Falling Leaves, Twisting Prophecy

Author: Lucinda

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~Part: 31~

Angel felt himself relaxing as Willow traced patterns over the back of his hand. Did she have any idea how nice that felt? Partly soothing, and partly. well, it was enjoyable. But the idea of possibly having to share a room with someone. That wasn't exactly relaxing for him. Who would he be with? Most people would feel at least a little uncomfortable to room with someone that they knew was a vampire.

The idea of sharing a room with an attractive woman. that set parts of his mind spinning into interesting and sensual directions. Just because he didn't currently have a lover didn't meant hat his imagination didn't work. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that his imagination had been working more. And if that woman was someone that knew what he was and accepted him. Possibilities danced in his mind.

Unfortunately, that Clause made the idea of making them more than a delightful fantasy very unwise. He couldn't get himself into a wonderful relationship that included a passionate and beloved lover. It would cost him his soul. Of course, that was entirely skipping the question of 'would she want to get involved with him?' and moving straight to the lustful imaginations. Maybe it was safer not to ask, not to risk either the rejection or the frustration?

Damn gypsies and their evil clauses.

But even if he couldn't have a complete relationship, that didn't meant hat he couldn't have friendships. Or that he couldn't help his friends. Willow looked exhausted from everything, the spells on Faith, the discussion of her nightmares. Everything. Tired to the point where her eyelids were sinking even now, the exhaustion and the warmth of the fire nearly putting her to sleep as she sat.

Over to the side, he could hear Faith and Spike having a soft conversation about the Kalderash Gypsies. He probably shouldn't find it a welcome thought that half the camp had died because his family had been furious. He should probably be thinking that that had been wrong, and violent, and brooding that he'd been the excuse. but he wasn't. Instead, it just felt good that they'd cared, that they'd tried to help him.

It looked like he could be of help right now, in a simple, easy way that would take very little effort. Willow needed to sleep somewhere more comfortable than the floor in front of the fireplace. He could carry her to a room. Somewhere that she could sleep peacefully, comfortably. Maybe it wasn't saving the world, but helping Willow was a decent thing to do with his time.

Angel carried Willow up the stairs, and along the hallway while he tried to figure out which room was hers. He found it, eventually, and nudged the door open with his toe, Willow still in his arms. She seemed half asleep already, just sort of cuddled against him, her breath warm against his chest, on hand sort of rubbing over his arm. He carried her into the room, lowering her onto the bed, pulling her shoes off after he'd lain her down.

He sat on the bed beside her, just looking at her. She seemed so peaceful now, caught in slumber. Willow looked almost too fragile to have done the things that she had, but it was obvious that like the tree that she was named after, she was far stronger and more resilient than her appearance would suggest. He reached out, his finger touching a lock of her hair. "Willow. you need to rest. You keep trying so hard to help everybody. Where do you find the energy?"

Her voice came, a sleepy whisper. "Angel? Stay with me for a while?"

"Willow, I thought you were asleep." He paused, trying to think of his words, to figure out if he'd said anything that she would get upset about. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because." Her words were interrupted by a yawn. "I was hoping you'd keep away the shadow dreams. Rather dream about you."

Angel felt stunned. She wanted him here to prevent bad dreams? Was he some sort of. protective teddy bear? Well, teddy bear might be an improvement from Scourge of Europe. Exactly what sort of dreams about him would she rather have? Dreams of his day? Dreams about his past? Or would just about anything be better than nightmares of being forced to watch some shadowy thing eat people? "I'll stay with you."

He slipped his own shoes off, and allowed himself to lay beside her on the bed. One arm slid beneath the pillow, and sort of wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her a bit closer. He could feel the warmth of her body, and it was a nice feeling. With his other hand, he pulled the blankets over them, not wanting Willow to get cold.

He only intended to close his eyes for a few minutes, to savor the moment. He was all tucked into a bed with someone that knew exactly what he was, the things that he had done, and she still trusted him to be with her as she slept. But the warmth and comfort of the bed was too tempting, and soon, Angel was also sleeping peacefully.

~Part: 32~

Downstairs, Wesley stared at the phone in his hand as if it was a strange and baffling device. Faith. She wasn't dead, wasn't gone forever. She was here; Willow and Amy had saved her. Maybe there was still. No. It was enough for now that Faith had a chance to live, to continue her efforts to become a better person, to protect people, as was the purpose of a Slayer. And it had to be enough that she would accept him as a resourceful, helpful person again. The idea of the two of them building a relationship based on anything else would be. foolish.

But he could sill dream. He could dream that there was a chance that she would look at him not as a reference for how to kill things or identifying artifacts but as a man. As someone with hopes, and passions, and desires. He could dream that there was a chance that she would look at him and see someone that's hew as willing to take a chance with.

He'd found her desirable from the moment that he'd first seen her. Perhaps not the delicate feminine ideal that his father would have approved of, but a young woman who was confident, beautiful, and had a flamboyantly distinctive style. Faith looked appealingly dangerous, and knew that, it gave her an almost unhealthy appeal. Especially considering that he was several years older than her.

He'd tried to convince himself that it was simply an admiration for her, nothing more. To deny that the dreams that he'd had, featuring Faith in and out of those tight leather pants were a perfectly normal part of male sexual appetites, that they had no meaning. That Faith was simply the sort of girl that many people would admire, desire, and want. He'd tried to strangle the feelings, certain that they were NOT anything that a Watcher should have for his Slayer. Certain that he'd like her to be his, even if only for a night.

But. How much did he know of Faith? How much did he know of the woman behind the confident strut and the leather pants? What did he know of her childhood, of the things that she'd hoped or planned to do with her life before becoming a Slayer? Of her tastes in music and food? How much did anyone know of the real Faith?

Maybe they should try to learn more of who Faith really was? In the guise of getting to know Willow's cousin, 'Kaitlynn MacCrary, they could manage that quite well. Or at least without as much suspicion.

Perhaps he should make that phone call. Find out if anyone had found out more of why someone was trying to kill Faith Daniels, until recently an inmate in a California prison. Granted, they'd figured that the Watcher's Council was most likely behind it, but none of them really figured that the Council would know how to pull off the efforts that had been made.

Wesley just wished that his fingers would stop shaking. Maybe if he was near Faith. actually, he should probably start trying to call her Kaitlynn. She just. stirred up everything inside of him, turning his painfully learned self control to something as flimsy and useless as a waterlogged Kleenex.

"Hello, Cordelia? Have you uncovered anything about. about who was trying to get rid of Faith?" He almost kept his voice from shaking.

:Apart from the fact that there might have been relatives of Mayor McCrispy's now late annoyances?: Cordelia's voice sounded tired under her sarcasm. :It just so happens, that we did end up with a lead. More like a big, obvious stack of borrowed folders. We sort of borrowed a few folders from a certain law office, and one of them mentioned assigning a couple guys who had welched on their payments a 'minor matter' at a prison. The dates match up. The minions of doom were sent by out least favorite law firm, although we still haven't got any confirmation on who ordered it or why.:

:Isn't it against some sort of rule for the bad guys to use lawyers to get things done? Or to use someone in prison as a payment enforcing threat?: Cordelia sounded frustrated.

:What has you so snippy, Wesley?: Cordelia sounded almost offended.

:I know you took the news of Faith's death pretty hard. I'm not going to say that I liked her and all, because we weren't exactly friends, but Faith knew how to wear leather and the girl was direct about things. I can appreciate both.: Cordelia paused, as if trying to think over her words. :We're going to figure out this thing, Wes. I promise.:

:What sort of big evil?: Cordelia sounded a lot less sarcastic, and more business like. :And how freaky is it?:

:Okay, we'll see if we can find anything about hungry shadow things eating people. Wish us luck on that one, it's pretty vague.: Cordelia sounded somewhere between frustrated, and hopeful that this would be more productive than the search for the people responsible for Faith's presumed death.

~Part: 33~

"Why can't they include a simple thing like 'scares everything' in the descriptions?" Buffy's grumble almost made Xander smile. She'd been searching through the volumes just like the rest of them, although not for as long.

"They use more formal phrasing. "Feared by lower demons' or 'devours demon hearts' generally both mean that the other demons are afraid of them." Giles sounded tired. "If the thing in question has other demons on its menu, they will be afraid. But if it is something like hearts or demon livers, then it probably has a body, and is therefore not what we are looking for."

"Ick." Amy made a small face. "This is the first time that something eating brains or livers or something could possibly be described as good. And that sounds so wrong."

"Right with you on that 'ick' and I'll raise you a 'that's just disgusting'. But there are just. who knew there were so many shadowy predatory things?" Xander scowled, frowning at the book. Something about the smell of these books always made him feel a little sick to his stomach. But the idea of that thing. that was far worse. The idea of something just. sweeping through, devouring everything made his skin cold and shivery, and if he hadn't seen so many disgusting things, he'd be tempted to use the phrase 'made his skin crawl'. Except that he was a bit too nervous that he'd actually see something like that at some point to tempt the Hellmouth.

"But. creepy hungry shadow thing. That's wrong all by itself. Why is it so hard to find it?" Buffy glared at the table, snapping shut the thick book and shoving it away from her.

"Because there are a lot of other creepy hungry things." The words came from Spike, and they were short, with a sort of tension that might be anger that wasn't normal for the blond vampire's interactions with the Slayer.

Xander found himself wondering exactly what was going on with Spike and Buffy at the same time that a little part of his mind insisted that he really didn't want to know. There had been clues, and he'd got the feeling that they would not tell him who killed Mister Body and with what weapon. "He's right. There are a lot of evil, scary things. If we even had a geographical region that it comes from."

"Are you still yourself?" Buffy's near blank stare and the slow question felt almost. no, definitely insulting.

"Spend a few years trying to find unidentified scary things, and even I start to notice a pattern to the way the books are done. Most are grouped by either the pantheon of long dead people who are getting wrote about, or by where the people happened to be nearly eaten by things." He tried to keep from insulting Buffy directly. The Buffy of a few years ago would never have questioned him like that, never have challenged his basic Xander-ness. But Buffy wasn't the same since Willow'd brought her back. He co7uldn't predict this Buffy. "Hey, Giles? Do you have anything on way, way back? If the suicidal demon woman said fear of the shadow helped convince people to make a Slayer. Could there be mentions of it in things about the Council? Since we don't have the origin of the Slayer with us."

"You'd need a nice handy chunk of cave wall for that. And an interpreter in pictographs." Buffy's sour mutter carried in the tension filled air.

Giles sighed, slowly rising from his chair. "I think there are a few books on the early history of the Council. I'm not certain that all of them are in English. Council is really something of a misnomer, actually. Groups of educated people trying to monitor and restrain the dark side of the supernatural rose in all parts of the world, and eventually as the areas that they knew about grew larger, the groups sort of. spread, and merged with others as their assorted empires expanded. It wasn't until the seventeen hundreds that anything even approaching a world wide organization was even attempted, and that was the British Empire's Council. It's still not the only source of information, and it doesn't really have the complete influence over potential Slayers that some of the Council would like you to believe they hold. They have very little power over the middle or far East, and only small influences and token holds in Africa or parts of Australia."

"So much for the mighty Council of Watchers." Buffy's murmur sounded part way between cold and partly glum, as if she'd actually been hoping for useful information.

"Yes, well. with the long trading and military arms of the British Empire, the London based Watcher's were able to gain access to quite a lot of foreign information. We might still be able to find something useful." Giles disappeared for a few minutes, emerging with a slightly dusty box of books. "Spike, if you would be so. useful as to help me open this? I'm afraid that I am not quite strong enough to do it without the now misplaced crowbar."

"Just using me for my muscles." Spike's mutter held a slight teasing note. Smiling almost gleefully, the blond vampire knelt down and began to systematically pry open the wooden shipping crate. "Right, one box of old books of Watcher History. I can read them if they're in recent Chinese or Indian."

"I still don't know why Spike's helping. It isn't like there's any reward in it for him." Buffy's voice was cold, as if she was trying to freeze out some sort of anger.

"You don't know?" Spike's incredulous voice hinted at further issues, and more anger. More of those things that Xander refused to let his mind connect. "Let me put it into very clear, very small words for you. Demon lady said all things that move are this shadow's prey. I move. And I don't want to be any damn thing's meal. I want to stand on the top of the food ladder and roar into the darkness that I am Spike. This thing comes, and I'm not the top of the food chain anymore. I become maybe another entrée, just like you lot. Hell no, not if looking through some old books will prevent that."

Xander made a half hearted protest, partly out of habit, and partly to try to lower the tension just a little. "Hey, I don't want to be anything's entrée either."

"None of us want to be eaten like that." Amy's soft voice was almost a reminder that this wasn't just another night of research and arguments. "This thing is old, and scary. I want it to stay away from us. Can we go back to trying to find a way to do that?"

"Sure thing, luv." Spike grabbed a pair of books and returned to the table, passing one to Amy and opening the other himself. "Like I said, I don't want this shadow to come here. Anything eats you up, I want it to be me."

Xander shivered, absolutely positive that Spike was flirting with Amy. That was something that he didn't want to think about. Ever. Giles passed him a book, and with a sigh, he opened it.

For some reason, Buffy made this noise that was almost a growl before taking a book and stomping back to her seat. It was obvious that something was bothering her, and that it connected to Spike. Xander didn't want to know the details.

"Ancient hungry shadows. Awakening Hunters. Does this thing have an index?" His murmurs went unanswered in the room, and Xander could hear the soft sound of turning pages, and Giles sipping at his tea.

Buffy's voice broke the calm, but her tone was soft, almost hesitant. "I found something about a legend. Something along the lines of a Slayer or the Slayer being created as part of a barrier? Something about layers of defenses against ancient evils?"

"Well, that is something at least. Perhaps we should look for some more information on what these barriers were supposed to be against?" Giles sounded tired.

"Greater evils and darknesses. Things to powerful to allow the earth. Evils that have no name, and things that send scary monsters quaking into the fire and darkness where they dwell." Amy's words had this odd note to them, as if only a portion of her attention was here. "At least, that's a paraphrase of the words here."

The sound of pages turning seemed somehow more intense, and Xander thought that he could catch the sour-sweet scent of fear. He'd learned the scent when the hyena-spirit had possessed him, and it wasn't something that you could really forget. It was almost as if they were searching desperately for a clue.

"Translating this, there's a legend that in the ages before Heaven's Cycles were mimicked on Earth, the forces of Protection built walls of light and fire to bind back the Most Ancient of Hungers. Something about Shadows of Evil, and the spittle of it's jaws falling like cursed rain and creating demons." Spike was frowning, and there was a muscle at the back of his jaw, just twitching. "Says this Most Ancient of Hungers devours the Essence of Life, and that it mimics the shape of a man, manifesting as the face of your greatest fear or enemy."

Xander had that shivery feeling again. The one that said they were screwed. "I know I'm going to regret this. what's the Essence of Life?"

"According to this book, the Essence of Life is that which divides thing that swim, crawl, and fly from that which rots and is the spine of the world." Spike's expression was grim.

"Is there any mention of how it could come back?" Giles' voice trembled just a little. Was that from exhaustion or fear?

"Nothing that makes sense. Something about the barriers of Heaven and Earth standing firm, and Unity and Balance keeping Order. Pretty mystical blather. except that it could be important here. The key points seem to be that this thing has to stay out, or it will start devouring everything in it's path, leaving the Dust of Desolation. something like a wasteland where nothing lives or grows." Spike growled slightly, his eyes flickering yellow at the book.

Xander felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for Spike. The blond vampire was new to the whole find it before you're lunch thing, and he wasn't taking it very well. "So, there are clues written in the cryptic language of confusion?"

"More like Chinese, but there's not too much difference at times." Spike rested one hand on the pages, leaning his forehead on the other one. "Damn, but I hope we can keep this thing away."

"I think for once everyone agrees with you, Spike." Giles sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

~Part: 34~

Rupert Giles looked over the assembled group, everyone currently looking through books, trying to find information. Despite the diligent effort that he was seeing, he had the fear that it wouldn't be enough. That he simply wouldn't have the right books, or might never have had the right books. Closing the book that he'd been looking at, more a summary of the organizational structure of the early Druidic Watchers than anything about the dangers that they'd faced, he laced his fingers together, turning his hands so that the palms were away before pushing outward, his knuckles crackling and popping from the motion. "Much as I hate to admit this. We might not have enough information here. I think we need to try to consult with other sources."

"When you say 'other sources', just who do you mean?" Buffy's question sounded unhappy.

Rupert tried to brace himself for the near inevitable protests that he expected would follow his words. "I mean. anyone, or anything that might have any chance of possessing information to help us. I intend to call Wesley and see if they can find anything, and to also try to speak with some of my former colleagues among the Council of Watchers. I suggest that either you or Spike check at Willie's, and if Spike still has any potentially useful contacts among the demon world, consult them. Tara, if you know any witches. I'll have to see if I can find Willow and ask her to check online."

Xander looked at him, blinking in dismay. Eh opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again. After a pause, accompanied by little motions o his fingers, perhaps a count to ten effort to reign in his temper? Xander spoke. "We don't like or trust the Council of Watchers. Are you sure that it's bad enough to talk to them again?"

"We are facing the possibility of the end of the world. Not simply another apocalypse, or someone trying to open a portal to a horrible dimension, but something that will come along and suck the life out of every thing on this planet. Every human, animal, plant, fish, demon. everything. Including Watchers, even those away in London where they are safe from the Hellmouth." He sighed, running one hand through his hair. "It isn't a matter of trusting them. It's a matter of, to use Spike's analogy, they won't want to be eaten either."

"And how long will it take them to get back to us?" Amy's soft question was filled with worry.

Looking at her, he felt something inside give a little sigh. Amy was a sweet seeming girl, and her life had been disrupted badly already. She shouldn't have to be dragged into this. But Amy hadn't had a choice in her involvement, none of them had, really. "I don't know. That is one reason why we will be consulting other sources."

Spike opened another book, a low growl emerging from him. "Another reason being that the Council's a bunch of bloody twits."

Shaking his head, he sipped at his now cold tea. "Much as I would love to be able to dispute that claim, I must admit that Spike has a point. There are a remarkable number of hidebound twits among the Council's ranks. Possibly other sources will be more forthcoming with information."

Buffy looked up, her eyes troubled. "So. this is something that even worst enemies would fight side by side to get rid of? Will they even work with a Slayer?"

"Once they realize the danger. if they know what it is. I would assume that most minions vampires or the unintelligent demons would have no idea what is at stake, and would therefore remain on their normal behavior. But those demons with a tradition of history and knowledge should be most unwilling for this danger to escape. Hopefully, they will be willing to help keep it away, rather than killing themselves." He looked at his Slayer, noticing the way that the sparkle had faded from her eyes, and how her hair lacked the vibrancy and shine of the year before.

"So, I start asking questions before staking?" Buffy leaned back, running her own hand through her hair.

"Something along those lines. And I fear things will only get worse before they get better. if they get better." There were days when he hated the knowledge that he'd gathered over the years. If the danger was strong enough that they could all feel it, that demons were killing themselves rather than face it, it would get worse. If they survived this, he had a very good chance of developing an ulcer.

"Way to make with the comforting, Giles." Buffy's dry comment summed things up. Unfortunately, it was rather bleakly accurate.

"This isn't a particularly comforting situation." He resisted the urge to clean his glasses, partly because he half expected the fragile glue holding them together to break at any moment anyhow. "I am hoping that we can muddle through."

~Part: 35~

Willow knew that she was dreaming. Everything looked different, the air smelled different. Not exactly clean, but it wasn't the air of Sunnydale. There was the salty scent of the ocean, but it was subtly different, and it was joined by the scent of fish. The air held no taint of smog, although there was definitely smoke, and something rotting, and was that beer? She was walking down the street, whistling a jaunty tune, but the movement wasn't at all like her own.

Oh, that explained everything, she wasn't herself in the dream. She was a man, dressed in good quality clothing, fairly expensive. His hair had been pulled pack into a ponytail, held, she somehow knew, by a length of ribbon. There was a pub, and he paused by the door, checking his reflection in the glass. Angel's reflection, grinning with an expression of arrogance, confidence, and what Willow could most easily describe as the urge to go forth and party, was there, a bit more tanned than she was used to, but still undeniably.

"Liam! Liam, my lad, come in, have a drink! Tonight is a cause for celebration." Thomas called to him, his broad smile and slightly glazed eyes hinting that he'd already been celebrating for a while now.

"Gladly. So, who's buying the first round?" Liam clapped his friend's shoulder, looking forward to a night of drinking, and maybe a bit of carousing. That new barmaid, for instance.

Oh yes, a night of drinking, and shameless flirting with the pretty barmaid, a young woman named Bess, whose blouse exposed more than a hint of her cleavage. The part of Willow that was aware that this was a dream sighed, wondering exactly what was so significant about this night, or if it was just something else of his past.

Eventually, having drank a bit too much, and flirted with Bess, he staggered out of the pub, still feeling very good about things. There was a woman standing in the mouth of an alley, a beautiful blond in a corset and full length gown, her hair mostly pulled up, with golden ringlets falling in a cascade. She was lovely, and almost familiar.

"So, I ask myself, what's a lady like you doing in a place like this?" Liam's voice was almost entirely unslurred, and he was having very interesting thoughts about the mysterious blond, imagining unlacing her gown, finding out if her stockings were silk, if she would moan as he unlaced the corset underneath, if her skin would be as soft and smooth as silk.

She turned her head slightly, looking at him from the corner of her eye, a coy smile on her lips. This was no sheltered, innocent lady, not with a smile like that! "I lost my way."

"M'Lady, you don't even look like you belong in the same world as this street." The same smile that had seemed to charm Bess had returned, offered for this elegant looking woman. He moved closer, fascinated.

"I've been to many places in this world. Traveled, seen the far away places." Her voice almost seemed to beckon him, like the legends of the sirens that had drawn sailors into the rocks. Shouldn't that be a warning? Sirens were bad.

"Show me your world." The words slipped out of his lips.

Her smile was oddly triumphant, right before her features changed, her eyes turning to shimmering gold, her pearl like teeth becoming sharp fangs moments before they sank into his throat. It was agony, it was almost ecstasy; the feeling of her lips, the pull of his blood flowing into her mouth seemed to make every bit of him tingle and hum. It was wonderful, until the cold began, the feeling starting at his toes and fingers, working its way up, leaving prickling numbness. He began to feel too heavy, his breathing labored and his vision dimming, spinning.

"Drink." There was something damp over the sweet curve of her breast, the soft flesh slightly perfumed. As she held his face against her firm bosom, he licked at the fluid, a part of him screaming that this was wrong, this was something terrible.

And Willow awoke, gasping for breath, her chest feeling tight, as if she couldn't breath. The remembered taste of blood seemed to fill her mouth. Darla. She'd remembered or dreamed Angel being turned by Darla. and my goodness, was that a skanky, sexy sort of way to go about it! It would have been incredibly sensual and wonderful except for the fact that she'd only just met Liam in the alley.

A firm arm was wrapped around her. Looking, Willow realized that Angel had fallen asleep beside her. He looked so peaceful, just stretched out there beside her, his hair much shorter than in the dream-memory. With a small sigh, Willow smiled, her eyes trying to memorize the sight of him. Angel, laying in her bed, sleeping peacefully.

She moved the covers slightly, and snuggled up against him, smiling at the way that she fit against his body. It seemed just about perfectly comfortable, and she felt dainty, protected. And having a sexy, charming person curled up against you was almost always good.

Willow didn't want to think very much right now. Thinking would make certain that she woke up entirely, that she left the faint protective barriers of lingering dreams, and once more be immersed in the panic of the shadow thing that had been haunting her dreams. Once more need to worry about danger, and evil. She'd rather just curl up against Angel and have impossible wistful dreams. Just curl up against him, and sleep, pretending that she could keep him with her always.

~Part: 36~

Amy stared at the book, almost regretting that she still remembered how to read. If she'd forgotten that along with doorknobs and how to work the shower, then she wouldn't be here, turning thought pages and pages of book after book after book of scary, nasty things that killed people. She wouldn't be searching for the names of things so terrible that a group of ancient mages had altered reality to create Slayers.

"If I was still a rat, I would just be running circles on my wheel, entirely unaware of this stuff." Her not so happy thought just slipped out, leaving startled silence.

"You almost sound like you miss it." Xander was looking at her, his eyes wide.

She could feel herself blushing a bit. "Well, life was simple. Eat, drink, and run in circles. No hassles, no worries of scary things trying to eat me, and no worries about does this outfit look okay? Now, everything is complicated, there's the whole clothing thing, and doorknobs, and scary things trying to devour the world."

"Well, there's no need to bother with clothing on my account." Spike had this flirtatious smile, and a gleam in his eye that hinted at interesting images playing through his mind.

"Ack! Just... don't!" Xander was looking at Spike, his expression one of extreme dismay.

"Right, like Xander said. Just don't, Spike." Buffy's words sounded sharp, almost biting, like little sharp teeth.

"Don't Spike? Is that what you were saying to him before? Before you decided that you didn't want to keep him as your dirty little secret? What happened, did he want you to actually show some hint of consideration for him, maybe consider treating him like a person when you weren't boffing him?" She glared at Buffy, wondering exactly when the blonde girl had gone from being the sort of almost popular but caring type that she remembered from school to this cold-hearted bitch. She hadn't been like this when they'd nearly been burned at those stakes.

Xander just let himself collapse face first into a book, muffled noises emerging that sounded unhappy as his hands flew over his ears. "Bad words. bad, bad words. Bad images. Nnngghhhh."

Giles made this odd noise, partly a clucking, partly a gasp. It ended up sounding like he was trying to swallow his tongue, and he turned this funny color of purple. Finally, just as she was starting to think that he was really choking, the words came out, to shocked and appalled to be a question. "Buffy. and Spike?"

Spike just edged back a bit, his eyes watching Buffy carefully. Not the eyes of someone eyeing their beloved or belusted whatever, but the look of someone watching the monster to make sure it doesn't bite. "Bloody hell, she didn't have to go bring that up."

"Now listen here, Amy Madison. You have no right to accuse me of treating him wrong, no right to butt into my life! It's none of your business what I think of Spike, or how I treat him!" Buffy was shouting, her eyes cold and angry.

"Wrong." Any's answer was soft, her eyes focused on Buffy. "You decided that I was having an affair with Willow, and decided to treat her like some sort of jezebel, and me along with her. You butted into our lives. And no, I really don't suppose that it matters what you think about anything, but you didn't want Spike, so just back the hell away! Stop stabbing at him with your words. Bet the whole reason you assumed that Willow was having some secret affair was because you were."

"You don't know anything about it!" Buffy was glaring at Amy, her whole posture threatening.

"About why you'd treat a fine looking hunk of man-flesh like dirt? Nope, not a clue. About why you're screaming like a harpy? No clue there either." Amy's lips curved into a small smile. "I do know that if you try anything against me, I can turn you into a rat. Again. Maybe in another three years, Willow could fix you."

"Ahh, girls, I'm not quite certain that this is the time or place." Giles' efforts to calm them went unheeded.

"And what happens with your nasty shadow dream monster if I'm a mouse?" Buffy was still glaring, one hand clenched around a dagger.

"If it doesn't have a body, what are you supposed to do? Talk it to death? Explain that basic black is out this year?" Amy glared at the Slayer, feeling her frustrations at this person swell. It would be so easy to just. blast her.

"We don't know how to stop it yet, Amy." Giles sounded tired, and for some reason, he was in the doorway.

Amy stopped, taking a moment to think about how she was reacting. She sounded like. well, she sounded like a jealous soap opera bitch-queen. And really, there was no need to blast Buffy with her magic. Not only would that be very bad, and wrong, and all sorts of terrible karma, didn't Slayers normally get killed fairly quickly anyhow? Willow probably wouldn't be able to bring her back a second time. "We sound like a pair of rabid cats. Just add in a few hisses and growls."

"Close enough." Xander had moved as well, taking cover under the table.

Amy tilted her head, sort of glancing at Giles and Spike without entirely taking her eyes off of Buffy. "Do you think there's something in the air making everyone cranky, paranoid, and violent? It's just. this is a lot more hostility than I should be feeling."

Giles nodded slightly, a look of concentration on his face. "There are numerous circumstances that would cause either emotional enhancement or adding strength to the darker emotions, which would include fear. Perhaps if Buffy and Xander would go to the other room, they could look for emotion altering demons or ritual, while you and Spike remain here looking for information on these early barriers or the Most Ancient of Hungers?"

Amy sighed, leaning against the wall. "Separate the fighting kids, yeah. I suppose that would work. And meanwhile, you can start calling people to ask if they know anything about a something that scares demons and wants to eat the world."

Giles sighed, his voice only slightly sarcastic as he nodded. "Now that we have everything cleared up, go back to researching. Buffy, Xander, to the front room, by the cash register. I'll just. go make some phone calls about the end of the world."

~Part: 37~

Spike glanced over at Amy, wondering what she was thinking. What had prompted her yelling at the Slayer like that, not that he had any particular disagreements with anything that she'd said. It was just. well, he didn't want to get staked because Amy had pissed off the Slayer. And while it had been delightful to watch the pair of them facing off like that, eyes bright and bosoms heaving, cheeks flushed with passion, err. anger, there could be consequences. Especially from Buffy. The Slayer had been very moody since her resurrection, and while he could understand to a degree, that didn't make her easier to be around.

He'd been left alone in the room with Amy, and everyone else was elsewhere, probably quite distracted elsewhere. Would anybody notice if they just. Well, nice as that lustful fantasy was, he couldn't count on it. She'd made it clear that she thought he looked attractive, but there could be a big difference between thinking someone was attractive, and wanting to shag them.

"So. what caused all of that?" Spike was curious, and wondered if there could really be some sort of mystical force making everyone cranky or if the girl had just come up with one of the most brilliant and nearly impossible to disprove excuses that he'd ever heard. 'Something's got my moods going overboard - is it something demony?' Maybe it would sound crazy elsewhere, but here, in Sunnydale? Not only did everyone nod and consider it possible, it might very well be true. Or not. Either way.

"Pent up frustrations?" Amy had a little smile. "She's. I don't know why, but she'd not the same as she used to be. She's gone all sour and overly serious and just. Well, what in the world gives her the right to have a fit over me talking to Willow? Willow is not even a little bit my type, so an affair is ridiculous. And they're all flipping out over the idea of me and Willow, especially Xander, who'd probably like to watch."

Spike just grinned, not finding the imagined images of Willow and Amy anything remotely upsetting. Rather stimulating, in a few regards. "And I'm sure the two of you would look damn tasty together."

Amy made a small face, the tip of her tongue poking out. "Eeegh. No. Perfectly straight here, well, more like curved, but I prefer. guys." Her eyes were focused on him, with this little flirtatious light in them.

He could feel himself smiling, something he hoped looked charming and appealing instead of just predatory. "Well, there are a few of those around."

"Well, for a while at least." She sighed, looking at the stacks of books on the table. "It sort of sounds like if we can't figure out how to keep the nasty shadow away, there won't be any guys. Or girls, or. or anything. Just. death, and dust and emptiness."

Spike frowned a little, and only part of it because Amy wasn't flirting back. She was quite dismally correct about their mess. "You had to bring that up, didn't you? And on the topic of out possible death and dusting, have you got any idea what sort of a temper the Slayer has now? She'll probably try to beat the living hell out of us before staking the pair of us."

Amy blinked, looking at him, almost frozen while reaching for a book. The pose did give him a tantalizing glimpse down her shirt, as a soft, creamy curve of flesh. "But I'm not a vampire. Staking me would just."

"Still be a painful way to die. You would still be dead, ducks." Spike paused, remembering the time that he'd held the Gem of Amarra, making him indestructible. Buffy had staked him then, and while it hadn't killed him, and he'd actually joked about it, the feeling had been. well, it had hurt. "Every damn splinter rips on the way in, and time seems to slow down letting you feel each little splinter, each bit of ripping and tearing. Of course, the only time anyone staked me in the heart, I had something that kept me from actually getting dusted, but it still hurt. Not something that I'd like to repeat."

"Hmmm. that sounds painful." Amy had paled a bit, with a tiny hint of green. "I think that I'd rather avoid anything like that. ever. Better to just turn into a mouse or a rat again and be gone. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah, the food's pretty bad, but who'd stake a rat?"

"Going to change me along with you?" Spike wasn't quite certain what prompted the question. He didn't really like the idea of being a rat, but. Morbid curiosity, maybe?

Amy got this little smile, and she pulled a book closer to her, straightening in the chair as she did. "You'd make a cute rat, probably all pale and sort of white. Hmmm. a vampire rat? Would you go hunting for cats? Attack the alley rodents of the town?"

Spike couldn't help it, the image made him start to laugh. He could just see it now, a trail of slaughtered rodents, their furry families squeaking in terror, and the one, well, two people destined or at least expected to hunt down vampires entirely unconcerned. "Quite the image, luv."

Grinning cheerfully, she nodded. "Thanks. But seriously, come home with me. She won't find us, neither of us get staked, and we can continue to worry about the hungry shadow monster eating us all."

Spike considered that, as he flipped through yet another book full of dull bother about the importance of some sort of organized group to watch over the balance of the heavens and the earth, and to keep watch for such dark forces as would disrupt that balance. It wasn't until he'd flipped through a couple more chapters, reaching something about the discovery of 'a heaven blessed champion, a woman with the strength of the god's own warriors' that it finally soaked in that this group hadn't been formed to watch over a bloody Slayer, hadn't been formed to be an exclusive group of learned arrogant prats. He stuck a scrap of ribbon in the pages, scrawling out a brief note of the paper. 'Indus Valley - group of proto-Watchers created to watch heaven-earth balance. Slayer came much later.'

Looking over at Amy, he offered his arm, a gesture from the long gone days of his mortality, when he'd been raised to be a gentleman. "Shall we leave now?"

Amy smiled, and blushed, placing her arm on his. "Please."

~Part: 38~

Unaware that Spike and Amy had slipped out the back door, vanishing into the night instead of staring at old books, Giles sat in the corner of books, filing cabinets, and a seldom used computer, flipping through his personal address book. If he could find the right names, the names of people that would still speak to him after his original firing three years ago, and his further row with the Council over Glory. Well, the odds were good that nobody would have the information conveniently at hand, right under their phones. But if he could get a few more people looking, people with more resources to consult.

The first number that he called might be considered a bold move. Andrew Chevalier was a member of the Council of Watchers, almost literally in the heart of it. He had been the Keeper of the Library for nearly thirty years, and what he didn't know about the location and content of the books the Council held. well, it wouldn't be quite accurate to say that it wouldn't be worth knowing, but he was the best person to ask about any sort of information. He'd tried to contact him during the entire disaster with Glory, but he'd been called out of London on some sort of family emergency. The best thing about Andrew was that if he had the idea that you would be responsible with the knowledge, or that you truly needed it, he would cheerfully ignore any orders from anybody else in the Council to ensure that you had it.

"Hello, I need to ask you for some information." He tried to take a steadying breath, remembering the older man, with his odd eyes, a blue so dark that it looked purple. He also had a way about him, almost as if he could smell a secret. It had been whispered that the man was a sorcerer as well as a historian and the Keeper of the library, but he'd never seen any proof of that.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the older librarian knew exactly who he was, recognizing his voice despite the passing of years and the long distance connection. "I'm afraid this could be a very serious matter. Some of the people. there have been premonitions of doom, and dreams of a terrible shadow drawing something from people, leaving them dead. There was also. my Slayer encountered an elderly demon on her patrol. The demon spoke of ancient hungers being awakened, and spoke of a darkness, and that the fear of this darkness was part of why the Council was created, why the Slayer was created."

"Apparently the older demon had white eyes, possibly from old age, and dark pinkish purple scales. Long, somewhat stringy hair and bits of bone claws along the backs of her hands. Buffy is somewhat. well, that's a very typical description. The phrase used was 'the hunter has awakened.' Does that mean anything to you?" Giles spoke into the phone, uncertain if he hoped the words meant something, or if he hoped there would be a delay.

He hadn't expected the sound of the telephone being dropped to a desk or table, the sounds of creative and emotional cursing in medieval French, German, and a few of the medieval English dialects. He would have to infer from that reaction that the Keeper did recognize the phrases, and that they held a meaning to him. A very unhappy meaning. Maybe he should take notes, some of those phrases were quite creative.

After a while, the older gentleman seemed to regain a semblance of control, and said that the phrases were indeed familiar, and that he would find the appropriate materials, translating those that required it. He then mentioned that 'young Rupert' might want to make peace with his father, just in case their efforts were not enough.

His voice was trembling as he said his farewells and hung up the phone. Giles stared at his hand, allowing it to rest on the phone as he tried to calm himself. They'd made jokes about how unflappable the Keeper was, about the way he never seemed to get more than mildly irritated by things. Streams of medieval cursing were a far cry from mildly annoyed, and the severity of his reaction was terrifying. It spoke volumes about the danger they faced.

Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten before dialing another contact, a woman that he'd dated briefly in college, another reluctant Watcher, dragged in more by family tradition than a love of the subject. But Lenore Sinclair had a knack for finding what she needed, either by effort of by just lucking in to the right place at the perfect moment. She was also cheerfully enjoying her life in Paris, soaking up history, enjoying the culture, and indulging in her baffling fondness for caviar. Lenore would be able to find information on the founding of the Watchers. She might even give it to him just to aggravate her father.

He left a message for Pierre de Gabran, who wasn't a Watcher, but had arranged for information to reach them before. Very little was known about the presumably Italian figure, not even a certainty that he was human. Only that they could contact him by a postbox or a phone number, both of which were in Italy, and that his information, while occasionally scarce, was always correct.

He found himself speaking to the grieving widow of Thomas Chambers, a Watcher based in New York City. She wasn't able to give him any information about the matter, having not learned anything about the research end of matters, but she did say that she would tell the other Watchers in the area that he was looking for information, and that possibly one of them might be able to find something.

A call to the office of Quentin Travers led to a painfully polite message left with a secretary, stating that 'his Slayer has heard a rumor that the Hunter has awakened, and that from the shadows, it will devour its prey. Furthermore, such prey was said to be all that creeps and moves. Any information would be appreciated.' After that call, he had a cup of hot tea, warmed a bit more by a splash of Scotch.

He rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes as he considered their situation. There was the probability that a terrible and hungry evil had become aware of them. If it came, they had no idea how to stop it. No idea how to prevent it from devouring every living thing on this world. He poured himself another cup of Scotch and tea.

~Part: 39~

Amy glanced at Spike, admiring the way the moonlight gleamed on his pale skin. It made him look like some sort of ivory carving, a work of art given motion. And when you added in the fact that he was smart, and well traveled, and had this sexy accent. well, she was pretty sure that she had a crush. Willow hadn't been terribly happy about it, maybe because he was a vampire. Maybe because he was older by almost two centuries. Maybe it was because of the levels of devotion that he'd shown to his former lover Drusilla.

Regardless of why she should be careful, he was impressive looking. And he'd been helping them look for something in those books. For whatever reason she'd had that argument with Buffy, it had placed Spike in danger. Buffy had been furious, and it was entirely possible that she might take that anger out on Spike. It made her feel bad, sort of guilty.

That was the reason she was using for taking him back to the mansion with her. She'd said things that had left him less safe, she should help keep him from suffering for it. The fact that she enjoyed having him near her was. actually a big part of it. He didn't keep watching her, like she was going to do something terrible and embarrassing as a result of being a rat for those years. He didn't look at her as if she was an annoying outsider, maybe because he didn't quite belong either.

But they'd been talking, discussing what sort of rat he might make, and what a vampire rat might prey on. It was all very cute in an absurd sort of way. Maybe it was just to distract them from the fight with Buffy, or the feeling of looming disaster, or. well, maybe he'd just enjoyed teasing her, maybe even flirting a bit.

Amy shivered, remembering the hints that they had found. Terrifying fragments of information, bits of ancient fear passed down in careful books so that new generations could be afraid. It seemed to be working, she was afraid. But maybe some of the information had been lost, or kept hidden even further. The ancient Chinese manuscript had spoke of a balance that had to be maintained, but it didn't explain what that balance was, or what could tip it. They'd found a half dozen hints in the old books, all of them similar. Watchers had formed to try to keep away an ancient terror, but nothing to tell them how, or what it was. The closest had been that Chinese manuscript, speaking of 'the Most Ancient of Hungers' and hinting at the devastation that it could bring.

Spike pulled her closer, one arm around her shoulders. "We're going to win this. There isn't any other acceptable option. Especially since I don't want any other hungry thing devouring you."

"But. I don't know how to fight this thing. We don't know how to stop it. How can we win when we don't even know what we're up against?" She looked at him, feeling worry and fear and something almost like despair.

Spike's fingers dug into her shoulders, demanding her attention as he spun her to face him. "We are not going to die. We won't give up, and we won't panic. Let the Slayer do that. Between all of us, we'll get those answers. Wesley ought to know a few people, maybe Angel will know someone useful. And between you and Willow for the magic. Red doesn't seem to know how to let something being bloody near impossible stop her."

Amy smiled, partly because the intensity of his words seemed to demand it. His eyes were this intense blue, flecked with amber as his emotions caught hold, and his teeth almost looked a bit sharper. She should have been terrified. But she wasn't afraid of Spike, at least, she didn't think that she was. He'd sounded like he was definitely flirting with her. Which would be one sort of good thing to come of all this mess. Well, maybe not the only thing.

"We didn't have a chance to get any extra rooms cleaned up. Maybe you'll just have to share mine?" She smiled, and then a flicker of worry struck. "I mean, there are the couches, but. wouldn't that get sort of uncomfortable?"

Spike grinned at her, this near ecstatic look that almost seemed too intense. "Sounds good to me, luv. I'd rather curl up with a nicely curved warm body than try to sleep on a couch any day."

"eerrrmmm." She knew that she was blushing, and managed, somehow, to keep from gaping like a fish. But the images that those words brought up. Well, let's just say that they were exactly what she'd like to be doing with him. But he'd probably only wanted to make her blush.

"So. Wesley and Faith? Do you think. I mean, do they have a chance?" Amy knew that she was blatantly changing the subject. Actually, that was sort of the point.

"It's not like I know either of them very well. What I do know, both of them look fairly decent, and they're both interested. Daft Watcher could barely take his eyes off of her. That might not be enough to make things work but it might be enough to get them started." His teasing grin made her aware that he knew she'd changed the subject.

"But, will it cause her a problem with, well, being a Slayer?" Amy frowned, thinking that Faith deserved a bit of happiness. She hadn't had a wonderful life, and yes, she'd made mistakes, but that shouldn't doom her to misery and loneliness. "Will having someone distract her?"

"Doesn't have to. Some Slayers need to be isolated so they can focus, so they can remember their responsibilities. Others draw strength from having people they care about. Depends on the type of person they are. Only guarantee about a Slayer is a young woman, generally between fifteen and twenty. Could be shy, or outgoing, aloof or a social butterfly. Nobody knows what makes a Slayer, although those British Watchers try to guess. Maybe she needs people to help her stay on the side of the angels." He pulled a cigarette from his coat, lighting it as they walked. "Besides, they should have a slight advantage, he'll know why she can't always go to parties or the theatre. A Watcher knows the dangers and responsibilities of a Slayer, so she won't need to hide that, to hide who and what she is."

"Yeah, that should help." Amy felt her worry lighten a bit. If Faith might get to be happy, maybe she could be happy. Maybe Willow and Angel could be happy. "So, you think a Slayer and a Watcher make sense. What about a vampire and a witch?"

"Do you mean the two of us, or Willow and Angel?" He smirked just a little, his fingers running through her hair.

Amy gave a small giggle, wondering if he was trying to make her blush again. "Either, both. in general. take your pick."

"It could work, in general. Depends on the control of the vampire, and how squeamish the witch is. We do drink blood, you know. And. well, there are a few other differences as well." Spike sighed, suddenly serious. "if it goes carefully, it can be a very good pairing. If it goes bad. you either end up with a broken witch, a dead witch, or a pile of magically glowing ashes instead of a vampire. Maybe several of those options all at once."

"There's a lovely image." Amy shivered again, her mind flickering though variations of her dead, or broken, or Spike in ashes. None of those were appealing images.

"Vampires don't have an easy time making relationships based on much besides dominance and short term lust. Most aren't willing to put out the effort." Spike let his arm slide down hers until his hand caught hers. "Me, I've never been afraid of a little effort. As for Red and Angel, it all depends. I think if the clause wasn't there, they'd have a good chance. But with it, they're either doomed to nothing more than half of what they'll want, or bringing back the demented version of him that stalked Sunnydale a couple years back."

"Poor Willow." The words just slipped out. But after a few moments of silence, Amy really couldn't find any reason to disagree with them. She didn't know how Angel felt, but she knew how Willow felt, and considering the Clause, the chances for happiness there didn't look good.

~Part: 40~

Spike was quiet on the way back to the mansion. One hand was entangled with Amy's, holding that bit of warmth firmly, as if she was one of those little round things thrown to drowning people. She was pretty, and the idea of sharing a bit of passion with her had some definite appeal, but. But there was the possible doom of that hunter hunger thing. There was the chance that Buffy would stake him because the fact that they'd. well, that was out now. He could get killed by something else. And he had the impression that Amy didn't want just some passionate shagging, but more. A relationship. Relationships were hard - not that he was afraid of a bit of effort, but it made things more complicated than find a nice bed, lure her into it with him.

Of course, he couldn't try the same things that he'd used to make Dru stop being angry at him. Well. not exactly anyhow. Amy might like pretty dresses, or flowers, or jewelry, but the pretty girls in the pretty dresses would definitely be a 'no'. How did you court a mortal girl? Back all those years ago, when he'd been alive, there had been flowers, pretty words, poetry. No, definitely NOT poetry. His poetry hadn't been good then, and it wouldn't be good now, and he refused to even consider. Bloody hell, make that he refused to write any. Not a single page.

And the whole question would be irrelevant if they didn't figure out a way to defeat or banish or lock back up this ancient hunger. Hard to court anything if you're both deader than dead. He felt himself shiver, all the way to his bones. They couldn't even come up with a bloody plan because they didn't know enough about what they faced. He wished for a moment that the Judge hadn't incinerated Dalton - that vampire hadn't been a good fighter, but he'd been absolutely brilliant at gathering information.

Wait, had anybody ever done anything with Dalton's books? Could they still be locked up in the office of that factory? It was worth checking, wasn't it? Yeah, he'd have to go check.

"Amy? There's a stop I'm going to make. Place I used to lair, there was this minion, smart, lots of books. I think his books might still be there." He glanced at her, trying to read her reactions.

"What happened to him?" She looked at Spike, her eyes filled with worry and questions.

"One of Dru's insane plans burned him to a crisp. But nobody else seemed too worried about his stuff, and we left the factory a little bit after that, then the country in a hurry." Spike frowned, thinking back on the Judge. Stank of humanity, did he? Was that supposed to be an insult?

"Do you think he had anything that would connect to this?" Amy's question was faint.

"Honestly, I don't know what all he had. A book on the Order of Turaka, one with a chapter on the Judge, another that had the Feast of Vigeous. he had boxes of them." Spike sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, it can't hurt, can it? And what are those Tarot order people?" Amy had a tiny smile, as if it felt a bit better to have a plan, no matter how feeble or short term.

"Turaka, luv. Ancient order of assassins. Hired them once to harass the Slayer, too bad they didn't kill her as a bonus." With a small smile, he remembered that. The plan had been perfect - hire the assassins to go after Buffy. It was planned to keep her busy and out of the way long enough for them to grab Angel and use him to restore Dru. Things hadn't gone quite the way he'd intended, but. Nothing ever did in Sunnydale.

"Ancient order of assassins. oh my." Amy looked a bit unsettled. "Wait a minute. how ancient? Would they know anything about this ancient huger? I mean. if it shows up and eats the world, not only are they in the world, but. umm. no more jobs?"

"Are you suggesting that I ask the Order of Turaka if they know anything about this Most Ancient of Hungers?" Spike looked at her, partly shocked and partly impressed by the idea. It was daring, it was either daring or damningly risky. "That might actually be a decent idea."

"And if it's not, how could they make things worse?" Amy shivered, as if the whole situation was making her upset, which it probably was.

"Well, they could get pissed, send people out to try to kill us all. Maybe they'd get lucky and. actually, I don't really see how they could make things more than a little worse." Spike shook his head, the whole conversation feeling almost unreal. "I'll just pop over to check about those books."

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