Part 48  - Section 11

The warm night wind blew over the Slayer, whipping loose tendrils of blond hair about her face. She twirled a stake in her fingers as she walked against the wind. She'd decided to take the long way home, through the park and then the cemetery. It was late and she was tired, but if she didn't patrol she knew she'd never get to sleep. She'd be too afraid to try.

Her nightly ritual was the only defense she had against her nightmares. She patrolled and if she killed something she'd know that she had saved at least one person's life. Tomorrow she would have to do the same things over again but she'd have peace for one more night. Things were bad when she found comfort in the fact that, as the Slayer, she probably wouldn't live past twenty.

Buffy had the horrible feeling that L.A. was going to repeat itself in Sunnydale. Unease crawled in her stomach and sweat ran down her back, plastering her shirt against her skin. For a longing moment, Buffy wished for the way things were before her parents were divorced, before she knew she was the Chosen One, before she'd failed and gotten people killed. ( Isn't it amazing what guilt can do to a person? )

Buffy shook her head angrily and sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Every day she seemed to find some way of reminding herself of what she'd lost, as though what had happened was something she needed to be punished for, over and over, without even a hope of reprieve. She scanned her surroundings, firmly refusing to think anymore. She was feeling morbid tonight and further thought could lead to things she'd rather not think about. Like say, the white crisscross of scars on her wrists.

A mirthless smile crossed the Slayer's face. It seemed that the things she'd rather not think about were determined to creep up on her anyway. Just like...the vampire at her back. Buffy spun, ready, but she froze in confusion when the only person she saw was a homeless man - human, not a threat. She hid the stake.   ( Breathe, Buffy. )

"Shouldn't be out here, little lady. Dangerous." He turned and walked away.

The Slayer's senses were still telling her that there was a vampire nearby. ( I could say the same thing to you, Mister. ) She kept looking and saw someone else, a man wrapped in a brown trench coat, laying on the ground in front one of the park benches. She slowly walked over, praying that the man was still alive. Buffy touched his shoulder gently, breathing a sigh of relief as she realized that he was just sleeping, and backed away. She didn't want to disturb him, he probably had nowhere else to go. He would be safe enough, or as safe as he normally was, as soon as she killed the vamp that had her senses going haywire!

A dog barked in the distance, probably miles away, as Buffy strained to pinpoint the vampire's location. She couldn't see or hear it, all she had was an intangible feeling, but she _knew_ it was near. The only places the vampire could be hiding was in one of the trees, or maybe in the bushes.  ( Do vampires climb trees? ) She looked up but didn't see anything except leaves and darkness. The only things that moved were the wind and the gentle swaying of the branches. She went to check the bushes.

When the Slayer wasn't looking in his direction, the vampire attacked her from behind. Buffy heard him coming.  ( I guess they do. ) She fell back as a metal claw swung at her stomach. ( This must be the vamp Angel warned me about. ) She dropped and rolled out of the way, coming to her feet with a stake clutched tightly in her hand.

Fork Guy rushed at her. She kicked him and watched as he staggered back and fell. ( Doesn't seem all that dangerous to me. Wonder why _he_ didn't just dust him? ) She started to move in, stake ready, but a flash of light distracted her. ( Flashlights. Two of 'em. People coming this way. )

Buffy hurriedly turned back to the vamp, but he'd taken advantage of the distraction, and was already diving into the shrubbery. She ran after him, arriving just in time to see Fork Guy jumping through an access hole - it smelled like the sewers.

"Hold it! Police! Did you see that?"

"I got nothing here!"

( Should I follow? Don't know what else is down there...the police are getting closer...new shoes...maybe another night. )

Buffy looked at her watch. 1:00 a.m. ( I thought this was the Hellmouth?  Where are all the vampires? ) She was patrolling the park - again. The cemetery had been clean, no fledges, no _anything_, so Buffy had come back to the park. Only one vampire in four hours, and that one had gotten away.  Not good. She walked along the bike path, trying to decide if she ought to go home.  (Maybe I could watch TV for the rest of the night? I guess I'll have to. Damn. I hate getting stood up! )

Dragging her feet, Buffy slowly made her way out of the park. A prickling feeling made her look up. A woman carrying groceries was walking just outside the park's white picket fence. Bushes rustled behind her and Buffy watched as a vampire climbed over the fence and stalked the dark-haired woman.

The Slayer got her feet in gear and ran after the vamp, helplessly watching as he reached the woman. Buffy stopped, amazed, as the woman turned around. She didn't scream when she saw him, even though he was completely vamped-out. She was calm.

The vampire stopped in his tracks and hissed. Then he turned around and ran, jumping over the fence almost directly on top of Buffy. She staked him, shaking her head in confusion. She watched the woman continue down the street as if nothing had happened.

( Complete weirdness. )

"I gotta tell Giles about this." She smiled tiredly and sighed. At least she'd be able to get some sleep tonight.

Double doors stood partly opened to the night and a light breeze blew in, making the curtains billow and softly snap. The wind coolly caressed the sweat-soaked body of the sleeping girl in the bed. Willow slept fitfully, and a light blanket that had lain by her feet had fallen down onto the patterned rug that covered the floor. Tossing and turning had tangled her in the damp cotton of the nightgown that she wore, and her real entrapment blended seamlessly with the images that held her mind captive.

She was wandering through the labyrinthine corridors of dream, trapped by doorways bricked up with montages of groping hands, leering faces, pain, grief, hate, and blood. She woke frequently throughout the night, not knowing where she was, softly crying out, but continuously falling back into nightmares...

...*Crack!*  "Back talk me, d'ye boyo?"  *Crack!*  "Think yer better 'n yer ol' Da?  *Crack!*  "Yer worthless, boy!"

The young man was grinning even as his father continued, telling him how worthless he was as the older man hit him again and again with the razor strap. The pain seemed endless as the leather bit continuously into his naked skin as he leaned over a rain barrel, but he wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

*Crack!*  "Tell 'n me nay under mine own roof..."

William, sweating with pain, braced for the next blow, but it never came. Instead, there was a choking gasp from behind and he turned to see his Da held by a rich-looking gent.

The man's eyes burned as he looked at William, running his gaze over him, taking in the blood and the fading grin. For what seemed like the first time in his life, Will found himself afraid. Not the small fears that he had, the ones that made him cautious. No, this was an utter certainty that he wouldn't survive the night.

"Sir? He's me da. It's fine, sir. Please don't hurt him."

The bloke didn't even answer, he just smirked and tossed Will his longcoat. He _changed_. He was no gentleman come to help. He was the very devil! Will's shock was plain and the demon laughed. William watched helplessly as the _thing_ beat his father to unconsciousness, using the strap that had previously been used on him.

The demon threw the leather strap away and, holding his father up, bit savagely into his neck. He ripped a great gash. The blood flowed freely, some of it escaping the devil's mouth and running over the hands that were clasped around his father's throat.

When he finished, the devil let the body fall carelessly. "Come 'ere, boy."

"No." There was no pleading desperation in the young man's voice. His soft determination almost rang against the alley's dirty walls. Screaming would be useless, no one would be coming to investigate, not on this side of London, no matter how loud they were. The only hope left was to reason with the _thing_ standing before him, whose fangs and hands dripped with his father's blood.

It was nearly impossible to concentrate on anything as the devil walked toward him. His smile was changing, lengthening coldly. But it wasn't really cold: agitation, rage, and pure loneliness and longing burned at him from the devil's eyes. And his feet wouldn't _move_! He could only stare back into those golden depths as they came closer. He could only stand shivering as a cool, bloody hand wrapped around his throat, as bloody lips brushed across his forehead. He could only stand there, shivering, as heat pricked his throat and darkness slid across his eyes. Will's last sight was of London's cloudy starlit sky...

      ...William trailed along after the two predators. His Sire was teaching the new fledgling Childe a few things about being a vampire. Will didn't know whether to be jealous of the attention she was receiving or amazed. She had a strange appeal. Power and innocence and wickedness all bottled up within the body of a beautiful girl who would stay a girl forever thanks to Angelus' manipulations.

"Now, ye do it like I showed ye earlier."

Will would have liked to have laughed at the annoyance his Sire showed. He hoped the girl got it right this time. The last time Angelus tried to show her how to feed, she'd ripped and tore into her dinner like she would have an orange, with predicable results: blood everywhere. Now she swayed with the sighing of the bitter wind of winter, humming softly. He guessed she'd heard the annoyance as well as he had.

Her eyes drifted open. They were golden. A minute later he heard footsteps accompanied by the sharp  *snick*  of a walking stick on the cobblestones ahead. ( I wonder if the wind told her? )

The wine-red velvet of her dress swished around her gently as she walked up to the young man coming down the street. A slight curtsy, the light touch of her gloved hand on his wrist, a deep look into his eyes, and then he was hers. Her face shimmered into delicate ridges and ivory fangs that gently pricked her prey's warm skin. ( Amazing that he doesn't cry out. How does she do it? )

They swayed together as if dancing in the street, a dance in darkness. Then the man was falling to the filthy street, the stick clattering on the stone, still tight in his hand. His Sire's little princess looked up, her now brown eyes dancing, and not a drop of blood spilled.

"Did I do it right that time, Daddy?"

William's heart was in his throat. He'd never seen anything so beautiful as the way Drusilla looked in that moment. Even Angelus seemed to pale in comparison. But only for a moment.

"Aye, ye did well that time."

The spell was broken for a time, with only the faintest feeling of delicate fingers remaining, wrapped around William's heart...

      ...They dragged his princess down. The dirty mob of peasants swarming over her and tearing her to bits. Will watched her cry out in anguish, cry out for _him_, until one of the blood-crazed mob hacked off her beautiful head.  He lay on the ground, mud oozing through his clothes, his body burning in pain, as his love exploded into glittering dust, gone. There was nothing left but the crystal clear image of her; her eyes wide and shocked, helpless, her own blood mingling with the child's she had killed earlier that night, spreading across her white lacy dress. (Drusilla!)

"Noooo!" He screamed...

      ...Willow fled into consciousness with a shriek. She bolted upright in bed, trembling. She'd felt the dawn. The first golden rays of sunlight were pouring through the curtains. Angel wasn't in the room with her. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to shake off the feeling of deep fear that had settled over her. The dreams remained imprinted on her mind like stains, standing out, and she could still almost hear the man's last poignant scream. Those had been more than just dreams. They felt like memories. The only thing was...they weren't hers.

Hundreds of miles away from Sunnydale, nearly halfway across the world, Spike jerked awake. Something was different. He'd dreamed of Drusilla and his Sire, and now he could _feel_ Angelus for the first time in over half a century. But the feeling was strange. It was his Sire, but somehow, it _wasn't_. The image of fiery hair and emerald eyes haunted him, a young girl that he'd never seen before.

"Phillip!" Spike threw back the black silk sheets carelessly. He was nearly to the door before his man answered. "Master?"

"I have a little job that needs doing."

Part 41

The sun turned Willow's hair to burnished copper as she sat motionless beneath it's golden warmth. She was blankly staring at the opened pages of her book, her focus not on the words before her but on last night's dream.  She'd seen Angel kill before, but never with such savage pleasure as when he'd killed William's father - or William himself.  Angel had told her about all the people he had killed, but they hadn't been _real_ to her. The only thing she had worried about was easing his almost tangible pain.

William, Drusilla, Angelus; their names were now as real and familiar to her as her own. Willow remembered watching darkness slide across the hazy starlit sky, the indescribable feeling of painful pleasure as Angelus held her in his arms and drained the blood from her body. She could recall with perfect clarity hunting with him, the feeling of having him be the center of her universe. She knew what it felt like to have her Sire disappear, and the despair of losing the only other person she loved as Drusilla disintegrated before her eyes. Drusilla was dead, but as far as she knew, William wasn't. Willow wondered if Angelus, if _Angel_, knew his childe was searching for him, and if she should tell him. ( Angelus. Angel. What's the difference? He's only Angel because that's what I named him. He was cursed to know the pain of humanity. What is that? Guilt? A conscience? He still kills, now it's just a different prey for different reasons. Angel is no puppy on a leash. )

Leash. The word triggered a rush of memory that was almost painful. "...So you're the little girl who's holding my childe's leash. I must say, you're welcome to him...I'm his Sire, little girl...my name? Darla...feeling Angel arrive at the Bronze, a quick rush of pure warmth at her back as all of the voices in the club faded to a dim hum in her ears as she just _knew_ that Angel was near, turning to see him enter and watching as he walked across the floor, seeing only him....kissing Angel and trying to climb _inside_ ...

Things were changing. Happening so fast it felt like she was running on a tightrope, when the only thing that was keeping her balanced was her forward momentum, and if she stopped, she'd fall...

Across the walkway that led to the entrance of Sunnydale High, Xander watched his best friend as she sat on a bench, pretending to read as she stared into space. He smiled wistfully. They hadn't talked much since Angel had gotten back. She always seemed to be busy, trying to stop the bad guys, finding out who the bad guys were in the first place.  She looked pale.

With his familiar goofy grin in place, Xander walked over.  He picked the book up and closed it with a snap, sitting down next to her.  She looked startled, and his smile melted away, showing his concern. Willow was usually very aware of her surroundings, something must have really upset her.  "You left early this morning.  Angel thinks you're angry with him."

She smiled wanly and replied, "No.  I'm not mad.  I just...I had to get out of the house."  Her smile widened briefly.  "I almost ran into Sydney on the way out of my room.  She was getting ready to open the door - sun or no sun."

"What happened?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Still?"

"No, this one was different.  Xander, has Angel ever mentioned other vampires to you?"

He shook his head and gestured for her to go on.

"Well, I was thinking, when Angel used to tell us stories, it was always about when he was human, or about the people he'd met.  I don't remember him ever once talking about other vampires - not the one who made him, not any friends, not one!  I dreamed about Angel, Xander.  Only I don't think they were dreams.  I think they're memories."

"Angel's?"

"No.  It was...I think they came from a vampire that Angel made."

"How's that possible?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," she explained hesitantly.  "Just that something happened, after the fight at the Bronze, when we all got home.  Angel, he was hurting and I kissed him.  I just wanted to make everything better, but I think I did something I wasn't supposed to."

"Kiss him in the first place?" Xander asked sarcastically.

"Xander!"  She frowned.

"Sorry.  So, what'd you do then?"

Willow looked at him, fear in her eyes.  "Magic."

Buffy sat on the edge of the table, her feet swinging through the air, impatiently waiting for Giles to come out of his office.  When he did, it was with a book in his hands and a perplexed expression on his face.  "You're quite sure that the vampire was running from the woman?"

"Giles, that vamp nearly staked _himself_."

"Well, unpleasant things to tend to gravitate here.  Be on the lookout.  She may be a demon in disguise. Did you see anything else last night?"

"You mean besides Cryptic Guy, nearly getting caught by the police after fighting with a vamp whose hand was a jumbo claw, and seeing a vampire run from a perfectly normal looking woman?  Nope."

Giles put the book down next to Buffy.  "Oh.  Well, uh, at least you're not hurt."

Buffy smiled brightly and glanced down at her watch.  "Not yet, but it's fifteen minutes 'til eight!  If I'm late for science, Dr. Gregory is _so_ going to kill me!"  She hopped down from the table and headed for the door.

Giles raised his eyebrows at her quick exit and called after her, "Come by after school!"

Buffy waved an acknowledgment as she left.

"Mornin', Buffy," Xander greeted as the blond sat down next to Willow.

"Hey, guys."

Willow tried to shake of her strange mood, and perked up a little.  "Hi, Buffy.  Oh, hey, ya know, I'm sorry 'bout running out on you last night.  We miss out on anything big?"

"Nah.  A couple vampires, a freaky lady, nothin' much to talk about, 'cept that Giles wants me to see him after school.  Come with me?"

"Sure, Buff, of course we'll..." Xander trailed off and the girls looked to see what was distracting him.

"Guys!  That's her!  That's the woman I saw last night!" Buffy exclaimed in a low whisper.

Willow looked at the dark-haired woman that had been heading straight for Xander.  She had stopped suddenly, almost as if she had run into a wall, and moved backwards so fast she would have fallen if one of the football players hadn't caught her.  A haze seemed to shimmer around her, almost like heat.  Willow blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the woman looked the same and the shimmering didn't go away.

"I'm Blayne.  Are you okay?  Can I help?"

"I...I'm looking for Science 109."

The woman left, following Blayne, glancing back at Buffy, Willow, and Xander, who stared after them.

Xander looked at Willow, "Is it just me, or do you agree that _that_ was a bad thing?"

Willow raised her hand.  "Bad," she echoed in a soft voice, closing her eyes.

Xander automatically moved up in the lunch line, picking out food without paying attention to what he was putting on his tray.  During biology class, Miss Natalie French had stayed as far away from them as possible.  She stuttered a lot and seemed extremely nervous.  But somehow, she still managed to make the male half of the class become enamored of her, except himself, and that was probably because of the almost overwhelming amount of fear he felt.  Only bad guys and popular people seemed to act that way around him.  And she felt like a bad guy - girl - whatever!  Something about her just didn't sit right, a bad vibe or _something_.

Dr. Gregory was missing, but his glasses weren't.  Buffy had seen them on the floor.  If the glasses had fallen, the teacher would have picked them up...if he could.

Cordelia Chase pushed through the line.  Xander tuned out her customary complaining, until she screamed.  The Queen of Sunnydale High did not scream unless something was wrong.  Yeah, she bitched, but she didn't scream.  It wasn't dignified.

"His head!  His head!  Oh, my God, where's his head?!"

Xander rushed with Buffy and Willow to see what was wrong, only to turn away when he had.  The headless body of Dr. Gregory was stuffed in the refrigerator.

Buffy was sitting next to Willow on the carpeted steps of the library, tears silently coursing down her face as she leaned against the comforting warmth of her friend.  Giles poured the crying girl a glass of water, feeling helpless.  "Here, drink this."

"No, thank you," Buffy said absently, but she accepted it and took a small sip anyway.  Maybe it was only his imagination, but it seemed to calm her a little.

"I've never seen..."  The voice came from behind him, and Giles turned around.  The young man was shaken and pale.  They all were. It was enough to make him forget his distrust and look at Xander with concern.  "I mean, I've never seen anything like... That was new," he finished.

"Who would want to hurt Dr. Gregory," asked Willow in a tone that meant business.  Her eyes were bright with anger and unshed tears.

Giles looked at her.  He was beginning to see what the Slayer saw in her new friend.  The girl may _look_ sweet and innocent, but she seemed to have the inner strength of her namesake, and he could appreciate that.  "Uh, he didn't have any enemies on the staff that I'm aware of.  He was a civilized man.  I liked him."

"So did I," Buffy stated softly.

Willow held his gaze. "Well, we're gonna find out who did this. We'll find them and we'll stop them," she said firmly.

Buffy, taking heart, agreed, "Count on it."

Giles silently approved, "What do we know?"

"Oh, not a lot, um..." she sniffed one last time and wiped the tears from her face, "he was killed here on campus.  I'm guessing the last day we saw him."

"How did you work that out?" Giles prompted.

"He didn't change his clothing," she answered.

"This is a question that no one particularly wants to hear, but...where did they put his head?" Xander interjected.

Willow nodded her head.  "Good point.  I didn't want to hear that."

"Giles?  Do you think it could have been that vamp that Angel warned me about?" Buffy asked thoughtfully, taking another sip of water.

"Well," Giles contemplated, "I've been trying to gather more information about the Master, our, uh, local vampire king.  There was
one oblique reference to a, a, a vampire who displeased the Master and had his hand cut off in penance."

"Got his hand cut off and replaced it with a fork?"

"So, why would he come after a teacher," asked Xander reasonably.

"I'm not certain that he did," Giles replied.  "There was an incident two night ago..."  He walked over to the counter and picked up a
newspaper, opening it up and showing them the story.  "It involved a homeless person in Weatherly Park.  He was practically shredded, but, uh, nothing like Dr. Gregory."

Buffy took a closer look at the paper.  "So Fork Guy doesn't do heads?"

"Not historically."

"And Dr. Gregory's blood wasn't drained."

Xander sat down abruptly at the table, looking back and forth between Giles and Willow, slightly panicked.  "So there's something _else_ out there?  Besides Silverwareman?  And vampires, and Watchers, and Slayers, and witches?  Oh, this is fun, we're on monster island."

"We're on a Hellmouth.  It's a center of mystical convergence.  Guess it's the same thing," Buffy said seriously.

"That's true, but, uh, we don't know there's anything or anybody besides this chap.  He's our most likely suspect," Giles commented, bringing them back to the subject.

"Do you know Miss French, the teacher that's subbing for Dr. Gregory?" Buffy asked Giles.

He smiled and pushed up his glasses.  "Yes.  Yes, she's lovely.  In a, a, common, extremely well proportioned way."  The librarian looked away, blushing.

Buffy gave him an indecipherable look, "Well, Miss Well-Proportioned just happens to be the woman I saw that vamp running away from last night.  Now, I'm an undead, hungry vampire... How many things am I afraid of?"

Giles looked a little confused, "Not many.  And not substitute teachers, as a rule."

"So what's her deal?"

"I think perhaps it would be a good idea if we kept an eye on her," he said slowly.

Willow, who had been following the conversation intently, gave them both a hard look.  "A very close eye," she said.

"So, um, Wills?  Are you gonna call in your boys to catch the monster?"  Xander finally found enough courage to ask as he and Willow walked home from the bus stop.

"Nope.  I think the Slayer can handle it," she said confidently, "and I don't really think I oughta get the Mistress involved.  I mean, I
can just imagine their reactions to _that_!"

"Okay," Xander agreed, smiling.  "You know, it's so weird to hear you refer to yourself in the third person.  You better be careful," he warned, shaking his finger at her," or pretty soon you'll be having conversations with yourself, and me and Angel will have to put you away with all the other nuts."

Her eyes dancing, Willow punched him lightly on the arm.  "_Xander_!"

"What?  I'd come visit!"

"Ha!"  She held up a fist and Xander took off running. "You'd probably be in there with me," she called, chasing after him.

Buffy walked down the hushed, deserted halls.  Her heels were clicking on the tiled floor, the sounds too loud.  It was giving her the creeps, the same feeling that she sometimes got from the library, and she slowed down, making a conscious effort to be quiet.

( 103...105...107...109! ) Cautiously, Buffy looked through the door's small glass window.  Blayne and Miss French were inside talking over the model egg sack, they were leaning over it, close enough to kiss and Blayne looked nervous.

Miss French pointed to the closet and the football player obediently followed her direction, rummaging through it, looking for something. He was obviously occupied, and Miss French suddenly straightened up. Buffy ducked, hopefully out-of-sight as she watched, amazed, as the woman's head turned almost all the way around - and looked right at her!

Buffy dropped, rolling away as quickly as she could, and left. Hurrying down the hall, she didn't even bother to be quiet.  ( The library isn't the only thing about this place that wigs me out. ) She rubbed hard at the skin of her wrist, as if trying to erase the faint scars there.

Willow slowly walked up the stairs to Angel's room, a glass full of ice in her hand.  Xander was downstairs watching TV.  He wouldn't be interrupting.  She crept inside.

Her breath caught.  Angel was stretched out on top of golden cream sheets, his arms above his head, in nothing but black silk boxers.  A smile curved Willow's lips, and she released her breath in a shuddery sigh.  This was almost too perfect.

Moving carefully, Willow eased herself onto the bed.  She knew Angel was awake, but there wasn't any sense in letting him know she knew, as long as he didn't know she knew.  She straddled him, pressing her knees tightly against his sides, and wriggled, getting comfortable on top his stomach.  She stilled, watching him carefully for a moment. He didn't move.  Good.

Willow set the glass on the table next to the bed, the put both hands on his chest and leaned forward.  It was time to get some answers, even if she had to torture him to get them.  She kissed him gently, just the soft brush of her lips against his, then again, even lighter, and waited, her breath feathering across his mouth until his eyes opened and he smiled at her sleepily.  "Good Mornin'"

"Good Evening."

He stretched under her, his back arching and lifting her, and then settled, gazing up at her, puzzled.  "Why are you here?"  Angel started to sit up, his arms moving to set Willow to the side.

She frowned, applying a gentle pressure with her fingertips. Obediently, he lay back down.  "Not that I don't want you here," he hurried to explain, "but why?"  He waited for Willow to answer, staring into her eyes.  There were so many emotions on her face.  He turned is head, looking away, and saw the ice.  "Are you still angry?"  Angel didn't have a body temperature of 98.6 º, but he absolutely hated to be cold.  He looked back at Willow.

"Who's Darla?" she asked.

"Why?" he replied, strangely reluctant to answer.

"I want to know who she is."

"My Sire," he answered slowly.

"And Drusilla?"

Angel's eyes widened, he knew for a fact the he'd never mentioned the insane vampiress that was his childe - he's never told anyone in Sunnydale about any of his childer, in fact.

"William?"

The shock on Angel's face was plain to see.  He looked like he'd been slapped.  Willow could feel tears welling up, her eyes burned.  "So they are real," she whispered.

"I made them."

"And you loved them," Willow stated.

"And I loved them."  He waited, knowing there was more.

"You were Drusilla and William's Sire, and you...what?  Owned them?"

He nodded.

"And Darla owned you?"

Another nod.

"Drusilla loved frilly white dresses, William loved you, and Darla loves power."  She paused.

"Yes."

Willow was quiet for a while, and his curiosity got the better of him.  "How do you know?" Angel asked, but she ignored the question, staring down at him.  A tear rolled down Willow's face and fell, hot on Angel's naked skin.  His muscles tensed, ready to move, to gather the girl into his arms and make her tell him what was wrong.  But a quiet word stopped him.  "Stay," she told him, and he did.

She lay down, tucking her head beneath his chin, and, her voice low, asked, "What would happen if your Sire gave you away?"

"Nothing."  Angel answered promptly, the words rumbling through the chest under her ear.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing at all," he purred, reassuring her.  "I don't belong to her anymore.  I belong to you."

Willow relaxed, all the tension seeming to go out of her body.  (Does he know what Darla told me that night,  I wonder?)  Slowly, not sure if he were allowed to yet, Angel moved, bringing his arms around her and hugging her to him.  She was quiet for such a long time that he thought she'd maybe fallen asleep, until she mumbled yet another question.  "What?"

Willow moved, crossing her arms over Angel's chest and resting her chin on top, gazing at him with green eyes that always seemed to see down to the depths of his soul.  "I said, why didn't you ever tell me about them?  I mean, you know _everything_ about me.  I didn't think that you'd keep secrets from me."

"I didn't," he protested.  "Well, I never told you about them, but you never asked," he said plaintively, completely glossing over the fact that Willow could hardly ask about someone who she didn't even know existed.  "It never seemed to be the right time.  It hurts sometimes - even just to think about them."

"Will you tell me about them, someday?  About Will?"

"Maybe. Someday."

The ice melted, unneeded, and she snuggled against him, hugging tight.  She could wait, a little while...

Sydney rolled her eyes at the ceiling, a devilish grin on her lips, as she stood outside Angel's bedroom door.  She gone by the Mistress' room and found it empty.  She was almost sorry to interrupt what they'd been doing for the past two hours.  It was funny, in a sickening kind of way.  They'd been in there for _two hours_, and there was only the faintest hint of arousal.  Having a human mistress was strange.  Still.  The girl was interesting, and Sydney wasn't bored.  Yet.

Even so, she hated working with the Slayer.  She sighed with resignation.  The boy had said to get Willow, so that was what she was going to do, even if it was for the Slayer.  She didn't have to like it though.  She knocked on the door.

A soft "What?" came in response to the noise.

"The Slayer called.  The boy wants you both downstairs."

A wordless growl was her only answer.  Sydney shrugged and smirked, going back downstairs.  She'd told them.  She'd done what she was supposed to.  It's wasn't like she could break down the down and drag them out by their hair, now could she?  (Maybe there are Oreo cookies...)  After that, she deserved a treat...just to get the bad taste out of her mouth.

Part 42

While waiting for Willow and Xander to arrive, Giles had ordered Buffy to begin the training exercises that she'd been taught by her previous Watcher, Merrick.  She had gotten bored and had probably been annoying him, because he'd even asked her to make tea - which she absolutely _refused_ to do - before finally ordering her to train and then locking himself in his office.

She had just finished warming up when four people ghosted in.  A tingling had started in the pit of her stomach, spreading outward through her body.  The senses that she'd learned to use when she had first become the Slayer usually let her know when a vampire was near, but this was verging on painful.  It felt like spiders were crawling in her blood, under her skin, itching to get out.

It made her wonder why she hadn't felt them that strongly before, when they had fought together, or when she'd been with Angel, alone in the alley.  (Maybe the other vamps confused me?) She grinned to herself.  ('Course, in Angel's case, it could've been 'cuz I was concentrating on his butt.)  But she wasn't anymore, she could take a hint.  Angel was taken, and Buffy was glad he was.  If he was the vampire, getting involved with him could've caused all sorts of problems.

Buffy sighed.  She didn't know for sure who it was, but either Angel or the dark-haired girl was a vampire.  If not, that left only Xander and Willow, and she'd seen both of them in the sun.  (And please! Vamps walking around in the sunlight?  I have enough problems!)  But all of them had killed other vampires, which was...interesting, to say the least.

Xander and the other two had walked across the room and seated themselves at a table to wait, but Willow stood watching, and Buffy glanced at her out of the corner of one eye.  She found herself wanting to show off her skill to the witch.

She began the training exercises, a series of fluid moves, holding each pose for a second or two, then increasing the speed.  The moves flowed, one into the other, yet each was sharp and definite, ending with a "huff" of expelled breath at the moment of impact, the long flat muscles standing out under her skin in clean relief as they tensed and relaxed.  She blurred through the shadow-fight, finally ending with a neat lunge to her imaginary opponent's heart.  She stood, coming out of her crouch in a smooth, fluid movement, grinning at the other girl.

There was a speculative look in Willow's eyes, but just for an instant, then her face lit with a charming smile.  "Ya know, I'm glad we decided to be friends.  I think it would be dangerous if we were enemies...," she paused and gave the Slayer a look of pure innocence,  "...for both of us."

Buffy guessed it was a compliment - in a backhanded sort of way - but she tensed at the implied threat.

Xander spoke up, breaking the tension, "Got an encore?"

"Ice-cream later?"

They laughed, and Buffy relaxed, walking over to the table and sitting down while Willow moved to stand behind Angel, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.  "So, what did you call us down here for?" she asked.

Buffy explained, "I was watching Miss French, like I said I would, and she was with Blayne, okay?  Well, almost as soon as I got there, she sent him off to get something, and then she turned her head and looked straight at me!  And no, I'm not saying she just craned her neck a little.  We are talking full-on Exorcist twist!"

"Ouch," Xander exclaimed, looking at Buffy with more than a little disbelief.

"Yeah, no kidding.  She is _not_ human.  And Blayne's with her.  I need your help," Buffy said, looking up into Willow's eyes.  "I need to find out what she is before someone else gets hurt.  Whatever she is, I wanna be ready for her.  If she is what killed Dr. Gregory, I'm not gonna be showing any mercy." She turned around and called towards Giles' closed - and locked - office door, "Giles!  They're here!" (And they brought friends...)

Giles poked his head out of the office and saw them gathered around the table.  "Oh!  Umm, sorry, I'll, uh, be right out in a minute."

She turned back and found four sets of eyes staring at her.  Buffy looked at Sydney, who looked like her teeth hurt, then at Angel, who'd been quiet all night, and back to Sydney again.  "So. Which one of you is a vampire?" she asked bluntly.

A mischievous smile graced the strange girl's face, but Willow didn't give Sydney time to answer.  "She's my friend."

"And him?" she questioned gently, gesturing in Angel's direction.

"One of the best," she replied, her hands tightening their grip on Angel's shoulders as her eyes gazed steadily into Buffy's.

Buffy slowly nodded, dropping the question.  "Fine," she stated.  Who they were didn't matter anyway, if she caught a vampire killing someone, that vampire was dust.

Giles came out a few minutes later, carrying a stack of old - but dust-free - books, and thumped them down on the table.

"Any luck?" Buffy inquired.

"Um, I've not found any creature, as yet, that strikes terror in a vampire's heart, but I presume that you lot are here to help me look?" he asked, passing out the books.

Willow waved the one he offered to her away, "I'm going to try the computer."

"Try looking under things that can turn their heads all the way around," Buffy told her.  She glanced down at the unpronounceable title of the tome in front of her, then looked at Angel and Sydney who had books with titles that were equally as unpronounceable.  They both looked interested, pouring over the handwritten words.  Buffy sighed, looking at Xander.  He was the only one who looked as lost as she felt.

  "Hey, wanna help me?"

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Take my own advise: my homework," she answered.

  "Sure," he said, following the blond as she bounced up the stairs to the bookshelves.  Only to stop as she abruptly turned and ran back to her Watcher.

  "Where are the books on bugs?"

Not long after Buffy disappeared into the stacks of books, she came back out again, carrying an encyclopedia.  Xander trailed behind her as the Slayer called everyone's attention to her.

"Hey guys, dig this! 'The praying mantis can rotate it's head 180 degrees while waiting for it's next meal'," she quoted, slamming the book shut. "Ha!"

Nothing except silence greeted the implied proposal that Miss French was nothing more than a big bug.

(Ruin my moment of brilliant deduction, why don't ya?)  "Well? C'mon guys. Ha!"  (And still with the blank stares...I am speaking english, aren't I?)

"Well, Miss French is sort of big.  For a bug?"  Willow questioned.

"And she is, by and large, woman-shaped," Giles supported.  Buffy walked down to them, ready to prove her point.  She was absolutely positive that she was right.  "Okay.  Look.  Fact 1: Only the praying mantis can rotate it's head like that...well, other than an owl. Fact 2:  Vampires are scared to death of her.  Fact 3: Her fashion sense just _screams_ predator."

"It's the shoulder pads," Willow commented.

Buffy smiled brightly with approval at the witch.  "Exactly!"

"If you're right," Giles said thoughtfully, "then she'd have to be a shape shifter or a perception distorter.  On a helpful note, I had a chum at Oxford, Carlyle, advanced degrees in entomology mythology."

Buffy looked confused.  "What?"

"Bugs and fairy tales."

"I knew that."

"Now," he continued, "if I recall correctly, poor old Carlyle, just before he went mad, claimed there was some beast..." He paused.

"Some beast?" Willow asked.

"Oh, uh, yes.  I just need to make one transatlantic telephone call."  Giles got up to go back to his office, but paused when he heard what Buffy was saying.

"Willow, I need you to hack into the coroner's office for me.  I need the autopsy on Dr. Gregory.  I've been trying to figure out some marks that I saw on his corpse...I'm thinking they were made by teeth."

He turned back.  "Um, this computer invasion that Willow's performing on the coroner's office, one, one assumes it is entirely legal?"

"Entirely!"  Willow assured him.

"Of course!" Buffy exclaimed.

Giles sighed.  "Right.  Wasn't here, didn't see it, couldn't have stopped you."

"Good idea," agreed Buffy.

Giles headed for his office, completely certain that he didn't want to know what they were doing.  (Hmm...what was that number again?)

"Frankly, madam, I haven't the slightest idea what time it is, nor do I care.  Now, unlock his cell, unstrap him, and bring him to the telephone immediately.  This is a matter of life and death!"

There was a _very_ long silence on the other end of the line after the loud *thud* of the nurse slamming the phone down onto a table before he at last heard Carlyle's voice muttering in his ear.

"It, It's Giles, old boy.  Yes, yes, it has been a long while.  I wanted to talk to you about your last as..assignment."  He pulled the phone away from his ear as the voice rose, agitated.  It went on for some time.

When the other man's conversation deteriorated into things that would make even a sailor blush, Giles cut him off.  "I, I understand, Carlyle.  Yes...I, I'll take every precaution.  Uh, absolutely, i..i..it sounds exactly like the creature you described.  You, you were right about everything.  Well, n..no, you weren't right about your mother coming back as a pekinese, but...uh...Try to rest, old man.  Yes...Ta!  Bye now!"

He hung up the phone with relief, his face still red.

Buffy had gone back to studying the encyclopedia and Willow to ignoring everyone as she stared intently at the monitor's screen. Neither noticed Xander, who was bored with looking at the pictures in the books and was now purposefully annoying both Angel and Sydney. Angel had been reduced to low growls, sulking while Sydney played back, much to Xander's appreciation and Angel's further annoyance. They were picking on him, flicking little paper balls at his hair.

Sydney was convulsing with silent laughter every time Xander would hit his mark, and Angelus couldn't do a thing, because one of his precious humans was having a bit of fun.  And the Mistress, even though she wasn't paying them any attention, was sitting just a few feet away.  He could only glower, looking as if he would like to take a switch - or maybe a whip - to them both, and continue to bat futilely at the tiny white missiles aimed at him, at his _hair_.

It was fun.

"Got it!"  Willow exclaimed.  "Coroner's report, complete with...Yuk!...color pictures."

Buffy came up behind her, leaning close to peer at the screen.  "Those _are_ teeth marks.  Which match perfectly the one insect that nips off it's prey's head...and, yeah!  Double Yuk!"

"Okay, what..."  Willow was interrupted by a loud crash.  Both she and the Slayer were instantly on guard, scanning the room.  But there was only Xander, his chair tipped over.  He was sprawled out on the floor, dramatically playing dead with a hand over his heart and his arm across his eyes, peeking up at Angel.  Who was standing, his hands out, almost as if to catch Xander - or push him - his face faintly pink...and...and...

Sydney couldn't contain herself anymore.  Peals of silvery laughter rang out, contagious, and Buffy joined her.  Willow clapped a hand over her mouth.  (Ohhhh, mustn't laugh at Angel!)

Giles burst from his office, looking frantically around the library, a crossbow ready in his hands.  Xander jumped up off the floor, raising his hands.  "Don't shoot!"

Giles lowered the crossbow.  "I say, is everyone all right?"  The Watcher looked carefully at everybody, but stopped in surprise when he saw Angel.  "Uh, A..Angel?  Is there any particular reason you, you have, um..."

Without answering, Angel stalked out of the library.  Sydney's laughter  ringing behind him as the door swung shut.

"Dr. Ferris Carlyle spent years transcribing a lost pre-Germanic language.  What he discovered, he kept to himself, until several teenage boys were murdered in the Cotswolds. Then, he went hunting for it," Giles told them.

"It being?" Buffy asked.

"Uh, he calls her a She-Mantis.  This type of creature, the Kleptes-Virgo. or, or virgin-thief, appears in, in, many cultures.  The Greek sirens, the Celtic sea maidens, who, who, tore the living flesh from the bones of, um..."

Buffy broke in, "Giles, while we're young!" (And Blayne's still alive!)

"Uh, well, basically the, uh, the She-Mantis assumes the form of a beautiful woman and lures innocent virgins back to her nest."

"Virgins?"  Buffy wondered.  (Blayne's a virgin?)  "Okay, okay, nevermind." She paced over to Giles, taking the crossbow from him and turning it over in her hands.  "So this thing is breeding and we need to find it and snuff it.  Any tips on the snuffing part?"

"Uh, Carlyle recommends cleaving all body parts with a sharp blade."

"Slice and Dice! Gotcha."  (Oh, what _fun_.)

"Well, whatever you do, it had better be certain and swift.  This beast is extremely dangerous," Giles warned.

"Well, your buddy Carlyle faced it, and he's still around."

"Yes, in a straightjacket, howling his innards out day and night."

Buffy looked crushed.  "Okay, General, way to inspire the troops!"

"Sorry..." he said, but Buffy was already turning away.

"Okay, guys, this is it."  She faced Willow.  "See if you can get her address off the substitute rolls." The blonde turned back to Giles, "And you need to record bat sonar, and fast!"

"Bat sonar, right."  He stopped, looking confused.  "What?"

"Bats eat them," she explained slowly, leading him to the stairs, "The mantis hears sonar, its entire nervous system goes kaplooey."

"Where am I going to find the..."

"In the vid library?  There're no books, but it's dark and musty. You'll feel right at home.  Go," she ordered and gave him a gentle push.  Buffy sighed, then smiled, looking at Xander.  "Could you go see if Angel's ready to come out of the bathroom yet?"

He nodded, and at last she looked at Sydney, who suddenly pulled a knife out of nowhere, holding it up, then flipping it hilt to blade, back and forth, dancing it through her long slender fingers.  She stared pointedly at the Slayer.

(Right.  _I'll_ handle the armory.  By myself.)

"Angel?"  Xander called softly, and was met by a low growl. (Okay...still having a hissy fit over his hair.)  He walked in quietly.  Angel was standing in front the mirror, despite his non-reflection, running his fingers through the lightly gelled locks. His hair was now standing up in every which way - and still had bits of paper stuck here and there.

"Willow wants you.  They're about ready to roll."

"Fine," the vampire stated flatly, running his hands through one more time.

"Umm...Angel?"

"What," he growled.

Xander snickered, "You missed one..."

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