demon in him refused it as well as the man.

He could feel a flicker of annoyance at his renunciation, "I gave you life!" The voice cried out, "And now I give you power!"

He could feel his blood begin to boil as power coursed its way through his veins. His elbows connected with the floor effectively curling him up into a defensive shell as an incessant fire burned through his body. "CAN YOU FEEL IT?" The voice rose higher into the realms of insanity as Angel screamed out his agony. "CAN YOU FEEL THE POWER?"

The sky engulfed him, he could feel it tearing into him, demanding him even as the earth pulled him back down, claiming him as its own. He was torn, caught in a tug of war between two divine entities that could rip him to shreds. He shrieked with fear, a wounded animal unable to control his reactions. "YOU HAVE THE POWER. COMMAND THEM AND THEY SHALL BE YOURS!"

"Enough!" He cried out. Thunder roared furiously and the ground shook, but the tug of war on his mind stopped. A slow, feral smile spread across his pallid features. Tentatively he reached out his mind towards the heavens and laughed as thunder crashed about him in reward. Somewhere in the distance windows shattered and car alarms wailed. He reached towards the earth and felt it shudder with expectant lust under his touch.

With a cry that would have sent a brave man crashing fearfully to his knees he took them both at once. Power flowed through him with a force that would have torn a lesser man apart. His skin glowed as sky and earth submitted to his will, allowing him to do with them as he pleased. With a wild snarl he ran out the mansion into the sudden downpour of the Sunnydale night.

The hunter roamed the dark streets of the Sunnydale night, his golden, predatory eyes glimmering in the harsh electric lights. Hard rain cooled his feverish body, the violent downpour embracing him with an ethereal veil of silvery illusion.

The hunter moved with deadly grace, rain sliding off him as though it was nonexistent. His senses were attuned with the night, as befitting a creature of darkness such as he, searching, aching for a victim.

His body slid into a crouch as a familiar scent hit his senses, his fingers curling into lethal claws. He recognized that scent for what it was; weakness and fear, a human knowing it was threatened on the most primal of senses, a sentient mind regressing instinctively into prey. A snarl escaped the hunter's taut lips, a vibrant eagerness sizzling through his body at the prospect of attacking, of giving chase, of the first lethal lunge that would end a life at his hands.

He started to run, his eagerness for the kill, the taste of warm blood overcoming caution. A harsh electric light caught his golden eyes, exposing the animalistic frenzy hidden within the hunter's soul. He passed a corner and froze, his face lifting slightly, as he tasted the night air. There was another hunter out this night, a challenging snarl escaped his lips at the thought of his prey being snatched away from him.

The consenting growl soothed away the tension in his hard body. An almost soft smile played across the hunter's lips. He knew this other hunter and was gladdened for he would not need to hunt alone this night.

They moved as one, although they could not see each other in the rain, silent predators hunting a weakened prey. Between the two of them there would be no chase this night, but that was also for the best, as the demand for the taste of blood grew fiercer in the dark hunter's heightened awareness.

Through the silvery veil of rain he could see his prey, old and defeated yet living nonetheless. The hunters lunged as one, an unspoken thought guiding their actions, moving them like choreographed dancers in the complex ballet of life and death.

They attacked from either side, their victim moaned once with denial before succumbing to the hunters' superior strength. Locked firmly by the two predators, pressed against them from either side as the rain slithered down their bodies, he understood in a primitive part of his mind that he was already lost. To an outside observer they would look in the distance like a single body undulating madly in their bloody, deadly orgy. The two hunters latched on to their victim's throat, pale hair mingling lecherously with dark as a human life played the buffer in their wicked passions.

Their dying prey snapped his eyes open to look death in the face. In a single moment of clarity as the blood drained from his body through twin wounds he looked upon the face of his destruction and cried out with awe at the golden, animalistic eyes that stared back. In that moment all the legends and myths of his childhood came floating back and he wept as he became a believer.

None of that mattered to the hunter as the life-blood of another filled his mouth and coursed through his veins. It was stale and tepid, the blood of an old man, but it was filled with the sweet compensation of life and terror. And the long forgotten closeness of his brother to the hunt was worth the imperfect prey. He could feel the strong pulse weakening under his ministrations, fluttering slower before coming to a dead halt.

Only then did the lifeless corpse drop to the ground in a discarded heap of wasted life. The hunters gazed at each other, the hard rain plastering their hair to their heads, their clothes to their bodies. It cleaned the blood smeared across their faces, wiped away all evidence of a crime. There was still ferocious exultation in the golden, demonic eyes, an unnatural ecstasy of a life taken for the simple pleasure of another.

White lightning blazed fiercely above their heads, to be followed moments later by crashing thunder. The pale hunter blinked, blinded momentarily by nature's pyrotechnics, then frowned irritably as he looked upon the horrified face of his former brother to the hunt.

"Oh my God," Angel whispered, his sickened human eyes locked unto the lifeless corpse at his feet. He took an involuntary step back, his head shaking in futile attempt to deny what he had done. "Oh my God!"

Spike shook his head with disgust, his face slipping back into his human mask as he watched his revolted sire. "There is no God here!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"No!" Angel cried, his feet moving back, instinctively seeking escape. He tripped over a pile of garbage and fell with a crash on the wet refuse, still unable to take his eyes off the murdered victim.

"Yes!" Spike growled. "This is what you are, accept that!"

The dark vampire shook his head in denial, violently forcing himself to look into the face of his angered childe. The rain weakened into a soft drizzle, bouncing happily off the vampires. "I can't accept it." He looked back at the lifeless body, his face contorted with nausea, "not this!"

"You're still as pathetic as you used to be!" Spike accused watching the play of emotions across his sire's face. "Just get out of here, you old poof!"

"What about...?" Angel nudged his head towards their victim.

"We were never here," Spike instructed. "The Slayer will stake my ass for this if she finds out."

"Buffy..." Another wave of panic rushed through Angel's expressive features.

Spike rolled his eyes, "tell her what you want, mate. As for me, I was never here." He walked away muttering in disgruntlement as the telltale sounds of retching echoed in his sharp ears.

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

Buffy stared listlessly out the car window watching the rain, her head banging slightly against the glass at every bump in the road. Her driver had turned out to be a tight-lipped middle-aged vampire that kept a wary distance from her by keeping the glass between the front seat and the back firmly shut.

More than anything in the world she ached to tell Giles about what she had learned. She wanted him to listen carefully as he poured her some hot tea from that thermos he always carried around, and fed her those moldy biscuits he liked so much. Crumpets, she mentally corrected herself, smiling softly at the thought of the indignant expression on his imagined face at her crude error. Most of all she wanted him to open up one of his musty old tomes and find a solution to her problems, preferably one that allowed her to beat the crap out of a certain Evil One, a.k.a. Cirta.

But she couldn't tell him anything, the thought of the hurt she would see in his intelligent gray eyes cut her to the quick. Was it a betrayal to deny someone information that would hurt them? She mused, chewing thoughtfully on a lock of golden hair. The problem, well one of them anyway, was that not telling Giles immediately excluded telling anyone else. Xander was too prejudiced against vampires to even consider trusting the elders, and Willow, while open minded, would blanch at the thought of taking such a tremendous risk as betraying Angel.

She shook her head firmly, betraying Angel was not even an option. She had already made that decision. The question was could she really trust the elders. Her mouth chewed her hair enthusiastically as she considered that idea. She was forcefully pulled out of her reverie by a particularly nasty bump in the road that sent her nose banging against the cold car window. She frowned as she rubbed her nose, glaring at the offending window for a moment before realizing they were in midtown Sunnydale.

As she got her bearings a slow smile spread across her face, the answer to most of her questions was right under her nose, so to speak. "Stop here!" The car skidded to a stop on screeching tires, the driver eager to let her out of the car and hopefully his life.

Buffy glanced at the sky as she stepped out of the car straight into a puddle, deliberately ignoring the way the driver pushed the pedal to the metal as soon as she banged the car door shut. Dawn was still a good hour away, Willie will not be a happy camper. With that thought in mind she deliberately walked into Willie's bar.

Willie glanced up indifferently as she walked inside, the drink he was pouring neatly slipped from his hands to spill on his foot as his brain registered the sight of her. "Slayer!" The little man cried with mock enthusiasm, "would you look at that, it's the Slayer!"

Buffy glanced around as most of the bar's more questionable occupants shuffled out the dimly lit place. "Looks like I'm Miss Popularity tonight," she deadpanned.

The short bartender was not amused, "I thought we'd agreed you'd stay away during business hours, kid," he said irritably.

"This is important!"

"So is keeping my business running on the off-chance the world keeps on turning tomorrow!" She opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but he held his hand up signaling her to wait till the last of his demonic customers filed out the bar.

"Aren't you ever worried one of them will turn on you?" She asked with real interest as her eyes locked to the retreating back of a particularly nasty looking demon.

He shrugged, "even baddies need a place to do their drinking, kid," he replied. "A place where everybody knows your name," his eyes took on a slightly dreamy look.

"And they're always glad you came," she snickered. I wonder if anyone ever shouts out 'Norm' in here, she thought. "Do you know what's been going on?" She inquired when the bar finally emptied out.

Willie shook his head, "didn't really try to find out. All I know is it's something really bad that's got the scary things shaking." The little man shook his head ruefully, "when the scary things get scared you know things are really getting scary." He frowned, trying to make sense of his own twisted logic, "so to speak," he finally added lamely.

Buffy nodded, "yeah, I know all about that." She gave him a hard look, "believe me, it's better not knowing about this one. I need to ask you about something else, though. The elders, tell me what you know about them."

Surprised eyebrows lifted as Willie considered her question, "the vampire elders are in this?" He asked with a shudder. "Now there's a group of people I wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley at night."

"Why not?"

"This is Sunnydale," he reminded her. "And besides," he said blandly, "I'm not that fond of dark allies." He smiled as she grimaced, "maybe it's better not to be in the know sometimes, especially if people that powerful are involved," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know much about them," he admitted, "they're kind of an aloof bunch, tend to stay away from the common trash that comes in here. I know they're well respected, though. And feared too," he added as an afterthought. "I think most vampires would rather kiss the break of dawn then face off with one of those guys."

People, Buffy corrected mentally, there are also women in that 'aloof bunch'. "Do they have a lot of control?" She asked.

The small man nodded enthusiastically, "the story goes that they once forced an entire renegade clan to stake themselves." He paused as Buffy whistled respectfully through her teeth. "In the sun," he added dryly. "You don't get much opposition after a story like that." Buffy fidgeted, aching to ask the question she really wanted an answer to. Willie watched her for several sympathetic moments, "go ahead, kid. I'm not gonna tell anybody." He shrugged at her skeptical look, "hey, we all want to live," he explained.

Buffy sighed with resignation, "can they be trusted?" She finally asked.

The little bartender seemed genuinely surprised, "with that much power at their fingertips, what reason would they have to lie?" He asked.

She thought about that, "manipulation?" She suggested.

His hand waved dismissively, "manipulation's for the weak," he replied. "With that much power you can just take what you want. No fuss no muss."

Buffy frowned, yet more things she had to think about, "thanks Willie," she muttered as she turned to leave. "Sorry about the customers," she tossed as an afterthought.

"Hey, kid!" He called as she reached the door, "I heard you got Angel out of hell. How is he?"

Buffy froze, she hadn't expected the little snitch to know about that. This was bad, this was very bad, it meant Angel might not be as safe as she thought he was if the wrong people knew he had returned. Despite her fears she saw real concern in Willie's face. "I don't know," she replied truthfully.

The little man nodded in sympathy, "good luck, kid," he muttered as the petite blonde Slayer left his bar.

The rain had slowed into a tickling drizzle leaving feather-light kisses on her skin. It was only then that her mind registered the obvious, "since when does it rain in Sunnydale in the fall?" She asked out loud. Shaking her head with wonder she made her way to school through the early morning light.

* * *
Chapter Nine
"Cordelia was right," Buffy muttered quietly as she walked into the library, "he does live here." A slow, almost tender smile crept unbidden across her lips as she watched the sleeping librarian. He had fallen asleep in the midst of research, as the ancient book currently being used as a pillow testified. His glasses hung precariously from one ear, threatening to fall off at any given moment. Gently she reached out to retrieve them before disaster occurred.

"Buffy?" Giles blinked as he gazed at his ward through bleary eyes.

"We've got to work on my stealth-mode," Buffy said with a forced smile as she handed her Watcher his glasses, "if I can't steal glasses from a Watcher then I definitely need some training in that department."

"Yes quite," the Watcher murmured, obviously still groggy from sleep. He suddenly jumped in his chair as memories hit him, "Angel! Did you and Spike find him?"

"Somebody's in the know," she replied as she shook her head.

"Willow called and told me what happened. I wish I could have been here to see it," he sighed regretfully. "After that your mother called. I had to lie and tell her that you were sleeping over at Willow's after some lengthy research. She was not a happy woman." He gave her a stern look, "try to keep me in the know, so to speak, Buffy. With that storm raging last night you really had me worried."

A delicate eyebrow rose humorously, "I went after Angel with Spike and you were worried about a little rain? Contradiction much?"

He gave her the familiar resigned look he usually did when she abused the English language, "it wasn't a regular storm, Buffy. It felt all wrong. Besides," he added as he ran a weary hand through his graying hair, "the bloody thing kept me up half the night. Finally I just gave up on sleep altogether and came here."

"Find anything interesting?" Buffy asked as she motioned towards the slept on book.

"Nothing terribly exciting," Giles admitted as he guiltily smoothed out the rumpled cheek-shaped pages. "There was one passage that seemed relevant, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Something to do with power."

"Really?" Buffy asked as disinterestedly as she could. "What did it say?"

Giles shrugged as he finally gave up on the book and moved on to clean his glasses. "Something about power and corruption," he thought for a moment as his hands meticulously cleaned the glistening lenses. It's almost like meditation for him, Buffy suddenly realized as the Watcher began reciting. "And she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely." He shook his head in frustration, "absolute gibberish is what I say," he muttered.

She felt the delicate hairs on the back of her neck rise as shivers ran up and down her spine. It all fit together in a kind of horrible logic that made her want to scream. She needed to tell him about the elders, keeping him in the dark left her all alone. She couldn't do this alone. "Giles," she began hesitantly. This will destroy him, she thought miserably.

"I still say it's your fault," Cordelia's shrill voice came floating down the empty hall.

"How is it my fault?" Xander asked, his voice hovering somewhere between humor and weariness.

The argument had obviously been going on for some time and was merely reaching its high point as the unlikely pair burst into the library. "Not just your fault," the may queen replied acidly, "all of you. It's all your fault." She motioned towards the startled Watcher and Slayer as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them all to be at the school slightly after dawn. On second thought, Buffy thought irritably, it wasn't really that rare either. "It's unnatural that every time something falls out of the sky it happens to land on me!"

"It didn't really fall out of the sky," Xander corrected demurely.

"I don't care where it fell out of," Cordelia grated through clenched teeth. "It still managed to land on me! It's a curse, it has to be a curse. There's no other explanation. I hang out with you people and I get cursed!"

"Your hair's wet," Buffy observed helpfully as the pretty brunette opened her mouth to deliver another blistering accusation.

Xander winced as Cordelia slowly turned towards the Slayer, her eyes narrowed and flaming as if she had received a deadly insult. "Gee, you think?" She said bitingly. "See, somehow I managed to miss it when that tree I was walking under decided to rain on me." The cheerleader's dripping hair made her mascara run giving her the appearance of an extremely annoyed clown. One look at Cordelia's face, however, deemed it best not to mention that. With a huff she retrieved a small facial towel from her bag and stormed out of the library. "I still say it's a curse," came floating back from the hallway through the swinging doors.

"Well she's a regular Miss Congeniality this morning," Buffy said brightly. "What's her issue?"

"Beauty sleep," Xander shrugged helplessly, "or rather lack thereof. Damn storm kept both of us up half the night. She called me and we talked till dawn," he added as they stared at him. "You two have very dirty minds. That's usually my field of expertise."

"Trust him, it really is," Willow murmured as she walked haggardly into the library. "I just saw Cordelia dripping down the hallway saying something about a curse and things falling on her." The tired redhead looked up at the Watcher, "is it anything important?"

"Not to us anyway," Buffy muttered, ignoring the dirty look Xander threw her way. "You're looking a bit un-Willowy, Will," she said, noting the dark circles under her friend's eyes.

The pretty hacker sighed and slumped into a nearby chair, "stupid storm kept me up."

"Half the night?" Buffy offered.

"I wish," Willow snorted, "try the whole night. After the earthquake I couldn't get back to sleep."

They stared at her, "earthquake?" Giles finally spluttered.

Willow nodded, lost in her own fatigue and oblivious to their shock, "yeah, a real doozie too."

The Watcher reached for his glasses, "I knew that storm felt unnatural," he muttered as he fiercely cleaned the unoffending lenses.

"You think Angel had something to do with this?" Buffy asked quietly.

"Let's see," Xander said, sarcasm dripping off his voice, "a kick-ass thunder storm in the middle of autumn in a place were you have to pray for some rain around wintertime. And oh yeah, another earthquake. Nope, just Mother Nature back to her old tricks, no Angel intervention there."

"See, I knew this had something to do with you people," Cordelia muttered sourly as she pushed her way through the library's swinging doors. Her face and hair had returned to their usual perfection, but there was still a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"There's more," Willow said, a yawn escaping her lips. "After I accepted the fact that I wasn't about to fall back to asleep, I slipped into the city coroner's web site."

"Eeww, morbid much?" Cordelia complained.

"I didn't know the coroner had an open web-site."

A slow flush crept up the timid hacker's face, "well not exactly a web-site per say, more like encrypted files with a state of the art security system," she couldn't hide the pride in her voice. "Well, it was a long night and I got bored," she explained as her friends stared at her. "Anyway," she went on quickly, "they found a homeless guy's body last night," she raised her pallid face to look the Slayer straight in the face. "He had two sets of bite marks on his neck."

"Looks like Angel had himself a little party last night," Xander grated brusquely.

"Two different sets of bite marks," Willow emphasized.

"So he invited a friend?"

"Spike was with you last night?" Giles asked, looking at his suddenly pale Slayer. With her jaws clenched tight and her muscles aching to strike, Buffy slowly nodded her head. "So if it was Angel that only leaves Drusilla."

Willow shook her head, "according to the report the marks were large and roughly the same size. Women generally have smaller teeth then men. It wasn't Dru." She gave Buffy a comforting look, "it was probably a couple of rogue vampires who couldn't help themselves."

"When the cat's away," Xander murmured.

"I don't like this," Giles said shaking his head, "if it was just a random vampire attack then that means Spike is loosing control over his clan." He looked his shaken Slayer in the face, "which in turn means that any deal you've made with him is deemed worthless. You need to talk to Spike, head this off before it goes any further."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed mechanically, her thoughts an uncontrollable whirlwind in her head, "I'll talk to Spike." Right before I make sure he fits in an ashtray, she thought wickedly.

Xander shook his head, "I'm still not convinced it wasn't Angel, I mean with the earthquake last night we know something happened that had to do with him."

"It could have just been the storm," Willow offered, barely suppressing another yawn.

"Which really brings up my curse," Cordelia threw in.

"I mean how many vampires have you seen around Angel besides Spike and Drusilla?" Willow went on, completely ignoring the irritated brunette.

"Hello people, what about my curse?"

"Yeah," Xander conceded, "I guess that's logical."

Cordelia turned on him, her eyes promising violence. No one ignored her and got away with it, "what," she said acidly, "you're a Vulcan now?"

He gave her an impudent grin and she flushed realizing she'd been duped, "live long and prosper," he replied automatically.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"I think that on that note you should all get to class," Giles said rolling his eyes at the entire exchange.

"We still have plenty of time," Xander objected.

"Nevertheless," the Watcher replied.

"Come on Xander," Buffy said lightly, "lets leave Giles alone so he can bond with his books."

"Oh God," Willow moaned, "classes! I can't deal with classes. Thinking hurts."

"Now you know how I feel most of the time, Will," Xander said sympathetically as he put his arm around his friend's shoulders, half supporting her.

The tired hacker yawned as she rose to her feet, "I have no idea how I'm going to get through this day," she complained as they all left the Watcher to his books.

Willow's sentiment was apparently wide spread, Buffy discovered as the empty school began to teem with life. Pallid and lethargic students made their weary way to class to face irritated and bleary-eyed teachers. Finally, around mid-day the teaching staff had managed to corner Principal Snyder into giving them all the rest of the day off.

"What are you going to do today, Will?" Buffy asked her friend as they stepped out of the school and into the sunshine. Most of the evidence of yesterday's storm had dried up in the warm Sunnydale climate, but stooped trees and the occasional shattered window spoke volumes of the violence they had suffered.

"Home. Sleep," the tired hacker replied.

Buffy smiled, what one sleepless night will do to some people. "I meant after, when you've started to talk in full sentences again."

Willow tried to pout in response, then sighed miserably as she found herself too tired to do so, "Oz is playing at the Bronze tonight. Feel up to it?"

Let's see, Buffy pondered gravely, a night of fun with her friends, hmm. "Sounds like a plan," she replied quickly. "Are you going to make it home okay?" She gave Willow a concerned look as the redhead nearly collided with a tree.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, glaring at the offending form of vegetation. "I'll talk to you later tonight. Bye."

Buffy muttered her good-byes as she watched her friend shuffle drunkenly down the sidewalk. She considered following the hacker for a bit, then decided against it. It was still morning and besides the occasional tree bumping Willow would be fine. What was she going to do then? Her mother, like most of Sunnydale, was most likely either home or on her way there and was probably, as Giles had put it, not a happy woman. She could, of course, check the mansion to see if Angel was there. She weighed the matter carefully, but as always, save once, in the tug of war between Angel and the world the dark vampire came on top.

With a new bounce to her gait the small Slayer made her way to her former lover.

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

The stench of brimstone assaulted his senses bringing him instinctively to his knees on red-hot stone and burning coal. Terror-filled shivers ran down his spine, he'd been here before, suffered here before, and he knew what to expect. The stone beneath his body grew hotter, mingling the reek of smoldering flesh with the horrible brimstone smell.

He heard the shuffle of small feet, smelled the scent of burning flesh that was not his own. His body tensed and his head dropped, his eyes preferring to focus on his own smoldering skin, his mind favoring his own pain over that of the small creature that loomed above him, the creature that was once a human child. A child that he had destroyed in more ways than he could ever hope to atone for.

"You did this to me, Angelus!" Came the near unintelligible hiss. "Look at what you did to me!"

A whimper escaped his lips.

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

The mansion was dark when she stepped inside, a grim contradiction to the bright day outside. It took her eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness, a moment filled with anxious thoughts. What if he was here? What could she say to him? Should she accuse him of last night's murder? And if he was guilty what could she do about it? Nothing, she concluded. She could do absolutely nothing. She had made a promise she intended to keep, regardless of how difficult he would make it for her to do so.

"Angel?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart drumming a frenzied beat in her ears. I'm being ridiculous, she thought, I've got to get a hold of myself. With a deep breath she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "Angel?" She called out confidently, deliberately ignoring the way her voice was shaking. The quiet mansion offered no reply. He wasn't here, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks as a muffled moan demanded her attention. She held her breath and cocked her head to listen. There were definitely sounds and they were coming from the bedroom.

Throwing dignity to the wind she tiptoed quietly towards the bedroom and with a feather-light touch pushed open the heavy wooden door, praying it wouldn't creak.

It creaked.

She froze, mentally cursing all makers of creaky doors, reflecting briefly on their birth, heritage and cleanliness habits. A moment passed and then, as they generally do, another. Finally she felt secure enough, and dizzy enough, to resume breathing. Slowly she poked her head in through the doorway and once again gave up on breathing.

He slept, and while he slept he truly portrayed the creature after which he had been named. His human mask glowed with ethereal beauty in the scant light that managed to filter through the dark curtains, his pale torso a work of art even the old renaissance masters would have been proud of. She watched his eerily still chest with detached fascination, her eyes roaming her former lover's body with abandon. Her fingers ached to touch him, her lips parting to meet his, to claim him as her own. But he wasn't, not anymore. She pushed back a sniffle as she morbidly came to term with that piece of truth.

Lost in her own self-pity she almost missed the soft whimper that escaped his lips. Her eyes narrowed in thought, under closer inspection he didn't really look all that calm for a man asleep. His eyelids fluttered madly and his fingers clawed lightly at the bedspread. He was having a nightmare and it had obviously been going on for some time as the tangled covers around his waist, victims of an ongoing war, mutely testified.

She considered waking him, saving him from his mind-terrors and dream-monsters, but decided against it. Some battles needed to be fought alone. If things got out of hand, she'd be here. Determined, she sat on the edge of the bed and watched.

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

There were more now, clinging to him, touching him, demanding he acknowledge them in death, for he never did in life.

"Look at me!" They howled, their fingers clawing at him, grabbing for what was theirs.

Anxiously, the vile taste of terror in his mouth, he tried to pull away, preferring the pits of hell to the faces of his victims. They would not let him go, he knew that, although he had to try. In here, in this place where past sins were transformed into present acts of vengeance there would be no escape.

They closed on him, a mass of faces he was responsible for, a sea of people whose life ended at his whim. Most had begged, but he had no mercy for them. Others had tried to bargain, argue, but he had laughed in their faces. Then there were the rare few that had died quietly, those had been a mystery to him. He had always wondered, in a clinically detached sort of way, what they had been thinking in those last few moments of precious life.

And now, those who had screamed, who had begged, who had argued and fought, who had gone gently into that good night, all of them were closing in on him. They moaned and hissed, they clawed at his body as they drew closer bringing the stench of the grave hideously near. He couldn't move, couldn't lift a finger as they swarmed over him, covering him in a horrible blanket of damaged humanity. He could restrain himself no longer and with the claustrophobic strength inherent to all men he screamed like the damned.

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

She held him in her arms, rocking him like a wounded child, cooing meaningless words comfortingly. Her resolve to leave him to his inner demons had broken during the first few moments of his terrified scream. Immediately she rushed to his side, cradling him as she would an infant. Her hands stroked him gently as she rocked back and forth in response to his trembling body. It felt so good, so right.

She didn't even realize she had been kissing him until he looked up at her with those deep, fathomless eyes.

She immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just done. "I came by to see how you were," she croaked. He stared at her, his eyes dark and mysterious holding no accusation but no acceptance either. "I brought you some food and more cloths," she motioned towards the floor. His eyes followed the direction she was pointing at then flickered back to her face. "Only I left the bag in the other room," she explained once she realized there was nothing on the floor. Wordlessly he pushed back the covers and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Because I thought that you might be hungry and you might need some fresh cloths. Not that your old ones aren't okay or anything," she babbled as she took in his pale form, nude from the waist up.

He took a step towards her, his body strong and capable. He suddenly reminded her of a big cat out on the prowl. What would that make me? She wondered as she subconsciously took a step back. He moved towards her again and she felt cold sweat begin to drip down her back as her heart beat crazily. She looked up into his eyes and saw a strange fire burning there, a fire at once both alien and familiar. He wanted her, she realized, with a hunger that wasn't quite human. She instinctively stepped back, her body trembling uncontrollably, and collided with the wall.

He looked down at her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with her unsteady breathing, watching her face glisten with sweaty fear and anticipation. Watching her eyes dart nervously as she thought of a way to escape, savoring the moment before taking that final feline step that trapped her entirely.

"Angel, I," she stuttered, suddenly very aware of his bare chest only a hairsbreadth from her own. She didn't know what she wanted to say, and he never gave her a chance to find out. With a smooth sweep he covered her mouth with his, enjoying the shocked tremors that ran through her body.

It took her but a moment to respond. Her lips, hungering for his, parted of their own accord. Her body rejoiced as she felt his tongue slip through, exploring her depths, touching, tasting, savoring her essence. Their kiss deepened as hungry mouths devoured one another, their gentle kiss turning into a battle of wills and passions too strong to be denied.

Shivers ran up and down her spine as his strong hands closed on her slender waist, lifting her without breaking their kiss. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips even as her fingers tangled in his hair, fiercely pulling him even closer.

Hot sweat burned down her body, drenching her as she undulated against him, uncomfortable in her suddenly constricting clothes. She could feel the lust rise in her body like a tidal wave, stronger than she had ever experienced before. She wanted him here and now and be damned everything else. She moaned with sudden loss as he suddenly withdrew his mouth from hers, then gasped with trepidation as his lips locked on her neck.

She froze, her glazed eyes staring unseeing at the far wall as his blunt teeth grazed gently down her neck to the base of her throat. Her back arched wildly as danger sent new shivers down her body and promptly knocked her skull against the wall.

The pain cleared her lust-filled mind just in time to see him tearing through her blouse, his mouth fastening on her lace-covered breast. "Angel," she moaned as her mind clouded over again, "Angel, we can't." She cried out as his lips found her sensitive nipple, "the curse!"

He stopped to look up at her darkly, his deep, passionate eyes mirroring his emotions, "there is no curse," he growled. He could feel the slightest twitches of anger awakening in him, she of all people should have been able to understand.

She looked down into his deep, dark eyes as his words slowly registered in her fog filled mind. If there was no curse there was no soul, if there was no soul there was nothing left but the monster she remembered. Burning sweat turned cold as the icy gauntlet of fear gripped her heart. "What are you?" She choked.

The dark lust in his eyes turned to cold hurt and then to icy anger as he savagely pushed her off him to land unceremoniously on the floor. In a sudden flash of insight she suddenly understood, it all came together with an almost audible click. He's not my Angel anymore, the dark vampiress had said. It's almost like he's everything rolled up into one, her consort told them all. It all came together, the storm, the murder, the power, the corruption and most of all the confusion. She looked up at her lover as she lay crumpled on the floor and her heart shattered as she watched him turn his back to her, close himself from her. It was too late. "Get out," he said quietly, not even bothering to turn back to look at her.

He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see her face. What are you? She had asked as hellfire exploded in his mind. It all came back to him; the sword, the pain, the overwhelming confusion. And she had lied to him; don't worry about it, she said as hell's vortex erupted behind his back; I love you, she had whispered only moments before plunging a sword into his body. His face changed, his human mask slipping as righteous fury overtook him. What are you? She asked as if he were a monster, an abomination. Was he an abomination in her eyes when he held out his hand to her from within the vortex? Confusion in his eyes, pleading in his outstretched arm, was he merely a means to an end? What are you? She had refused to take his hand then, why should now be any different?

"Angel, please," she said brokenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love..."

He turned on her, anger gleaming from his golden eyes, "get out before I rip your bloody throat out!" he cried, his voice hissing through his fangs.

She stared at him in shock, taking in his demonic features and the hate etched on his disfigured face. With a despairing cry she clutched her torn blouse to her body and ran out of the mansion into the warm sunlight, where he could never follow.

His hands clenched into fists, his claws digging bloody half moons into the palms of his hands, his body trembling with tension. He listened to her run till she disappeared from earshot entirely. A roar escaped his lips as he listened to the quiet in vain, he loved her and hated her so much it nearly destroyed them both.

"And so you finally understand," the maniacal voice from within his mind cried gleefully. "You have finally come to realize the truth."

He couldn't deal with this now, it was just too much. "Leave me alone!" He howled like a wounded beast, his demonic visage contorting wildly with every word. "Just leave me the hell alone!"

A rushing sound began to form in the confines of his mind, growing stronger, angrier with every passing moment. "LEAVE YOU ALONE?" The harsh voice demanded, "I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE!" His eyes clamped shut and his hands pressed against his ears but he knew nothing could stop the dark winds of fury blowing through his mind. With a despairing wail he dropped to his knees. "YOUR NAME WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. YOU WERE MINE BEFORE YOU WERE EVER BORN!"

"No," he moaned, but he could not deny the truth he heard in the fanatical voice.

"YES! ALL THAT YOU ARE, ALL THAT YOU HAVE EVER BEEN IS MY DOING! YOU WERE MINE FROM THE VERY START! "

"Dear God, No!" He cried, unwilling to accept the horrible truth.

"YOU THINK YOUR BEAUTY COINCIDENTAL? AN ACCIDENT OF BIRTH?" his tormentor pushed on relentlessly, exposing all that he was, tearing him apart ruthlessly. "YOU THINK YOUR MIND A GIFT OF CHANCE? YOU ARE MY DOING! MY CREATION AND MY REWARD!"

"I am my own man!" He screamed, although he knew it was useless, although he knew it would probably cost him his life. Maybe it was all true and he was indeed the product of a warped imagination, but in the end his life was what he had made it out to be, the choices he had made throughout his long and sinful existence. That was truer now then ever before.

"OBSTINATE CREATURE! YOU ARE NOTHING IF NOT CORRUPTIBLE AS THE REST! WILL YOU REMAIN YOUR OWN MAN ONCE YOU HAVE FELT REAL POWER? FEEL THE POWER!"

He let out no more then a single despondent cry as the now familiar rush of burning power engulfed him, transformed him, corrupted all that he was.

She ran blindly, her fingers clutching the torn material of her blouse to her body as if that single desperate act could ward away the pain. It couldn't. Nothing could.

More than anything she wanted to run home, curl up in a little ball on her safe familiar bed and cry herself to sleep. Even that small comfort was denied her as events more important then her own needs and wishes were taking place.

She slowed her run to a slow walk and took stock of herself. Her shirt was torn in the front, her face was wet with tears and her hair felt like it had been slept on. With a miserable sigh she recalled the Kleenex, mirror and bobby pins in her purse, which was now conveniently located on the floor in Angel's bedroom. With a shudder she steered her mind clear of Angel's bedroom, she couldn't go there just yet. Especially if she was going to do what needed to be done.

With a resolved sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and tied it as best she could around her body. Not exactly Versace, she thought as she surveyed herself, but it'll do.

Slowly, hesitantly, moved by a power far greater then herself, she made her way to the factory.

The guards weren't much of a challenge, too shocked and worn by day to offer much resistance. Spike really needed to get himself better lackeys, especially if he was about to get daytime visits from the likes of her. The dark vampiress was quite another matter altogether.

"Spike!" Buffy called out as the crazed Drusilla lashed out at her. She ducked and rolled, kicking Drusilla's feet from under her in the process. "Spike!"

"In my home!" Drusilla screeched, her demonic features contorted with rage. "The Slayer is in my home!" With fluid grace she rose off the floor and lunged at the irritated Slayer.

With calculated ease Buffy side stepped the charging vampiress. She quickly jumped around to face the enraged Drusilla only to receive a hard fist in her face. Enough was enough! With a very vampire-like snarl Buffy whipped out a stake, "Spike!" She yelled, "unless you want to vacuum your girlfriend, get yourself out here!"

"No need to yell, Slayer," Spike said calmly from the balcony to her side. Both Buffy and Drusilla whipped around to face him. With dignified grace he slowly made his way down, "you could have just knocked, you know." He pointed out as he wrapped his arms around his maddened lover from behind. She seemed to visibly relax in his embrace, easing from a lethal killer into a contented kitten in his arms. "Had yourself some fun, luv?" He whispered in her ear as he placed soft kisses on his lover's jaw.

"Nasty Slayer woke me up," Drusilla reported sullenly, glaring at Buffy with undisguised malice. "I want to punish her, Spike. Let princess punish her."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "we need to talk, Spike."

He gave her an impudent grin, "that's usually my line, pet. Dru does have a point though. You can't just barge into people's homes in the dead of day and expect them to..."

He was playing games with her! Buffy felt her fist tighten on her stake as she fought to remain calm, "we need to talk now!" She grated through clenched teeth.

Spike looked her up and down noting her disheveled appearance and the deadly weapon in her hand. Nodding once he let go of his lover and led the tightly wound Slayer into a back room. "That wasn't very smart, Slayer," he started as soon as he closed the door.

She lunged at him, pinning him to the wall and planting a knee against his gut as he groaned in pain. "I don't care why that man died last night!" She hissed in the surprised vampire's face.

"Well that makes my job a lot easier," Spike gasped. The knee in his gut pressed deeper.

"I don't even care who killed him!"

"If only all Slayers thought like you." He silently wondered if it was possible to be staked by a knee. He sincerely hoped he wasn't about to find out.

"But if anyone else shows up with so much as a bite mark I'm going to hold you personally responsible!"

"I knew it was too good to be true," Spike murmured, then breathed with relief as the blonde Slayer abruptly let him go.

"The only reason I'm not staking you right now is that I need you to do something for me."

Spike turned to glare at her, a condescending smirk on his lips, then taking a good look he thought better of it. "What the hell happened to you?"

She ignored him, "I need you to go to the Elders. Tell them I need to talk to them as soon as possible."

He frowned, a concerned look creeping on his pale features, "what's going on?"

She went on ignoring him. "On second thought tell them one of them will be enough. I don't need to see all of them."

That was it! His patience snapped as easily as a twig. "Did you rehearse that little speech all the way down here, pet?" His face, still human but intensely angry was mere inches from hers, "you can't just kick your way in here and order me around. I am not your errand boy!"

"That's right," she agreed as sweetly as she could. "You're theirs." Silently rejoicing over the shock on his face she turned to leave. Now she could cry in peace.

Go to Part 10