DISCLAIMER: I have neither rights to the characters of the television series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" nor "Angel". I'm not making any money doing this, but I appreciate the chance to play in Joss' sandbox.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy is brought back from the dead to a world where Angel never existed.
RATING: R to NC17 for violence, especially when Dru gets involved. :-)
DISTRIBUTION: Fanfiction.net, Land of Denial, Spoonless Realm
DEDICATION: To Philip, who made me an offer I can’t refuse. < g > Also to Deb, Sarah and Jill, who kept asking me when the next part was going to come out.
A.N.: Special thanks to D.M. Evans for reading above and beyond. And I promise to get back to work on "Pieces of the Heart!"

Lindsey McDonald considered himself a fairly levelheaded man. Sure, he was passionate about his job but when you worked for the people he did, it was better than the alternative. He’d seen first-hand what happened to those who let big accounts flounder. Lilah Morgan meanwhile, thought she knew all the angles. Most conniving bitch he’d ever met. Gorgeous, but there weren’t any real slouches in the looks department when it came to Wolfram and Hart. The staff photo could have been a poster for “Successful (i.e., Rich) Attorneys” at any school.

Of course to work here, you had to be willing to pay the price. Those big accounts that brought in the money were the most dangerous to work. When you represented not only the human scum of the earth but also demons, things got a little dicey.

Just look at what had happened to Ron. Now dead, he’d earned his hazard pay, gone above and beyond.

Lindsey watched the vampires congregating. It reminded him of those nature films his father had been so fond of, when the Alpha male returned to the pack. Penn, Elizabeth, James and Darla couldn’t keep their hands off of the tall male. His sardonic grin welcomed the accolades even as he kept a close eye on the humans in the boardroom.

Holland’s beatific smile wasn’t mirrored by the others in the room, not even Lilah. No, she had her predatory gaze on the dark male. The way she kept shifting on her chair, Lindsey knew she wanted the vampire. He wondered if his erstwhile partner would be foolish enough to make a play for him.

Not that he was immune to the charms offered by a demon in human form. His own gut clenched as he watched Darla pet the tall male, the way she snuggled into his side. It had been the senior partners’ request to raise Darla from the dead but they hadn’t counted on her being returned as human. It had taken a little time for Lindsey and Lilah to track down members of her old cadre and while they searched, Lindsey had found himself falling for the lovely woman. She was as vicious as Lilah but not as hard and the vulnerability Darla showed him when they were alone continuously undermined his objectivity. Lilah knew about his infatuation and sneered. Now, he might be able to get some of that back.

But now he had to keep his wits about him. The predators might react to a change in his scent. Lindsey wasn’t sure about the physiognomy of his own race, he was no doctor, but he knew dogs could smell fear. Surely vampires could pick up on human scents, too. Hell, for all he knew, they might be able to pick up on any infinitesimal changes in the breathing or heart rate of their prey—and that was the last thing he wanted to be thought of by this pack.

The as-of-yet unnamed male touched each of his troupe. He hugged and kissed the women, backslapped the men. Had Lindsey just walked in on this display, he might’ve thought them human. Regardless, he would’ve been able to pick out the leader. The way he moved, his stance, the quick flashed of his teeth all added up to make him the Alpha. Even his voice, when he spoke, carried its weight, cutting through his pack’s chatter when he said, “Someone’s missing. Where’s Spike?”

The pretty dark female cooed at the question, clasping her hands together under the red veil she wore. “My sweet Spike,” she said, her head lolling to one side, her expression anything but innocent.

“I’d like to answer that question,” Holland said, gently interrupting the reunion.

The male turned his dark eyes on the senior lawyer, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Yes, I suppose you might.” Taking both Darla and the mad one’s hands, he led them back to the table and sat across from Lindsey. Both women took their places behind him while the remaining trio ranged beyond them as backup.

Lindsey felt a tingle run down his spine as his gut clenched in an involuntary reaction to the power arranged before him. The Alpha pressed the tips of his fingers together and surveyed the humans seated around the table.

“So,” he said, “you know where Spike is?”

“He’s doing us a service,” Holland said. “On the Hellmouth.”

“The Slayer,” the dark female said, the word hissing out of her mouth.

Holland went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “He’s our eyes and ears in Sunnydale. There are others, of course, but Spike happens to be close to the Slayer at this point. She and her companions believe him to be harmless.”

The male chuckled, shaking his head so his long bangs drifted lazily into his eyes. “Spike’s damn Anne Rice strategies work again.”

“Actually…” Holland pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow at the male. “I hate doing business with someone when I don’t know his name.” He gave the vampire a knowing smile. “You know, can’t tell the players without a scorecard.”

“So, my name isn’t predicted in the prophecies?” He grinned, tapping his forefingers together as he glanced back at his subordinates. “I’m the wild card.”

“He’s the devil,” Penn said, his blocky face taking on a wicked cast.

“The fallen star,” the mad female said, her mouth twitching up.

“I don’t think I’ll call you Lucifer, though,” Holland said, playing along.

Darla smoothed an imagined wrinkle in the shoulder of his duster. “No,” she said, her little girl’s voice sounding amused, “that name won’t do.”

“But there is something we can call you. I do like being able to address those I work with,” Holland said, only the faintest hint of impatience coloring the words.

“Work with, not command?” He let the question hang there for three of Lindsey’s heartbeats and then the vampire went on, almost cheerfully, “Call me…Angel.”

“Very well, Angel,” Holland said, nodding at Lindsey and Lilah both. “I was telling you about Spike. It seems that our hot-tempered friend ran afoul of a covert military operation, designed to make sure that demons were unable to harm humans. Spike was captured and a chip inserted into his head, making it painful for him to feed on humans, or even cause them any physical harm.”

“Poor, poor Spike,” the mad one said, her lower lip jutting out.

“We’ve taken care of that problem,” Lilah said, leaning forward to give Angel a glimpse of her creamy cleavage. “We removed the chip over two months ago.”

“So, he can feed? And hunt?” She clapped her hands together, doing a little pirouette. “The night will sing for us again.”

“Easy, baby,” Angel said, capturing one of his dark companion’s hands and pulling her closer. She didn’t resist, simply molded herself to him, though her pleasure in the news showed in the smile that graced her narrow face. Darla gave her a look of disgust, quickly schooled away when she realized the humans saw. Lindsey tapped his pen on his pad thoughtfully. Darla didn’t like the mad one, nor did she care for Spike. He remembered Darla telling him Spike was her tool and she had no qualms about using and discarding him. Still, he was useful for the time being.

Angel’s voice broke in gently again. “I understand that you want to bring about the end of the world.”

Holland nodded, his features schooled in a fatherly smile. “At the wishes of our senior partners.” He gestured at the pack. “Something tells me you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. Lindsey? If you’ll ask that Petra come in with the Xycantin Codex?”

Lindsey punched the intercom button. “Beth? Could you please send up Petra and the Codex?”

“Yes, sir,” the voice filtered back through the speaker.

Holland turned his attention back to the head vampire. “Our senior partners have been waiting some time for this,” he said, “as I’m sure you know.” “Since the beginning of the world,” the dark female said.

“Exactly. You might not know, but Wolfram and Hart have stood by the sides of our partners, well,” he chuckled, “pretty much since our race climbed out of the slime.” Holland gestured at the attorneys arranged around him. “We’ve been doing our part, smoke screens and misdirection, all of it working towards the final goal.” He rose to his feet, walking to one of the huge windows and peering out of the blinds at the morning. “Darla,” Holland went on, in a slightly different one, less jovial, somewhat sharper. “What does Spike say about the Slayer?”

Lindsey saw the whole body flinch from the dark female at the mention of the vampire’s worst enemy. He also saw the triumphant head toss from her blonde sister. And finally, though all within the space of a heartbeat, he saw the light of unholy glee flicker in Angel’s dark eyes. Her voice sweet, Darla said, “The Slayer is still a problem, Holland, but Spike is working on that. He says by the time we’re ready to strike, he will have her under his control.”

“Wants her, he does, my Spike wants her,” the mad vampire muttered, almost under her breath as a dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway of the conference room, a large vellum scroll carefully pinned between two sheets of Plexiglas and a thick manila folder, arcane markings of red, blue and black ink scribbled across the front of it. She set them down before Holland’s space on the desk and exited the room as silently as she’d entered.

“Ah, excellent,” Holland said, though even Lindsey couldn’t discern if he meant Darla’s comment on Spike or the appearance of the file and scroll. He lifted the scroll and perused it, flicking his eyes over the top of it to meet those of Angel’s. “The senior partners are very interested in bringing forth Armageddon,” he said. “We had hoped to do that with a fresh Slayer, one not accustomed to the ways of the world. As it stands, Buffy Summers, one of the finest Slayers ever Called, has been brought back from the dead. It is causing some consternation among our partners.” He set aside the scroll thoughtfully. “I’m sure you can imagine just how much a thorn in our side Ms. Summers can be.”

Angel lowered his head slowly. “I suppose you’d like us to take care of that problem for you?” His gesture included those ranged behind him. Darla smiled in anticipation. “Yes,” Holland said, lacing his fingers together loosely. He settled back into his chair, gazing across the table at the entire vampire pack. “But there’s something else you can help with, first.” He raised his eyes to the blonde leaning against the lead male. “Darla?”

She all but purred, running her hand along Angel’s cheek. “The senior partners have a special project for you and me,” she said.

“Really. What would that be?” He nipped at the pads of her fingers lightly.

“The Codex translated the Ga-shunda text,” Holland said. “It’s a handy thing, because there are a great many portents and prophecies here that could have gone unnoticed. A particular one might interest you.” He fixed Darla and Angel with a paternal stare. “It seems that a child’s birth shall foretell the end of the world.” A grandfatherly smile graced his face. “It’s cause for celebration, this birth. And the senior partners have chosen you two to be the parents.”

“Ooo,” the mad one said, clapping her hands together, “I get to be a sister again.”

* * *

Giles rubbed his hands over his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. He almost thought he could see the color changing from brown to ash as he watched. He knew that being a Watcher meant that his life would never be easy. He understood that he flouted convention on numerous occasions; allowing himself to become attached to Buffy, allowing Buffy to carry on a normal life, or as much of one as she could and still be the Slayer, allowing himself to fall in love and get married; allowing himself to gather together his Slayer and her friends into a family that he wouldn’t trade for anything in this world.

A part of him knew that made it harder for him to react as a Watcher should. He had felt an incredible amount of pain, knowing that Buffy could die, facing off against Glory. He had offered her the only option he could, to take Dawn out of the equation, so that Buffy could continue to live. And Buffy hadn’t settled for that. In retrospect, Giles knew he would have been disappointed had she done so. Of course, he could also wish she hadn’t taken such a drastic measure as to offer her own life for Dawn’s, even if by doing so, she saved the world. Again. Even with her friends and her sister and Jenny by his side for the time that Buffy had been dead, he had felt her loss as keenly as if she had truly been his flesh and blood. Jenny had soothed him, had counseled them all, and had been the glue to keep them together in that dark time.

And now, Buffy was back. She’d returned from the grave, clawing her way out of the earth, not a vampire, not a zombie, but an actual human girl, his Slayer, brought back to life by magicks he had never expected Willow to find out about, let alone gather the courage to use. But the mistake she had made in casting her spell had consequences Giles, none of them, to tell the truth, had ever considered.

Their Buffy was lost for good. Willow’s magicks had snared another Buffy from the aether, brought her to their world. And while the differences seemed so very little, so much so that they had all discounted them as a sort of dream, portent, perhaps a warning, now had come full blown before them.

Buffy had accused Jenny of hiding things from them; from him. And Jenny had not discounted Buffy’s accusations. In fact, she had agreed. Giles shook his head at himself in the mirror. “You’re an old man, blinded by love,” he said softly to his reflection. What else was there to say? He loved Jenny and for a man of his age, in his position, love was a harsh dream, not a reality. The fact that she loved him back was a gift he would not easily give up, despite the things she’d kept from him.

Jenny said she would tell him, all of them, what her wise woman had said. Later, though; after Riley had a chance to compose himself. When everyone could be present.

The door to the bedroom opened and he caught a glimpse of Jenny in the reflection of the mirror, leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed. Her expression, even in the image, was nervous. She chewed lightly on her lower lip and shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other.

“I…wanted to apologize,” she said, her lovely dark eyes cast down then flickering back up to meet his in the mirror. “I shouldn’t have kept anything from you.”

“No,” he said, “you shouldn’t have.”

Jenny’s mouth twitched slightly. “I’d understand if you wanted to kick me out of the apartment,” she said, straightening, raising one hand to push at the strand of dark hair that fell across her forehead.

“You would,” Giles said.

She grimaced fully at that. “I would, Rupert,” she said, sounding tired. Her hand ran along the whitewashed doorframe slowly. “I did come here because of the wise woman,” Jenny shook her head, “but in all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen anything that would lend any weight to her visions. Since I didn’t see anything, I didn’t see any reason to tell you.” She took a step farther into the room and hesitated. “It wasn’t until Willow called to tell us that Buffy was back that I even thought of them and that was only briefly. I was as lost in the miracle that was Buffy’s return as much as any of you.”

Giles turned slowly, leaning back against the dresser top, his hands resting on the wood lightly. “I know,” he said.

Jenny’s head came up sharply. “You know, or you think you know?” she asked warily.

“I know. I know what it’s like to be considered crazy for beliefs that run counter to everyone else’s. I know what it’s like to look at Buffy and think, this girl has beaten every prophecy thrown at her; the Master, Glory; the end of the world has been stopped by her tiny hands so many times. And I know what it felt like when Willow called us.” He allowed himself a soft smile. “There has only been one other time I’ve felt so happy.”

Blinking, a faint blossom of hope spread across Jenny’s face. “When?” she asked.

“When you married me.”

Her smile was like the spring sun after a harsh winter, sweet and tender. Giles opened his arms and Jenny came to him, leaning against him heavily. “I’m so sorry, Rupert,” she said to his chest.

“I know, love,” he said, stroking her back. “I know. But we’ve gotten through worse things than this.” He pulled away so he could look into her face. “And we will get through this, as well.”

Jenny nodded, a glimmer of tears pooling in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. She closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead. She tilted her head so her cheek was pillowed against his chest, nuzzling closer. Giles automatically tightened his grip on her, leaning his chin against her crown.

Tonight, they would meet and discuss Jenny’s wise woman’s predictions. He would have to be Watcher and Father.

Right now, he could be Rupert, husband and lover to Jenny. Pressing his lips into her hair, he said, “Bugger opening the shop. Let’s go back to bed.”

Jenny’s mischievous grin was his answer and, laughing like children, they ran to the bed, flinging themselves back into it. Giles tugged at Jenny’s pajama top, dragging it over her head and tossing it to the floor. Jenny squirmed closer, running her fingers into his hair and using that purchase to pull his face to hers for a long kiss.

Giles sighed when they finally broke it.

“What?” Jenny asked, her expressive dark eyes worried, suddenly afraid.

“There is one thing I shall always regret,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

“Rupert? What thing?” Jenny released his hair, pulling her hands away hesitantly.

Giles grinned wickedly. “We used up the last of the whipped cream last night.”

* * *

The Magic Box was the best place for meetings. As Xander often said, it wasn’t far from the convenience store, so someone could get snacks and if needed, there were weapons and books and, hey, Watcher in residence. Besides, it could seat more than four comfortably, another plus. “Not that Cordy’s and my apartment isn’t spacious,” he said, dropping a box of fresh doughnuts on the table.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “The closet space isn’t even big enough for my collection of summer shoes.” She waved her hand in disgust. “If my father hadn’t gotten in trouble with the I.R.S. and they hadn’t taken all of them.”

“And a good evening to you, Cordelia,” Jenny said.

The brunette picked up the box and opened it. “Doughnut?” she asked brightly.

“Thank you,” Jenny said, taking one of the pastries.

“Thank god you took one. I’m so hungry.” Cordelia snatched a doughnut out of the box herself, dropping onto the sofa. “The lunch break I have at work is horrible. Thirty minutes. Do you believe it? Even at high school, we got forty-five.”

“Scandalous,” Giles said as he trotted down the stairs to the ground floor. “Oh, doughnuts. Thank you, Xander.”

“Ahem?”

“And Cordelia. Are there, perhaps, any jelly ones?”

Xander gestured to the box. “Enough for you, Riley, Buffy and Dawn to each have one. If you’re really good, one of you might get two.” He flopped onto the sofa next to Cordelia, tossing his feet up on the table edge. “So. I’m guessing that something new and bad has happened, since we’ve been called back for another Scooby meeting.” He leaned forward abruptly, his hands laced together. “Anything we might need a heads-up on, before everyone gets here?”

Jenny and Giles exchanged glances, not a comforting thing in Xander’s world. The engaging grin he’d mastered slid off in disappointment. “Something tells me there is more we need to know.” Shoving back into the sofa, he sighed. “So. What’s the skinny?”

“What he really wants to know is how long we’ll be here,” Cordelia said.

“I beg your pardon?” Giles asked.

Cordelia rolled her eyes in exasperation. “God, I don’t believe it. I mean, you’re old, Giles, but Jenny, you’re still young enough to remember, right?”

Jenny frowned and shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry, Cordelia,” she said, “I’m not sure…”

“Hello? It’s Friday. Friday night? The night of dates?” Cordelia sighed. “Honestly, once you get married, it must suck the joy out of life.” Giles frowned at her but went on to answer Xander’s question. “The skinny, as you say, is that Riley narrowly escaped death. It seems that his troupe was attacked in South America, by the nest of vampires they were tracking.” Giles removed his glasses and, removing the handkerchief from his pocket, began polishing them.

Xander let out a low whistle. “That’s tough,” he said. It had been bad enough losing Buffy. Losing more than one person at a time…“Man, that’s gotta hurt.”

“Yes, well, he is, ah, noticeably upset. Or he was, when he spoke with us earlier.” Giles paced slowly. “H-he and Buffy left together.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” Cordelia asked. “I’m sure Buffy wouldn’t want her fiancé to feel bad.” She licked a finger clean. “If I had a fiancé, I wouldn’t want him to feel bad after he lost all his friends.”

“Cordy, not now,” Xander said, not impatiently.

She rolled her eyes but subsided with only a little pout. Taking another doughnut from the box, she ripped it viciously. Xander made a mental note to himself that he needed to do something really nice for Cordelia. Later. “So, anything else? I mean, we weren’t dragged here just to find out about Riley’s troupe being decimated, right? Doesn’t that happen all the time?”

“Th-there is more,” Giles said, removing his glasses and polishing them. “B-but it will wait until everyone is here.”

The bells on the door chimed and Willow and Oz entered the shop. “We’re here,” Willow said, waving her fingers at her friends.

“With pizza,” Oz said, holding two boxes aloft.

“Pizza?” Cordelia dropped the remains of her doughnut on the napkin.

“Kitchen Sink pizza,” Willow said, grinning.

“Oh, I think I love you both.” Cordelia threaded her way out of the furniture and to the others. “Not in a physical icky way, though.”

“No, of course not,” Willow said, her eyebrows arching. She took the top box and set it on the counter, opening it with a flourish. Oz was much more circumspect and stepped back, clearing the way for Xander’s rush.

“Pizza,” he said, delighted, “my favorite.”

The door chimed again, allowing Dawn, Riley and Buffy to spill inside. “Is that Kitchen Sink pizza?” Buffy demanded.

“Uh, oh, feeding frenzy,” Oz said, sidestepping to allow the Slayer access to the boxes. He and Willow exchanged grins over their friends’ heads, moving to let everyone get in. Xander, a slice of pizza in one hand, pounded Oz’s shoulder with the other.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “This really hits the spot.”

“Yeah, thanks guys,” Dawn said.

Everyone sifted through the shop, pizza slices in hand and found places to sit. For a time, there were no problems, just friends relating funny stories of things since they’d last seen each other. Xander finished off his slice of pizza and went back for another, passing Riley on the way. He paused, turning to face the sandy-haired man, sitting next to Buffy on the steps. “Listen, Riley, I’m sorry about what happened to your friends,” he said.

Riley’s jaw flexed and he glanced down at the paper plate in his lap, the slice of pizza on it barely touched. Buffy squeezed his shoulder in support. “Thanks, Xander,” Riley said, finally.

“I’m guessing we missed out on some back story, here,” Oz said. Even out of wolf form, he could pick up conversations across the room. Xander almost wished he had that ability but then again, there were all those other problems with being a wolf.

“Yeah,” Riley said, straightening.

From her perch in front of Buffy, Dawn twisted her head back to look at him, frowning. “You didn’t tell me anything,” she said, not quite accusing.

“We figured it was for the best, Dawn,” Riley said, stroking her dark hair. “There’s…well, there was a problem in South America.” He set aside his plate and got to his feet, pacing slowly.

“A problem?” Willow’s expressive face crumpled into a frown. “Another one?” The last words were so low Xander had a hard time picking them up.

“Not because of anything you did,” Cordelia said.

“Cordelia,” Giles said, “Willow. Please let Riley continue.”

Both young women subsided though Xander noticed Oz slipped a comforting arm around Willow’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Giles,” Riley said. He paused in the center of the room. “You know we were hunting a nest of demons.” He waited for their nods. “Some of them were, I think ‘idiot’ is too mild a term. But the leaders of the nest, they were clever. I caught a glimpse of them on a scouting expedition.” His shoulders slumped. “If I could have picked them off…but they were fast, moved through the trees and vanished. I’d see them sometimes, out of the corner of my eye but when I’d turn, they were gone. Like they were toying with me.” Riley straightened again, his expression shuttering. “If only I could’ve gotten them…my troupe, well, after I left to come here,” he swept an arm out, his hand seeming to point towards Buffy like a needle in a compass. “They were…wiped out.”

“Oh, no,” Willow said, her hands clapping over her mouth.

“It seems that,” Riley tilted his head back, a pained grin plastered on his face, “the vampires we were hunting, the demons? They knew we were there. They just waited until the right time and…” His voice trailed off. “It was…gruesome, from the report I was given.”

“That’s rough,” Oz said. “I’m sorry, Riley.”

“No one survived?” Willow asked softly.

He shook his head, his voice hollow as he said, “My friends were slaughtered.”

Dawn rose from the stairs, going to Riley and flinging her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Riley,” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. He patted her shoulders, only a little awkwardly.

“Thanks, Dawn,” he said then, “thanks all of you. I don’t know if…well.” The grimace flickered over his face again. “It’s been pretty traumatic lately. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Oh, you’re not so bad,” Cordelia said. “Nothing compared to, say, Faith.”

Everyone looked at her. Giles coughed. Xander rolled his eyes out of embarrassment for his girlfriend. Again.

“What? It’s true. Riley isn’t going to try to kill any of us.” She pointed a manicured finger at him. “Are you?”

“Nope.” He patted Dawn’s shoulder as she let go of him to lean on the arm of the loveseat. Willow stroked her hair absently.

“See?” Cordelia nibbled at what was left of the crust of her pizza. “Oh.” She leaned forward. “You don’t think those vampires would follow you here, would you? We’ve got enough of our own.”

“Vampires don’t hunt specific people,” Xander said, scoffing. “Do they?” He turned to look at Giles and Jenny.

“Kakistos hunted Faith,” Willow said brightly, then realized and sank back, mumbling “Probably not the best time to bring that up.” Oz tightened an arm around her comfortingly.

“I appreciate the warning,” Riley said.

“That was unusual, though,” Jenny said. “Vampires don’t usually track and hunt their prey when they can just pick them off anywhere.”

Buffy said, “Faith took out his eye. He wanted revenge. You didn’t actually do anything to them, the leaders, right? They’d have no reason to come after you.” Her voice sounded firm.

“Yeah, maybe,” Riley said, not quite convinced. His fist smacked into the palm of his other hand. “But if they do….”

Buffy rose from the stairs, saying, “If they do, they’re my business, not yours.” She stood in front of Riley.

“Buffy,” Riley said, “if they come, it’s personal.”

“If they come,” Buffy said, crossing her arms, “and that’s a pretty big if, they’re my problem. I’m not gonna let you be all macho and go against them, Riley. Vampires, demons, things that go bump in the night; in Sunnydale, they’re my problem. If they were strong enough to take out however many men you had, then what makes you think you can stand against them?”

“Ouch,” Cordelia said, almost under her breath. Xander agreed.

“What makes you think that you can?”

Xander knew Buffy only came up to about Riley’s chest. Hell, she barely came up to his shoulder and he was a lot shorter than Riley. But at that second, he would’ve laid money that Buffy towered over the soldier. “I’m the Slayer,” she said, her anger cold and controlled. “I’ve been killing vampires and hunting demons for more years than you’ve been a soldier. And if any vampires come hunting you,” she swept her arm around the room, “or anyone else here, in my town, they have to come through me first.”

“Buffy, you don’t understand,” Riley said, trying to speak reason.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice mocked his and her crooked grin didn’t imply any humor in the situation. “Why don’t you explain it to me, then?”

“P-perhaps this discussion should be continued later,” Giles said.

Buffy and Riley both turned towards him, Buffy impatient, Riley irritated. Xander thought that they might both go after the Watcher.

“Giles, this is important,” Buffy said.

“As is the m-matter you brought to my attention earlier,” he said firmly.

The fire drained out of her for an instant. “You’re right,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She went back to the stairs and sat down heavily. Dawn and Willow exchanged curious glances. Xander watched as Riley went to the counter and leaned on it, obviously not willing to go near Buffy in the mood she was in. Smart man. That left him to try to smooth things over and he went over and dropped onto the steps next to her, leaning his shoulder against her knee.

The tension thrummed through her leg but she didn’t move away, so Xander took it as a sign he wasn’t going to be the one killed. This time. “What’s the sitch?” he asked her quietly.

“You’ll find out,” Buffy said cryptically, lacing her fingers together.

“So,” Xander raised his voice, “what’s the sitch?”

Giles shot him one of his patented Giles’ looks. Xander raised his shoulders in a shrug. Might as well get it over with. Glancing heavenward, Giles turned back to the others. “Buffy, um, Buffy b-brought something to my attention earlier today.”

“You said that,” Cordelia said.

“Yes, well,” the arch glare was directed towards Xander’s girlfriend this time. He grinned to himself as Giles went on. “We thought it best to discuss it with all of us present.” He removed his glasses and stalked slowly around the room, polishing the lenses as he walked. “It concerns Buffy.”

Dawn jerked her head around to look at her sister. “Again?” she asked.

“So?” Willow asked apprehensively, rubbing her fingers together. “What is it?”

Jenny sighed, stepping up to the group. She shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear and folded her arms. “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming on who I am,” she said slowly.

”I always knew she was a Russian spy. Dirty commies,” Xander said.

Buffy nudged him with her knee. “Shh.”

Cordelia said, “Would you listen to yourself? Oh, wait, that would involve engaging your brain, wouldn’t it.”

Xander gave her a hurt look but subsided. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be extra nice to Cordy, now.

“I,” Jenny said and swallowed. She waited a few seconds, her eyes meeting Giles’. “I am Romany; a gypsy; one of the Kalderash tribe.” She began to pace slowly, unconsciously following Giles’ path. “A long time ago, when I was very young, one of the elder women of my tribe pulled me aside and told me I would one day witness a miracle.” Jenny’s hand fluttered towards Buffy. “She said I would see a dead woman rise from the grave, like Lazarus, but by magic.” She turned and walked a little in the opposite direction, towards Riley. “But the woman would not be the same, she would be changed; different than the one who died.”

“That’s me,” Buffy said in a tiny, broken voice. Xander pushed against her knee comfortingly, giving her a smile. The corners of her mouth twitched in thanks.

“I had forgotten about this, quite literally, until Buffy came back.” Jenny hesitated, bowing her head. “The implications didn’t strike me, not fully, until this morning.”

“There’s more to this than just Buffy coming back, isn’t there?” Oz asked.

Jenny nodded slowly. “The elder woman said her coming heralded the end of the world.”

The words fell into a silent space and the quiet remained almost long enough for Xander to see Willow’s face fall, then firm; Oz’s eyebrows quirk upwards as if this information was no surprise; Riley’s stiffening and glance towards Buffy and Cordelia’s heavy sigh and “Of course, what else?”

Dawn’s shrill, “The end of the world? Again? Haven’t we already done that?” broke the tableau. Willow laced her arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her down into her and Oz’s laps and rocking her soothingly. Buffy moved, almost as Dawn spoke, brushing past Xander to rush to her sister, dropping onto her knees in front of Dawn to grasp her hands.

“I promise,” she said, her voice low and thick, “I promise you, Dawn. Nothing will happen to you.”

Dawn pulled out of Willow’s arms and away from Buffy, leaping to her feet. “You can’t promise that,” she said wildly. “You promised that last time and you died. Do you think that didn’t hurt? That losing you didn’t kill me?” She dodged Buffy’s reaching hands. “No! I can’t stand this! I can’t stand knowing this, that it isn’t over. That it’ll never be over. How many times,” her voice broke on a sob, “how many times do you have to die before you can live? How many times do I have to lose you?”

She smashed into Jenny, who wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her. Dawn struggled for a few seconds, then collapsed, wailing in the older woman’s arms. Buffy slowly got to her feet, meeting Jenny’s eyes. The woman nodded slightly, some sort of non-verbal shorthand, and Buffy dropped onto the arm of the loveseat. With a nonchalance Xander wished he could copy, Oz took Buffy’s hand and squeezed it.

The door opened with a resounding chime and Spike sauntered in, his long duster fluttering behind him. “Hel-lo, this looks tense,” he said, pausing on the threshold.

“It’s the end of the world,” Cordelia said, though she gave Spike that fish-eye look she always did. Chip or no chip, Xander knew his girlfriend didn’t trust the vampire.

“Yeah?” Spike cocked his head to one side. “Is that pizza?”

Dawn pried herself out of Jenny’s and ran across the room, flinging herself at Spike. He caught her automatically, holding the weeping girl. “What’s all this?” he asked.

“Spike,” Dawn said, tears gumming her voice, “it’s the end of the world and Buffy has to stop it.” She tossed a red glare at her sister, sitting with Oz and Willow. “She’s…she’s gonna die, again.”

“Naw, pet,” Spike said, patting Dawn’s back awkwardly. “Your sis ain’t gonna die. She’s tough.” He pushed her away a little, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Besides, she’s got me to back her up, and you know I’ll not let anything hurt her.”

“P-promise?” Dawn asked, her eyes overflowing.

“Cross my undead heart,” he said seriously and let her snuggle back up against him. “Why don’t you and me go outside for a bit and you can tell me what’s got you all worked up.” Spike started guiding her towards the door.

“That’s not a great idea,” Riley said.

Spike looked over his shoulder at Riley, his brows twisting. “Take it up with her sis,” he said, “if you gotta problem.”

“Riley, let them be,” Buffy said, “Spike won’t hurt Dawn.” She made a cutting motion with her hand when Riley started to protest. “Not now.” She waited until the door chimed, letting her know Dawn was safely out of the shop. “Okay, J-Jenny,” she stumbled over the woman’s name, “what else did your wise woman have to say about the end of the world?”

* * *

The bar was nothing special, just a little Irish pub, more a hole in the wall than anything. Still, it was a place where Doyle could pick up a pint, or two if he had the extra cash, and enjoy himself. Seated on a stool next to a bar of such dark wood as to be fathomless, the brass foot railing gleaming below, a pint of Guinness in front of him, well, it felt almost like home.

If anywhere could feel like ‘home’ anymore.

“Stop it,” Gunn said, from his perch next to him.

“Stop what?”

“I can feel that mope from ten paces,” Gunn said. “Just drink up and let’s get out of here.”

“What’s your rush, Gunn?” Doyle turned, resting an elbow on the bar top. “Feeling a little out of place?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll tell everyone you’re black Irish.”

“Ha, ha,” Gunn said, the corner of his mouth twisting. “The rush is, we’re supposed to meet English in,” he squinted at the clock in the corner, behind the bar, “about a half an hour.”

“He won’t mind if we’re late.”

“We’re talking about Wesley, right?”

Doyle sighed and took a pull at his beer. It went down smooth. He wondered if he had the change for another. “He’ll wait.”

“Uh, huh,” Gunn said darkly. “What dream are you living in, Irish?”

Doyle waved off his friend’s argument. “If we’re a few minutes late, it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

The pain struck like an ice pick powered into his skull by a sledgehammer, flinging Doyle’s head onto the bar. His skull cracked the counter but he didn’t even notice; too caught up in the visions that exploded behind his eyes.

Finally, the torture subsided to an acceptable level of agony and Doyle opened his eyes. Even the dim light of the bar stabbed into his brain and he promptly closed them again.

“Hey, man,” he heard Gunn’s voice, “you in there?”

Doyle groaned in reply.

“You gotta get up, man. Can you do it?”

Flailing around, Doyle found his hand caught in Gunn’s calloused grip and let the larger man haul him upright. Doyle wondered how he’d hit the floor, then decided it wasn’t worth asking. Feeling for his Guinness on the bar, he threw back the beer and wished it was whiskey. “God,” he said, almost making the word sound like a whole prayer in and of itself.

“What’d you see?” Gunn asked, his dark face coming into focus.

Doyle rubbed his temple, wishing again for a shot of whiskey. “Wes. We gotta get to Wes.” He staggered towards the entrance to the bar, feeling Gunn grab his arm to make sure he stayed upright.

“What’s up, Doyle? What’d you see?”

Doyle pulled up short as they reached the street, his eyes not quite up to the brightness in front of him. They teared up and he brushed at them impatiently. “The Slayer.”

“What about her?” Gunn asked, a scowl settling onto his features.

“We, I need to see her. I need to talk to her.” Doyle started off again, his balance righting itself as the pain subsided a little more.

“What for?” Gunn asked, guiding him towards the grey pickup.

Doyle paused, gripping the door handle. “It’s bad, Gunny,” he said, smiling sickly. “Worse than bad. All tied up in one little girl.”

“I don’t like this,” Gunn said.

“Neither do I,” Doyle said, popping open the door. “But we knew it was comin’, we always knew. Just didn’t know it’d be this soon.”

“What’s coming, Doyle?” Gunn looked as if he’d like to shake the answer out of him.

“It’s the end of the world, Gunn,” Doyle said as he hauled himself inside the truck, slumping into the seat. “The Slayer’s bringin’ the end of the world.”

* * *

The room was strange, cavernous; with television monitors scattered about. The man sitting in the center ignored all of it to study his companion, an oddly affable demon. “The one I seek still exists?”

The demon nodded. “He and his pack still roam, taking lives with impunity. Their hunting range expanded recently.” He tossed a sheaf of papers towards Daniel Holtz, who caught them automatically.

Holtz glanced down, his fingers not liking the texture of the pages. The print was somewhat unfamiliar, as well but he could read it. He shot a look back up at Sahjhan. “How did you get this?” he asked.

Sahjhan waved a hand nonchalantly. “It doesn’t matter.”

Holtz studied the pages, tracing the letters with a forefinger. So many dead, in a land he’d never heard of. A troupe of soldiers, hunted down, decimated by vampires. He could see the handiwork of his enemy in the descriptive words. Finally, he set the papers aside. “I have waited for this,” he said. “How can you be sure where he is heading?”

Sahjhan smiled and spread his hands. “Easy. I’ve been tracking him for you for the centuries you’ve been sleeping.” He plucked a scroll from the top of one of the strange boxes he’d called televisions earlier, walking to Holtz as he unrolled the vellum. “See, there’s also something big going on.”

“I beg your pardon?” Holtz asked, frowning.

“You know, portents, prophecies, that sort of thing.” Sahjhan tapped the scroll. “And your boy isn’t about to miss out on something this big.”

“How big?” Holtz asked again, wondering if he had the patience to continue to deal with this demon. He wanted the information necessary to take his vengeance on the vampires who destroyed his family; turned his darling Sarah into one of their evil kind.

“Large,” Sahjhan said with that same smile. “But it won’t interfere with your plans. In fact, it could help them. We’ll know where he is, where the pack is, because they’ve got their fingers in the pie, as it were. Besides, I’ve got some friends, keeping an eye on them.”

He shot Sahjhan a glance. “Friends? Are these people you trust?”

Sahjhan twisted the scroll between his hands, a nervous gesture but his voice remained calm. “With the money I pay them? I don’t think they’d double cross me.”

“Are you sure?” Holtz persisted, pushing out of the chair and prowling towards the demon.

“Positive.” Sahjhan cocked his head to one side. “See, this big thing? Your boy is thinking right now that he’s in the driver’s seat. He’s sitting on the top of the world.” The demon flashed his teeth in a mocking grin. “What he’s really doing is being set up for the fall.”

“For the fall,” Holtz said, liking the sounds of those words. He allowed a smile to rise. “At my hands.”

“At none other than your hands,” Sahjhan said. He unfurled the scroll, showing it to Holtz. The markings were beautiful but strange, a language that Holtz couldn’t begin to recognize. “This says that there’s a convergence, set to happen. I planted these, here and there, all around the world, while you took your little nap. Got the attention of all the right people. They know all about this convergence and are going to be either taking pains to stop it or rejoicing in its happening.”

He turned away, heading for one of the television screens, tapping the box underneath it. It made a strange whirring noise and the image on the monitor blanked out, to be replaced with a bright, sunny day. Sahjhan stepped away, gesturing as a voice came from the television, saying, “Hi!” A man with an inordinate amount of brilliant teeth smiled out from the screen. Holtz immediately didn’t trust him. With those teeth, he surely wasn’t human. “I wanted to congratulate you on your interest in my little town. My name is Richard Wilkins and I’m the mayor of Sunnydale.” The scene changed somewhat, pulling away from the man to show him standing next to a road sign. The dark stone road reminded Holtz of the old Roman causeways. The sign read, “Welcome to Sunnydale.”

“This is where it will happen,” Sahjhan said, gesturing at the screen.

“Sunnydale?” Holtz asked.

“Also known as ‘Boca del Infierno,’” Sahjhan said.

Holtz frowned, trying to recall the language. His memory didn’t fail him, much to his relief. “The mouth of Hell?”

“That’s the place.” Sahjhan folded his arms, smiling at the screen. “Where it all comes together.”

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Wesley said, following Doyle and Gunn into the Hyperion Hotel.

“What is there to understand, Wes? I need you to call Rupert Giles or the Slayer, now.” Doyle spun, leaning his hands against the counter.

“But, our mission. ‘Help the hopeless?’”

“We can’t help anyone if the world ends, don’t you see?” Doyle rumbled his hair in agitation. “I need to see the Slayer. It’s important.”

“What’s important?” Fred appeared out of Wesley’s office, her eyes wide. “Did Doyle have a vision?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, a big one. Nasty, even.”

“Do you need aspirin?”

Doyle grimaced. “No thanks, Fred,” he said.

“What was in the vision?” Fred asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Wesley said, pausing in his search for Rupert Giles’ telephone number.

Doyle groaned. “Doncha understand? I saw the end of the world.”

“He’s right.”

The quartet whirled, seeing a man standing in the doorway, his messy brown hair standing out from his head. He continued into the lobby, a flannel shirt showing under his sheepskin jacket; a pair of worn blue jeans and roach-stomper boots finishing off the ensemble. Gunn’s mouth fell open.

“Lindsey. You’re taking quite a risk coming here,” Wesley said, dropping the rolodex back onto the desk.

The attorney shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, Wes, I’m not going back,” he said. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with Gunn?”

“Nobody ever said you was a cowboy,” Gunn said.

“Then you weren’t listening.” Lindsey’s boots clicked on the marble floor as he crossed to the desk.

“B-but your cover, Lindsey,” Wesley said, coming back around the counter. “Your just showing up here….”

“It doesn’t matter, Wes. I’m not going back to Wolfram and Hart. We have the information we need.” Lindsey shucked the jacket, dropping it on the counter. “Doyle’s right on the money this time. The senior partners are looking to raise a little hell on earth.”

“You mean?” Gunn asked.

”I mean,” Lindsey said grimly. “All the signs point to it.”

The door opened again, Kate appearing in it. “Well. If it isn’t our two-timing lawyer friend.” She tossed her mane of blond hair as she joined her friends, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter next to Doyle. “What’s with the cowboy get-up?”

Lindsey scowled. This wasn’t exactly going the way he’d planned. “Listen, I’ve been your bag boy for the past year, staying on at Wolfram and Hart so you had an inside man.” He spread his hands. “I’m not staying any longer.”

“Not even for Darla?” Kate said, the taunt evident in her voice. Fred drew a little closer, her head cocked to one side.

“Darla’s history, Kate,” Lindsey said. “When Penn turned her, I gave up on trying to redeem her.”

“You expect me to believe that.”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” he shot back at the taller woman.

“Children!” Doyle’s voice cut through their squabble. “You can kiss and make up later. Right now we’ve got something more important. The end of the world?”

“Right, Doyle,” Lindsey said, a little embarrassed but he shoved the feeling aside. “He’s right, Wes. A couple of vamps showed up yesterday, just after sundown. Male and female. She’s as crazy as…” He shook his head, not coming up with anything to associate with the madness in Drusilla’s eyes. “Crazy, I guess. But he…he’s powerful.” He made sure to exchange looks with all of them, even Fred though she seemed more confused than anything. “Dangerous.”

“We’ve faced dangerous before,” Gunn said, more than a little affronted at the implication.

“And so have I, every day I worked for Wolfram and Hart,” Lindsey snapped. “He’s different.”

“Does this pair, did they have names?” Wesley asked, a pen poised to write the information down.

“The female was pretty, small…”

Kate snorted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Trust you to notice that,” she said.

Lindsey ignored her. “Darla called her Drusilla.”

Wesley laid the pen and pad aside, removing his glasses. “Oh dear,” he said.

“Name means something to you, English?” Gunn asked.

“Yes,” Wesley said, pursing his lips. “She’s known, well-known, to the Watcher’s Council. She and Spike, along with Darla, Penn, James and Elizabeth, were a cadre in the eighteen hundreds. They were very dangerous. Between them, they killed five Slayers.” He stared down at the glasses in his hands, lost in thoughts. “They were considered unstoppable.”

“Well, they’re back together,” Lindsey said, hopping up onto the counter. “So I thought it was time for me to vamanos.”

“It was rumored that they had a leader,” Wesley went on, almost as if he hadn’t heard Lindsey. “His name somehow has remained unknown. He was a shadowy figure, cloaked in myths and legends. I believe I have the entries on what little is known about him in some of my books.”

“Call Giles, Wesley. I need to talk to the Slayer,” Doyle said, pointing at the Brit.

“Wait a minute,” Lindsey said, twisting around. “You know the Slayer? What am I saying; you were her Watcher for a while, weren’t you?”

Wesley straightened. “Yes, I was. Is this important?”

“Only that Wolfram and Hart might’ve had something to do with her dying,” Lindsey said.

“She’s been brought back to life,” Fred said helpfully, knotting her fingers together.

“We heard,” Lindsey told her, smiling a little to soften the sound of the words. Fred grinned back hesitantly.

“What do you mean, Wolfram and Hart may have had something to do with her death?” Wesley asked, returning to the counter.

“Yeah, we heard she died saving her sister’s life or something,” Gunn said.

“From a Hell God,” Lindsey said grimly. He pushed off the counter.

Gunn glanced at Doyle and then at Wesley. “Wes, I think Doyle’s right. We’re gonna need to talk to the Slayer.”

“I’ll ring Mr. Giles on the telephone,” Wesley said, reaching for the rolodex.

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