~Part One~

“At last,” Anya’s petulant cry of exasperation greeted both Buffy and Willow as they walked through the Magic Box’s front door, a few minutes after closing time.  “I thought you’d never get come.  All afternoon we’ve had removalists traipsing through the shop, distracting the customers from making purchases, just to deliver your things.”
 
 

“I’m sorry, Anya,” Willow assured the flustered girl.  “But I’m sure you’re exaggerating ~ the executors were quite insistent that there were only a few crates…”
 
 

“Only a few?  Only a few?  Of course there is only a few,” the honey blonde shook her head and busied herself with counting the money that the shop had taken during the course of the day.  “Why believe me when I’ve been here the whole afternoon watching as the back end of a enormous truck was emptied into the store?  Of course I have to be exaggerating…”
 
 

“Err, where’s Giles?” asked Willow, glancing about the empty store.
 
 

“Giles?  You mean the owner of this fine establishment, who should be out here promoting sales?” snapped Anya, still counting the money, her eyebrows raising and lowering as she spoke.  “Your things have distracted him. But of course, maybe I’m exaggerating that as well.”
 
 

“Okay,” Willow frowned and watched as the furious ex-demon scribbled down some figures and put the money back in the cash register.
 
 

“Good day, Anya?” asked Buffy with mild amusement.
 
 

“No, as I said, Willow’s things kept distracting the customers.  They were all ‘oh, look at that’ and ‘oh my, is this new stock’ and ‘can we purchase that’ and they hardly bought anything.  The monetary transactions were not as good as previous Tuesdays and it has been most disappointing,” Anya huffed, gathering up her purse and coat.  “I’m leaving.  You can tell Giles, he’s somewhere in the training room, if you can find him.”
 
 

“If we can find him?” repeated Willow as they watched Anya leave, and she turned to Buffy.  “The lawyers said that there were only a few crates to be shipped from the estate in England.  I mean, a crate isn’t that big, is it? She has to be exaggerating, right?”
 
 

“Probably. You know Anya, if anything interferes with the accumulation of money then it’s the end of the world,” Buffy grinned, heading off towards the door that separated the main shop area from the training room, and Willow shook her head as she followed.
 
 

“A few crates, that’s all, I wouldn’t have even asked Giles if I could get it delivered here if there was a…” Willow was stunned into silence as she followed Buffy into the training room.
 
 

“Oh my god.”
 
 

It was said in union as they stared at the room that seemed impossibly tiny compared to the masses of old tea chests, trunks and boxes that were piled up.  Willow walked into the center of the room, the only available feet of space left vacant in the room, and turned about.  There were also statues and, lord forbid, three or four sarcophagi.
 
 

“I guess I won’t be doing any training tonight,” stated Buffy, joining her friend in the center of the room.  “Look at this stuff.”
 
 

“Yes,” a voice came from one of the sarcophagus and both the girls spun, screaming and clutching at each other as Giles popped out from behind the ancient casket.  “It’s quite extraordinary.”
 
 

“Giles, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Buffy admonished while Willow gasped for breath.  “God, don’t do creepy things like that.”
 
 

“Sorry, I was just…” he held his hands apart, obviously exalted by the sheer magnitude of promise that was held within all of the various boxes and trunks.  “This is a truly amazing collection with most of these items being actual artifacts from Egypt.  I’ve never seen anything like this ~ not even in the most prestigious museums of the world.  It’s…it’s…astounding.”
 
 

Willow was still silent, slowly pacing the small amount of floor space, the frown lines getting deeper and deeper as she chewed on her bottom lip.
 
 

“You need to get a pet even more so than when we were in High School,” Buffy shook her head at the highly agitated Watcher.
 
 

“I have to admit,” Giles confessed, the grin that had been plastered across his usually stoic face became even wider.  “I am quite excited by the prospect of what is hidden away here.  Really, Willow, you should have told us that your family was interested in Egyptian artifacts.”
 
 

“I would have,” Willow turned back to the two. “But it was never mentioned.”
 
 

“You mean your great-grandparents had this most fascinating private collection and it was never even talked about?” Giles was practically bouncing with joy.  “I find that most unbelievable.”
 
 

“I don’t know that they were even my great-grandparents, I think you have to add another great in there somewhere,” Willow gave a shrug and continued to peruse the various bits and pieces that were neatly stacked around her.  “Anyway, my mom never really spoke of them…they were kind of considered the black sheep of the family.  You know, unusual.  I think they were archeologists, or something, but I’m not sure.  All I know is that no one really talks about them much …I didn’t even know this stuff existed until I got that letter from the lawyers saying that it had been around for years and if I wasn’t going to lay claim to it then the British Museum would be more than happy to take it off my hands.  I’m sorry Giles, the executors didn’t say that there was this much…” she looked about the various trunks and chests.  “Stuff.”
 
 

“Oh no, don’t apologize,” Giles assured her and Buffy shook her head in disbelief.
 
 

“Look at you,” the Slayer declared.  “You’re as giddy as a school girl.”
 
 

“It’s a truly fascinating collection of artifacts, Buffy,” Giles was still bouncing and shaking his head, his eyes feasting on what lay in the room.  “You really can’t appreciate how extraordinary this is…”
 
 

“I think I can,” she replied, grimacing at the huge sarcophagus that Willow was examining. “Since you keep repeating yourself.  Are there actual mummies in those things?”
 
 

“No, no, the occupants of these wonderful sarcophagi are no longer in residence,” Giles sounded somewhat disappointed.
 
 

“Well, as thrilling as this is, I have to go and pick up Dawn,” Buffy turned from the bouncing Watcher to the awestruck Witch.  “Are you coming, Will?”
 
 

“Actually, I might stay here for a while and sort through a few things,” Willow spoke softly, still trying to comprehend the ‘few crates’.  “Can you tell Tara?”
 
 

“Sure,” shrugged Buffy.  “Now Giles, remember as exciting as these things are they aren’t worth having a coronary over.  Okay?”
 
 

“You’re concern is appreciated, Buffy.  Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement that I can’t break.  Willow, will you be all right by yourself?”
 
 

“I’ll be fine,” she said softly, her fingers running across the carved hieroglyphics on the sarcophagus.  “I probably won’t stay long.  But I can make a start on working through this stuff…maybe find out some information about where it all came from.”
 
 

“There are a few trunks and tea chests marked ‘personal’, I think they’re back there,” Giles waved in the general direction of the back of the room.  “I’ll lock up and then, when you leave, all you have to do is turn off the lights, put the alarm on and pull the door shut behind you.  You know the code, don’t you?”
 
 

“Yep,” Willow nodded absentmindedly, wandering deeper into the warren of boxes and things.  “I’ll see you guys later and thanks for putting up with this mess, Giles.”
 
 

“Oh, no, it’s a pleasure, Willow,” he assured her as the grin once more broadened and he rubbed his hands together.
 
 

“And sadly that’s spoken with so much enthusiasm you just know it’s the truth,” Buffy crossed her arms and turned on her heel, more than happy to leave the overcrowded room.  “See ya, Will, don’t let the mummies get you!”
 
 

“Ha, ha,” Willow said, glancing back over her shoulder at the departing duo.  Moving amongst the treasure trove, she shook her head in amazement.  Nearly every wooden tea chest, with the heavy metal securing the wood together at the sides and corners, carried words that were in a foreign language, although a few were in English.  Mostly though they were addresses and old transport labels, they gave no real indication as to what the chests contained and she could feel a smidgen of Giles excitement start to intoxicate her.  Unfortunately, the heavy metal that sealed the wood ensured that she couldn’t open them with her bare hands.  It didn’t mean that they couldn’t be opened with the use of a tire lever, the sort that Anya kept under the counter for safety reasons.
 
 

Five minutes later, with tire lever in one hand and a black marker pen with paper in the other, Willow made her way back into the training room.  She’d shut down the front shop lights and ensured that the front and back doors were firmly locked, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed while she was exploring her new found inheritance.
 
 

“Okay,” she glanced about the room, grinning like a maniac as she tried to figure out which tea chest to open first.  There were too many to chose from.  So she shut her eyes, held out the tire lever and started to spin.  “I’ll take what’s in box number….” She stopped spinning and opened her eyes, following the direction of the lever in her hand.  “One.”
 
 

The chest was no different to the rest and she tossed the paper and pen down on top of the chest next to it.  Carefully, she levered back the metal seal and jammed the lever into the crack of the wooden lid.  Even using all her weight as a lever, the lid barely moved.  It creaked and groaned, eventually shifting slightly as the nails were slowly prized out of their holes.  With the gap widening, Willow shoved the lever in deeper and threw her whole weight behind getting the lid off.  It worked, the lid came fee and went soaring up into the air as Willow fell to the floor, her hands instantly flying up to protect the back of her head as the tire lever landed to the left of her and the lid collided with another chest somewhere towards the back of the room.
 
 

“Note to self,” Willow cautiously pushed herself off the floor.  “Once the lid starts to loosen, you don’t need as much brute strength.  Now…” she stared down at the padding that the box held, before pulling it away.  “Let’s see what’s in here.”
 
 

The first layer of padding was pushed away to reveal a sheet of heavy paper, the notes of which were written in black ink that had faded to green over the years and luckily for Willow, they were written in English.  Picking it up, she frowned.  Neat handwriting listed the contents, stating the names, a brief description, date and where the item originated.  They were formal and would have made any archivist proud, but for one thing ~ littered throughout the typical archive jargon were little personal notes such as ‘R found on second wedding anniversary’ or ‘Ruined new shoes’ or ‘Camels can run extremely fast’.  There were constant references to ‘R’ and the various mishaps that had befallen the adventurers as they collected their treasures and Willow couldn’t help but smile at the notes.  Keeping a firm hold on the paper, she pulled aside the next layer of padding, revealing the very last item on the list.  A small bust of Osiris, God of the Underworld.
 
 

Carefully, Willow made her way through the chests contents and all of it was exactly as listed in the notes.  A few hours later, four of the large tea chests had been opened and each of them held a list that not only gave her an insight into the contents of the box and how they were found, but also about the people who found them.  And that was what interested her the most.  It wasn’t that the items in the chests weren’t beautiful or amazing in themselves, but for some reason they didn’t hold as much fascination as the people mentioned in the pages and their life.
 
 

With that in mind, Willow put the lid back on the repacked tea chest, tossed her tire lever aside and headed in the direction that Giles had indicated with regards to the ‘personal’ items.  It was another hour and half before she found the trunks that the Watcher had mentioned and much to her annoyance, they weren’t actually at the back of the room, but rather near the very sarcophagus that Giles had been standing next to when he gave her directions.  Obviously the excitement had proven to be too much for the Watcher.
 
 

It took some maneuvering of boxes and trunks but she soon had easy access to the pigskin trunks, suitcases and heavy army bags that she assumed to be the personal items rather than merely part of the rest of the collection of artifacts.  The main trunk, a large black leather covered metal beast that stood at least four and a half foot tall and nearly double that in width, was thoroughly locked with an enormous padlock and she hoped that the other trunks would prove to hold a key.  Working through the various tags and labels, Willow decided on a heavy pigskin trunk with the initials E.O’C engraved in gold on the lid.  The buckles and straps that held it closed were worn with age, the leather was molded to the buckles and proved almost as difficult as the lids of the tea chests to get undone.  But the promise of what was held within was more than enough to strengthen her perseverance and she was eventually rewarded, after several curses and utterances that would have had even Xander with all of his work site experience blushing.
 
 

And the trunk held everything that Willow had been looking for.  Tissue paper, carefully folded and sprinkled with herbs of some sort, kept the layers of clothes, photographs and journals separate from each other.  At first the paper revealed nothing but clothes, the sort of clothes that were no longer made, with fabric so soft and fine and delicate that Willow was almost frightened to touch them in case they fell apart in her hands.  There were long skirts and blouses that had tiny little pearl buttons that were carefully hidden away under a layer of fabric. Amongst them all were underwear that Willow certainly couldn’t imagine wearing and stockings that had to be made of silk.  As she lifted the last layer of clothes out of the trunk, she found herself face to face with a picture that could have only been the owner of the clothes.  The sepia photograph, on a solid card base, had been hand painted, giving a subtle hint of color to the picture, lips and cheeks were blushed while eyes glowed darkly and chestnut hair was pulled back from the woman’s face as she stood by an empty chair with a nervous smile.
 
 

“Wow,” Willow sighed, picking up the old photo and studying the picture it presented.  Turning it over, she read the inscription on the back.  “Evelyn (Evie) Carnarvan, Cairo, 1926.”  Willow stared at the picture, tracing the woman’s features lightly with her finger, before placing it with the clothes and picking up the next photograph.  It was the same setting, but this time a young man had joined her, sitting in the chair and grinning very much like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.  “Evelyn Carnarvan and her fiancé, Mr Rick O’Connell, Cairo, 1926,” Willow frowned for a moment, something was strikingly familiar.  “Oh, oh, you’re ‘R’.  Well, you certainly got yourself into a lot of scrapes, Mister.”
 
 

It was strange to see the pictures, even stranger to think that her family would want to basically disown the couple.  From what Willow had read and could see of the two, there was nothing to be ashamed of.  In fact from now on she was going to disown everyone but her great-great, or however many greats there were meant to be , grandparents.  An hour was devoted to the study of photographs, pictures of their adventures, of associates and of a rather dubious looking man who was apparently her great whatever uncle.  She never actually saw him in a picture without a drink in his hand or a flimsy looking girl on his arm.  Some of the photographs were of Egypt, with the digs they attended, others were formal photographs done in studios in Cairo or London.  Wherever they were, they always seemed happy and in love.  Willow sighed and put down the last of the pictures.
 
 

The next layer of tissue paper hid the finest swathe of black material she’d ever seen.  Gently, she lifted it free of the trunk and frowned at the weight of it.  Then something glittered in the dark cloth and she carefully unfolded it.  There, amongst the finely woven fabric, was heavy silver.  Some of it was woven into the material, while other pieces were laying loose.  For a moment, she stared at the silver, her fingers tracing over the design that was woven into the outfit and she glanced back at the pictures.  There was one, half obscured by the rest, of Evie dressed in an outfit that carried the same design.  Shifting slightly, Willow picked up the photograph and glanced between it and the fabric pooled on the floor.  It had to be the same thing, but it couldn’t be.  Evie was dressed in a distinct shirt and skirt type outfit with silver worked into the viel and holding the whole thing together.  All that Willow had was a pool of black fabric…it couldn’t possibly be the same outfit.
 
 

Then again maybe it was.  Willow fiddled for a little while, pushing and pulling at the folds of material, until it vaguely resembled the picture.  Of course, she wouldn’t actually be able to tell if it was the same outfit without trying it on.  Glancing around the empty shop, just to make certain she was alone, Willow shook her head.
 
 

“I must be going insane,” she muttered to herself as she easily slipped off her top, kicked off her shoes and pushed down her long skirt, tossing them all onto the huge leather trunk.  Trying to get into the outfit was frustrating, there were no zips or buttons or anything that could possibly be considered easy.  She had to first slip into the knee-length pants, which were huge and had no real waist, and the blouse section of the outfit.  Neither of them fitted, but that was where the swathe of material came into play, it wrapped tightly about her waist, holding the pants up and giving the top shape while soft layers fell down to the ground, forming a soft flowing skirt.  The heavy silver decorations cinched about her waist, holding everything in place and finishing the outfit off with a heavy beaded fringe that hung down from her waist, nearly to her knees.  By the time she had it all worked out and fitted, she was sweating.  “Okay, takes an hour to get on…but it’s surprisingly comfy.”
 
 

Pushing her hair away from her face, she looked at the photograph of Evie in the same costume and grinned.  There was something missing though, and she looked back at the trunk.  There, lying flat in the debris of tissue paper, were a pair of black leather boots with a curved heel.  Willow knew, even as she picked them up, that they wouldn’t fit, but it was still worth a try.  Surprisingly enough, they were big enough to get on, but not big enough to be comfortable.
 
 

“Ow, ow, ow, pinching the toes,” hissed Willow as her toes went numb in the too tight boots and she pranced around.
 
 

“What are you meant to be then?  The Queen of Sheba?  Or a Harem girl?” a voice rumbled in her ear and she screamed, spinning around, losing her balance in the overly tight boots and slamming back into the sarcophagus, making it wobble.  Spike’s eyes widened and his arms went up, steadying the unstable casket and effectively trapping Willow.  “Bloody hell, Red.  You’re not going to make a good harem girl if you keep upsetting the Mummy’s coffin.”
 
 

“Very funny, Spike,” Willow stated, glaring at him.  “What are you doing here?”
 
 

“Saw the light on, thought the Slayer might be training…” he shrugged and lowered his arms so he could find his cigarettes to light one.  Slowly taking a deep drag, he took a good long look at the flustered redhead and snatched the photo she was holding from her hands.  Exhaling, he quirked his scared eyebrow, glancing from the photo to Willow and back at the photo again.  “Very nice,” and he smirked as she took the photo back, scowling at him.  “What the hell is all this friggin’ crap?”
 
 

“My inheritance,” declared Willow indignantly.  Ignoring her angry bluster, Spike leant over the photographs she’d been so wrapped up in before and picked one up.  She immediately slapped his hand and he dropped the photo back in the pile.  “I’ll ask you to keep your hands to yourself, thank you very much!”
 
 

“Inheritance?” Spike took another drag and glanced about the overcrowded room.  “Well, well, well, who would have thought it?” he asked, swaggering over to the large un-open chest with its huge padlock.  He kicked it.  “What’s in here?”
 
 

“Considering it’s still locked, I think that gives you a pretty clear picture that I don’t know,” she said haughtily and spared the unwelcome vampire a venomous glare. It soon turned to embarrassment as she realized he had picked up her clothes that had been lying on top of the chest.  She stepped forward and yanked them away. “Will you stop touching things?”
 
 

He merely shrugged and knocked the ash off the end of his cigarette.  “Where’s the key?”
 
 

“There is no key, not that I know of anyway,” Willow stated flatly, rolling her clothes up and dropping them out of sight.  By the time she turned back to Spike, he was squatting down in front of the massive trunk with a piece of wire jammed in the lock.  “Spike, what are you doing?”
 
 

“What does it look like? I’m picking the damn lock…”
 
 

“If you break that…”
 
 

“Relax, I’m not going to break anything. In fact,” he twisted the wire once more, the old locking mechanism disabled itself and the heavy padlock swung open.  “Ta da! Let’s have a look see.”
 
 

“You really are a deviant,” she insisted, shaking her head in disbelief as he made quick work of the few straps that secured the trunk’s lid in place.  It was pushed open, falling back with a loud thud and Spike haphazardly pulled out a heavy blanket that covered the contents.
 
 

“What’s this,” Spike demanded, pulling out a strange little box like item and holding it up for Willow to see.  “Looks like one of those puzzle boxes.”  He started to twist and turn the little metal container, only it didn’t shift and he scowled down at it before tossing it over his shoulder.  “Bloody thing doesn’t work, what else is in here?”
 
 

Willow caught the box and shook her head.  “Why are you so interested in what’s in that trunk?”
 
 

“Because,” Spike pulled out an item that was bundled up in another blanket.  “Things that are safely locked up are usually worth a lot of money.  What’s this then?”
 
 

Willow glanced up at the heavy metal book that he held in his hand, the blanket that had protected it laid abandoned at his feet.  “Looks like a book.”
 
 

“No, I would never have guessed,” he said sarcastically.  Taking a last drag on his cigarette, he put it out and turned the book over in his hands.  “Bugger, I think it’s locked.”
 
 

“You mean the mighty deviant can’t pick it?”  Willow asked, fiddling with the little puzzle box that Spike had so willingly abandoned.  A quick glance at the blond found him struggling with the book, trying to force it open. Willow shook her head and her lips twisted into a smile.  “What are you doing?”
 
 

“What does it bloody well look like I’m doing?”
 
 

“Actually, it looks like you’re constipated,” Willow giggled and he stopped his valiant struggle.
 
 

“Very funny, Harem,” Spike snarled, turning the book over and frowning at the strange shaped indentation that he presumed was the locking mechanism.
 
 

“Well, you did ask…” she started, her fingers still fiddling with the little box and it popped open.  “Oh, my.”
 
 

“By Jove, I think you’ve just found the key,” Spike grinned at her and held out the book, showing her the similar shaped device.  “You want to do the honors, love?”
 
 

“I don’t know…”
 
 

“Come on, it’s just a book,” Spike insisted, taking the key from her and slotting it into the compartment.  “What harm ever came from reading a book?”
 
 

With a wicked grin, Spike turned the key and the book opened.  Removing the metal box from the lock, he tossed it back to her and opened up the book.  Pages of paper, similar to those Willow had found in the tea chests, fluttered down to the ground and she bent to retrieve them.
 
 

“Hmm, ahm kum ra,” she furrowed her brow, working through the strange language.  Suddenly, Spike pulled them from her grasp, crossed his legs and dropped down to the floor, resting the large black book open on his lap.
 
 

“Ahm kum Ra,” Spike started to sound his way through the words and Willow dropped down next to him, turning her attention back to Evie’s trunk, quite content that he’d be happy to merely entertain himself with the book for a while. “Ahm kum Dei.”
 
 

Willow shook her head as she watched him puzzle over the words, stumbling a little over the strange pronunciation, he was like a little kid with a new toy ~ although she was certain that in five minutes he’d be back and ransacking through everything again.  Still, it gave her a few moments peace and she turned her attention back to her great whatever grandmother’s trunk and the next layer of tissue paper.  This time she hit the jackpot as it was torn away to reveal a number of journals.
 
 

“Rah tu dei. Rah tu dei. Rah tu dei,” Spike finished the translation and raised his scared eyebrow as a cool breeze whipped around the training room, sending the layers of tissue paper swirling about.
 
 

“What was that?” asked Willow.
 
 

“Just a draught,” Spike assured her, turning his attention back to the paper he held.  “Uh oh.”
 
 

“Uh oh?” echoed Willow as she frowned at him.  “Uh oh what, Spike?”
 
 

“Nothing.”
 
 

“Nothing? Give me that,” Willow insisted, grabbing the pages from the blond and skimming through the words.  Her face paled and she read the endnotes aloud.  “’When the book of the dead is open and these words are spoken aloud, Imhotep, he who has been cursed with the Hom-Dai, will be raised and will bring with him the ten plagues of Egypt…’ This isn’t ‘uh oh’, Spike, this is…this is…”
 
 

“Worthy of a Giles’ ‘oh dear’?” he smirked at the pale redhead.
 
 

“Exactly,” Willow was starting to panic, somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was certain that one of the ten plagues had been the raining down of frogs.
 
 

“Look love, nothing happened, it’s just a joke,” Spike assured her, taking the pages back and flipping through them.  “You take things too seriously, now let’s see what else is in here.”
 
 

“No, Spike,” she snapped at him, dragging the book out of his lap and grabbing the pages from his grasp. “Don’t touch anything else.”
 
 

“But…”
 
 

“No, you don’t know what any of this stuff is really capable of and this…” she waved the pieces of paper in his face.  “Just proves that!”
 
 

Spike watched as she neatly put the written pages back in the front of the book, closed it and securely locked it.
 
 

“Come on, Red,” Spike smirked at her.  “You don’t really believe in that hocus pocus do you?”
 
 

Little did he know that in Egypt in the ruins of an ancient city the sands were shifting and the beast had been woken.  A rage, originating from betrayal and wretchedness, swirled within and the creature called forth his army of the dead.
 

~Part Two~

The darkness surrounded Imhotep as did the army he'd called forth from the skeletal remains of the royal guards who'd been buried with him all those centuries ago, fleshed out with sand and the ancient earth that he controlled.  He himself was nothing more than putrefied flesh hanging from bones and crawling with the sacred scarabs that had been the cause of his mortal death and eternal life.

Eternal life that he had once welcomed when there was the possibility of having his beloved Anck-Su-Namun by his side, sharing with him the love that would overcome death. And for a while they had waked together, dreamt of conquering and ruling the world together.  But she had betrayed him, fled when he needed her help and he'd fallen into purgatory ~ his past sins that he'd committed for her had ensured that he would never make the sacred journey to the Underworld.

Imhotep raised his eyes to the night sky, seeking guidance from the gods and he found it in the Orion, the star cluster of Osiris, God of the Underworld.  The putrid flesh on his face stretched into a heinous smile. The sand beneath his feet trembled, lifting up and wrapping about the creature and his army, disbanding the conjured flesh and carrying them on the wind to the one place where he needed to be.

A place where the world was starting to spin out of control and the heavens were opening in a fierce display of nature.

"What was that?" asked Willow, frowning as the lights flickered, distracting her from the journal she'd immersed herself in.  The thunder crashed a moment later with enough force to rattle the windows in their panes and she jumped.

"Sounds like a storm is brewing," Spike stated, standing in one of the sarcophagi he'd open, his arms crossed, eyes closed, mocking the very thing he was.  "What do you think, Red, does it suit me?"

"I thought I told you not to touch anything else," Willow spared him a quick glance, but the ironic pose he was striking made her look again and she shook her head in mild amusement.  "Put a lid on that thing, seal it tight and it would be perfect for you. Anyway, I thought vampires sleeping in coffins was a great urban myth."

"It is," Spike shot one eye open and grinned.  "But this would look wicked in my crypt."

"Yeah, you could get one of those mini bars installed in it," Willow said sarcastically and the lights went out with another rumble of thunder.  "Oh, crap...okay," she glanced about in the darkness that surrounded her, even if she was holding her hand in front of her face she wouldn't have been able to see it.  "Why are the lights not coming back on?"

Her question was met with silence and Willow stood up, holding the journal she'd been reading tight to her chest.  Another perusal of the pitch black room proved fruitless, then the lightning flashed and the room was illuminated for a brief second, only to show the sarcophagus that Spike had been in was empty.  Clutching the journal even tighter, she swallowed back the lump of fear and hesitatingly took a step forward into the all-consuming darkness.

"Hello?"

There was no answer, not even a sound until the thunder roared, vibrating through the floor and seemingly wrapping itself around her.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she stood stock still, rooted to the floor in fear.  There was nothing, no sound, no light, just complete and utter darkness, wrapping itself mercilessly about her, surrounding her.

"Boo!" Spike yelled in her face and flicked on his lighter. The reaction was exactly what he'd been expecting. A scream that would wake the dead echoed through the overcrowded room and she stumbled backwards.  She would have fallen if Spike hadn't wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her in close.  "That was just too easy."

"You bastard!" Willow spat, striking out at him with the journal and his lighter went out, plunging the room back into darkness. Trying to desperately regain her footing in the too tight boots, she struggled in his confining embrace and somehow ended up with her legs tangled with his.  "Let go of me!"

"Now, now, Harem," Spike laughed at her, perfectly able to see her flustered face in the darkness and insinuating one of his legs between hers so that she was straddling his thigh.  "I'm not letting you go, I'm just getting comfy...go on, wiggle a bit more."

"Cheap thrill for you, or what?"

"Just like old times," Spike chuckled and tightened his hold, pressing her hard against him. "Girl in my arms, heart pounding, hot, panting breath..."

"I'm about to throw up from repulsion."

"Well, I could let you go and you'd immediately take a step backwards, trip over and break that pretty little neck of yours," Spike shrugged and grinned.  "Might raise a laugh, but not worth it."

"I'm shocked you care," Willow stated sarcastically.

"Absolutely," insisted Spike, taking the opportunity of the cover of darkness to grin down at the girl in his arms and make a thorough perusal of her silkily clad form.  "Slayer'll find out, blame me and I can look forward to an intimate relationship with a dust buster.  So, if you don't mind..."

"I do mind," there was a hint of venom to her words and she shoved at him, but it was useless, his hold never lessened.  "How about if I promise not to stake you with a floating piece of wood if you let me go?"

"Fine," was the gruff reply and suddenly she was left alone again in the darkness.  This time she lingered, gaining her bearings and keeping in mind what Spike had said about taking a step back while she waited for the lightning to flash so she could make out a path to get out of the cluttered room.  She knew the vampire was still there, even though he was silent, there was that strange feeling of simply knowing.  Undoubtedly he was waiting for her to make a move so he could pounce again and get yet another cheap thrill.

"Not this time, Mister," Willow muttered to herself as the lightning flashed and the room was briefly illuminated.  As the darkness settled about her again, she took a step forward and slightly to the right, slipped on the photos that she'd been so involved with and immediately overbalanced.  Again, Spike was her saving grace, catching her about the waist and pulling her flush back against him, his laughter rumbling in her ear as the thunder roared.

"Come on, Harem," he murmured against her ear, moving her legs with his as he walked them through the mess.  "I'll walk you home.  I just love helpless women, they're such a turn on."

Willow's fingers dug into the leather bound journal she still held and she ground the heel of her boot down on Spike's foot.  It didn't seem to have any affect as he kept them moving through the room and she silently cursed the protective qualities of steel cap boots.  They were walking through the back door before she could think of anything else that might induce the vampire to release her.

"Thank you," Willow ground out through clenched teeth as Spike finally let her go so that he could pull the back door of the shop closed behind them, the locking mechanism automatically sliding into place.  "But I can get home perfectly well by myself."

"At four in the morning dressed like that?" Spike asked, attempting to light up a cigarette and failing as the wind kept extinguishing his flame, and he tossed the unlit cigarette away in disgust.  "Not bloody likely.  Too many vamps walking around at this time looking for a late night snack or play toy for the daylight hours, not to mention the various keg dregs that'll be staggering home, horny and drunk.  Come on."

He grabbed her free hand and started to lead her off into the darkened streets, but Willow had other plans.  She dug her heels into the ground and yanked her hand free of his.

"No! If you're trying to get brownie points with Buffy, get them somewhere else.  I don't need you to walk me home ~ you forget that I grew up in Sunnydale, I can handle anything this town has to throw at me!"

It started to hail and Willow screamed as a large, jagged ball of ice slammed into her temple, splitting the delicate skin and drawing blood.  Her hand immediately flew up to cradle her throbbing head and the world started to spin as even bigger hailstones fell rapidly.  Then she was moving, her hand torn away from her face as Spike dragged her through the vicious storm and she nearly lost her hold on the journal.  The journal?  Willow screamed for Spike and he stopped their frantic dash.

"What?"

"The journal," Willow hollered over the racket of the storm as blood poured down her face and she waved the book in front of her.  "It's getting wet, it's getting wet ~ it'll be ruined!"

"Bloody hell, Red, this isn't the time for fanciful dramatics over some blithering woman's soppy diary," he yelled, snatching it from her hands and stuffing it under the protection of his duster.

Willow wasn't certain what happened next, her vision was blurred from the constant battering of ice or maybe by the fact that Spike had once more grabbed her hand, dragging her with him in some sort of frenzied race against the storm.  Of course, being human and wearing boots that were far too tight didn't exactly allow for Willow to keep up with the blond, and she tripped, stumbling and twisting her ankle.  It was in that brief moment, when she simply knew she was going to collide with the ground, that the world spun and she found herself thrown over Spike's shoulder, being carried through the maze of graves that made up one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries.  Or rather, Willow realized as Spike put her down and roughly pushed her through an all too familiar door, the cemetery that housed his crypt.

"You've got to be joking," muttered Willow, stumbling blindly in the murky depths of the crypt as the door was slammed shut behind her and her clothes, saturated from the storm, hung heavily, clinging to her as the water ran off to form a puddle at her feet.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Spike laughed, tossing the journal onto one of his lounge chairs and shrugging out of his drenched duster, letting it fall to a sodden heap on the floor. Shaking his hair free of the water, causing the usual slicked back style to twist and curl about, he wiped down his hands on his jeans and picked up a box of matches.  Striking one, he lit the first of the many candles he had strewn about the crypt and glanced at the dripping wet redhead. "Come on, Red, I know it's not a palace but any port in a storm, right?

"Not this port," she said, half-heartedly as her teeth began to chatter from the cold and the interior of his crypt leapt to life under the flickering flames.  Willow frowned, immediately gasping at the pain from her temple and the room seemed to go on some psychedelic trip in a blur of pain and colors, making her feel quite sick.  Before she even had the chance to raise her hand to the bloody gash or attempt to steady herself, Spike was standing in front of her, far too close for her comfort, steadying her with one hand while the other cupped her chin and tilted her head back so he could examine the wound.

"Nasty cut," Spike murmured, sending shivers down her spine as he leant in impossibly closer and she closed her eyes.  His thumb brushed across her lips as he maneuvered her head to the side and Willow inhaled sharply, something that was surprisingly warm swept along her cheek and up to her temple.  As Spike's lips closed about the wound and he sucked lightly, Willow realized that he'd just licked her face clean of the blood, so she did the only thing she could think of in her frozen and numbed state of mind ~ she bit his thumb.  "You bloody little bitch."

Spike hollered, releasing her and yanking his thumb from between her startlingly sharp teeth.  They both took two steps back from each other, Willow stumbling slightly and gagging on the mouthful of blood that she'd inadvertently swallowed from her over zealous act of retaliation, while Spike sucked his damaged thumb, flabbergasted by her viciousness.  Pulling his thumb from his mouth and holding it firmly in his other hand, Spike examined the bite mark closely, his thick, rich blood still oozed freely from the puncture wounds and he glanced up at the redhead, about to give her a piece of his mind.

But what he saw...well, it left him speechless and all thoughts of a little bite mark were completely forgotten.

"What?" demanded Willow, fervently wiping at the blood that still marred her face

"Oh, Harem," Spike drawled lasciviously, tilting his head and licking his lips at the sight of her in the saturated outfit that was practically transparent, hiding nothing from the vampire who was more than happy to take it all in.  He waggled his eyebrows at her and Willow's frown deepened.  "Nice view."

"What?" it was more of a puzzled question this time as she followed the vampire's gaze and held her arms out wide to look down at herself.  "Oh, God!" She glanced back up the blond, only to find him thoroughly fixated on her practically naked frame and repeated her cry to a god she didn't believe in as her arms flew to cover herself from the vampire's gaze.  It wasn't enough and she took flight to the other side of the tomb in the center of the room, ducking down behind it to hide her nudity from the vampire.  "Spike, will you quite staring and get me a towel...or something...or anything...PLEASE?!?"

"You know, you really should get out of those wet clothes..." he strolled towards her, the lascivious smirk firmly in place.

"Don't you dare come any closer," Willow spat at him, standing up straight for a brief moment before remembering her near nude experience and dropping back down behind the tomb.  Spike merely laughed, turning away and fetching a towel.

"Keep your knickers on, Red," he threw the towel down on top of the tomb and she snatched it away as his smirk grew.  "Of course might be a bit late for that piece of advice."

Spike chuckled again, turning his back to her and strolling away.  Willow wasn't the only one who was thoroughly saturated from the storm, he was eager to shed his wet clothes and he quickly divested himself of his boots and sodden t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" the panic screech of the redhead demanded and Spike turned about to face her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" asked Spike, smirking and strolling towards her, his fingers straying down to the buckle of his belt, easily freeing the slimy leather from its hold.

For Willow there was something intimidating about being confined in a freezing, although well soundproofed, crypt with a semi naked and thoroughly deviant vampire, especially when he was strolling towards her. Even though the tomb stood between them she still felt she had to take a few steps back as he leisurely undid his fly, pulling the heavy material apart and exposing his...she spun before she had a chance to see exactly what those wet jeans held and behind her Spike laughed.

"And the view gets better and better," he stated, reminding her of her own near nude experience and Willow blushed, cautiously glancing over her shoulder as she backed up to the tomb again. It was at that precise moment of time when Spike decided to drop his jeans, letting them fall to a sodden heap about his feet, smirking he held his hands out wide, giving her a clear view of his naked body.  "See anything you like, Red?"

"Gosh," Willow said as innocently as she could, still looking at him over her shoulder and dropping her eyes down his flaccid but no less impressive cock.  Had he pulled this stunt a few years ago she would have been blushing furiously, maybe even fainting, but after Oz and endless years of surfing the net she'd had more than her fair share of exposure to the male anatomy.  However, by doing such an egotistical thing to her after the day or rather night she'd had just wasn't a smart move and she was more than ready to knock him down a few pegs.  "What a pleasant reminder that I'm not missing anything in my conversion to lesbianism."

"You need to get out of those wet clothes," Spike snarled, the smirk had fallen even before the word 'lesbianism' had formed on her pouty lips and he took a step forward, his hands on his hips almost in a defiant act of emphasizing his nudity.  The result was exactly what he expected, she spun to face him as her eyes widened.

"I am not getting naked with you!" she hissed and his smirk returned, his eyes dropping down to stare at the hard nipples that were clearly evident through the clinging, wet, gauzy material. She blushed furiously and brought the towel up to cover herself as she dropped back down behind the tomb so that only her face was visible.  "The day I willingly get naked with you is the day the world comes to an end."

"I'll hold you to that," Spike chuckled, turning away and wandering back to where he kept his meager rations of clothes.  "And trust me, if you don't get out of those wet things then the world will end quicker than you think."

"Trust you?" Willow asked, rolling her eyes and making some bizarre mocking sound in the back of her throat.  Still shaking her head, she turned her back to the vampire and glanced about the crypt in the strange flickering light that the few lit candles created.  She was cold and wet, her head was throbbing and she was trapped until the storm blew itself out with some wannabe shock-jock vampire.  Could the night possibly get any more bizarre?  Something soft and supple hit the back of her head with enough force to make her wince and she twisted around, ready to give Spike a good tongue lashing about his behavior in general when he cut her off.

"Get out of those clothes before you catch your death, I don't want a rotting corpse stinking up this place," Spike stated, already clad in a pair of old faded black jeans, coupled with yet another black t-shirt, and Willow glanced down at the top of the tomb to find the black silk shirt he generally wore lying where it had fallen.  Snatching it up, she spared the clothed blond one more venomous glare before doubling over and throwing up.  Spike stared at the tomb that hid her retching form and grimaced.  "Hey, rotting corpse would have been preferred to vomit!"

***

Hours later found Willow dressed in Spike's shirt, curled up under the warmth of his quilt in one of the armchairs.  There was only the faint aroma of vomit lingering to remind her of her previous embarrassment and the wet clothes that had been spread out to dry, of course that had been done after he'd helped her undress.  The world, Willow decided risking a quick glance up at the blond seated opposite her sound asleep in the other chair, as she knew it was definitely coming to an end.  Although she had to admit he'd been the perfect gentleman the whole time, which could've had something to do with the snide remark about his naked body being the cause of her nausea.  Gingerly she raised a hand to the cut that was still throbbing at her temple, at least it had stopped bleeding and the blinding pain had lessened to a dull ache.  Sighing, she returned her attention to the diary, pulling the quilt a little tighter about herself.

The tiny elaborate handwriting was hard to read by the weak light of the candles, but it was interesting.  She'd already read of Evie's first meeting of Rick and her less than favorable impression of him was amusing to Willow, since it was obvious that the two ended up together.  Still, Willow couldn't help but fall a little bit in love with her great-whatever grandparents, it was a tale that would rival any of the classic love stories and there was that wonderful sense of adventure thrown in as well.  Of course that was until she got to the horror part, involving the reading of a book that woke the creature.  Her face paled as she reread the words, the description of the dreadful monster and the tremendous battle that had ensued to overcome it.  Willow swallowed, surely Spike hadn't...Sitting up straight, she reread the first few lines of Evie's description of what had happened when the creature had first risen, of the bugs, the savage storm...the storm in Sunnydale that had seemingly blown up from nowhere.

"Oh no," Willow muttered to herself, tossing the quilt aside and getting to her feet.  She reread the passage again and sat back down.  "Oh no, this is not good."

Her first thought was to kill Spike, after all, the book would never had been read if he hadn't shown up and picked the stupid lock on a chest that was obviously not meant to be open.  But senseless violence wouldn't solve anything and if she killed him then she wouldn't have proof that she was not to blame for the mess.  What the mess was exactly, she wasn't sure ~ after all, the creature, if it had indeed risen when Spike had read from the book, would surely be in Egypt.  Wouldn't it?

The crypt suddenly felt too crowded, too restricted and she was starting to hyperventilate.  Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, Willow glanced up at the still sleeping vampire, maybe killing him would relieve some of the tension she was feeling.  Shaking her head, she stood up once more and tiptoed over to her clothes, the vast swathe of gauzy material had dried out quicker than Spike's clothes, which were still damp. It was surprisingly easier to get dressed in the outfit this time, she had developed a knowledge of how it all worked together and was fixing the heavy silver cincher when she turned about to find her boots.

"What are you doing?" Spike asked, he was practically standing on top of her and it was enough of a shock to send her reeling back, screaming like a banshee.

"Will you not do that?" Willow demanded, her heart pounding beneath her hand on her chest.

"You know I just love to hear you scream," he purred at her, smirking and she punched him in the chest.  "Now, now, don't tease, Harem, specially wearing that outfit..."

"Oh please," Willow stated, rolling her eyes and pushing him out of the way so she could grab the too tight boots.  "There are more important things happening, you may have released some sort of walking plague."

"What?" he asked and shook his head.  "I think that hail stone gave you more than a slight concussion."

Willow picked up the journal and threw it at him.  "1926, Evie read from the book, the same book that you read last night, the book of the dead, and wackiness ensued.  A creature, a walking plague arose, one that couldn't be destroyed by any mortal weapon..."

"Yeah, yeah," Spike yawned flipping through the pages.  "We've heard it all before.  So what?  We've got the Slayer...anyway, that was then, this is now and I certainly don't see any creature wandering around.  Maybe they killed it off back then."

"Oh please," she stated again, hopping about as she struggled to pull on the boots.  "It's eternal..."

"I'm eternal too...until someone cuts off my head or drives a stake through my heart..."

"Oh for the want of a sturdy stake," muttered Willow, finally pulling the boot on and once more wincing as it pinched her toes.  Spike tossed aside the journal and nonchalantly wandered over to the tellie.

"I'm just saying that once this 'thing' was taken down it was probably out for the count.  Anyway, you can't go anywhere yet, it's still dark out," he switched on the set, only to have the mid morning news blare out at him.  "Even though it's the middle of the morning..."

"See, this is not good," Willow stated, storming over to accompany the vampire to the door of the crypt.

Carefully, Spike eased it open a fraction and stared out into the gray darkness.  It was as dark as night, although illuminated as if by a full moon and he cautiously opened the door wider and stuck out his hand.  There was no agonizing pain as the light fell across it and no singed flesh.  Hesitantly, he stepped outside and stared up into the clear sky where the sun should have been, it was there but fully eclipsed by the moon.  Behind him in the crypt the television still blared, announcing the news that in Egypt the river Nile had inexplicably flooded its banks, while closer to home the coast line of Southern California was experiencing some strange phenomena with the tides being held back, leaving vast areas of the sea beds dry.

"Oh, this is just great," Willow turned away from the vampire and stumbled back into the crypt, wildly throwing her hands about.  "This is it, you've woken the creature, how the hell are we going to explain this to Giles, they're going to blame me, I just know it...and it's going to rain down frogs...I'm sure that's in the ten plagues somewhere..."

"Willow," Spike called to her, watching as she paced and ranted.  "Willow..."

"And why are we still here?" she stopped in front of him, practically screaming in his face.  "We have to tell Giles what you did."

"Hey," Spike admonished as she turned away again and picked up the journal.  "I didn't do anything."

"Did too," Willow hissed at him over her shoulder as she walked out of the crypt.

"Did not," yelled Spike before following her.

"Oh you so did," she insisted as he fell into step beside her.

"Did not," came the childish retort and Willow stopped walking, turning to face him.

"You did too," she slapped him hard against the chest with the journal.  "You read the book, I told you to leave things alone, but oh no, Mr Attention-Deficiency-Disorder just had to go and release the big bad..."

"What big bad?" asked an ever-familiar voice and both the vampire and the witch turned to stare at the Slayer.

"Oh Buffy, thank god," Willow sighed in relief and then pointed the proverbial finger at Spike.  "It's all his fault, I didn't do anything."

"Okay, Willow, what's his fault and where have you been anyway?  Tara's frantic," Buffy stated, closing the distance between them.  "When you didn't show up after the big storm she tried calling the Magic Box and there was no answer, so she came straight over to my place and why on earth are you dressed like that?"

"Actually, I didn't do anything," Spike reassured the Slayer, totally dismissing the panicking girl he was standing next to with a wave of his hand.  "Read a book aloud and Red here seems to think it's the end of the world."

"You actually read a book?" Buffy asked sarcastically.  "Gee, that must be a first."

"Hey..." Spike snarled, but was cut off by Willow.

"Excuse me?  Catastrophe happening, permanent solar eclipse, wild storms that come from nowhere, floods in Egypt, deserts where seas once were and..." Willow turned to face Spike, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening in fear. "And...and, oh my god, walking, rotting corpse coming directly at us..."

"Okay, that's it.  I don't have to take this from you two," spat Spike angrily.  "I've got thousands of people dying to insult me and you certainly don't have to get personal, I'll have you know that I'm in no way rotting."

"I don't think she means you, Spike," Buffy said quietly, staring over the blond's shoulder.

"Huh?" he asked and turned to follow the two girls line of vision. His mouth fell open and his scarred eyebrow arched up at the sight of the rotting tower of flesh that was striding towards them through the graves.  "Oh."

"Okay, so how do we kill this thing?" demanded Buffy, moving forward, readying herself for a fight.

Willow, meanwhile, was petrified and unable to move "What?"

"How do I kill it?  You know is a stake going to work? Decapitation?  What?"

"Oh," Willow frowned and glanced down at the journal she held.  Something clicked and she held out the leather bound diary. "A book...the book of the living."

"A book?" Buffy risked a quick glance at her friend and the book that was held out in front of her.  Shrugging slightly, she grabbed the diary and flung it at the creature in a move that would have made Xena and her chakram jealous.  The book bounced off the putrid flesh and fell to the ground.  Buffy spun to face the redhead. "You said a book!"

"Obviously not that book!" Willow screamed.

"Okay," Buffy stated, grimacing and charging forward to attack the creature.  She went for her classic moves, a hook kick to the back of the knee, dragging the rotting flesh forward as her open palm slammed up into his nose.  Well, where the nose would have been if it existed.  Instead her hand smashed into its face, making the creature stumble slightly.  Her other hand struck out at his chest, the rancid flesh split and her fist disappeared into the creature.  Shocked, Buffy stared at her hand that was tangled in what little flesh that existed.

"Eww..." the sound of disgust didn't just come from Buffy, behind her both Spike and Willow joined in her repulsion as she tried to shake her hand free of the decomposing muscles.  They watched as the monster wrapped its fingers about her wrist and pulled her hand free, lifted her effortlessly and tossed her over their heads.  They turned in time to see her crash into the side of a mausoleum and she was unconscious before she hit the ground.

"Buffy," Willow cried out as Spike dashed to the fallen Slayer's side.  She was fully intending to follow the vampire only a voice stopped her.  A voice that was dark and preternatural, speaking in an ancient language that she didn't understand, but it was still enough to make her stop and turn to face the inhuman thing that was standing in front of her.  It bowed down before her on one knee, a fetid hand reaching up to her as it continued to speak words that she couldn't understand.  Willow scowled down at the creature and took a step back.  "Err, okay, you know I don't have the faintest idea what you're saying...since I don't speak ancient, well whatever it is you're speaking..."

"You are the one," the creature spoke slowly, hesitantly, stumbling over the strange language that it had become acquainted with in the last century.

"Huh?"

"The true blood of the royal line..." it murmured and Willow took another step back from it, wildly shaking her head.

"Oh no, mister, you've got it wrong," Willow stated and the creature once more rose to its feet, following her.  "I'm not an Egyptian Royal, I'm a Californian college kid. Oh, oh and I'm Jewish ~ there you go, I'm a descendant of the slaves.  See, no Royal blood in this body...you're mistaken..."

There was a rumble of laughter and the foul stench of death hit her full force in the face as the walking plague towered over her.  For some reason Willow couldn't move, trapped by the strange eyes that bore into her very being.  One skeletal hand reached out and wrapped the copper strands of her hair about the remains of a finger.

"I don't think he's buying it, Red," Spike's voice was distant, lost in the sound of a sand storm that only Willow could hear as the creature continued to fondle her hair.

"Fire," it whispered, raising the lock of hair to its mouth in a mockery of a kiss.  "Elemental being...imperial and scared, you shall be restored to rule again..."

"Willow," Spike's voice wrapped about her dreamscape of an ancient world.  Deserts and an endless blue sky surrounded her, broken only by the bright gold of the sun that burnt like fire, seemed to be made of fire itself and warmed the air that enclosed her while her feet cooled in a flowing river.

"Elemental," Willow whispered and the word jerked her from the dreamscape, made the elements collapse and fall into each other until they no longer existed and the world was once more shrouded in darkness.  Jolting from her stupor, she took a step back and raised her hands.  "Disperse."

The sand storm that she'd heard whipped up, the hot wind bellowing about her.  As the wind tore at the creature, it stepped back and raised its hands to the heavens, threw its head back and laughed, a cold, malevolent sound that roared about the cemetery.

"A true daughter," it grinned manically, the sand already shredding it to pieces and the whirlwind of sand danced about Willow, the creature's words echoing about.  "Of Isis."

"Disperse," Spike hollered from behind her as the sand storm died off.  "Disperse is all you had to say and you didn't think to try it out sooner rather than later?"

"Spike," Buffy muttered as he helped her up, her head still throbbing from the heavy blow and her body screaming in agony.  "Shut up."

"We have to go," Willow stated, glancing up at the eclipsed sun.

"There's no rush," said Buffy.  "After all, you vanquished it...right?"

"Then how come everything's still the same?" asked Spike, glancing about the darkened cemetery as Willow retrieved Evie's journal from where it had fallen.

"Okay," agreed Buffy.  "We have to go."

The relatively short trip was made in silence, although once the threshold of the Magic Box was crossed the threesome became a bundle of noise, all talking at once.  But amongst all the chatter, one detail stood out.

"It's all his fault," Willow stated clearly, pointing her finger at Spike as they stood in the center of the floor of the store.  "I didn't do anything..."

"You started reading the bloody book in the first place," Spike snarled.

"Only because you picked the lock on the chest."

"See," Anya declared triumphantly from behind the counter.  "I knew that this was going to be trouble..."

"Willow," Xander interrupted.  "What are you wearing?"

"Does it matter what she's wearing?  You should have seen this thing, Giles," Buffy stated turning from Xander to the harassed Watcher, who was resting back against the research table.  Any further discussion was cut short by the sound of a crash in the training room.

"What was that?" demanded Giles, glancing towards the door that hid the room and pushing himself off the table.

The question was soon answered as the wall next to the door exploded in a fury of plaster and two militia creatures bounded through the wall, a small Egyptian chest held firmly in their grasp.  One bound saw them crush the counter and sent them hurtling towards the group.  As Willow, Anya and Xander screamed, the creatures opened their mouths and emitted the most ear splitting screech imaginable, swinging about with their ill-gotten gains and the chest collided with Giles head, knocking him unconscious.  As he fell, the creatures bounced off the wall and jumped through the storefront's window, shattering the glass before disappearing from view.  Even as the glass settled and the Scoobies gathered about the fallen Watcher, the shop door swung open.

"It is as I feared," a heavily accented voice behind them stated, making the occupants of the small shop turn and stare in wonder at the embodiment of tall, dark and handsome that stood before them, clad in flowing black robes.  Dark eyes stared at them from a handsome but decisively somber face that featured a number of sacred tattoos.  "I am too late, the creature has risen."
 

~Part Three~

"Coffee, coffee, coffee," Ben chanted piously, cradling the take away cup of coffee that he'd just bought from Starbucks on his way home from the hospital after a grueling and outrageously long shift.  He was so exhausted that he was starting to hallucinate, hence the coffee.  Sipping what he was certain the gods would now consider to be nectar, he pulled his car away from the curb and started the trek home.  The thing with any take away container is that they are made to be cumbersome and useless.  The second sip Ben took saw the plastic lid come askew and scalding hot coffee poured over his chest, causing the young intern to howl and drop the jumbo size cup. "Shit, shit, shit..."

He cursed, still trying to drive and pull his saturated shirt away from his chest.  A quick glance down showed that the cup had mercifully remained upright, but was threatening to overbalance at the first pothole he hit and unfortunately Sunnydale was full of potholes.  Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, Ben cautiously reached down, only to be pulled up short by his seatbelt that, as usual, had locked into place.  Rolling his eyes, Ben released the belt, silently vowing to get it fixed sometime in the near future, and leant over to retrieve the cup of coffee.

It was probably a mistake to take his eyes off the road, even for that brief moment where he'd picked up the cup. As he sat back up, grinning like a maniac at the successful retrieval of his precious coffee, there was something strange bounding directly towards his car.  The two macabre Creatures that held a small chest between them never stopped moving and their feet rose to travel over the car.

"Oh shit," Ben screamed, slamming on the brakes.  His coffee hit the windscreen a millisecond before he did, shattering the glass and careening over the bonnet, colliding with the chest and knocking it free of the Creatures' hold.  The front of the car collapsed under the force of their jump as they bounded onto the roof and Ben skidded along the rough surface of the road, taking the chest with him.  Unconscious and bleeding, he finally came to a halt, the chest settling down beside him while the lid lay a few feet away.

The militia Creatures looked at each other from the top of the car and shrugged.  Vaulting down, they collected both the fallen human and the chest, easily hauling both to their final destination.

***

Giles frowned slightly, looking at the stranger in the long black robes from under the ice pack that he held to his throbbing forehead.  "I'm sorry, but who are you again?"

"Ardeth Bay," the stranger replied, standing tall and proud while the others blatantly stared at him.  "I am part of an ancient secret society, the Medji, and we have a sacred mission that has been passed down through the generations. For over four thousand years we have guarded The City Of The Dead, we are sworn at manhood to do any and all in our power to stop the Creature from being reborn into this world."

"Yes, yes," Giles shook his head, trying to clear the confusion that clouded his mind. "And you're here because?"

"Really, you've been hit in the head too many times, Giles," Buffy declared, pulling back the icepack and ensuring that the bump on his head wasn't swelling anymore.  "Impending catastrophe."

"Yes," Ardeth replied, fixing his eyes on the blonde.  "Tell me, the Creature was still in its mummified state?"

"Mummified?" Buffy shrugged as she replaced the icepack.  "It was gross and rotting, my hand got stuck in it. If you want to call that mummified, then yes."

"Mummified?  A Mummy?  The impending catastrophe is a Mummy?" Giles asked somewhat skeptically from beneath the ice pack.  "You mean a dead thing wrapped in linen bandages and all that?  Let me guess, he was cursed..."

"Yes, with Hom-Dei," Willow murmured, nervously pacing behind the small group that was gathered about the table and more often than not she would glare stakes at Spike who was lurking in the shadows of the stairwell.

"How do you know about this?" Giles demanded, twisting in his chair to glance back at the redhead and she held up the leather-encased journal.

"Read a book."

"Oh," Giles frowned and turned back to the stranger who stood proudly before them.  "So the curse?"

"The Creature was the High Priest of Osiris at Thebes during the reign of Pharaoh Seti the First.  He and the Pharaoh's mistress, Anck-su-namum, shared a forbidden love and together they murdered the Pharaoh," Ardeth explained.  "Anck-su-namum killed herself when their deed was discovered and her soul was condemned to the dark underworld..."

"Let me guess," Xander demanded.  "This Priest guy decided to work some wicked mojo and bring back the love of his life?"

"Yes, for the love of Anck-su-namum he was willing to defy the gods," Ardeth acknowledged.  "But the resurrection was interrupted before it could be completed and the High Priest and those who had helped him were put to death.  The Creature himself was cursed with the Hom-Dai," he nodded in acknowledgement of Willow's general direction. "It was the worst of all ancient curses and one so horrible that it had never before been bestowed.  The Creature was sealed inside a sarcophagus with sacred flesh eating scarabs and the sacred spells were destroyed ensuring that he would remain the undead for all of eternity."

"Obviously that didn't work if it's up and walking about," stated Spike from under the stairwell, earning a venomous look from Willow.

"And we all know whose fault that is," she muttered, turning her back to the blond to pace.

"Yes, once more the Creature has risen and is a walking disease, a plague upon mankind, an unholy flesh-eater who has the strength of ages, power over the sands, and the glory of invincibility," Ardeth paused momentarily, the words seemingly echoing about in the ruins of the shop as everyone stared at him, mouths hanging open.

"Honestly, men!" stated Anya, rolling her eyes towards the heavens and immediately drawing everyone's attention.  The general look of bewilderment made her shrug and she began to explain herself.  "You can be certain that a male created this curse and they have no common sense when it comes to these things.  After all you would assume that they'd understand the basic concept behind the word curse ~ it isn't meant to empower the victim, it is meant to torture and torment.  Now had they let an Egyptian woman devise the curse you can be certain we wouldn't have this problem at all..."

The room was still silent and the general look of bewilderment that had graced the features of the small group turned to incredulity.

"What?  It's true.  Egyptian women are delightfully devious," Anya assured them all.  "I remember this one girl from Alexandria, her husband had this young concubine type thing set up ~ your basic dirty old man scenario ~ anyway, she wished that he'd sustain an erection at all times, except for when he actually came to do the deed, then he went all soft and squiggly.  Then there was another girl from Cairo who wished that whenever her ex got it on with another women that he'd be the greatest lover known to history and more or less instantly gratify the girl he was with ~ the real screaming 'til you're hoarse, fireworks type orgasm..."

"And that's a curse?" asked Xander skeptically.

"Well, at that exact moment, when everything is contracting, his penis would turn into an asp and bite the girl, which more or less resulted in instantaneous death.  Of course he was stuck then, as I said muscles clamping down and all, then a few hours later rigourmorteous would set in," Anya smiled broadly and shook her head at wonder of the deviousness of the curse.  "He was often trapped with a corpse for any number of hours and what with the heat and everything..."

"Thank you very much, Anya," snapped Giles as both he and Xander crossed their legs. "For painting that most disgusting picture, but I really don't think now is the time for a trip down memory lane.  We need to stop this...this thing."

"We have a greater chance of defeating the Creature in its weaker state, mummified," Ardeth stated.  "If it regenerates, then his powers will grow and he will bring about the ten plagues of Egypt."

"The ten plagues?"  Willow shifted nervously and she stared at the foreigner who seemed just too calm for his own good, she just knew frogs had to be involved somewhere. "You mean all ten plagues?"

"Like what Moses did to that Pharaoh guy?" Anya asked brightly.

"Well, yes," Giles stated, casting his shop assistant a wary glance.  "That's one way of putting it."

"Let's see, there were frogs," Anya frowned, counting on her fingers as she listed the plagues. Behind her, Willow whimpered and dropped down into a chair at the back of the table, she just knew frogs had been one of the plagues, she just hated and loathed frogs.  "Flies, locusts, hail and fire, the sun turning black, which we already have going, water turning to blood and my personal favorite: people covered in boils and sores..."

"I know I'm going to regret this," Giles murmured, closing his eyes briefly before fixing them on the ex-demon.  "But how do you know that?"

"You had to ask," Xander moaned, sliding off the table.

"Well, I decided that since I'm an American citizen I need to have a religion," Anya shrugged.  "So I've been researching some of the more popular beliefs in the States...I'm thinking about becoming a lapsed Catholic."

"Lapsed Catholic?  Surely you mean a Catholic?" Giles asked, quite certain that Buffy was right ~ he'd been hit far too many times in the head.

"Oh no, then I'd have to go to church every Sunday and I couldn't have sex," she stated.  "It's far easier to become a lapsed Catholic, then all I have to do before I die is say sorry. Not that I really have any faith in the Christian beliefs.  Look at the Christian God, it's a foolish god, contradictory even, and if He does exist then he's a paranoid delusionist.  All you have to do is read the Ten Commandments, they say that you shall not worship other gods because He is a true and jealous god, which basically states that other gods exist, but that we should only believe in the one god because He told us to..."

The room fell silent as everyone stared blankly at the ex-demon who was certainly doomed to Hell if God did exist after her little blasphemous speech.

"Remember that you did ask," Xander stated pointedly.

"And I can assure you," Giles winced as he reapplied the ice pack, blocking his view of the chaos of the room.  "I wish you'd stopped me."

Hey," Willow stood up, drawing everyone's attention.  "As much as I appreciate a good religious debate, I think we have bigger issues to discuss here."

"Yes," Ardeth stated.  "Undoubtedly the Creature will be seeking out those who were present when the chest was opened."

Willow spun about, paling even more.  "Excuse me?"

"What?" roared Spike, stepping out from the shadows and glaring balefully at the stranger.

"The chest that held the Book of the Dead, it is cursed," Ardeth stated calmly, moving around the table to face the two.  "The Creature will seek out those who were present when it was opened and assimilate their organs and fluids in order to regenerate."

"Assimilate??  ASSIMILATE?!  This is great," Willow stated sarcastically, turning away from the stranger and the others gathered at the table.  "Spike opens the chest, reads the book aloud and now...now we're doomed to be assimilated to regenerate some walking plague, together no less...at least I won't have to worry about the frogs..."

"This isn't good," Buffy stated, staring up at the man in the robes who'd been nothing but the bearer of bad news.  "Is there anything that can stop this Creature, does he have any weakness at all?  I mean he tossed me like a rag doll..."

"See, I told you not to touch anything but oh no, Mister I'm-Still-The-Big-Bad had to go and bring about the end of the world," Willow snarled at Spike, totally ignoring Buffy's question.

"Hey," Spike hollered back at her, taking a step forward to tower over the redhead. "You didn't tell me not to touch anything until after I read the book and you were the one who started to read it in the first place..."

"Why...you..." Willow couldn't manage another word as she launched herself at the vampire, her hands reaching out to wrap about his throat.  While she knew it wouldn't kill him, throttling him seemed the sanest thing to do.  Only her hands never reached their goal, instead an arm wrapped about her waist and hauled her back.  He smelt of sand and sweat, the foreign smells were even more aromatic from being baked in a fiery sun and Willow's eyes fluttered shut as Ardeth twisted her away from the vampire.  There was a wind blowing, warmth wrapped about her and she clung to the black robed arm that held her upright as the smell of the desert surrounded her while hot sand burnt her feet.

"My grandfather thought highly of your ancestors, he would have given his life to protect them and I will do the same for you," Ardeth murmured against her ear and Willow snapped out of her desert stupor to find herself still in the Magic Box, held in the very strong arms of a warrior who was vowing to protect her.

"Yeah, like some guy wearing a dress is going to be able to protect her," Xander muttered,

"It's not a dress, those are sacred robes," whispered Anya and Xander stared at her, she had a silly grin on her face and her eyes were glazed over.  He'd seen that look a million times before, usually accompanied with any number of romantic sighs just after she'd watched some sickeningly sweet girlie video.  Never had he seen the look directed at another man, until now.

"Anya," admonished Xander.  "You're drooling."

"This isn't helping," Buffy stated, standing between the two and watching as Ardeth continued to calm Willow while Spike slipped back into the shadows of the stairwell.  "Willow, you said something earlier on about a book being able to kill this...this Creature."

"Does this Creature," Giles asked, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the Medji. "As you keep calling it, have a name?"

"Yes," Ardeth released his hold on the redhead and turned to face the older man.  "But it is not spoken."

Giles lifted the icepack and stared most disbelievingly at the man.  "Why not?"

"To give the Creature a name would give it strength," he declared, tilting his head slightly and causing his hair to fall across his face in the most enchanting way, well enchantingly enough to cause Anya to sigh and Xander to grimace.  "It would acknowledge its existence."

Giles closed his eyes and replaced the icepack.  "Of course."

"The book, Willow," Buffy demanded, shaking her head at the currently useless Watcher, who would have perhaps been more helpful unconscious on the floor.

"The book?"  Willow repeated and frowned.  "Oh yes, it was the Book of the Living.  The Book of the Dead was sent, so surely the other book would be here as well..."

"No," Ardeth stated.  "It's not."

"What?  Why not?" it was a question that was asked by at least three of the occupants of the shop and the Medji shook his head, eliciting yet another sigh from Anya as his hair moved and with a dramatic flare of the robes he turned to face the Slayer.

"The Book of the Living, the gold book," he explained.  "Was destroyed in 1933. It was melted down so that the sacred spells and supplications could not be used against the Creature..."

"And no one thought to destroy the other book as well?" demanded Xander and he smirked superciliously.  "Guess these sacred Medji can't be that wonderful if they don't think to destroy the only thing that could release the Creature that they are sworn to watch over."

"Xander," reprimanded Anya, glaring at him disapprovingly and he watched as she turned her attention back to the Medji, that silly smile crossing her face as she tangled a lock of hair around her finger and slowly inched closer to the stranger.  It was typical, Xander thought, Willow was hanging off every word the guy said and Anya was trying to impress the bastard with tales of her past, not to mention the flirty moves she was doing...playing with her hair was her way of saying she wanted sex, now that she'd learnt the meaning of tact.

"The Book of the Dead was thought to be lost in 1933, in the ruins of the Oasis of Ahm Shere and it remained buried beneath the sands until 1939, when the site was disinterred by a German archeologist and his team.  Fortunately the Medji," Ardeth stressed the word as he tilted his head slightly in Xander's direction.  "Led by my grandfather, were able to retrieve both the book and the Creature."

"Then how did the book end up in London?" Willow asked quietly from behind him and Ardeth turned to face her, his dark eyes locking on her green.

"My grandfather wanted to ensure that the Creature would never again be called forth and so once the corpse returned to the original burial place at Hamunaptra, he took the book to England, entrusting it to the care of the O'Connell's.  It was the only place my grandfather considered safe."

"Oh..." Willow murmured softly, moving closer to his warmth and the draw of the desert that was wrapped about him  "But they died years ago, why wasn't anything done then?"

"It was.  With the blessing of their children we ensured that all of their possessions relating to Egypt and the Creature were to be lost, locked away from the world and securely mislaid in the red tape of the legal system..."

"Only someone found it," Giles concluded from under his icepack.

"Yes," Ardeth turned again to face the table and Willow moved in closer to his back, the dark cloth of his robes seemed to be ingrained with the primeval nature of the desert from the years spent living in Egypt.  "A young intern to the London law firm that handled the estate.  We were notified immediately and by the time I reached London the book was already on its way here."

"Great," Buffy declared somewhat dejectedly as she slumped into a chair next to Giles.  "So how do we stop this thing if we don't have the gold book?"

"I will contact my fellow Medji and inform them of the state of affairs," Ardeth declared.  "They will be here as soon as they are able, that will at least give us the advantage of numbers..."

"And how are you going to do that?" Buffy asked sarcastically.  "Send off a messenger bird?"

"No," Ardeth's brow furrowed as he drew out his mobile phone.  "Text message on my satellite phone...what do you think this is, the Middle Ages?" he shook his head as he applied himself to the task of creating the needed message while continuing the conversation.  "Until they arrive we need to ensure that the Creature does not regenerate, it is our only hope of defeating it."

"Well you know letting some ancient Egyptian Mummy suck the life out of my friends was not high on my to do list..." Buffy began, only to be cut off by Spike.

"Friend?" he asked, stepping out of the shadows and joining in the general conversation.

"Don't push it, Spike," Buffy glared at the blond before turning her full attention back to Ardeth who was now flanked by Willow and Anya, both of them wearing the most smitten looks on their faces.  "So how are we supposed to stop this thing?  I mean he's stronger than anything I've ever faced, if he charged in here now there'd be no way in Hell that I could stop him."

"We've got Red," Spike declared, shrugging nonchalantly as Ardeth completed the text message and pulled his robes open to return the phone to its original hiding place.  "She just does that 'disperse' thing and poof, he's gone."

"My," Anya crossed her arms, bringing one hand up to caress her lips and her eyes glazed over as her gaze dropped to Ardeth's crotch. "You've got quite a big sword."

"Okay, Anya, impending apocalypse with lots of gooey things, I don't think the size of his 'sword'," Xander emphasized the word by striking up quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he turned to face the stranger in black, who pulled forth his impressive silver weapon. The words of scorn died off as Xander stared at the huge piece of metal. "Wow...that's a big, sharp, metal, and not at all the phallic symbol I thought Anya was referring too, sword."

"It is not a sword," Ardeth replied, tilting the blade and catching the light. "It is a scimitar, a sacred and ancient Medji weapon that has been handed down through my family. It hasn't been used in warfare since 1933." A smile broke out across the somber face. "This is going to be fun!"

***

Ben groaned, the exquisite pain of gravel rash and general bruising forcing him back into consciousness.  He shifted slightly and winced, there was nothing soft about the floor he was lying on, in fact if he had to hesitate a guess he'd say he was resting on sandstone.  Scuffing about, Ben attempted to find some sort of balance so that he could get to his hands and knees, but it was to no avail and after his fourth attempt he simply slumped back down and excruciatingly rolled over onto his back.  He squinted into the darkness, silently assessing his injuries, and then he heard it.

Somewhere in the darkness something was moving, he could hear it creeping towards him.  It wasn't so much the sound of footfalls that alarmed Ben, more the lack of them.  Instead there was a rasping of air, the type of sound that he had heard any number of times before at the hospital, a death rattle.  But that was generally just once, now in this darkness the sound was repeated, over and over again.

"Who's there?" Ben demanded, despite the pain the question caused him.  There was no answer, the rattle just moved closer as the stench of putrid flesh filled the air and Ben gagged, but he never had the chance to vomit. Claw like hands tangled in his shirt and the room seemed to explode in light, illuminating the inhuman face and the mouth that was opened wide, mocking the very scream that left Ben's lips as the life was drawn out of him.

Imhotep dropped the wizened corpse to the ground and grinned, flexing his hands and reveling in the solid flesh that made up his fully restored body.  Strength was his as was power, and it all led him closer to the one thing he desired.

***

"Kitty, kitty," Spike sung, holding the cat in the air, dangling it above his face and he shot a look at Willow, propped up on Xander and Anya's bed fervently rereading the journal.  They'd been stuck there for ages, locked safely away in the couple's bedroom with the cat that Tara had brought over after a phone call.  Xander, Buffy and Tara had gone back to the Magic Box to retrieve the necessary volumes of supernatural law that had been forgotten in the mad rush to get Willow and Spike to safety, while the Medji, Anya, Dawn and the still severely concussed Watcher were on the other side of the locked door.  Spike sighed and shook the cat. "How the hell is Kitty meant to protect us?  Bat the big bad to death?"

"Cats are the guardians of the underworld..." Willow mumbled, not even bothering to look up at him and Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow.  She was oddly quiet, especially when she was anywhere near the Medji, almost like she was in some sort of trance and it unnerved Spike somewhat.

"In other words, you haven't the faintest idea.  After all, love, he's cursed, he can't enter the underworld so why would he be scared of their guardians?" as if to prove a point he morphed into the demon and growled at Miss Kitty, she hissed and struggled in his grasp, setting herself free and scurrying away from the vampire to hide under the bed.  "Oh yeah, that little kitty is really going to scare away..."

"It's not the chest," Willow whispered, turning pale as she reread the passage that described the sacred chest that had housed the Book of the Dead in Hamunaptra.

"What?" asked Spike, frowning slightly as he watched her, the fun of teasing the cat put aside for the moment.

"The chest that we opened, it wasn't the chest that's cursed," Willow looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry and the heavy ornate silver cincher of her outfit tinkled as she shifted on the bed.  "They took the chest."

"They?"

"Those things that were at the Magic Box, that's what they were fetching," Willow insisted, jumping off the bed and handing the book to Spike, pointing out the passage.  "That's why the Creature didn't try to suck us dry at the cemetery."

"Then what the hell was he after at the cemetery?"

"I..." Willow didn't have the chance to answer the blond as the double glass doors that led to the small patio outside exploded, sending shards of glass flying through the room.  Reacting purely on instinct, Spike grabbed her and dragged her close, cradling her in his arms as he leant over and turned his back to the maelstrom.  It seemed to be forever before the roar faded and the room stilled.  Ever so slowly, Spike straightened up and, ensuring that Willow was safely behind him, turned to face the doors and the huge man who stood before the ruins clad in a simple loincloth.

"Oh shit."

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