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 Chapter One: Part of Your World

 "Why do we have to go to Sunnydale?" Bobby asked.

"Because of the sudden rash of unexplained murders," the Official answered.

"But the death rate is already one of the highest in the nation. Especially among teenagers," Darien pointed out for the second time during the course of the meeting.

"I know that. You are to bring me a plausable explaination for the deaths," the Official bellowed at the two agents.

"Fine," Bobby grumbled.

"Fine," Darien repeated.

*****

The town of Sunnydale was quiet, almost quaint. The school was being rebuilt after a fire two years ago, so all the kids went to the next town over. So, at four in the afternoon, most of the younger population still hadn't returned to their homes.

"Nice," Bobby commented as he drove past the Sun Cinema. "Wonder if they have anywhere to get a decent coffee."

"There's a Starbucks on Main. Keep going that way," Darien pointed out the directions.

"How do you know that?"

"I lived here once. For about a month."

"Really? Why?"

"Oh, just something to do, I guess."

Bobby looked at him suspiciously and dropped the subject like Darien had obviously wanted to do.

*****

It was decided to check out the local club after dark to check out the populace.

The Bronze was smoky and crowded. Dingoes Ate My Baby wailed out an uninspiring tune about an ex-girlfriend. Darien remembered reading that their lead guitarist had taken off with out a warning about a year ago. He tried to remember where he'd read that while Bobby got beers from the bar.

"They don't even card here, Fawkes," Hobbes commented, setting the glasses on the table.

"Oh, well, we're not the ATF. Let them worry about it," Darien replied.

"Whatever. Anything interesting?"

"Yeah, the redhead over there," he said. He pointed to the middle of the dance floor where a girl danced very closely to a bleach-blonde. She was average height, but nothing else about her was average. She was dressed in black vinyl from head to toe. Including the bustier wrapped around her slender waist and small breasts. Her movements toward the blonde indicated an intimacy between the two. Red hair flew around her face as she shook her hips and bounced in time with the music and her partner. Her green eyes flashed with desire for her blonde companion.

When the song ended, the couple made for the door in hurried motions. Darien and Bobby, having decided that this girl was as good a place to start as any, followed at a safe distance.

They weren't aware of their own followers until it was too late...

*****

"Wake up, Darien," Bobby purred.

Darien sat up and looked at his surroundings. Everything was clearer and brighter than when he went to sleep. Wait, did he go to sleep? He couldn't remember. He winced at the stinging pains of hunger that blasted their way through his stomach.

"What... What's happened to me, Hobbes? Why am I so hungry?" Darien asked, his voice tight with panic.

"You're one of us now, mate," a new voice came from the shadows. The owner of the soft accented lilt, that reminded him briefly of Claire's, stepped out into the light. He was tall, with bleached hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in all black, smoking a cigarette. The man from the club.

"What are you?" Darien yelped.

"We're vampires, ya git. I'm Spike, your grandsire."

"Grandsire?" Darien looked puzzled.

"He's my sire. And I'm your sire," Bobby whispered in Darien's ear.

Darien searched his brain for the meaning of "sire". "You.. You turned me, Bobby?"

Bobby nodded smiling, "Yeah, no one, will tell us what to do ever again, Darien. We're so much better than humans. We have power now!"

"Chill, mate," Spike snapped, "he can learn the joys of being a vampire later. Now, he needs to eat." Spike walked to the refridgerator and pulled out a bag of what looked like blood to Darien. He ripped open the bag with his teeth and poured its contents into a coffee mug.

Afterwarming the mug in the microwave, Spike handed the mug to Darien. He took a long, slow drink and winced at the tangy, metallic flavor. He downed the rest of the blood and slammed it down on the table to his left.

"Thanks, man," Darien said, licking his lips and frowning at the discovery of his sharper, elongated canines. "Ok, so, someone want to explain a few things?"

"Like what?" a distinctly feminine voice said. She was carefully shutting and locking the door to the small apartment.

"Hello, pet. Did you have a nice time shopping?" Spike asked the girl.

Darien stared at her. She was beautiful, no doubt about that. The girl from the club.

"Who's your new friend, William?" she asked the blonde. She hugged and kissed him. Darien knew from their actions at the club and then today that they were lovers.

"Where are my manners, pet? This is Darien. He's a friend of Bobby's. Darien, this is Willow. My favorite little redhead," Spike said, running a long-fingered hand throught her bright red hair.

The petite girl held her hand out to Darien. He shook it and smiled. His smile faded slightly. "Wait, are you... Is she..."

"A vampire?" Spike finished for him. "No, mate, she's not. She won't let me turn her until she finds a more permenant restoration spell."

"Restoration? To restore what?" Darien asked.

"Tsk, tsk," Bobby chided, "don't you worry about that. We'll talk about it later. For now, let's hunt."

"Hunt? People?" Darien asked, feeling even more puzzled.

"Yes, people. We drink their blood. It's our raison d'etre, you could say," Spike said.

"You *do* say. But no killing, you three!" Willow shouted from her place in the kitchen.

"Right, no killing. I'll rip both of your throats out if I find out you did," Spike snarled.

"Killjoy," Bobby muttered.

"What was that?" the blonde vampire snapped.

"Nothing, Spike. Just a little bit of tension releasing itself." Bobby turned to smile at Darien. "Shall we?" he spoke with an air of confidence solely belonging to the senior agent.

Darien nodded his acquiesence and shuffled toward the door.

*****

"Hobbes?"

"Ssh."

"Hobbes? We need to talk."

"Fawkes, will ya shut up? You're fucking up my concentration."

"Sorry," Darien whispered. He stood for a moment before following Bobby into the alley.

Every one of Darien's senses were onoverload. Things flew through his mind at the most astonishing rate. He could smell things now. Blood, fear, panic. All of which got his own lifeless blood boiling. He stopped to watch as Bobby tracked his victim.

Bobby seemed to take such a perverse pleasure in playing with his victim. It almost saddened Darien to see so much of what he liked about Bobby being snuffed out, ripped away with his soul. He was determined to retain some shred of his humanity, if it killed him... again.

Darien's face dulled in thought a moment, like he was drawing inside himself to find a peaceful place to think. It was hard to do any thinking with this demon in his soul's home.

Darien wasn't sure why he felt such a hole in his existance. One that Bobby apparently didn't feel. He'd have to ask Spike about it later.

For now, he was hungry... again.

*****

Darien walked down the middle of a deserted street looking for a snack. He looked up in the sky expecting to see stars twinkling down on his dark purpose. Instead, he was greeted by the ever-shining sun in all its glory.

His first instinct was to run and hide, but something stopped him. The realization that he wasn't on fire took over his senses. The second thing that confronted him was Kevin.

"Hey," Kevin spoke softly.

"You-- You're dead," Darien choked out his whisper of a greeting.

"So are you. And you have questions. I'm here to answer them," Kevin offered.

"How are you here?" Darien asked, still reeling in his disbelief.

"I'm here because the Powers that Be want me here."

"The Powers that Be what?"

"They get that a lot," Kevin laughed. "Now, I don't have long, so ask me your real questions."

"Will I still have to have the counteragent?" Darien asked warily. He hoped he got the answer he wanted.

"No, you won't. Your "demon" that emerged when you went quicksilver mad is gone. He left your body with your soul. You're just Darien the vampire, who has an amazing trick up his sleeve."

"Good, can I get the gland taken out now? Since I'm already dead, ya know?"

"No, the gland turns to dust with you. If you ever get dusted, that is. Beware of the Slayer, Darien. She alone has the power to destroy you, inside and out. So, don't fuck with her, ok?" Kevin touched his brother's arm fondly.

"What happened to me and Bobby?"

"You were attacked outside the club. Not by Spike, 'cause I know that's what you're thinking. Willow wouldn't allow it, anyway."

"Will I ever see you again?" Darien asked, a tear threatening to make an appearance at the corner of his eye.

"Not in this life or the next. But know that I'm watching you, and I always will be. So, behave, please. You've been given another great thing. Even if it is ruled by evil. Don't waste it, and don't piss off the wrong people," Kevin smiled warmly and laughed. Darien almost melted in happiness. His brother *was* in a better place now. He hadn't been told as much, but he knew. He just *knew*.

"I'll behave, Kevin," he promised.

"Now, Darien, wake up, ok?" Kevin said. At that, he vanished in a swirl of mist. Darien's hand shot out into the mist and touched something human. His brother's soul. He clutched madly at it, trying to retain a bit of it for himself.

A burning sensation began at the back of his head, and he turned to dust.

*****

Darien woke in a cold sweat. He was drawing deep, unneeded breaths to calm his unbeating heart. "Christ almighty," he said in between pants.

"You okay, there, partner?" Bobby asked from across the room.

"Yeah, just a dream, Bobby. I'm fine," Darien replied. Hobbes sat up and walked to Darien's bed. He laid a gentle hand on Darien's bare shoudler. Without even registering it, Fawkes leaned into the touch, drawing strength from it. When he looked into Bobby's eyes, he didn't see the light of the demon who took such joy in the suffering of a human. He saw his old friend, his partner. "I'm fine. It was just really intense."

"You're sure?" Hobbes asked again, his voice thick with an emotion only described as concern.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks, man. Get some sleep, ok? Spike said something about a bit of work tomorrow," Darien replied.

"Yeah, you too, buddy." With that, Bobby went back to his bed and back to his demon's dreamless sleep.

But Darien was not gone so easily. He stayed awake for hours thinking, analyzing, over-analyzing his dream. Did he catch that part of his brother he had been so frantic to keep for himself? He wouldn't know until later.

He looked out the window at the masked sunshine. He almost wished he could be out there right now. But he had to remind himself that if he went out there, he would die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live - or un-live, as the case was - for Kevin. For the part of Kevin that remained within him. The part of Kevin's soul forever embedded in his demon psyche.

*****

"Spike?" Willow asked softly. She didn't want to wake him if he was sleeping.

Spike groaned and scratched lazily at his chest where her hair had fallen.

"Spike, are you awake?"

"I am now," he replied. He opened one eye and looked at her. "This had better be so important, luv."

"I think it is. Something's bothering me."

"About?"

"Darien."

"What about 'im? He's kinda lost right now. Adjusting and all that bollocks," he said, keeping one eye closed.

"He seems different than any of the others. He seems more like you than he does Bobby."

"You're right. His human personality must be slightly stronger than the demon. Like mine was," he pointed out.

"Yeah, that's probably it. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before."

"Don't worry about it. Sleep. You can talk to him tomorrow. Okay, pet?"

"Okay," she replied, kissing his earlobe. She snuggled closer to his body, warming it with her own.

*****

Chapter Two: The Answers to Your Questions

Darien awoke to the sound of a soft female voice singing a song about a girl named Annie. A song he was vaguely familiar with. He dressed quickly and left his room to find Spike.

"Good evening, sunshine," Willow smiled as Darien walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Willow. Do you know where Spike is?" he asked.

"I always know where Spike is, but before I tell you, I need to talk to you for a moment."

"About what?"

"About you, Darien. About a few other things, as well. But first, are you hungry?" She was playing mother hen. Or at least, mother vampire.

"Yeah, I'm starved. I have a few questions, too, Willow. I really need to find Spike."

"Fine. Eat first, and talk to me. Then, I'll tell you where he is," she said, handing him a mug of warmed blood.

"Thanks, Willow," he said, taking a drink of the red liquid.

"Now, about those questions..."

"Oh, yeah, I'm wondering how much of my soul I kept when I was turned. My brother seems to think that I'm just another vampire, but I'm not so sure."

"You're not just another vampire. And, brother? Have you talked to any of your family?"

"No, my brother was in my dream last night. He answered a few questions I had about the gland. Um, I mean... Aw, crap..." he winced. He scrubbed at his face with his palms, wishing he could take back his last statement. But Willow's curiousity was immediately piqued.

"Gland? What are you talking about?"

Darien sighed and thought for a moment. Did he tell her, or try to avoid the question? He hadn't known Willow for long, but he knew what her Resolve-Face looked like. And right now, she was wearing it in spades. "My brother created this gland that allows me to go invisible. He was killed about a year ago."

"I'm sorry. Even though you're one of the undead now, you still have minute ties to those from your life. I mean, I don't know from expirience or anything, but Spike talks about his brother and mother sometimes. I'm rambling..." she stopped talking and smiled.

"It's ok. I'd dealt and settled into the life of an unwilling government secret agent," he paused, "But Kevin told me that the gland turns to dust with me. And that I don't need what we called Counteragent anymore."

"Why wouldn't you need it?"

"Long story. It was a pain in my ass, and I'm glad to be rid of it."

"Good enough. Why were you looking for Spike?"

"Oh, I just had a few questions for him. I feel kinda like I have this space in me. And that nothing will ever fill it again," he admitted.

"That's where your soul was. I'm guessing. Spike was the same way, so he says. His personality and his will to live were both so strong, they acted as demon tamers. Enabling him to love," she smiled wistfully. "He's still evil, and he doesn't have his soul, but he's just what I need, and that's good enough for him."

"Good. I have another question. Kevin told me that it wasn't Spike who attacked us. But when I woke up, Spike said he was my grandsire. What's the real story, Willow?" Darien's eyes narrowed on the petite girl.

"That is the real story. Spike is your grandsire. He turned Bobby without my knowledge. I probably wouldn't have let him do it, to be honest with you.

"You and Bobby were attacked outside the Bronze three nights ago. When Spike found out, he was furious that someone would be stupid enough to try and kill to federal agents. So, when he found Bobby, he saved him, turned him. We found you in the hospital the next day and brought you here. Bobby knew you were going to die and begged to turn you. The rest is, as they say, history."

"Whoa." Darien stared blankly at the equally blank wall in front of him.

"Yeah, but it's nice to have you around."

"Whoa, I have nothing else to say but whoa."

"Nothing else? From the way Bobby talks about you, you always have something to say."

"Really? Well, I have one more question actually. Who's the Slayer?"

Willow's face paled and her demeanor turned deathly serious. "Buffy is the current slayer. She's a very good friend of mine, who doesn't approve of my relationship with Spike. She would rather me be with Tara."

"Who's Tara?"

"A friend of mine who was in love with me for a time. But she accepted that I could never love her like that while I was with Spike. She's a witch, too."

"Oh, so, why did Kevin warn me not to fuck with the Slayer?"

"Because she'd dust you in a heartbeat. She'd let you live if she knew you were my friend, but if you met her in a dark alley, you wouldn't stand a chance in Hell."

"Really? Well, perhaps I should meet Buffy."

"I need to go see her anyway. We can go tonight if you want. She should still be up."

"Yeah. I can be ready in about twenty minutes. That good for you?"

"It's a date," she answered with a charming smile pasted to her face.

"Okay, I'll just finish this," Darien said with a smile of his own.

*****

"Why am I so nervous, Wills?" Darien asked, his voice filled with not a little bit of trepidation.

"Because you're a vampire, Dare. She's the Slayer. It's only natural," she assured him.

"Oh, okay."

Darien's eyes flew to the door, his senses tingling with an uneasy queasiness. The door to 1630 Revello Drive opened to reveal a smiling brunette.

"Hey, Willow," the girl said.

"Hi, Dawnie. Is Buffy still up?" Willow asked her.

"Yeah, she just got home from patrolling. Giles just left, too. He was here on official Watcher duty or something."

"Oh, well. I'll just see him tomorrow at the Magic Box. Can we come in?"

"Yeah, come on in," Dawn said, stepping back to allow them entrance. "Who's the hunk?" she whispered conspiratorily to the witch.

"He's a vampire," a voice floated down the stairs. "Hi, Wills. Who's your friend?" Buffy nodded at Darien and glared hatefully.

"This is Darien. Darien, that's Buffy. Dawnie here is her sister," Willow introduced. "How's your mom, Buffy?"

"Mom's sleeping. Why did you bring him here, Willow?" Buffy asked, not too happily.

"He's a friend. He didn't ask for this, Buffy." Willow looked at her best friend pleadingly.

"Well," Buffy began, "As long as he doesn't try to make a meal of Dawn or Mom, he can stay."

"He won't, Buffy," the redheaded witch promised. "So, how's the Glory thing coming?"

"She's still here, and we still don't know what she is. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever know," the Slayer admitted.

"We'll find out, Buffy. I promise." Willow placed her hand on Buffy's shoulder and squeezed gently. The blonde nodded sorrowfully.

"So, Darien, was it?" Buffy inquired.

"Yeah," he replied.

"What did you do before joining the ranks of the not-so-living?"

"I, um, worked for the government. I don't suppose it matters who knows now. I mean, I am considered dead," Darien commented thoughtfully.

"Cool! Were you like a spy or something?" Dawn asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Not quite," Darien smiled, "You could say I was a lab rat."

Dawn's nose scrunched in confusion. "Huh?"

Darien smiled again and bent down to her ear and whispered loud enough to be heard by all, "Wanna see a cool trick?" Dawn nodded furiously and glued her eyes to the tall man standing in front of her.

Darien grinned and sent the thought to the gland. He felt the quicksilver coating his body. Something was different, very different. He quickly shook the quicksilver off and looked at Willow. "I don't remember it ever feeling like that."

"You were a different person then, Darien. Remember that, ok?" Willow smiled understandingly.

"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen, Darien!" Dawn exclaimed. "How do you do that?"

"Long story, kiddo. Maybe I'll tell you another time, ok?"

Dawn nodded and smiled at him. "Can you turn me invisible, too?"

Darien laughed, "Yeah, another time, too." He placed a gentle hand on her head and gave a soft push. She let her head fall back and pop upright once more. When she looked at him again, she had the sweetest grin pasted to her face, one of adoration, respect, and most of all, trust. Darien had always been good with kids, but this one was on his level.

"So, Wills, what did you need to see me about?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, um, do you think we could talk in your room maybe?" Willow lowered her voice.

"Oh, I didn't know you had guests, Buffy," Joyce said from the bottom of the stairs.

"Mom, this is Darien. He's a friend of Willow's," Buffy offered.

"Hello, Darien. I just came down to make some hot chocolate. Would you like some, Darien?" she asked.

"I would love some, ma'am. Come on, Dawn, I can tell you my life story over hot chocolate. How about it?" he said. Dawn stood up and started toward the kitchen. Darien put a hand on her shoulder and held out his arm for her's. She giggled and linked her arm through his. They giggled all the way into the kitchen.

"Willow, what was it you needed?" Buffy asked once they were alone.

"I wanted to ask you not to dust Darien or his partner."

"I get not dusting Darien, but why not his parnter? And what kind of partner are we talking about here? And how can he turn invisible?" Buffy took a breath and looked at her friend expectantly.

"Like he said, long story. I bet Dawn'll fill you in later. Bobby is Darien's partner from his work. Please, just leave them alone. Darien really needs Bobby right now. Darien doesn't get it, but I do. His feelings for his partner run deeper than simple friendship," Willow spoke in an almost loving tone.

"Oh. Fine, Darien and Bobby are off the slay list. I kinda like Darien. He seems to get along well with Dawn," Buffy said, smiling. "He just might be a good thing for her right now. She seems to trust him, like him."

"See, good things can come from vampires," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, I know."

*****

"Aiesha? Hey, this is Dawn."

"Hey, girl, why are you calling so late?"

"Sorry, were you sleeping?"

"No, I was just catching up on late night T.V. What's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to tell you about this guy I met."

"Really? So, dish, girl!"

"Well, he's tall, fine, and so funny! He told me his life story over some of Mom's hot chocolate."

"I need to get that recipe from your mother."

"Ha, you should. Guys'll flock."

"Yup, well, can I call you tomorrow? I think I'm getting ready to crash here."

"Yeah. Night, Aiesha."

"Night, Dawnie."

*****

Chapter Three: The Search

"Any progress, sir?" Claire asked hopefully.

"No, we've got agents all over Sunnydale, but they're no where to be found. How close is Darien to..." the Official trailed off.

"Any time now, sir. It is just so important that we find him and being him in before he goes quicksilver mad," she stressed her words harshly. It had been five days since Bobby's last call, and the stress and worry was getting to her. "Any time," she repeated, "Unless, heavens forefend, something's happened to him."

"We have our best agents out now, Claire," the Official spoke softly, almost kindly, "We'll find them."

"I know, sir. I know." But she didn't know. She was as heartbroken at the partners' disappearance as the entire Agency was. "I'll be in the Keep. Call me if..."

"Sir!" Eberts said breathlessly from the doorway, "We have a lead!"

"Well? What is it, Eberts?!" the Official shouted at the lackey.

"One of the reports from our agents in Sunnydale tells of Fawkes and Hobbes being attacked outside of a local club; The Bronze, I believe," Eberts sputtered.

"Attacked?" Claire whispered.

"Yes. The reports aren't clear on the attackers, but Special Agent in Charge Whalley says that she's positive that it was Agent Fawkes and Agent Hobbes."

"We've got to go to Sunnydale, sir! We have to see if they're all right!" Claire insisted.

"Eberts, is there anymore to that report?" the Official asked calmly.

"Yes, Fawkes was found a day later, checked into Sunnydale General Hospital," Eberts flipped through the file folder he was carrying, "He was listed under the name 'John Doe 09' due to the lack of ID on his person. Police suspect the motive for the attack was robbery."

"Where is Darien now?" Claire looked at Eberts expectantly.

"He was reported missing from the hospital two days later. A nurse went in to check on him, and he was gone from his bed. Nothing has been seen or heard about him since."

"Sir, let's go. Let's not waste anymore time," Claire pleaded.

"Eberts, get the car ready; we're going to Sunnydale," the Official ordered.

*****

The streets of Sunnydale were silent as the black Agency car crept down the asphalt toward the hospital. Claire had suggested that was the best place to start their search.

The hospital was quieter than the streets had been. Claire glanced around and walked slowly, calmly to the nurse's station. "Hello, I'm Dr. Claire Keeply. I'm with the Department of Health and Human Services," she reached into her purse and held up her badge for the round woman manning the desk, "I need to ask you or someone about a patient that disappeared from this hospital a few days ago."

"Who are you looking for, doctor?" the woman who's name tag identified her as Gwendolyn Mondle, RN asked.

"A Mr. Darien Fawkes. He was listed under the name 'John Doe 09'," she again searched her purse and flashed a picture of Darien. "This is the man I need information on. Have you seen him, Nurse Mondle?"

"Yeah, I went to check his vitals day before yesterday, and he was nowhere to be found. Security searched the entire hospital for him and came up empty," she answered. Gwendolyn spoke simply and plainly, which led Claire to believe that she was telling the truth.

"Is there someone in Security I could speak with? Someone on the Administrative Staff, perhaps?"

"It's rather late, and the only person on the Board that would still be here would be Dr. Mitchell. I could page him, if you'd like."

"Could you? That would be of great help, Nurse Mondle," Claire smiled at the woman.

"Call me Gwen, dear. Happy to help. That young man didn't look all that well, and I'm worried about him," Gwen said sympathetically.

"Me too, Gwen. Me too," the blonde Keeper sighed softly.

*****

Claire walked up the two flights of stairs to Dr. Mitchell's office. She paused briefly before knocking twice at the beautifully polished mahogany door.

"Come in," a stern man's voice came through. His tone indicated weariness, a desire to be else where maybe.

The Keeper turned the brass knob and opened the door. "Hello," she started, "My name is Dr. Claire Keeply, and I'm an agent with the Department of Health and Human Services. I have a few questions about a recent patient. A Darien Fawkes."

"I don't recall the name," he groused.

Her eyes darted to the golden nameplate on the desk. Dr. Anthony Mitchell, M.D. glared at her solidly while she gained her footing. This man was not going to be as forthcoming with the information as the nurse at the front desk.

"Well, he wasn't listed under that name. It is my Agency's understanding that his identification was missing. He was admitted as 'John Doe 09'," she recalled for the second time that evening.

"Ah, yes. Nurse Mondle has spoken to me twice about him. That woman worries too much, I'll tell you that."

"Well, I'm looking for him. He's an agent of the Government and a very dear friend of mine. I have been sent by my boss to find him. Is there any information you can give me that might lead me to his whereabouts?" Claire asked briskly.

"No, miss. He was here, now he's not."

Claire struggled to keep her smile hidden at the doctor's choice of words.

"I know, but was there anything unusual about him? Anything you noticed in his bloodwork, any test you ran, anything that may help?"

"No. There was a high amount of an unknown chemical compound in his blood stream that we were curious about. And he seemed to have an extra gland in his brain. Maybe you could explain a few things to me, Dr. Keeply," he said, narrowing his beady eyes at her.

"I'm sorry, but that information is classified, Dr. Mitchell," she smiled smugly, "Thank you for your time, doctor. My Agency appreciates your cooperation, sir."

"Well, glad to help, little lady. If you have any more questions, you should ask Security. I saw the man for two minutes the day he was brought in, but the guards would know more than I do."

"Thank you. I will be sure to ask them if I need anymore information," she smiled and stood. Extending her hand, Claire caught the older doctor's eye and held his gaze for a split-second, hoping to convey that she and her colleagues were not to be toyed with.

She turned and left the lavishly decorated office. "Sheesh," she muttered softly.

*****

"Darien, where are you?" Claire whispered into the night air. The stars had been twinkling so brightly outside. They invited her to some secret soiree of sensuality. She stood on the balcony to her hotel room and breathed in the salty air. A gentle breeze blew her hair away from her face. She repeated her question, a little louder this time.

"I'm right here," a voice came from below her.

Startled, she leaned over the wrought-iron balcony to find Darien standing no more than twelve feet below her. Her blue eyes widened in shock and relief flooded her body, so much so that she thought she would pass out.

"Darien?" she finally managed to croak. "Is it you?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Keepy, it's me. Can I come up?"

"Yes, of course," she answered. The briefest hint of a smile on Darien's face didn't escape Claire's excellent observation.

*****

The soft rap at her door brought Claire back to reality. She went to her suitcase and removed the vial of counteragent and a syringe. Sliding the bolt, twisting the lock, she opened the door to Darien's smiling face. Not missing a beat, she threw her arms around his neck and held him close.

His arms instinctively went to her waist. He was reluctant to let her go. The sound of her heart beating, thundering in his ears was like the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

"I missed you too, Keepy," he whispered.

"Where the Hell have you been?" she shouted.

"Calm down, Claire. I'll tell you the whole story, I promise."

"Fine. Um, let me see your tattoo," she said, reaching for his wrist. His hand jerked out of her reach. Her eyes flew to meet his; his eyes were brown, not QSM scarlet.

"You don't have to check that anymore. It's all been taken care of, Claire," he whispered.

"Darien," she said warningly, "You have to tell me what's going on."

"Ok, it goes a little something like this..."

*****

Chapter Four: Upside Down, Inside Out

"Darien, I don't -- no, I *can't* believe this!"

"What can't you believe, Claire?"

"That you're a vampire? That you still have some of your soul, you think? Any of it! All of it!"

"But Claire, I swear to you that it's all true," Darien pushed gently at her disbelief.

"Prove it, Darien," she challenged.

"Claire, no. Don't ask me to do that," he pleaded weakly. He was hungry and positive that he couldn't stand for her flaunting her graceful neck, exposing it for his fangs to sink in like velvet. "Please don't."

"Prove it, Darien," she whispered, rolling her head to the side and tossing her blonde tresses over her shoulder.

Darien stared at the soft skin gleaming in the soft lamplight of the hotel room. He closed his eyes only to be haunted by the sound of her elevated heartbeat ringing in his ears. "Don't..." he sobbed softly.

"Darien," she spoke softly, "you don't have to take enough to kill me. You look weak and sick. Just take enough to survive for now."

"I don't know if I can stop myself," he admitted.

"You can, Darien. Just believe it, because I know you can." She reached out to him. He grabbed her arm and picked her up off the bed, wrapping his arms around her gasping, struggling body. He held her firmly in place with one arm, while bringing the other up to brush the honeyed strands away from her neck.

"Is this what you meant, Claire?" he purred in her ear. Dropping his head slightly, he brushed his sharp canines along her jugular. Her heart was fluttering wildly, and it called to his instincts. Her breathing became labored and shallow. Taking one look at her face, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.

Her blood washed over his tongue like a salvation flood. His inner struggle temporarily suspended, he listened for her heartbeat to slow. When it did, he released her, lapping gently at the marks -- his marks -- on her skin.

Darien scrubbed at a tear trailing down his cheekbone and laid her on the bed. He pulled a blanket over her sleeping form and quietly left the room.

The breeze from the sea felt wonderful on his skin. If he'd been human, he would've been incredibly warm right now. The phantom feel of her terror seeping into his skin excited him. And he hated that part of himself.

*****

"Spike!"

"What, mate?" the blonde asked from his old armchair.

"I need to know something," Darien snarled.

"What? And you better rethink that tone, Darien," Spike replied angrily.

"Am I a demon or do I have a soul? I hunger, crave blood, but the thought of drinking from a human disgusts me!" Darien collapsed onto the couch in a heap of sobs.

Spike rose from his chair and sat on the couch next to the crying agent. "Darien," he began, "we've been through this. Yes, you're demon, and yes, it appears you have some of your soul. I would've hoped for a little easier adjustment or whatever such bollocks."

Darien looked up and chuckled. "I'm sorry. I saw a friend of mine tonight, and she..."

"She what, man?"

"She challenged me to prove it to her."

"How did she know, mate?"

"I had to tell her. She was my Keeper back at the Agency. She was my friend, and she deserved to know."

"Did you kill her?"

"No!" Darien shouted, "God, no! She's asleep at her hotel. I have to go back before she wakes up."

"Damn right, you do! Take some aspirin, too. She's gonna have a hell of a headache when she wakes up. Food might not be a bad idea, either."

"Thanks, man," Fawkes smiled weakly.

"No problem. Oh, Bobby was looking for you earlier. Apparently he heard that your Keeper was in town."

"Oh, shit... He's gonna be so pissed at me!"

"Why?"

"He was in love with her before..."

"Really? Well, none of that matters now. He's more interested in someone else now."

"Huh? Who?"

"Come on, mate! Don't tell me you're that dense!"

"Wha... Me?! You mean, Bobby's interested in me?"

"Yeah, Fawkes," a new voice said from the doorway.

"Bobby!" Darien yelped breathlessly.

"Yeah, I'm interested in you," Bobby purred, "But the question is: Are you interested in me?" He walked slowly to the couch and stood in front of Darien.

Spike took his cue and spoke, "I think Willow's home. I'll see you later." He left the living area, shutting the door to his and Willow's bedroom behind him.

Bobby's brown eyes never left Darien's as Spike exited. "Well?" the senior agent asked hopefully.

"Yeah..." Darien whispered. Bobby squatted down and placed his hand experimentally on Darien's face. When the younger man responded to the intimate touch, Bobby leaned in and brushed his lips against Darien's.

Darien was frozen for a moment. Was he actually kissing his partner? Or was he dreaming it? Was all of this just a dream? His brain finally kicked into high gear, and he returned Bobby's kiss.

It all felt so right...

*****

"He'll wrap you in his arms and tell you that you've been a good boy.
He'll rekindle all your dreams that took you a lifetime to destroy.
He'll reach deep in the hole, heal your shrinking soul,
But there won't be a single thing that you can do.

 "He's a God,
He's a man,
He's a ghost,
He's a guru.
And their a-whisperin' his name through this disappearin' land,
But hidden in his coat is a Red Right Hand."

 --"Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds--

 *****

Chapter Five: The Truth Will Set You Free

Claire woke with a start. She bolted upright, only to be floored by a pounding deep in her brain. Falling back to the pillow on the hotel bed, she felt a stinging in her eyes. She grabbed the box of cheap Kleenex on the bedside table and wiped at the tears.

"It's true," she whispered, sobbing, "he's gone."

She stood slowly and walked to the bathroom to wash her face. Sunlight pouring in through the open window caught her attention, and she walked out onto the terrace. The warmth felt wonderful on her cool skin.

"I'm human," she said aloud. Laughter bubbled up in her soul, and she cackled insanely at the sun. Joy followed by tears for her lost friends. She flung herself onto the bed and sobbed. She regretted not spending more time with Darien. She regretted spurning Bobby's advances. "Why didn't I just have dinner with him once?!" she cried, "What would it have bloody hurt?!"

Once again pulling herself together, she finally made it to the bathroom. She turned on the hot water and splashed her face repeatedly, trying to wash away the evidence of her sorrow.

*****

"They're dead, sir," she repeated for the fourth time.

"How, Claire?" The Official asked.

"They were attacked outside of a local club," she reported.

"Well," he began, "bring their remains in for a proper burial."

"I can't, sir."

"Why not?"

"The remains have disappeared."

"What do you mean disappeared?"

"Well, sir, if you'd stayed in Sunnydale for longer than two minutes, you would know why," she snapped.

"Claire," his voice was a warning.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I've promised to keep it a secret. All I can tell you is to forget about the gland. You won't be getting it back," she said, her voice breaking. "Consider my resignation already on your desk."

Silence on the other end told her that he wouldn't accept this. 'Too bad,' she thought, 'he'll just have to deal with it.'

"I'm staying here in Sunnydale," she continued, "I want nothing to do with The Agency anymore. It killed them, and I hate it."

"You'll have to be debriefed," he finally replied.

"No, I will never divulge anything I know about the QS9300 project or its demise. Leave it at that, sir."

"Goodbye, Claire. I wish you well if this is truly what you want."

"It is, sir. And thank you." She closed the cell phone and tossed it on the bed. It would be dark in two hours, and she had work to do.

*****

Claire scrubbed her eyes wearily and glanced at the clock. 'Rupert is a difficult man to trace,' she thought.

She had been sitting at her computer for an hour and a half when she finally found an address for Rupert Giles in the strangest database she'd ever seen. The Watchers' Council seemed to be the most secure mainframe she'd ever hacked into. Granted, that didn't mean much since she was just an amateur hacker.

While perusing the files, she'd found the current address for the disavowed Watcher. He'd quit approximately two years ago under extenuating circumstances and had been estranged from the Council ever since, so the file said.

Closing the laptop, she stood and stretched. "If I can get to Rupert and tell him my situation, maybe he can help."

She grabbed the keys to her rental car and locked the door behind her.

*****

"Rupert Giles?" Claire asked the handsome man who came to the door timidly.

"Yes? May I help you, miss?"

"Peyton. Claire Peyton," she offered her hand. He shook and motioned for her to come inside.

She looked around the wonderfully furnished apartment and turned to face Rupert.

"Mr. Giles," she began, "I've got a situation that I need a bit of your help with. I don't understand it, but I need to in order to make it right again."

"My help, Miss Peyton? I don't possibly..."

"Dr. Peyton, please. And yes, your help. My Kept and his partner were recently killed and turned. I want to know what you know about vampires."

"Vampires, Doctor, are myths. No more real than the Greek Gods and Goddesses. I don't see how I can help you," Giles lied.

"Don't lie to me, Mr. Giles. I know that you once were a member in good standing of the Watchers' Council of England, and I know that you still work closely with the Slayer. Now, you can help me, or I can go find the Slayer and ask her," Claire challenged.

Giles took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and replaced the glasses. He shook his head. "I can't help you, Doctor. Even if I am no longer with the Council, I still took the oath."

"I'm not asking you for privileged information. I'm asking about vampires in general," Claire paused, "Please, Mr. Giles. I need to make this right. To keep a promise from long ago."

Giles sighed and repeated the bridge pinching ritual that was so common for him. "Fine. Tell me the deal."

*****

Claire sipped her tea and stared at Rupert. "So, what do you think?"

"He didn't want to drink?" Giles asked.

"No. I forced him to. He could've killed me, I know. But as a scientist, I needed proof," she responded.

"You're damn lucky he didn't kill you, Dr. Peyton."

"Claire."

"What?"

"My name is Claire."

"Ok, Claire."

"Ok, Rupert."

"So, why do you need my help again?"

"I want to make sure your Slayer doesn't harm Darien or Bobby. I still care deeply for them, even if they are evil now."

"I can't make Buffy follow orders. I never have been able to. But if Darien's retained some part of his humanity, he could be spared. I can't promise you anything, Claire."

"I know, Rupert. Can you call her?"

"Who? Buffy?"

"Yes, I want to meet her."

"All right. I shall call Willow and Spike, too. They'll get Xander and Anya here. We can talk to everyone at once," Giles said, standing up and walking to the desk where the phone sat.

"Good. Maybe I can still help them now," Claire whispered, trying not to cry again.

*****

Chapter Six: Friendship Defined

Darien turned around, surveying his surroundings. It was daylight again, but this time he was in his childhood home of Cold Springs.

"Kevin?" he called. A movement from within the shadows of his old house drew his attention, and he sprinted toward it. He shouted his brother's name again, only to receive the calling of some bird in the distance.

"Why do you insist on seeing me again, Darien?" a soft, sad voice came from behind him. He whirled around to face it.

"Allianora. Wha... What are you doing here?" he asked, stunned.

"You wanted me here. You have questions Kevin didn't answer."

"Huh? Oh, uh," he stammered, floored by how lovely she looked in the bright sunlight. "What's going to happen to me? I mean, I fed from Claire, and I can still feel her in me. It creeps me, man."

"It happens, Darien. Someone like you was never made for this. The Fates fell down on the job when they let this happen. Don't ask why; it's not your place. Just follow your instincts. They don't let you down." She laughed. "It's nice to see that you still have the ability. I never knew what it was when you were alive, but I feel it so strongly now. Trust it, Invisible Man, you'll need it when you meet up with Darla."

"What?"

"Say goodbye, Darien."

"Goodbye, Aquamama."

*****

Darien bolted upright, his head swimming in unanswered questions. He scrubbed his face before looking to his side. Bobby lay sleeping peacefully. Like the dead.

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Hobbes?" Darien asked his sleeping partner. "How could we have let this happen?"

"Fawkes, if you don't stop talking and start sleeping, I'm going to have to shut you up myself," Bobby growled sleepily.

Darien smiled to himself. He was glad that that part of Bobby -- the friendly, joking part -- had survived the demon. Sure, it was a little more warped now, but it was still Bobby, through and through.

"God, I am turning into a sap," he whispered. The vampire by him stirred a bit and turned over. Laying back down on the bed, Darien rolled to face his lover and fell back into the arms of sleep.

*****

"But you don't listen, Xander! I've said it before and I'll say it again," was the only warning the Scooby Gang got before Hurricane Anya stormed into the Magic Box, not missing a beat in her rant, "All you care about is lots of orgasms! You don't care about me!"

"Ahn! Enough!" Xander shouted helplessly.

"See, you're not listening! You just want to shut me--" Anya stopped suddenly, staring at Claire, "Who is she? Is she another witch, 'cause if so, you should start wearing tags or something."

"No, Anya, she's a doctor," Giles replied. "She's come from San Diego to talk with us about something."

"Oh, well, let's hear what she has to say, right, honey?" Xander asked hopefully.

"Yes, and we shall pretend to have heard none of that tirade," Giles muttered, cleaning his glasses again.

Claire stood and studied the group. The bleach blonde -- who, she had been informed, was a vampire -- was sitting on the glass counter, his leather covered arms wrapped around the petite redhead. She wondered why a human, a friend of the Slayer especially, would choose to be with one of the enemy. Claire made a mental note to ask about it later.

A blonde girl sat at the table in the middle of the room absently flipping through the pages of some ancient text. The ex-Keeper, in her infinite curiousity, pondered who the girl was, and what her connection was to the fight that Buffy and Giles so diligently fought.

The Slayer sat on the stairs leading up to the specialty section of the shop. Claire could tell from the girl's demeanor that she was all business right now. She was fairly intelligent, in the English woman's estimation, very focused when the need arose.

A clunk was heard from the front of the shop as the Slayer's brunette sister dropped a book. *Why does Buffy let her kid sister tag along to such meetings? There surely must be things that would keep her up at night.* She couldn't stop these thoughts even though she knew full well that there were things -- human things -- that had kept her awake, tossing and turning, at night.

"My name," she began, "is Dr. Claire Peyton. I am not here as an agent of the government, but as a concerned friend.

"Two of my closest friends were killed and turned here in Sunnydale approximately five nights ago."

Willow began to tune the speaker out as alarms went off in her head. *Five nights ago... That would be...*

"...but what I didn't tell you, Rupert, was that my family, the Peytons, are members of the Watchers' Council of England. I assume you've heard of Jackie Peyton?"

Giles stared in disbelief. "Of course, every Watcher in the council has heard of Jackie Peyton. She was the most influencial Watcher of the 19th century. She trained three Slayers and taught 49 Watchers. Quite remarkable, really. Considering her gender and the time period."

"Yes, well, the Watchers' Council was always quite progressive," Claire remarked snidely. "Jackie Peyton was my great-grandmother. But, I digress. I have come to ask a favor of you, Miss Summers."

"Buffy, Dr. Peyton," the Slayer spoke kindly.

"Buffy. I ask that you do not harm Darien, not--"

"Darien?" Willow and Buffy asked in unison. Claire narrowed her eyes at Buffy, worried about how they knew about Darien.

"Darien?" Dawn echoed, looking up from the book her clumsiness had dropped. "Willow, wasn't that the guy..."

"Yes, that's him," the redhead responded, not looking up.

"So, /you're/ that Claire, huh?" Spike smirked.

"I've already made that promise, Dr. Peyton. You'll have to ask for something else," Buffy smiled at the nervous woman. She felt strangely connected to the woman. Buffy knew that she couldn't be dealing with her friends' demise very easily. Maybe she was just really good at hiding it, the Slayer decided.

"You've alrea-- To whom?"

"To Willow."

"To Willow?" Claire glanced around, looking for this Willow. She was in such unfamiliar territory and was still very uncomfortable with the knowledge she knew.

It was Spike's turn to speak, "This one's Willow." He pulled her closer into his body, and she smiled lovingly, blushing at the very public display.

"Willow, how do you know Darien? Is Bobby with him? Are they doing all right?" Claire blurted question after question, wishing against wish that she would hear what she wanted to hear.

"Spike, um, *introduced* us. Yes, Bobby's /with/ him. And yes, they're doing fine. They should be coming in anytime now."

The ex-Keeper sighed and rubbed her forehead with her hand. Willow's stress on the word "with" puzzled her, but she pushed it aside for the time being. "Good," she whispered softly.

The brassy clang of the bell on the door brought everyone's attention front and center.

Willow smiled warmly, lovingly, as a mother would smile at her children. "Well, speak of the devils..."

*****

Chapter Seven: All the fun of the fair

Claire's breath caught in her throat as she stared at her former colleagues. They were laughing and talking and joking, just like she remembered. "Bobby..." she rasped, fighting back tears.

"Claire." He looked at her, unsure of the woman's presence. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for you," was the whispered reply. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, holding him to her tightly.

Darien turned his head away, still feeling such a strong connection to his Keeper. Her blood called to him; he had to fight, ignore it.

A low growl emanating from Bobby's chest broke the tenuous silence. Darien glanced back to see Bobby pushing the blonde strands away from Claire's neck, revealing the healing wounds from Darien's bite. "Who?" Bobby hissed. Claire's blue eyes locked with Darien's soft brown ones, and Bobby gaped at them both. "Why, Fawkes?"

"Hey, Bobby, I made him. I forced him," interjected Claire, drawing his attention to her. He just stared at her in curiosity.

"Why?"

"I'm a scientist, remember?"

"This is Bobby?" Buffy asked, interrupting the reunion.

Claire composed herself and faced the Slayerettes. "Yes, this is Bobby. Bobby, I'm sure you know everyone."

"Got an idea," he groused, glaring daggers at Buffy.

"Down boy," Willow said in an authoritative tone, almost unnatural coming from the girl. "She's not going to introduce you to Mr. Pointy."

"Bobby, I've talked with Buffy about you. She's already agreed with Willow not to harm you or Darien," Claire reassured him. She looked at him, noticing his change in demeanor, as well as his not quite subtle gazes at his partner. She marked his behavior as a check in her mental list of "Not Bobby."

Finally, he broke eye contact with Buffy to flash a disarming, deceptive smile at Claire. Nodding, he moved closer to Darien, not losing his charming facial expression for a second.

The humans and vampires stood in an uncomfortable silence for what could have been hours, assessing each other, making notes on available weapons and weaknesses, should the need arise. The silence was shattered as the sound of car doors slamming floated into the shop.

The bell above the door rang, and The Official made his entrance.

*****

Bobby's gameface slid over his human face, Darien's quickly following suit.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby used his supernatural strength and speed to pin the fat man to the nearest wall. "You got us killed, you bastard."

Spike's hand came to rest on his partner's shoulder, gently easing him off of the shocked man. "Easy there, mate. Take it easy." Bobby pivoted his head to glare at Spike. Deep brown eyes met ice blue ones in an unspoken conversation. A moment passed before Bobby released his capture.

The Official was immediately attended to by Eberts, who had joined the scene seconds after Bobby's attack. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Fine," The Official mumbled. "What the hell is your problem, Hobbes? Claire, I thought you said they were dead."

"They are, sir. No pulse, no breath, they don't live, sir."

"They're standing here. Talking, walking, attacking. They seem to be alive to me," Eberts said.

"Whoa, sarcasm. Did you hurt yourself there, little buddy?" Darien joked, at the same time snarling at The Official.

"Wha... I must be seeing things, Claire," The Official commented, gesturing to Darien and Bobby's faces. "What is going on here?" he demanded.

"That's none of your business anymore," Bobby spat. He whirled around, walking to stand beside Spike. "I'm not taking orders from you anymore, fat man. That goes for Fawkes, too."

The Official turned his icy glare on Darien, raising his eyebrows. The ex-thief smiled, and almost as if prompted by some outside force, both sets of vampire features melted into human as Darien and Bobby smiled the same simple, sinful smile. Fawkes took a place at Claire's side and a stance of rebellion.

"You should leave," Buffy stated, flanking Claire's right side, "before this mess gets worse."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" The Official snapped.

"I'm the one who keeps this place in order, and I won't have you tearing that down." She held the older man's eyes, letting him know that she meant what she said.

"This is my establishment, sir. I have to ask you to leave, before I phone the police," Giles said, joining the front line in the war of words.

"We'll be back soon." With that, The Official and Eberts were gone. But not before Claire caught Eberts eye and the regretful gleam hiding there.

"T-talk about y-your deja vu..." Tara muttered, not looking up from her book.

*****

Chapter Eight: A new hope, a new home

Two weeks later...

The Official twisted and craned his neck, trying to relax his aching muscles. He'd been up for the past two weeks and was growing weary of this town and its damned code of silence.

Two weeks of researching, snarling at Eberts, and throwing his impressive weight around was wearing him down.

He emerged from the yellow brick police station and sighed deeply as the cool air slid over his skin. The walk to his car was a bit of a trek, but the night breeze made it bearable.

A strong hand grabbed his arm, dragging him into the nearby alley, darkened by the lack of a streetlight. He struggled to maintain his balance and pull away from his attacker at the same time. His back hit the wall of the station with a meaty thump, and he groaned in protest.

He could feel the sweat run down his face as the creature grabbed his shoulder and wrenched his head to one side. His attacker, a creature with a distorted face that looked like Darien and Bobby's at that magick shop, began lowering those deadly fangs towards his neck. He braced himself for his death, knowing that this was the end.

Suddenly, the hiss of a match flaring to life cut through the night and the creature tensed, forgetting about the large man long enough for Charlie to escape the deadly embrace.

Turning, he spotted a young man with bleached blonde hair and in a black coat lighting a cigarette, appearing totally indifferent to the scene in the alley.

"Y'know, mate," drawled the new arrival, his English accent and punk looks reminding Charlie of Billy Idol, "with as much weight as he's carrying around, he'd just clog your arteries." The blonde stalked casually towards the creature, his coat flaring out around him, making him appear even more deadly than the creature who was slowly backing off.

"Master Spike," whispered the creature, fear visible on its ridged face. Spike smiled and stopped before him. In a movement far too quick for The Official to comprehend, Spike ripped the throat out of the vampire and shoved a freshly sharpened stake into its dead heart.

"Cheers, luv," he said before the creature crumbled into dust. Cool blue eyes turned to regard Charlie, and he sighed. "C'mon, let's get you back before some other vampire decides to eat you, and I don't want to save your hide twice in one night. Not after all the trouble you've already caused."

As they stepped out of the alley, a glimmer of red caught Charlie's eye, and he looked down to find blood covering Spike's hand.

"What was that?" he asked shakily.

"Vampire, mate."

The Official scoffed, "Vampires aren't real."

"Yeah?" Spike took the man's statement as a challenge and called his demonic visage to the fore. "Not real, you say?"

"Wha... So, if he wanted to kill me, why don't you?"

"I don't kill humans anymore. Willow wouldn't allow it."

"Willow?"

"My pet."

*****

"Slayer? Guess what I brought home. Can I keep him?" Spike asked menacingly.

"You again?" she snarled at The Official.

"Sir?" a timid voice came from behind the bookcase to Charlie's left.

"Eberts? What are you doing here?"

"I quit, sir. It's time for Solution Omega," Eberts replied.

"No. Not an option," he bellowed.

"Sir, you have no more Invisible Man, no Keeper, and your top two agents are vampires."

"Sir, he's right," Claire said, coming up behind Eberts, placing her hand on the back of his arm. "Solution Omega is the right thing to do."

"Um, excuse me, mates. Solution Omega? What are you talkin' about?" Spike asked, suddenly worried for his friends' lives.

"A contingency scenario for this type of situation. It involved the immediate disbanding of The Agency and the reassignment of its remaining agents," Eberts offered.

"Shut up, Eberts!" The Official snapped. "I will not implement Solution Omega!"

Spike watched in morbid fascination as the three Governmentals yelled and fought. He sensed Buffy moving closer to him and turned to her. "You think this'll end in violence?" she asked quietly.

"If we're lucky," the master vampire smirked.

*****

To: Senator Mirwin
RE: Solution Omega

Omega is active. QS9300 unsalvageable. Please advise.

CBorden

*****

From the desk of Sheila Rosenberg, Ph.D.

Dear Willow,

How are you doing? Is school everything you hoped it would be? I can't see how, considering that you chose UCSunnydale over Harvard and Oxford.

Your father and I have chosen to stay here in Paris for a while longer. Possibly even moving here indefinitely. We have a nice little apartment, and your father loves the countryside more than I do.

The house is yours to do with as you will. Sell it, if you wish. If you do choose to sell it, you should use the revenue for your studies, but I shan't tell you what to do with it.

Take care of yourself, darling. Keep in touch.

Love,
Mother

*****

"Spike!" Willow shouted gleefully.

"Luv, what is it?"

"Mom and Dad are moving to Paris, and they're leaving me the house!" She ran to him and jumped into his arms.

"That's great, pet. But what are you going to do with it? Do you really want to move back in?"

"No, but I have an idea," she said, her emerald eyes sparkling, smiling.

*****

One week later...

Willow clutched at the thick stack of legal documents weighing down her shoulder bag. Claire and Eberts sat across from her, the rounded table of the Magic Box seeming to elongate with every passing second. She sat and smiled broadly at them. Their hands were entwined, their faces were bright and happy.

"I've got a surprise, you two," Willow began, pulling the papers out of her bag. She laid the documents on the table gently, never taking her eyes off the two she was with.

"What is it, Willow?" Albert said softly.

"My parents are moving to Paris. They've decided to give me the house. I have no use for it, and I was wondering if you guys would like to move in," Willow blurted.

Two sets of blue eyes stared at her, unbelieving. Claire spoke first, "Oh, Willow, how can we thank you?"

"Move in. Be happy. That's how you can thank me." Willow smiled and jumped up to hug Claire. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and placed them in the ex-Keeper's petite hand.

"Thank you, Willow," they said, pulling her into a huge hug.

"It's the least I can do, guys."

*****

Chapter Nine: Echoes of the past

"I'm going patrolling," Buffy announced. The Slayerettes looked up from the ancient volumes spread over the table to gawk at her.

"You say that like it's something new," Anya murmured, wincing at the sudden pain of Xander's foot coming down hard on hers. "What?"

"Nothing, Ahn," Xander said, turning the page in his assigned book.

"Spike, you wouldn't want to come with, would you?" Buffy asked. "I suppose I could use the company."

"Sure, Slayer. Why not?" the blonde vampire said easily.

Willow spoke up, "Why not make it a family outing? I mean, Dawn's at home with your mom, and the rest of us are bored to tears with Giles' musty old books." Willow reddened and smiled at Giles. "Sorry, Giles. No offense to the books."

Giles returned the smile and shook his head.

"I'm going home. Patrolling isn't sparking anything for me," Anya chimed in.

"As Oz once said, 'As Anya goes, so goes my nation'," Xander remarked.

"I don't think he said 'Anya', Xand," Buffy said.

"Patrolling?" Tara reminded the bantering group.

"Yeah, so, we going?" Buffy asked. Everyone nodded, save for Giles.

He stood, taking his glasses off and polishing them with his handkerchief and said, "I think I shall retire for the evening. I have a few phone calls to make before the morning, and I wish to get them over with."

"Okay, ramblers, let's get rambling," Buffy said around a toothy smile.

Xander groaned, "No references to crazy vampire movies, please!"

*****

Charlie Borden sighed, staring at the papers in his hands. He loved his job and the power that came with it. Someone once told him that he was nothing but a white boy on a power trip, but that he was good at what he did because of the hunger for said power. He had decided long ago that the fool hadn't known what he was talking about, but now he wasn't so sure of himself. His arrogant, smug attitude had somewhat dulled with age; now he was unconvinced, unsure, and terrified at the prospect of a powerless future.

He turned his attention back to his work, struggling with his own peace of mind.

The official documents declared the Agency and its charter null and void, arranging for all of its agents to be reassigned, and its leader to be allowed to retire with full pension and benefits, if he so chose. All he had to do was sign them. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he picked up the pen and set it lightly on the paper. He registered the movement and flung the pen against the wall.

"No!" he whispered, "No, I won't do it."

He jumped up, knocking his chair to the floor, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him.

*****

"I think we're alone now. There doesn't seem to be anyone aro-ound," Claire sang softly. Eberts smiled and pulled her into his arms. She continued humming the soft tune as she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him. "I never would've guessed..."

"Me neither, Claire. Me neither," he replied gently, stroking her hair in slow measured moves.

The annoying clang of the bell over the door broke them from their reverie, drawing their attention to the one person they had no intention of ever seeing again.

"Sir. What are you doing here? Last time you had almost gotten killed. I figured our luck would have gotten better," Claire spat.

"I came to speak to Eberts."

"Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it, sir. Go home. Enjoy your retirement. I dare say you've earned it," Albert said, almost pleading with his former boss.

"Claire, can we have a moment?" The Official ignored the pleas from his ex-lackey.

She stared at him for a moment before turning her face to gaze questioningly at the man still holding her in his arms. He closed his eyes and nodded, placing a loving, gentle kiss on the top of her head.

After she left, sauntering slowly to the training room, The Official broke the tense silence, "Claire, huh? Never would've guessed."

"That's the general consensus. What do you want, sir?" Eberts said in the most exasperated tone he could muster.

"I refuse to sign the Omega papers. I won't do it."

"You have to. You've already lost your assistant, your Invisible Man, your top agent, and your Keeper. You don't have much left to loose."

"I have my pride, my sense of honor."

"What pride? This from the man who squeezed every penny out of his budget, who never let his top agents have a decent vacation. You did kill them, sir. They won't be forgiving. And neither will Claire."

"I know, but..."

"No! You don't know!" Eberts interrupted, " You couldn't possibly know how Claire slaved over her equipment for you! How Robert cursed your very existence! How I tried to keep my temper cool every time you told me to shut up!" He let out all his pent up frustrations in one fell swoop, sending them out like poisoned arrows, sailing true to their destination.

He continued, quieter, calmer than before, "Please, I beg you, sir. Go home. Tend your gardens. Check on old friends that have retired already. Live out a simple life, without the worry of money or invisible agents. Go, please."

"I can't. The Agency was my life. I'm not giving up."

Over the Official's shoulder, through his tirade of why he couldn't let the Agency go, Eberts could see the door open and Buffy slip in. She stopped, staring in wonder at the man now yelling at Eberts.

"Um, excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt this week's edition of the McNeil-Lerher Top-Secret Update, but I need my jacket and my friends in one sane piece to help me fight my battles. So, if you'll stop being a pain in our ass, and do as Albert suggests, life will get much easier for all of us." She broke her stone cold gaze and walked to the table to grab her jacket. As she slung it over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the soft, worn-in leather, she turned back to the Official. "Oh, it wasn't an option or a request. It was an order. Someone like you should understand orders, I guess." She shot him a freezing glance and a kind, warm one to Eberts and jogged out the door.

The two men stood in silence for a few seconds before Buffy stuck her head back in. "Albert, I need you and Claire in the cemetery in twenty minutes. We caught word of a new big bad, and we're going to need some help. I'm going home to grab some weapons. Help yourselves to the stuff in the back. But you knew that." She smiled again and ran off down the dark streets.

*****

Giles picked up the phone, hearing the dialtone as if from far away, and quickly set it down again. His eyes closed under the weight of his own turmoil. Angel needed to know about Darien and Bobby, in case they decided to make their way down to LA, but Giles didn't want to be the one to make the call.

His responsibility was slowly, surely crushing him like an archaic form of torture; A man who shared his name, albeit not the same part of the name, was killed in such a manner in 1692. Giles Corey had been strong, proclaiming, "More weight!" moments before he died. Rupert Giles had to be just as strong, and that did not mean shirking his duties off on his Slayer.

He wasn't sure why he thought of this phone call as his duty, lord knows he shouldn't have, but he did, all the same.

Once again picking up the phone, he dialed the number and listened to the ringing, half praying that no one would answer.

"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless!" a cheery voice came over the line.

"Cordelia? This is Giles. Is Angel in?"

"Giles! It's great to hear from you! Um, yeah, I think Angel's here. Is something wrong? You sound kind of tense." The sympathetic tone of her bubbly voice softened his heart and made him smile.

"No, Cordelia, everything and everyone is fine. I'm just calling to inform Angel of a couple of details about a recent... well, I suppose you could call it case, although, that's rather your term, is it not?"

She laughed, "Yeah, it is. Hang on for a moment. He's probably up brooding in his room. You know Angel."

"Yeah, I do," Giles whispered as he heard the line click over to the soft strains of the most vile elevator music he'd ever heard.

Within a few moments, his salvation from the horrid tunes came... in the voice of a man he once hated. A man -- had he been human -- he would've been proud to call son.

"Angel."

"Giles."

The silence was typical: strained, tense, horribly uncomfortable.

"Am I supposed to guess?" Angel inquired.

"Um, no, I'm just phoning to tell you about two new vampires that have become our acquaintances."

"What? Is everyone okay? That's why you usually call; someone's hurt or dead."

"No, Darien and Bobby wouldn't dare hurt us. They are too devoted to Willow and Spike. But Willow more so."

"Darien and who?"

"Bobby. I'll start at the beginning..."

*****

Chapter Ten: New found resolve

"Shut up, Dru! If you say another word, I'll rip your damn throat out!" Darla screamed. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, effectively flipping it over her shoulder.

"But, Grandmum, the moon is whispering such beautiful music in my ear!" Drusilla protested. Her back stiffened as she sniffed the air purposely. "Fluffy's near, so is my prince."

"He's not your prince. He told you to get lost, remember, Dru?"

"Grandmum's so mean, Miss Edith. We shan't share our cakes and tea with her. No, miss." Her song was soothingly soft, but her fingers were busy jabbing at the poor doll's eyes. She growled playfully at her gestures.

Darla rolled her eyes and peered around the cemetery. It was quiet, everything slept. Like the dead should.

Drusilla's gentle lullaby floated around the quiet air, the lyrics catching Darla's ear. "Moon and stars, play with me. Dancing with the runes, singing songs of the unseen. Jingle, jangle, come out to play. Moons and stars, and songs of Invisible Mice and Men."

"'Invisible Mice and Men'?" Darla asked, her voice dripping with annoyance. "Just hush. We don't want that fluffy bitch Buffy sneaking up on us, do we?"

"Darla." Every muscle tensed at the sound of her name on Buffy's lips. "Don't you want to come out to play with Mr. Pointy?"

She smoothed her white silk dress and stepped out from behind the mausoleum. "I never play with my enemies, Slayer."

"Well, neither do I, but I'm willing to make an exception. For you." The petite Slayer whirled around, planting a fierce kick in Darla's midsection. After recovering, Darla swung her fist into Buffy's face, causing the mortal's head to snap back.

"Buffy!" a new voice came from the walkway. "No!"

"Darien! Could use some help here!" she pleaded as Darla picked her up and threw her against the stone cold of the tomb, using Buffy's distraction to her advantage.

Darien ran toward Darla, who spun on her heels and decked him in the jaw. He turned his head to look at her. His anger swirled around inside him, and he latched his hands onto her throat. She laughed, "I'm a vampire! You can't choke me!"

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I can't hurt you." His grip tightened, and her blue eyes shimmered as her vampire features slid over her human ones. Suddenly, the now amber orbs glowed with a strange red primal light, and she lost consciousness, going limp in his arms.

Buffy adjusted her jacket and crossbow while walking toward Darien, who was still holding Darla in his arms. "What the hell happened?"

"I... I don't know," he replied honestly.

Drusilla's soft humming reached Darien's ears, and he passed Darla to Buffy. "I'll be right back."

"You never say that in situations like this," she mumbled, laying the sleeping vampire on the dewy grass.

*****

"Drusilla?"

"It's you," she hissed, clutching her doll tighter to her chest and creeping from behind the mausoleum. "So, Invisible Man, what does the moon whisper to you? Does it tell you that you've been a good boy? Or does it blame you for their deaths?" Her green vampiric eyes glimmered with malicious enjoyment.

"I don't ever listen to the moon, Drusilla. I like the punk bands of the early eighties."

"You're a smart boy. Kevin was right to choose you."

Darien snarled and pinned her against the metal gates of the graveyard. "You don't know shit about Kevin! Or me!"

"You love him, don't you? Your little tiger." She smiled, and for a moment she looked like a small child, a bloodsuckingly fiendish child, but a child nonetheless.

"That's none of your business," he whispered, mimicking his earlier movements, wrapping his long slender fingers around her unbreathing throat.

Moments later, the same crimson light that had overtaken Darla fell Drusilla, and Darien picked up to carry her to Buffy.

*****

"Darien, we believe that you are the Bambino cremisi dell' estinzione," Giles proclaimed.

Darien's brown eyes widened in shock and confusion. He shot an unsure look to Bobby, who grasped his hand. "What's that supposed to mean, Giles?" the stocky vampire asked, knowing that his partner wouldn't be able to ask it himself.

"Roughly translated, it means 'Child of the Crimson Redemption.' This person is the one vampire in all the world that can restore another vampire's soul with a touch," Claire explained.

"Restore their souls?" Spike asked. His gaze quickly travelled to Willow, who was pretending to only be listening to half of what was said, but he knew better. She wanted to be with him for eternity, but she couldn't because she had seen the vampiric version of herself, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Wait, how do you know that I'm this bambino whatever?" Darien questioned.

"An Italian monk in the 12th century reports a vampire with a 'light of humanity that brings the demon hoards to their knees, bowing in reverence to the Hand of God.' This monk also states that the vampire died shortly after her encounter with the monk. He did some research and recorded three other sightings of this 'Crimson Child'," Giles said, flipping the pages of the book he read from.

"So, does this restore a soul permanently, or is this like the Gypsy curse?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"The Gypsies wrote that ritual for Angelus specifically, Buffy. There's really no way to be sure," Giles said softly.

"Um, g-guys? A w-way to be s-sure," Tara spoke softly, holding up her hand.

Claire scooted her chair to sit next to the blonde witch and looked at the book Tara moved in front of her. "'The demons are gone! Their humanity is true, pure as God's touch. Ringraziare tutto il Dio potente!'" She tilted her head to look at Giles. "What does that mean?"

"'Thank the Almighty God."

*****

Chapter Eleven: In the end

Darien's eyes darted around the crowded street. He could hear them. They were close, but where were they?

The crowds parted slightly, and they walked through, as if it were the most natural thing to be seen together. The sun played on the auburn highlights of their hair and illuminated the paleness of their smiles.

"Darien! There you are!" she cried, waving to him. He walked to them and embraced the pair.

"I've missed you, Alli, Kev, but I know you're there, watching me," he said.

"Of course we're watching you, Darien. We know that you're using your gifts for the purpose of Good, and we both love you more for it," his brother replied lovingly.

"So, I'm going to be all right?"

"You are all right, Darien. You've got Bobby and all of your friends watching out for you," Allianora laughed, "You still take too many risks, he says, but you're fine. You always will be."

Kevin and Allianora, both dressed in simple, angelic white -- him in a suit, her in a gown -- smiled at each other, and he put his arm out for hers. She took the offered escort, and they began walking away.

Kevin waved behind him, and Darien began to float. He soared above Sunnydale, above California, and out of the atmosphere into the coldness of space.

*****

Darien woke from his dream, a lazy, happy smile pasted to his face. He turned to Bobby's sleeping form and trailed his fingers down the muscled arm.

"Love ya, man."

He stood, stretching, and pulling on some sweatpants, he stumbled to the kitchen for some breakfast.

Bobby's eyes fluttered open, and he whispered, "Same here, partner."

*****

Willow was clanking around the small kitchenette, trying to get everything ready for the dinner at Giles. "Why, oh, why did I volunteer to do the turkey!?" she shouted.

"Chef's havin' problems, huh?" Darien smirked, leaning on the counter.

She glanced up and smiled. Her nod caused the red loose curls on her head to bounce playfully around her pale skin. "Chef's having serious problems."

He laughed, "Well, let me get some breakfast, and we'll see if I can help ya."

She grinned and ran to the living room to flop down on the couch. Darien warmed some blood and sat next to her. "So, what's on today's Oprah?"

*****

FIN~

read the sequal 'The Price of Power' by Tazzy

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