DISCLAIMER: I have no rights to the characters of the television series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" or "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's not exactly the guy she remembers....
RATING: R to NC17 for violence, especially when Dru gets involved. :)
DISTRIBUTION: Fanfiction.net, Land of Denial, Spoonless Realm, Adult B/A list. Interested? Let me know.
DEDICATION: This one's dedicated to YOU. Thanks for reading.

"A-angel? Are you sure?" Giles ripped the glasses off his face but his voice seemed to come from far away.

Buffy gripped the corner of the desk tightly, feeling the wood cutting into her palm. A part of her mind said in glee, "He's here, he's here, he's here!" Another part fell into gibbering terror. Lindsey'd seen Angel with Dru. He'd described him as sadistic. She almost moaned in agony.

He wasn't her Angel. He was the demon who wore the face of her lover.

"Oh god oh god oh god," Buffy whispered. A hand reached out to cover hers and she clasped it tightly. Voices echoed in the background, Xander's and Giles' louder than the others and reverberating in her head.

He was here.

Angel was here and he was evil.

* * *

James looked up as Samael and Dru sauntered into the suite. Dru almost glowed in her joy, swinging in pretty circles, the hem of her dress swaying with her movements. Samael watched her, his dark eyes hooded and unreadable. "Did you have fun, baby?" he asked.

"All the lovely death, my star," Drusilla said, her fingers fluttering out at her side. She took Samael's hand in her own, pressing a kiss on his knuckles. "All for me."

"For you?" Darla glowered from where she sat on the couch.

Drusilla swept to the blonde, capturing Darla's face in her narrow-fingered hands. She pressed a kiss on the blonde's forehead. "For me," she said, backing away. "For the stars to witness and the moon to dance."

"You still don't make any sense," Darla said petulantly, folding her arms. Red marks gleamed on her pale skin about her shoulders and bite marks marred the column of her neck from her earlier time with Samael and Drusilla.

"Maybe not, but she's still my girl," Samael said, capturing Dru in his arms and swinging her around. She laughed in delight, lacing her arms around his neck and nipping at his collarbone.

Darla scowled in their direction then turned her attention to her frosted pink nails. "What did you do, my lord?"

Samael dropped Drusilla lightly on the floor, patting her on her bottom to send her away. He leaped into the chair across the couch, tossing his large feet up on the table. "We had fun," he said. Drusilla hummed behind him, toying with his long hair the way a kitten might a ball of yarn. "Didn't we, baby?"

"Ooh," Drusilla said, leaning forward to rub her cheek against his. Their eyes stared across the table at Darla, who dropped her gaze farther, then lifted it to meet theirs. Her back straightened but she couldn't hold her own against their master and glanced away. Her hands clenched into fists at the cavalier treatment. "So much fun." Her teeth gleamed nearly as brightly as her eyes. "We left the Slayer a message."

That jerked Darla's head up. "What kind of message?" she asked tightly.

"Just a little calling card," Samael said, taking Dru's narrow hand in his and playing with it. He dropped a kiss on her fingertips and she moaned in delight.

"That wasn't in the plans," Darla said, fairly spitting out the words.

Samael's eyebrow lifted. "What are you saying, Darla?" His dark eyes flickered with an unholy fire.

James carefully set his feet on the floor, ready to leap away should the master vampire decide to punish Darla. He didn't want to be caught up in that fight.

"What did you do?" She changed her question though her body didn't relax, still as tense as if she were human.

The corner of his mouth curled up and Samael said, "Tell her, baby."

Drusilla clapped her hands once and spun away from him. "I saw a naughty seer," she said, wagging a finger in front of her face as if scolding someone only she could see. "He helped the bad, bad Slayer. He would tell her all our plans, if only he had the chance." Her face became downcast and sorrowful. "He would ruin everything, with his words, with his sight. And we couldn't have that, we couldn't let that happen." Her smile came back, wicked, vicious, beautiful. James hungered after her at that moment, knowing Elizabeth would punish him for his lust, if Samael didn't destroy him first. Only Spike, the one she'd created, had access to her besides Samael.

"What did you do, love?" he asked, leaning forward, urging her to continue her story.

Giggling in that enchantingly mad way she had, Drusilla started prowling around the room, stalking her prey in her memory. "We slipped like the night, like the stars in the sky," she said, "creeping up to the place of music. And we found three little playmates keeping the seer entertained." She tossed her hair.

"Who else?" Darla asked, in an obvious snit for being left out of the attack.

"Does it matter?" Samael asked. At her look, he laughed, mocking her. "You really need to loosen up, Darla. Let it go. I didn't take you. I needed Dru for this." He held out his hand and Drusilla drifted to him, letting him wrap his arm around her narrow waist. She leaned into his embrace, her fingers threading through his hair. "Go on, baby," he said, "tell them what happened next."

"There was a yummy little boy, human, so fragile, and my dark star ate him down, gulp, gulp, gulp," Drusilla said, her throat moving as she made the sounds. Her face drew into a scowl. "And nasty demons, with tentacles." She lashed her arms around in description. "They stung us with their limbs. But we smashed them down." She kissed Samael's temple. "My dark star protected me. Then we hunted down the seer. He hid himself, but we found him out." Her fingers crept down Samael's arm and she sing-songed the next words. "We found him, in the dark, all alone." Her smile grew. "And we killed him and put his pretty pieces where they'll do the most good."

"Most good?" Darla couldn't contain herself any longer. "What's that supposed to mean? Please tell me you didn't do something foolish that would lead the Slayer to us."

Samael gave her a half smile as Dru's shoulders shook in remembered glee. "The seer's eyes can't see. They look in the mirror and nothing reflects back."

Darla started to her feet. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "Why do you want to taunt this Slayer? She isn't like any Slayer you've ever faced before. She sent me to Hell." Darla thumped her chest. "She killed me."

"You came back," Samael pointed out, his head cocked to one side.

Darla bared her teeth at him. "You don't know," she snarled, her voice low and throbbing like a wound. "She's a danger to us all." Flinging out her hand, she indicated each of them in the room and the rest of the absent pack. "She nearly killed Dru, if I don't matter." Her sneer flared at the brunette. Drusilla averted her eyes, pressing her face into Samael's hair.

"Make her stop, my star," she sobbed.

"Darla," Samael said, his voice warning.

"You've never faced her," Darla said, not relenting. "You don't know how she is."

Samael nodded, gathering Dru and pulling her into his lap. "You're right." Drusilla cuddled into his embrace, whimpering softly, rubbing her cheek against his chest. He looked up at Darla. "So, we'll find out more. We'll go to the source."

Darla clutched at the air, her throat moving. Suddenly she laughed breathlessly. "You're crazy," she said. "Going against the Slayer, taunting her. She'll stake you without giving it a second thought." She snapped her fingers at Samael

He listened to her tirade with a politely bored expression on his face. When Darla finally wound down, he said, "I didn't say anything about going against her." He stroked Drusilla's hair soothingly. "At least, not yet." He rubbed his chin over the top of the brunette's head. "Firstly, Darla, we talk to Spike."

Drusilla unfolded from his lap, petting his chest excitedly. "My Spike?"

"Your Spike, baby." Samael smiled at her enthusiasm as she bounced out of his arms, twirling in delight. "Dru and I are leaving for the Hellmouth at sunset." He tossed James a glance. "Anyone who wants to come along can."

James rose from the sofa. "I'm your man, boss," he said. "Elizabeth will come, too."

"I'm sure Penn won't want to miss out on the fun," Samael said, his eyes on the still-spinning Drusilla. "He likes a spot of violence as I remember."

"Ooh." Drusilla paused, swaying in place as elegantly as a willow tree. "I'm a little dizzy." She laughed, pressing a hand to her head as Darla snorted, rolling her eyes. The brunette ignored her elder. "My Spike will know all the nasty Slayer's weaknesses," she said.

Samael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together loosely. "I'm counting on that, baby." He met Darla's gaze and gave her a sweet, deadly smile. "For Spike to know all her dirty little secrets."

* * *

The Magic Box was busy with customers. It seemed that as soon as one left, another appeared to take the first one's place. Dawn couldn't believe it. She wasn't sure if there was a sudden run on New Age stuff or whether everyone decided this morning that they wanted to be a Wicca. She'd never seen so many people in the store and not be part of the Scooby gang, ever.

"Dawn?" Jenny popped up next to her, her eyes tired but pleased. She stroked a strand of dark hair off her face and glanced around the shop. "Would you mind going to the basement and getting another jar of chicken feet, a packet of mandrake root and some lycanthrope hair? We're running low up here."

"'Kay," Dawn said, accepting the key to the basement. She had to excuse herself past a pair of women whose clothes of black and silver all but screamed "Look at me, I'm a Goth-Witch!" to move before Dawn could unlock the door. She darted inside, turning on the light from the top of the stairs before closing the door behind her and started down the steps.

It was always a little creepy in the basement. Dawn didn't really like going down there by herself. The light, while bright, managed to cast spooky shadows on the walls. Plus, there were some icky things down there, bones and real live dead stuffed animals and what was left of the Buffy-Bot. The skull of a wolf leered at her and the curly horns of something she was sure wasn't a cow hung on a string from the corner of one of the shelves. Jars and boxes and crates of any size and description took up so much space as to nearly be a fire hazard but everything was in alphabetical order. Dawn decided it was a good thing Giles was a librarian in his former life, 'cause there would've been no other way to find the things Jenny asked for.

Something rattled and crashed.

Dawn froze on the stairs, feeling her heart slamming into her chest as if the organ might rip a hole in her sternum and flee. She swallowed hard, wishing suddenly for Buffy or a baseball bat, not necessarily in that order. Dawn choked down a nervous giggle at the image-umpire Slayer-she'd have to tell Xander that one and wondered how her mind could make puns when she wasn't sure if she was going to live another three seconds?

"Bloody hell."

Taking a deep, needed breath, Dawn let it all out in a long sigh. Spike. Who else? She dropped down the last few steps and followed the maze of stuff Giles and Jenny had tucked into the basement.

Spike was around the corner of one of the freestanding shelves, hastily shoving something back into a chest. Dawn cleared her throat, folding her arms sternly. Spike winced as he turned to face her, a baggy of something quickly slipped into his pocket. "It's you," he said, relaxing. "What're you doing here? You gave me a fright. Thought you might be Rupert or his old lady."

She tried to keep her mouth firm but it kept wanting to twist into a grin. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Dawn tossed her hair back importantly. "I have permission to be here."

The vampire scoffed. "Are you saying I don't?"

"Let's see." Dawn ticked off her fingers as she spoke. "You tried to hide whatever it is you're stealing. One. You're stealing. Two. You obviously didn't come in through the store because, hello, daylight? Three."

Spike interrupted before she could go on. "Stealing? You think I'm stealing? Oh, why don't you wound me to the quick, then? Stealing. Huh."

"You expect me to believe you're going to pay Giles for whatever's in your pocket," Dawn said.

"Hey, I earned this." Spike fumbled out a cigarette and popped it into his mouth. He started to light it then shoved the lighter back where he'd found it, noticing Dawn's glare.

"How?" She rocked back on her heels, scowling at the blond vampire. God, he so hot. If Buffy had to have a crush on a vampire, why couldn't he be Spike? He was funny and smart and so totally in love with her sister. Why didn't Buffy see it?

"How?" Spike repeated as Dawn took mental inventory of his good points. He stabbed his unlit cigarette at her. "I'll tell you how. Followin' your sis around, makin' sure she don't get killed. Again. Protectin' your Scoobies when your sis was...gone." Something flashed across his narrow face, too fast for Dawn to recognize. "Keepin' you safe." He tucked the cigarette back in his mouth, his dark eyebrows lowering into a scowl. "That's how."

But, oh, Riley. Fiancé. And human. Sure, Spike was cuter than Riley and had that advantage of being hard to kill-unless, of course, he got hit with a stake in the right place, or was set on fire or decapitated. But other than that, he was practically indestructible. Dawn realized Spike was staring at her expectantly. "Oh, all right. I won't tell." She shooed him along. "Just don't let me catch you down here again."

Spike huffed in reply, taking two steps further into the basement then hesitating. He cocked his head towards the ceiling. "So, your sis, she up there?" His eyes lifted, as if she couldn't get the meaning.

"Pfft." Dawn waved her hands. "No. She's in L.A. again. There's some sort of new prophecy or something. Her old Watcher, well, you never met Wesley, did you? He has a friend who's a seer. And he saw something that Wesley thought Buffy needed to know. Why he couldn't just tell her over the phone," she shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes expressively. Grown-ups were beyond her most days. "Willow, Xander and Giles went with her."

"Not Riley, then?"

"Oh, please." Dawn leaned her shoulder against the shelf Spike had been robbing. "After that blow-up last night? He'll have to grovel to get back in Buffy's good graces."

"Sorry to hear that," Spike said, sounding anything but. He reached out and ruffled her hair over her protests. "Gotta get going, chick. See you later."

She smoothed her hair frantically. "Yeah, sure, unless I see you first. Wait!"

Spike paused, giving her a 'now what?' look.

"Where are you going?"

"There're tunnels all over this city," he said. "They open up into some interesting places." Spinning on his heel, he disappeared.

"Fine," Dawn sulked, hiding that bit of information away in her head. She wondered if Buffy knew Spike had an all-access pass into the Magic Box. Maybe she'd tell her. It wasn't like Spike could do any harm, after all, well, aside from stealing stuff from Giles and Jenny. But what he'd taken didn't look too important.

Shrugging, Dawn turned her attention to the shelves, making a face at the vast quantities of magical supplies. "Mandrake root. Here, mandrake root."

* * *

"Is she going to be all right?" Kate asked, throwing a glance at the tiny blonde, slumped on the stairs with the redheaded girl and the boy next to her. Fred hovered just outside of their sphere, her desire to help warring with her complete lack of knowledge of what she should do.

"I-I think she'll be fine," Giles said, polishing his glasses. He only hoped it were true. He had never expected the vampire to be real, just some fantasy that had happened on Buffy's original world. The fact that this McDonald fellow had met Buffy's vampire and that he was obviously part of Drusilla's faction made for a disconcerting feeling, even on his part. He could only surmise what Buffy felt.

"Perhaps we should withdraw, let them have some space," Wesley said tentatively. His expression was concerned and Giles realized suddenly that his one-time adversary no longer wore glasses. It wasn't the time or place to question it, just something he felt he should've realized earlier.

"Where can we go?" Doyle asked. "I mean, Wes, there's not a lotta time left here. Lindsey's said that the appearance of that vampire made Wolfram and Hart's day, if not their millennium." His hands moved almost independently of his body, punctuating his words and emphasizing his distress. "And what about Lorne?"

Wesley sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I think...Lorne would understand, Doyle. Right now, we do need to try to interpret your vision."

The Irishman's face paled and his sharp blue eyes widened. "Oh, god."

"That is what we came here to do," Giles reminded, forcing his tone to remain civil when he really wanted to beat something to a bloody pulp. He hated feeling useless and Buffy's pain made him want to hit something. Many, many times. Preferably the vampire who put her in this state.

Gunn appeared from the kitchen area, carrying a tray. "Hey, I got coffee. I know it's nothin' like chocolate, I know how you girls feel about your chocolate, but it's something, you know?" He offered the tray to Buffy, who smiled wanly and took a cup.

"Thanks." Her voice sounded reedy and strained but at least it was a reaction.

Gunn gave her a smile as Xander and Willow each took a cup. "Hey, Fred, I forgot the cream and sugar. You wanna go get those things?"

"Cream?" Fred's eyes lit up with the chance to help. "I can do that, Gunn." She scuttled off to the kitchen as Gunn turned to the knot of Bretons.

"I know it's not your favorite but I ain't making tea," he said.

"Thank you, Charles, this is...appreciated," Wesley said, accepting a cup.

"Gotta do what you can, man." Gunn nodded as Kate and Lindsey shuffled over to take two more of the cups. "Everybody, drink up. I started another whole pot in there."

Buffy sank in on herself, the mug warming her cold fingers. Her best friends flanked her; Willow's shoulder pressed into hers companionably while Xander rubbed her back. Neither of them said anything, they just let her absorb the scent of the coffee, their body heat, their companionship, the knowledge that Angel was here, here, here. She swallowed the scream that wanted to burst out of her throat. He was evil again, he wasn't her Angel and she knew, could feel it shimmering in the air around her, that she'd have to face him again. That she'd have to kill him again.

She remembered what she'd told Giles; when he'd said he would do the thing that she couldn't do, namely, kill Dawn. She'd remembered what it was like to kill Angel, when she'd loved him so much. She'd told Giles that if Dawn died, she was quitting.

Suddenly, that feeling swarmed over her again. She kept living through the same stupid cycle, having to kill someone she loved to save the world. She was the one who had to make all the impossible decisions. The thought flitted through that it wasn't her world, not really, that if it went away, she could finally have her peace.

Willow's hand snaked up and took hers, squeezing it gently. Xander rubbed her shoulders. Giles studied her as unobtrusively as he could, his blue eyes worried and concerned and all sorts of other emotions she couldn't name right now. Buffy sighed. She had to fight. She had to do it, again. Saving the world was her gig, hers and hers alone. If she died this time, she'd make Will promise to not bring her back. Of course, if she died this time, there was a good chance that Willow wouldn't be able to bring her back because she'd be dead, too.

Leaning her head on Willow's shoulder, she closed her eyes. She breathed in the familiar scent of her best friend, her hand-mixed perfume of patchouli and something indefinable and so perfectly Willow. Her Willow had been Buffy's anchor when Angel broke up with her and had encouraged her to date Riley. This Willow took care of Dawn when she was dead. She loved, unstintingly, unhesitatingly, with all her heart. Buffy suddenly had a desire to see Willow holding a baby. Oz's baby. Their baby. She'd make such a good mother. And Dawn, Dawn needed a chance to go on, to live, to grow, to be that famous artist or writer or celebrity that she deserved to be. And Xander and Cordelia, she needed to give them a chance to do something great together, since they didn't get to back on her world. And Giles. Buffy opened her eyes to meet his across the room. This Giles had everything her Giles had ever wanted, Jenny and his family gathered around him. She couldn't disappoint him; she couldn't take away the gifts he had, even if doing her duty again made her die that much more inside.

Buffy gave Giles a tiny smile. His eyes brightened at the gesture and he nodded almost imperceptibly. He clapped his hands together, saying something she knew had to be a "Right, then" and urged the strangers farther away, letting her bask in her friends' company. Giving her a shelter in this storm. She squeezed Willow's hand and sat up abruptly, leaning back to give Xander a peck on the cheek. Before he could exclaim, she bounded off the stairs. "All right," she said, forcing all her emotions into some corner of her heart and boarding them up like an empty house, "what's the what?"

Sipping at his mug, Doyle raised his hand, waving it at her. "I had a vision."

"Think I've heard that part," Buffy said, cocking her head and folding her arms. "A little more on the four-one-one would be helpful."

Doyle set his mug down and scratched at his head. "I can't really explain it m'self, princess," he said. "I think I need some help."

"Help?" Willow joined her friend.

"What kind of help?" Xander asked. He spread his hands. "I mean, sorry, man, but the last help we went to get got a little dead."

Doyle nodded grimly. "The help I'm thinkin' of ain't dead. I'm not even sure they're alive." His sharp blue eyes searched Buffy's. "You game, Slayer?"

Buffy tossed her head, giving him a tight smile. "I'm game."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay and help?" Dawn asked, standing at the door, practically out of it already.

Jenny wriggled her fingers at her. "You've done plenty already, Dawn. Besides, Oz is waiting."

Dawn smiled and waved back. "Thanks, Jenny." She scooted the rest of the way out and leaped into the waiting van. Oz closed the door and sauntered around the front of it, climbing in.

Jenny shook her head, watching as Oz piloted the vehicle out into what little traffic constituted a Saturday afternoon in Sunnydale. She was often surprised at the lack of drivers. Even kids with cars drove little, preferring to walk through the town most of the time. When she first arrived, she thought they all had death wishes. It seemed to her that the entire population had blinders on. She knew Sunnydale was a Hellmouth. She'd known that before she moved here but how often were teachers fresh out of college hired at the salary she was offered? But it always amazed her, the amount of walking the kids did after dark how few of them seemed to turn up dead.

She knew that mostly had to do with Buffy. With a Slayer on duty, things remained at least at an even keel. Not everything turned out for the best, people did still die, vampires still roamed through the town, demons did walk the night. But at least the humans had a fighting chance.

Walking to the door, Jenny opened it, looking in both directions. She glanced up, into the southern California sky. No clouds lingered in any direction, just a wash of brilliant blue. She didn't envy Giles in Los Angeles, even though he'd only be gone the day. She would never miss the smog of the big city, even if the best clothes were two hours away, to quote Cordelia. Thoughtfully, Jenny stepped back into the store, turning the "open" sign to "closed". She locked the door and walked away from it, heading for the office and the telephone there. She didn't want any distractions when she made this call.

Picking up the receiver with suddenly cold hands, Jenny fished a piece of paper from the pocket of her vest. She read the numbers and dialed them slowly, counting the rings until the click sounded, alerting her that the connection was made.

"Hello?" a gruff, heavily accented voice asked.

"Uncle Enyos? It's Janna," Jenny said, sitting in the chair behind the desk.

"I have been waiting for you to call," the man said.

"I know, Uncle. I'm sorry. But things have been...very strange here." Jenny twined the telephone cord around her fingers.

His interest piqued, Enyos asked, "How strange?"

"I have seen the first portent, Uncle." She glanced towards the door, thinking she heard something. "Remember what the wise woman said, so long ago?"

His breath escaped him in a long, slow hiss. "The dead woman, she walks?"

"Yes, Uncle." Jenny nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "She walks. She is no vampire, she lives."

"Ahhh," Enyos said. "You understand what this means?"

Jenny squeezed her eyes shut. "I do."

"The end of the world, Janna." He sighed. "I had hoped...but the wise woman was never wrong. Thank you for calling to let me know, Janna. I shall spread the word."

"Wait, Uncle, please. I need more."

"More?" She could almost picture Enyos scowling. "What more could you need?" Jenny was relieved he didn't hang up before she had a chance to ask. "Uncle, are there any more warnings? The woman, she is the Slayer, the vampire Slayer. She is the one who has risen from the grave through magic. She wants to be prepared."

"Prepared? Prepared for what?" Jenny could hear her uncle leaning forward in his chair, the fabric squeaking under his weight.

"She is brave, Uncle, this Slayer. She has faced the end of the world before and she has won." Jenny licked her lips. "She wants to stop it."

"There is no stopping the prophecies," Enyos scoffed. "All will come to pass. The child born of nothing, the man from the past. All will play their parts and finally, the world shall end."

The child born of nothing and the man from the past? Jenny gripped the receiver tighter in her hand. "Uncle Enyos," she said sharply. "This Slayer wants to fight. I say we give her the ability to do so. We give her all the prophecies." She paused, thinking her words carefully before she spoke again. "We give her a chance."

Enyos laughed shortly. "She will lose this battle, Janna. It has been predestined since any of our births."

"Perhaps," Jenny said. "Perhaps not. The prophecies said that she would return different. She is, Uncle. It wasn't just her death that changed her. She is a different person. The same...but different."

"Different, same, the prophecies do not lie, Janna," Enyos said dismissively.

"Wait, Uncle, please. I know they do not lie but...don't they often have more than one meaning? If the Slayer has the ability to avert the forthcoming disaster and we do not help her, how will it look on us, on our race?"

There was a long pause as Enyos digested this question. Jenny bit her tongue to keep from speaking again, knowing he would have to make the decision. He was closest to clan leader of her line; he would be the one to speak to the clan to request that the Slayer be presented with their knowledge. She crossed her fingers and touched the wooden desk top for luck.

"I will speak to the clan," Enyos came back finally.

"Soon, Uncle?" Jenny asked, managing to keep her exultation out of her voice.

He sighed reluctantly. "These things take time, Janna. You understand that."

"I understand, Uncle Enyos but I know that the end approaches faster than that."

"I shall make haste," Enyos said. "Good bye, Janna." The connection was broken before she could reply. Jenny slumped in the chair, drained by the conversation. A part of her wanted to gloat. Buffy would have the information she needed and maybe, with luck, they could avert the apocalypse.

If they had the time.

Jenny rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her skirts. At least she had two more pieces of the puzzle. While she was waiting for Rupert and the others to return home, maybe she could look up the child born of nothing and the man from the past. With luck, she'd be able to figure out what part they played in the upcoming battle.

She hesitated, looking back at the telephone. What if her uncle meant Dawn? No, she shook her head, Dawn was born of power. There had to be another child. Jenny walked out of the office and surveyed the off-limits section of the store. "Somehow, I think my day just got a lot more interesting," she said and started up the stairs to the research books.

* * *

Lilah Morgan wished she were young enough to stomp her foot in agitation. She'd driven by Lindsey's apartment. He hadn't been there. In fact, the doorman told him that Lindsey hadn't been back there for nearly a week. Lilah knew where Darla had been during that time. It was part of her job to keep an eye on the blonde vampire. Lindsey and Darla hadn't crossed paths in that time period or she would've known about it. But somehow, her partner had managed to slip the leash she'd thought was firmly around his neck. She wasn't sure how it happened; only that he was gone.

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel of her sleek BMW, Lilah thought about her next action. Holland would want to take care of Lindsey before he became a liability to Wolfram and Hart. Unfortunately, Lilah knew that if Lindsey had disappeared, it was probably too late. He'd nearly defected once before, only to get swept back up into the Wolfram and Hart family. Now, Lilah wondered if that move hadn't been planned on Lindsey's part. She wouldn't have guessed the shitkicker would have the balls to be a double agent for Wyndham-Price and his white hats but she knew in her bones that it had to be true. There was no one else in town that Lindsey trusted. Well, no one except for that stupid karaoke-singing demon and word was already out that he'd died in an incredibly spectacular way. She grinned, wishing she'd had a chance to watch that particular death. The host of Caritas was not one of her favorite people in town. She wouldn't be surprised that he had been passing on information from Lindsey to Wyndham-Price. It was a shame she wouldn't be able to prove that. It would make the hunt for Lindsey that more intense.

The cell phone played the opening strains of some Mozart symphony. Lilah grimaced. One of these days, she'd have to get that changed. It was so damned cheery. Picking up the phone, she hit the talk button. "Lilah Morgan, how may I help you?" she asked, edging her car out into traffic.

"Lilah," Holland said. "I've been looking for you."

"I'm sorry, Holland, I had a few errands to run," she said smoothly. "I was trying to locate Lindsey and found out he hasn't been seen at his apartment complex for the past week."

Holland grunted in surprise at the other end of the connection. "Is that so?" He paused. "And I thought our boy was in this for the long haul. Guess it shows what sort of judge of character I am."

"I was going to swing by the Hyperion Hotel and see if I could spot that orange truck of his, Holland," Lilah said. "I figured you might want to know where he is."

"Oh, no matter," Holland said dismissively. "If Lindsey has defected to Wyndham-Price's side, we know that's where he'll go. No, I have a more important job for you."

"A more important job, Holland?" Lilah asked.

"Yes. I just got word that the Slayer is back in town. She also seems to be a friend of Wyndham-Price's."

"It's a small world after all, eh, Holland?"

He chuckled at her little joke. "It certainly seems that way, Lilah." He paused. "Perhaps you should take a run by Wyndham-Price Investigations. Size up the competition. I'm sure our friends here at the office would appreciate anything you could tell them."

"On my way, Holland," Lilah said, smiling. She turned her BMW back towards the Hyperion Hotel. Besides, she thought to herself, she had to say goodbye to Lindsey. It wasn't like she'd have a chance to do it later.

* * *

Buffy stared around herself in disbelief. "Okay," she said, "so not getting this."

Doyle paused. "What's to get, Slayer? You talk to the Oracles, they give you the word, you get out, we go home."

She folded her arms. "How come you can't talk to the Oracles?"

Doyle shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not a warrior. I'm a messenger. They don't speak to the likes of me." He gestured at an urn, sitting near an archway. "I'll do the invocation for you, princess, but it's up to you to talk to 'em."

Buffy made a face, looking at the archway dubiously. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Oh, I'm sure." Doyle fished in his pockets, pulling out what looked to Buffy like a bunch of weeds. He tossed them into the urn. "You ready?"

"I guess," Buffy said. "I mean, what am I going to get out of this?" She grabbed his hand before he ignited the weeds. "Willow said the Oracles are really good with riddles. Can't you just tell me what you saw and we'll go from that?"

Doyle sighed. "Look, Slayer," he said then, at her glare, "Buffy. I'll tell you what I saw. I saw big death. A lot of it. I saw end of the world things. And I saw you, fightin' with the likes o' demon I've never seen. That's all I got." He swept his arms out. "Now I know you ain't the Buffy from this world. Wes told us all that. But you're the only Slayer we got and I gotta get this message to someone." He smiled sadly. "Tag, princess, you're it."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Can you cut with the dramatics for a minute and just explain without out all the doom and gloom? God, and I thought Giles was bad. Come on, Doyle. Get on with it already," she said. "I mean, okay, I fight big bad demons. Ooo. Let's check: what does Buffy do with her life on a regular basis? Stop apocalypses? Been there, done that. Tell me something I don't know or stop wasting my time."

Doyle grabbed her upper arms. "You don't get it, do you? The whole world is at stake."

"No." Buffy brushed him off gently. "You don't get it. I've been through this before. Not this exact thing, but I can't remember how many end of the world scenarios I've stopped. As in, they haven't happened. As in, the rest of the world gets on with its life. What do you think a Slayer does, but put herself on the front line against the vampires and demons?

"Do you think I can't make hard choices? Is that it? Let me tell you about hard choices. I had to kill the man I loved to keep my world from being sucked into Hell. I had to jump into a gateway that my sister's blood opened to keep the dimensions from unraveling. I had to decide to live in a world that isn't really mine because I was brought back here by mistake. Do you think I wanted to know that my friends and family, the ones in the other world are dead and that they died because I didn't get back there?" The images swam in Buffy's head, the ones she'd imagined, listening to Lorne's reading of her. "My Giles went to England after I jumped, leaving my friends alone. Maybe, if he'd been there...but he wasn't. The Watchers' Council put up a fight but it wasn't enough. He was killed in the first attack. Xander was protecting Willow when she tried to raise me. A demon murdered him; a motorcycle-riding demon swung a chain and broke Xander's neck. Willow took Dawn and ran to Los Angeles and Anya and Tara just...vanished." Buffy wiped at her eyes, realizing she was crying. "Spike followed them. He and Angel," she took a deep, shaky breath, "they broke Faith out of jail...they knew the end was coming. They all did. And they fought and they all died because I wasn't there."

She wanted to hit something. She wanted to howl. "I wasn't there, Doyle and my friends died. I saw it, like a vision. I saw Dawn fall under a demon and I saw Faith go down fighting and Willow, god, I saw Willow die." She squeezed her eyes shut but the pictures kept coming, like a movie in her head. "I saw Angel...he was the last one and he couldn't go on, he said without me, without the others, there wasn't any reason for him to live. He staked himself," she could barely understand her own voice, "because I wasn't there."

Doyle stared at the distraught Slayer as she sank to the dusty flooring, her arms wrapped around herself. She shook like a glass window next to a train track; her teeth chattering so hard the sound reverberated off the tunnel walls. Lorne's words floated back to him in memory, that he pitied the girl. "Oh, god," Doyle groaned, "Wes'll never forgive me if I broke the Slayer."

* * *

"So how long have they been gone, again?" Gunn asked, pacing around the lobby of the hotel.

Fred, the only one paying any attention, cocked her head to one side and shoved her ugly plastic glasses up on her nose. "One hour and thirty-two minutes, four seconds." She smiled, then frowned just as quickly. "But I didn't allow for travel time."

"Buffy and Doyle will be fine," Wesley said, sounding more than a little distracted as he looked over whatever scuzzy piece of leather he and Giles had in front of them. They reminded Gunn of that episode of 'The Simpsons' where Bart and his friends buy issue one of 'Radioactive Man', carefully studying, turning it into different lights, pointing out things to each other without really touching it. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, moving past them and Lindsey and Kate, talking in low tones. The pair were discussing guns. Somehow, it didn't surprise Gunn, at least the pair had something in common. He headed towards the Slayer's friends, perched on the stair steps.

The girl was really cute, with that spill of red hair curling a little down her back. The guy seemed a little soft to Gunn's eyes and neither of them looked like the fighters Wes had talked about. They were lost in some world of their own, tossing phrases at each other and sometimes laughing. He edged up on them, listening in.

"'Ah'm yore huckleberry,'" Xander said, complete with bad Southern accent.

"Easy," Willow said with a snort. "Doc Holliday, 'Tombstone.'" Her brow furrowed and she said, "'Aim for the cat! Aim for the cat!'"

"Evil Ted, 'Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey,'" Xander said. He noticed Willow's attention drift beyond him and turned. "Oh, hey. Gunn, right?"

"Right." Gunn leaned on the railing of the staircase. He gestured. "I see you're good with the computer," he said to Willow.

She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. "Yeah, I guess," she said, shrugging.

"And you?" He turned his attention to Xander. "What do you contribute?"

Xander grinned broadly but not nicely, tapping his fingers on his knees. "Mostly snacks. And I've managed to stake a few vampires."

"Oh, and you help with research," Willow said, nodding so that her hair slithered around her face. "And, and you were the one who helped find me that Urn of Osiris on eBay."

Gunn folded his arms. "So, you're backup," he said.

"Hey, we're not backup," Xander said, getting to his feet. "We're front line. How long have you been in this?"

Gunn said, "Pretty much since Alonna and I got kicked out onto the streets."

"Six years," Xander said, his hand waving between himself and Willow. His smile bright and fake, he went on. "Go on. Ask us anything."

"Okay," Gunn said, "best way to destroy a vampire."

"Sunlight, stakes, crosses," Xander said. "Fire will do. Beheading. Holy water."

Gunn nodded once. "How do you deal with werewolves?"

"Silver bullets," Willow said, "or enough drugs to drop an elephant. They're pretty territorial, though, they don't like a lot of competition. And," she said, "with proper training, they're about as dangerous as a big dog."

He gave her a look of disbelief. "Ain't no werewolf can be tamed."

Willow smiled smugly. "My boyfriend's a werewolf."

"He is," Xander said, nodding in agreement. "Been one for the past five years. During full moons, he's a helluva fighter."

"The rest of the time, he's a helluva researcher," Willow said, with more than a hint of pride in her voice.

Gunn blinked. "Your boyfriend is a werewolf."

"Ye-up." Willow enunciated carefully, popping the 'p'.

He turned to Xander, trying to digest this cute little girl with a werewolf. "Her boyfriend is a werewolf?"

Xander nodded cheerfully. "Haven't found a cure for it yet."

"And you're a witch?"

"Well, you know, lycanthropes and witches have been linked historically for a long time." Willow entwined her fingers, her fine eyebrows lifting. "Still think we're wannabes?"

"No, I think you got our little gang beat. We don't throw no magic or have any werewolves." He glanced back at his friends and co-workers. "We do got a genius."

"Got one of those, too," Xander said, reaching over to clasp Willow's shoulders.

"Don't forget Oz," she protested.

"Can't. You won't let me."

Gunn was starting to feel a little out of his league. "I think I'll just retreat to my corner," he said, "before you tell me you're the next Jackie Chan."

"Well," Xander drawled.

"Stop it," Willow said, shoving at him.

"Stopping…now." Xander leaned back onto the steps, tapping his fingers on the old carpet. A frown settled slowly into place. "Man, are they ever gonna get back here?"

Willow pursed her lips. "They'll be back soon, I mean, how long can it take, going to see Oracles?" She twisted around on the steps. "Giles? How long would that take?"

He shook his head, coming back from whatever geek world he and Wes currently inhabited. "Pardon?"

"Buffy. How long would she be at the Oracles?"

"Oh." Giles took off his glasses and began polishing them absently. "Em, that depends," he said carefully. "Did-did she remember to take an offering?"

"She's supposed to take an offering?" Xander pushed off the stairs. "No one said anything about any offerings, Giles."

"Oh." He started to put his glasses back on and hesitated. "Well, she's a clever girl, I'm sure she'll think of something."

Xander unconsciously followed Gunn's path around the lobby. "It's starting to get dark outside," he said softly, staring at the glass doors. He headed for the telephone. "I'd better call Cordy before she starts worrying."

The door flung open, a woman stepping through it. Her high heels clicked on the marble floor and she tossed her head back, her short, dark honey hair swirled around her shoulders. A predatory smile graced her lips. "Well, well, well. Lindsey. Somehow, I expected to find you here." An eyebrow raised. "Maybe not dressed that way. What is that, camouflage?"

Lindsey straightened, tugging at the cuffs of his plaid shirt. "Lilah. I'd say it's good to see you but we'd both know it was a lie."

She paused above the steps leading down into the lobby proper, folding her arms and surveying them all. Her scarlet nails drummed impatiently, once, twice, then she stepped farther into the hotel. "You'll probably be happier to know that I'm not here for you," she said.

"Is that a fact?" Lindsey drawled. "Why do I doubt you, Lilah?"

"Oh, it's true. I'm trolling for bigger fish." She strolled closer. "I want to find out if all the rumors being spread about L.A. are true." Her head turned, tracking the people in the room, smiling at them as they all straightened, Wesley setting aside that thing he and Giles had been looking at, Fred smiling brightly back, Kate casually shifting so she could get to her gun, kept behind the lobby desk. Lindsey sauntered from behind the lobby's counter. Xander took a step closer to Willow.

"What rumors are those?" Wesley asked as Gunn edged closer to the weapons cabinet.

"Rumors you've been keeping company with a Slayer, Wes." Lilah's voice was warm and somehow brittle at the same time. "You didn't think that would fail to attract our attention, do you?"

"What concern of it is yours?" Giles asked sharply, removing his glasses. Gunn wondered if he actually needed them to see or if they were a prop. He had the feeling that the Englishman hid a lot of things behind that stiff upper lip crap.

"I work for a company that has certain…vested interests in this town," Lilah said. "Let me guess. You would be the Watcher."

"And if I am?"

"We've heard about you," she said, her blood-red mouth turning acquisitory. "About the work you do." She sailed closer to him. "You were quite the hellraiser in your day." Lilah tilted her head. "Now you raise the dead. That's a lot of power to harness." She paused; her legs spread slightly, arms folded again. Fighting stance. "Something that could be very useful to us."

Lilah's voice rang through the quiet of the lobby, the reverberations finally dying out. Giles didn't really seem to be paying much attention to her speech, spinning his glasses with one hand, the other shoved into his pocket, his chin tucked into his chest. Xander, who Gunn would've guessed couldn't tolerate silence, watched with the same casual intensity Gunn had seen at pick-up games, where you studied your opponents before entering the game.

The older man lifted his head suddenly, a flash of something completely unlike a smile slithering across his face. "Get out," he said, his voice light, almost pleasant.

"All right, I've got your answer." Lilah turned her attention towards the redhead. "You. You're the witch. You were a party to raising the Slayer from the dead, weren't you?" Her tone lowered, insinuating, caressing. "What is it like, to have that sort of ability? Don't you want to taste it again? Let it carry you away?"

Her mouth dropped open and a little squeak escaped before she exchanged a glance with Xander. Willow's little chin raised and her arms crossed firmly over her chest. "You heard him," she said, "get out."

"You still don't understand what I'm offering," Lilah said, starting her slow, long stalk again, circling the circumference of the lobby, her heels ticking like a counter on a bomb. "There is a battle coming, a very special battle." She paused at the countertop, running a finger over it and inspecting for dust, then continuing. Fred scurried out of her way with a frantic, "Eep!" "Cataclysmic. The end of the world. But you, all of you, you have the chance to come out on top of that. Your nearest and dearest, as well. All you have to do is step aside and let the end happen."

Wesley stepped into her path, unconsciously taking up her previous pose, legs spread, arms folded. "What gives you the power to make that sort of deal, Lilah?" he asked.

"She's Holland's right hand," Lindsey said. "And she wants the glory of bringing you in."

"Ah." The exhalation was gentle; though the knife blade grin that creased Wesley's face was anything but. "Get out, before I call the police and have you hauled away for trespassing."

"You think you could make it stick?" Lilah asked, amused.

"I may not be a cop anymore," Kate said, leaning jauntily on the counter, with Fred peeping out from behind her, "but I sure have my contacts." She moved, suddenly, swiftly, forcing herself into Lilah's space. "And I know some people on the force who would dearly love to put you away for a while." She ran her gaze down Lilah's form and up again, a deliberate threat. Kate whispered, though her words carried to the others, "I know just how tough you think you are. You'd never last a night in lockdown."

The attorney smiled archly. "If you're trying to frighten me, you have to do much, much worse than that." Spinning on her three-inch heels, she sauntered towards the door. Lilah stopped just inside of it, a hand on the grip. "Last chance," she said.

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Gunn said, wriggling his fingers at her.

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