Masters and Minions 5: Oil and Blood

NOTE:

Galatea (a literary reference in the story) was the female statue created by Pygmalion. He lavished attention to every detail in creating her, fell in love with her, and she came to life.
 
 

"The sun will be coming up soon. Some of us should get inside."

Spike's comment hung in the air, yet none of the assembled mourners moved.

They had been at the gravesite since Buffy's funeral, held at midnight out of consideration for the vampires. Dawn and Xander had offered beautiful testimonials about Buffy's impact on their lives. But while Angel, Willow, and Giles had tried to express their own feelings, they found themselves choking on the words. It was one of the first symptoms of how deeply they had been scarred by the traumatic events of Buffy's assassination and the subsequent execution of justice against the Council.

Each of them felt hollow and broken.

Although they knew that the Powers had sanctioned their acts of vengeance, they found themselves unable to look at their friends without flinching. Willow had trouble meeting her coven sisters' eyes, and wondered if they would be horrified by the things she had done. Giles was able to embrace Dawn and Xander in consolation only with great difficulty. He patted them on the back reassuringly, but couldn't block out images of his own hands suffocating a former colleague with pages from a book. And Angel was haunted by his own private shame at what his darker self had done to his companions.

Especially to Willow.

Giles and the vampires remained at Buffy's grave long after everyone else had left. He, Angel and Willow soberly confronted a painful truth: revenge, no matter how warranted, took a severe toll on those who carried it out.

Shaken out of their solemn introspection by Spike's reminder about the approaching sunrise, they all turned away from Buffy's grave at last and started toward the magic shop. It was understood that the vampires would sleep there until nightfall allowed them to return to Los Angeles. In a very odd way, the group was also reluctant to disband. Traumatized by everything that had transpired from the moment of Buffy's death, Angel, Willow and Giles found it was only with each other that they could share their full sense of loss.

No one else could understand.

Not even Spike.

The blond vampire felt not an ounce of remorse. True, he knew Willow and his sire well enough to understand exactly which doubts plagued them. But it wasn't in his nature to regret a single instance of pain he'd caused. Given the chance, he'd gladly do it all again. So, all he could do was look after his own until something helped them move beyond this.

Thus it was Spike who saw to the drapes in Giles's sitting room, making certain that they would block out the sun's rays, before folding down the futon he would share with Angel and Willow. Numbly, his companions stretched out on the futon without bothering to undress. They offered no protest when Spike removed their shoes. As Spike stripped off his own shirt and shoes, his acute hearing detected a muted sound coming from the bedroom. Not even open sobbing, it was more like a shaky exhalation of breath that betrayed quiet desperation.

The blond vampire climbed the stairs to Giles's loft bedroom and observed the ex-Watcher.

Giles sat on his bed, his head bowed slightly, eyes closed. Spike felt...not empathy, exactly...but somewhere along the line this human had been included among those Spike considered his own. Besides, Willow cared for the Watcher. Stepping downstairs to the living room, Spike rummaged through his duster for his flask of bourbon and returned to the Watcher's bedside. Wordlessly, he held the flask out. Giles finally noticed his presence, glanced hesitantly at the proffered flask, then accepted it and took a swig. He gave it back to Spike, who took a hearty swallow himself. Spike then capped it and advised gruffly, "Get some sleep. You look more like the walking dead than I do."

Giles nodded wearily and stretched out on his bed. Spike pursed his lips momentarily, then leaned over and removed Giles's shoes as well. He doubted the Watcher would even remember it -- seemed everyone had a case of shell-shock -- so his reputation was safe.

His rounds finished, Spike returned to Angel and Willow, who were already tangled together and sleeping deeply. Settling in beside Willow, he wrapped himself around her and let exhaustion overtake him.

*****

The following evening, Willow awoke to find Spike gone.

She knew where he was, and was glad that he had left to hunt discreetly. It would be a sensitive issue for Giles. Just another reminder that Buffy wasn't here any more to keep vampires in check. One more reminder that he was in the company of killers.

She heard Angel poking through the kitchen cabinets and smelled animal blood. Evidently, Giles had awakened earlier and, out of consideration for his vampire guests, made a trip to the butcher for some blood. Willow didn't relish the idea of drinking non-human blood, but felt even less inclined to kill tonight. She got up and joined Angel in the kitchen. Sure enough, at her approach Angel extended a mug of heated blood. Willow sniffed it cautiously.

"Lamb's blood," Angel explained. Willow drank it down quickly, in order to ingest it without having to taste it.

"Sleep okay?" she asked as she rinsed out her mug in the sink.

"Well enough, considering," Angel replied. For several moments, he was unable to look at her. Eventually, he raised his eyes to hers and murmured, "Willow, I am so sorry for what you went through. That side of me--"

"Angel, I hope you're not going to apologize *again* for something that was beyond your control," Willow broke in. "When every other vampire wanted to stake me because of what I was, you accepted me. You helped me despite the fact that I don't always make choices you're comfortable with. Considering that, it would be pretty rotten of me to hold it against you just because you have a few flaws."

"A few flaws?" Angel repeated, stunned at how easily Willow dismissed the cruelty of his alter-ego.

"Oh, Angelus was an insufferable bully, all right," Willow conceded. "And an overbearing ass...a manipulative ego-maniac...real prick..."

Angel winced as Willow rattled off the litany of his counterpart's less-endearing qualities. But, as always, she amazed him with her ability to put a positive spin on just about anything.

"Sure, I wanted to turn him into a toad. A really gross, warty one, in fact. But he was exactly what we needed to avenge Buffy. He does the whole wrath thing pretty well, and when he wasn't being an arrogant jerk, we actually had a pretty good conversation. For all of about ten minutes, that is... But, anyway, none of what he did is a reflection on *you*, Angel. To me, you'll always be the one who saw the best in me, and gave me a chance."

Angel shook his head and smiled incredulously. "And you will always be the one who gives me more credit than I deserve."

"Angel, I gave you a compliment. The standard procedure is to take it and say thank you."

Hanging his head sheepishly, Angel replied on cue, "Thank you, Willow. I guess it's going to take me a while to recover from everything. Another feature of my curse is that I can never get away from myself."

Willow grasped his hand and squeezed it sympathetically. Before she could find the right words to comfort Angel as he agonized over the legacy of his darker half, Giles joined them in the kitchen.

"Good evening Willow, Angel," he nodded at them.

"Hi Giles. Thanks for the blood," Willow acknowledged.

"Don't mention it," Giles answered graciously. "Willow, Tara called and left a message for you. She hopes that you and the others have a safe trip back to L.A., and wanted you to know that your coven is ready and willing to meet with you whenever you need it. They're concerned for you."

"Oh...okay, thanks," Willow stammered. As intent as she had been on helping Angel relinquish his shame at what Angelus had done, Willow was unable to apply the same logic to herself. She felt uneasy at the thought of entering into the circle with her sisters again after the sheer cruelty to which she had been party.

"I take it that the three of you will be leaving this evening?" Giles posed the question almost regretfully.

Angel nodded. "Our place is there. Although if you're worried about the Hellmouth being unprotected..."

Giles grew even more pensive. "I admit, I'm rather unsure what to expect. Normally, the next Slayer would be called and sent to her appointed post. For quite some time, that has been this Hellmouth, but depending on changes in Hellmouth activity, there might be greater call for her elsewhere. Given recent events, I'm in no position to know whether that is the case."

"We can't even be sure the Council is in a position to know," Angel added. "The Council members we killed...losing them has probably shaken up the Council pretty badly."

"You mean, because of us, the Hellmouth might go unprotected?" Willow exclaimed in dismay.

There was a grim resignation in Giles's voice as he explained, "We did what had to be done, but that doesn't mean that our actions won't have unfortunate consequences."

"But why would the Powers send us to do what we did if it was going to make things worse?" Willow persisted stubbornly.

"Willow, you have to remember that the Powers That Be work in the long term, not within the limits of human -- or vampire -- experience. Things may worsen temporarily in Sunnydale, but ultimately the purge of the Council will serve its purpose," Giles lectured, slipping into Watcher-mode out of habit.

"Besides, no matter how bad it seems, don't forget that it wasn't the Powers That Be who initially set this chain of events in motion. It was the Watchers Council," Angel reminded her.

"I guess..." Willow relented. "Giles, are you sure you're going to be okay here?"

"As your place is in Los Angeles, so too is mine here. I imagine I'll find a way to manage," Giles tried to assure her. However, Willow heard little conviction in his voice and called him on it.

"You sound as sure of yourself as I did when I was a mortal teenager."

Giles pursed his lips in bemusement and arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how to take that, Willow. In life, you were truly a brave and resourceful girl. I admired your resolve. But, if I sounded troubled, it's because I am. I've always seen my work here as seconding Buffy in her calling. Without her...I'm afraid I'm at a loss..."

There was no need for Giles to complete his thought, as Angel and Willow fully appreciated the chasm that Buffy's absence had left. Meanwhile, Spike returned from his hunt. Although he realized that he had interrupted a delicate conversation, Spike refused to tiptoe around anything. Best to cut quick and clean.

"So, we 'bout ready to hit the road?"

Giles shook off his melancholy. "You needn't worry about me. No doubt looking after the Hellmouth will keep me occupied for quite some time. You'd better go. There are people waiting for you back in Los Angeles."

With a final round of thanks and assurances, the vampires filed out of Giles's apartment. Willow joined Spike in his DeSoto, while Angel prepared for a solitary drive home in the same convertible he had pushed to its limits barely two weeks earlier.

*****

Although Willow had offered to ride with him, Angel was desperate to avoid spending the two-hour drive alone with Willow. He wasn't yet ready to deal with the cruelest blow that his alter-ego had inflicted.

Angelus had forced him to face a truth that would cost him Willow.

A truth he could no longer bury beneath the convenient fiction of friendship, feeding, or purely physical satisfaction.

He was unabashedly, undeniably in love with her.

Angel felt the rush of air on his face and the constant, ear-numbing roar of wind as he sped down the highway with the top down. He reflected on how isolated drivers were from each other. They might share the same road, approach each other, pass each other...but the closest they came to contact was the indifferent reflection of lights in mirrors. How like his own situation. He moved among humans and others of his own kind, he sought companionship...but he could never achieve true closeness. Not if he valued the safety of those he cherished.

He was doomed to watch those he cared for from a distance, traveling with them, but never allowed to pause and just *be* with them. The Romany had made sure that he would never lose sight of their lesson: he had turned his back on everything that had been human about himself, and so he would remain cut off from the comforts of humanity -- permanently exiled from what he so dearly craved.

His thoughts returned to Willow.

First, his vulnerable, treasured protegée -- his own Galatea.

Soon thereafter, his steady companion and closest friend.

And somewhere along the way, she had captivated his heart with her wit, her smile, and her compassion. He'd just refused to admit it.

He'd been avoiding the issue for years. Trying to cheat his curse and steal fleeting moments of a happiness he could never fully enjoy, he had refused to share real intimacy with Willow. She recognized this, and for the most part accepted it with no complaints. And then, there had always been Buffy. She had been -- still was -- his true love, his soul mate. His passion for her had made it so easy to pretend, so easy not to recognize other, equally powerful feelings that had insinuated themselves in his heart.

But if his souled half could hide from the truth, his demon had had no qualms about shattering the carefully constructed illusion. No demon could ever be fooled by a lie, and demons loved to torment liars with the truth. That had been the demon's cruelest triumph during his brief liberation from the soul's control. Willow had only guessed half of Angelus's plan. Although the love potion had been intended to rid Angelus of the soul permanently, she hadn't realized that it had also been a message from the demon to the soul:

No love potion was needed.

Angel knew it as soon as his memories had sorted themselves out, and he'd had access to every pleasure that Angelus had experienced. The massage oil had only been insurance. After the vicarious glimpse of what making love to Willow could truly be like, Angel had been all too ready to throw caution to the wind. That readiness had left him no choice but to admit that he wanted it all.

He knew now that he couldn't bring himself to embrace her one more time and cheapen the act by imagining that it was a purely physical consummation; that it had nothing to do with how important her companionship, her mere *presence*, had become to his existence.

There was no turning back.

But there was no going forward, either.

As his thoughts grew more and more somber, Angel unconsciously eased his foot from the accelerator. Cars swerved to pass him as he slowed down, the more impatient drivers honking in irritation or shouting obscenities. The dark vampire shut them out, shut everything out as he struggled to think of what he would say to Willow.

He wished for a longer journey home.

*****

Willow was lost in thought as she waited for one of her coven sisters to answer the door to Cyrene's apartment. She had put off contacting them for two days, reluctant to deal with the questions they would have. Her unease had been compounded by Angel's odd behavior. Although he attempted to act as though everything was normal, he was clearly distancing himself from her.

Had she done something?

Was he having the same reaction she feared from Hannah, Cyrene and Tara? Now that justice had been meted out to the seven conspirators responsible for Buffy's death, Willow saw that her actions were likely to disturb anyone with a soul. True, she still believed that the guilty parties had deserved every moment of suffering that their actions had brought upon them. But, she had crossed into territory that she had carefully avoided all these years, thanks to Angel's vigilance and the help of her coven.

She hadn't just killed -- she had committed torture of the most brutal kind. The violence had been inhuman in every definition of the word. And part of her, the stunted demon that she so rarely indulged, had taken great satisfaction in it. She now understood the thrill Spike enjoyed in inflicting pain.

But she feared that her new understanding might alienate her from those she held so dear.

Had Angel already realized that she had relished some of the demon's darker appetites? Was the truth emblazoned across her face -- did she look cruel? Was that why Angel couldn't hide the disappointment in his eyes every time he looked at her?

Would her fellow Wiccans look at her the same way?

The door opened and Tara greeted Willow with a smile.

"Hi, Willow. Come on in."

Willow and Tara proceeded to the living room. The chairs and coffee table had been shoved aside to create space for their meeting, and the only light was provided by a few votive candles. Hannah and Cyrene stood at the center of the room, gazing at each other intently and engaged in a hushed conversation. At Willow's approach, they broke off their discussion and welcomed her.

"It's good to see you again," said Cyrene.

"And under better circumstances," Hannah added.

"It's good to be back," Willow acknowledged.

"We thought you might need some rejuvenating after your trip, and after the loss of a close friend. So, we planned to keep this evening pretty simple," Cyrene explained. "Whenever you're ready, we can form the circle."

"Um...we should talk first," Willow confessed. "There are some things you should know about what happened in London..."

Cyrene nodded frankly, understanding Willow's hesitation. "Enter the circle with no secrets."

The four of them sat on the worn-kilim rug that covered the floor while Willow recounted, in grim detail, the vengeance that had been inflicted on the Council members. She hid nothing about her role in it, not even the fact that part of her had savored the fear and agony she caused. When she was through, she saw the pained looks on her friends' faces and, with resignation, concluded, "I'll understand if you want me to leave the coven."

"Is that what you want?" Tara asked.

"Well, no. But I feel like I crossed a line, and I wasn't sure I had the right to join with you in communion any more."

"Willow, you did cross a line," Cyrene agreed soberly. "But the consequences are personal; they have nothing to do with us. We aren't here to judge you."

"You don't need us to judge you. You're doing that on your own," Hannah pointed out.

"What you did came at a high price -- for you. You lost some of your innocence and you'll never get it back. You'll never be able to un-know the things you now know. All you can do is go on." Cyrene finished.

"Do you want our help in recovering what you can, or did you tell us this because you've chosen a different path?" Tara asked.

"I'm not sure," Willow confessed. "Right now, I just feel empty."

"An honest answer," Cyrene nodded in acceptance. "A large part of that is probably due to the fact that you're still grieving."

"But I don't know which direction to go in," Willow added, wrinkling her brow as Cyrene's earlier remark about lost innocence began to make more and more sense. "I didn't even think vampires *had* any innocence to lose; but now that I've lost some of mine, I can actually feel what I've lost. It doesn't feel good. I don't know what I can do to change that, either."

"There's no guarantee that you can," Cyrene repeated. "The most you can hope to do is make peace with yourself...and what you can't restore to yourself, help preserve in others."

"Pretty tall order for a soulless demon," Willow chuckled ruefully.

"Not for a Wiccan with the support of her sisters," Hannah countered with a hopeful smile.

Tara, Cyrene, and Hannah joined hands. Hannah and Tara extended their free hands to Willow, inviting her to complete the circle. Grateful for such companions, Willow smiled in return and placed her hands in theirs.

*****

For several weeks, Willow did what she could to return to a normal existence. She and Giles exchanged frequent e-mail, from which she gathered that he was suffering from the same restlessness she was. He informed her that Hellmouth activity had changed little, despite the absence of a Slayer. Willow was unable to contain her laughter when Giles reported that he and Xander had taken up patrolling. Apparently, their most creative -- if unintended -- coup yet had been vanquishing a demon with a moldy loaf of rye bread. No matter how many times she read Giles's explanation of the details, she couldn't believe it -- nor could she read straight through without collapsing in a fit of giggles.

Willow was pleased that Giles had found a way to feel needed again.

However, Willow was growing more and more worried about where she stood with Angel. He had been making himself scarce around the Hyperion, spending more time at the other offices of Angel Investigations with Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn. Naturally, there were always valid reasons for him to be there; but those reasons had never kept him away from his vampire companions for so long.

Willow was lucky if she caught a quick glimpse of his black trench coat as he strode away from the hotel to work on another case.

It was frustrating. Just at a time when she ached to talk with her mentor and confidant, when she needed something to put her back up against as she dealt with Buffy's loss, and with changes in herself, Angel chose to elude her.

Spike, on the other hand, was very willing to keep Willow occupied.

Indeed, as news of their exploits in London slowly began to filter through the local vampire community, the blond vampire relished every opportunity to soak up the admiration and envy of his peers. It was like revisiting his glory days with Angelus and Drusilla, when they'd made themselves legends. Chance acquaintances looked upon him with a respect that bordered on deference, or tried to enhance their own reputation by picking a fight. Whatever the case, Spike absolutely loved it. He dusted the upstarts with glee, and basked in the homage he received from the others.

Willow's standing was likewise improved. No longer regarded with curiosity, amusement, or even contempt, she was now accorded full master status by other masters and minions alike. Masters of other lairs considered that forging an association with her could actually be beneficial.

If anything, it distracted her from brooding about Angel.

One evening, she received a call from Andrew Murdoch, the vampire entrepreneur who had profited so handsomely from tee-shirt sales during Willow's period of experimentation with different feeding methods.

"How are you with truth spells?" he asked after a cordial greeting.

"You mean something like in that old Jim Carrey movie, 'Liar, Liar'?" Willow clarified.

"Along those lines, yes," Murdoch confirmed.

"Piece of cake," Willow replied. "I take it you need one?"

"How perceptive of you, my dear. Could I interest you in a business proposition?"

"Oh, no -- a Wiccan can't cast for profit. But if you tell me what's involved, I might be persuaded to do it as a favor."

"If you insist. I would prefer not to discuss it over the phone, as the matter is somewhat sensitive. Would you be willing to come to my downtown offices?"

"Sure, just tell me when."

"I'll do better than that. I'll send my car. Say, one hour?"

"I'll be waiting."

Spike insisted on accompanying her. Despite Willow's enhanced prowess, he hovered protectively over her as if she were still a vulnerable minion.

That, and his jealous streak had been provoked with the increased attention that Willow was getting because of her role in the scourge of the Council. He didn't care for the looks that some of the masters gave her. Didn't like them one bit.

At Murdoch's top-floor, executive office he offered them seats before an expansive, mahogany desk and proceeded directly to business.

"For about two months, someone in my company has been making suspicious transactions, but they've covered their tracks exceptionally well. So far, I haven't been able to identify the culprit or culprits, but I have reason to believe that someone fairly high up is embezzling."

"If you're asking me to cast a truth spell on *all* your senior employees, I think I should let you know it would tax even my abilities," Willow cautioned.

"Just what is your business?" Spike inquired.

"Fashion photography and models," Murdoch replied smoothly.

Spike's laughter barked forth. "A vamp making money off of photographic images."

Murdoch smirked and gave his visitors a conspiratorial wink. "I prefer to think of myself as...a rancher. I keep the herd docile. We manufacture images of beauty so impossible for anyone to attain that, in their pathetic vanity, humans waste their energy chasing after a mirage, instead of developing any *useful* skills that might cause problems for us."

"Do you have any way to narrow the pool of suspects?" Willow pressed him.

Murdoch raised an eyebrow and flashed her a half-smile. "I take it you're interested, then?"

Willow shrugged. "It's a challenge."

"My right-hand man has been investigating the Vice President of Finance. He's told me of certain suspicions, but in spite of his best efforts, hasn't come up with anything concrete yet. He's been analyzing computer records, but as I said, whoever the embezzler is, he's covered his tracks very well."

"Mind if I look at the files myself? I might be able to find something he missed," Willow proposed. At Murdoch's surprised look, she added, "I was a pretty good hacker before I was made, and I've kept up with it."

"Be my guest," Murdoch rose from his throne-like leather chair and gestured for Willow and Spike to follow him out of his office. Two doors down the hall was the office belonging to his right-hand man -- Marshall Wilkes, his first childe, Murdoch explained, whom he had made nearly thirty years earlier.

Willow set herself up at his computer, and once Murdoch had given her the password to log on, she set to work.

Her host entertained Spike by asking for a first-hand account of the assault on the Watchers Council, which the blond vampire was happy to provide. Murdoch grinned in admiration at the severity of the torture, and avidly pressed for more details about the final confrontation in St. Paul's.

"Wish you could've been there?" Spike asked knowingly.

Murdoch chuckled. "I wish I could have sold tickets. Do you know how much your average vampire would have been willing to pay to see that?"

"Why the hell didn't I think of that?" Spike mused.

They continued talking for close to an hour before Willow interrupted with a grim discovery.

"I think you should take a look at these decrypted files. But you may not like what you see."

Willow watched as Murdoch read what she had discovered. As she had anticipated, his eyes darkened ominously and his entire body went rigid. Although protected by a highly-sophisticated encryption, and camouflaged among ordinary system files, Willow had managed to open records of what appeared to be deductions from employee salaries and equivalent deposits into an account in the name of Marshall Wilkes.

Murdoch's first childe and second-in-command.

Although Willow found it hard to believe that Wilkes would leave such incriminating evidence on a computer to which his sire had access, she had learned enough about sire-childe relations to guess that Wilkes had counted on his sire's trust. Or at least his sire's presumption that his childe feared him enough not to risk betrayal.

Then again, maybe he was just a typically over-confident vamp. Not all of her kind were particularly smart.

"This could have been planted, expressly to cast suspicion on him," Murdoch stated coolly.

Willow nodded diplomatically. "It's possible."

"Where is he right now?" Spike asked.

"Going after a lead. A manager who quit about a month ago. Marshall said she'd been in communication with the VP of Finance, and suggested that he paid her off to leave and keep quiet about something. My childe planned to torture the truth out of her tonight."

"Maybe you'd better be there to hear what she has to say," Willow suggested delicately.

*****

According to the records they found in Wilkes's office, the manager in question was Nadia Drakulic, a woman of forty-five who had supervised photo shoots until her abrupt departure about a month earlier. Because Wilkes had tracked Ms. Drakulic's whereabouts, Murdoch, Willow and Spike had little difficulty finding the modest house where she lived in Redlands. As they approached the front door, all three detected the unmistakable odor of blood.

Willow knocked on the door and announced loudly, "Ms. Drakulic, this is the police. Your neighbors have reported sounds of a disturbance at this address. May we speak with you?"

Sure enough, Ms. Drakulic's beleaguered voice called out from inside, "Help me! There's an intruder in my home!"

Although it was implicit, the invitation was still enough to get them through the door. The three vampires entered quickly and, following the terrified woman's rapid heartbeat, found her backed into a corner in her bedroom. She was fending off Wilkes with a wooden chair, not unlike a circus trainer against a lion.

It was clear that Wilkes had already recognized the presence of his sire. His stance was tensed, but no longer poised to attack. Indeed, he seemed less the predator than the prey, wary of being stalked.

Willow deduced that the petite photographer must have held him at bay for at least two hours, given how long she and Spike had been with Murdoch that evening. She was puzzled as to why the woman was still relatively undamaged. Except for a gash on her upper arm, Ms. Drakulic seemed to have no injuries. Willow could only conclude that something had held Wilkes back. A middle-aged woman wielding a chair, even one who seemed quite lean and wiry for her age, was no match for a master vampire.

"Oh, God," Ms. Drakulic breathed, realizing the newcomers were obviously not the police. She set her jaw, and an expression of fatal resignation settled across her face. Willow scrutinized her more closely. She was attractive. Her dark, spiky-short hair was indeed flecked with gray, but the net effect was an almost exotic, salt-and-pepper texture rather than the appearance of aging.

"God will be of no greater help to you than that chair," Murdoch retorted smoothly.

"Maybe not. But this chair took out two of you bastards, and I plan to take at least one more of you down with me."

Murdoch arched his eyebrow and remarked to his childe, "Marshall, it appears that you've had an eventful evening."

Maintaining a smooth veneer of detachment, Wilkes replied, "She accidentally staked two minions I brought with me. The idiots practically fell on the chair legs. She still probably doesn't understand what she did."

His cool, dismissive remark was undermined slightly by an ugly scrape on his jaw, which Willow guessed had been inflicted by Ms. Drakulic.

"I do *now*," the woman fired back.

Wilkes snarled at her defiance, and moved to strike her. A brief gesture from his sire held him back, as Murdoch advised, "Temper, Marshall...temper. Unless you've already learned everything you need to know from her?"

Willow marveled at the layers of inflection in his voice, and wondered if it was a skill acquired in time by all master vampires. She had heard Angelus use the same, subtle vocal menace, one which compelled obedience.

"I had hoped I was making progress, but we were distracted by your arrival. Was there something important that brought you here?"

"Marshall, you know how important maintaining the integrity of my organization is to me. It seems the offender has grown bolder. He -- or she -- is actually trying to incriminate you in these illicit dealings," Murdoch stated bluntly. "Were you aware that someone has left encrypted files on your computer? Files that make it appear as though you have been siphoning a percentage of employee insurance deductions into your own account?"

In the tiniest fraction of a second, Marshall Wilkes betrayed himself.

It was too fleeting for all but the most perceptive observer to notice, yet the moment's hesitation was unmistakable to a sire who knew his childe. Willow had caught nothing before Wilkes feigned shock, but she clearly read the cold fury in Murdoch's eyes. She wished she were elsewhere -- this would be ugly.

"Those must have been uploaded sometime this evening. I never--" Wilkes began, but his sire cut him off sharply.

"Silence!" Turning to Ms. Drakulic, who had witnessed the exchange with frightened confusion, Murdoch demanded, "What is it you know that he has been so desperate to learn?"

With remarkable nerve for a mortal woman cornered by four vampires, Ms. Drakulic countered, "If I held him off for over two hours, what makes you think I'll tell you?"

In a flash, Murdoch yanked the chair from her hand, dashed it to the floor and gripped the startled woman by the throat. Letting his demon face emerge, he growled, "While your determination may be admirable for a human, my dear, you live only because he allowed it. He wanted the information you had. Tell me what it was, if you wish to continue living."

At this point, Willow saw a subtle shift in Wilkes's posture. Spike noticed it as well, and took a casual step to the left, blocking the path to the door. The signal was clear: any attempt to flee would be challenged.

"He wants a diskette a friend in Accounting gave me," Ms. Drakulic choked against Murdoch's firm grip. "Some of the photographers I supervised complained about new deductions from their paychecks. My friend was trying to figure it out, but before she could tell me anything, she disappeared. A few days later, I got a Fed Ex package from her, containing a diskette with financial records dating back three months. That was when I quit."

"If you feared for your life, why are you still here? Why didn't you publicize the information? And why did you invite my childe into your home?" Murdoch pressed further.

"I didn't know what he was until it was too late," Ms. Drakulic explained, drawing upon her last reserves of courage just to keep speaking. "He threatened some of the people who used to work for me. I thought I could buy time until I could make sure they were safe. Besides, as you've already pointed out, I knew he wasn't ready to kill me. Not without the diskette."

As Willow watched the exchange, she grew increasingly impressed with the human's control over her fear. It wasn't that she had no fear -- indeed, her fear was considerable. But somehow she managed to speak calmly and stare unflinchingly into Murdoch's eyes. Even Murdoch acknowledged her strength, as he gradually released her throat and stepped back out of her personal space. Willow began to feel sympathy for her.

"She's a lying, pathetic human, Sire. It's obvious that she's part of the scam. She's probably the one who planted those files on my--" Wilkes insisted, before Murdoch cut him off again.

"How would she have gained access? She's a photographer, not a computer programmer!" Murdoch's eyes flared murderously as he confronted his childe. "Is this how you repay me, Marshall? Were you going to challenge me?"

By now it was clear to Wilkes that his sire could not be cajoled. Both Willow and Spike tensed for a fight; the situation had become dangerous. But when Wilkes made his move, he chose what he perceived as the weakest link: the human present. Ms. Drakulic stood between him and an exterior window. With vampiric swiftness he charged her, hoping to escape. Mistaking his attempt at flight for an intention to kill her, the survival instinct took over. Using the weight of her entire body, she slammed him against the wall. In a freak twist of fate, she hurled him against a wooden coat rack mounted there. The impact impaled him on one of the posts, and Wilkes burst into dust.

Willow froze, her eyes wide.

Ms. Drakulic mirrored her reaction, and Willow could hear her heart racing frantically.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Willow observed Murdoch as he stared at the pile of dust on the floor, and then slowly raised his gaze to Ms. Drakulic. As Willow might have expected, she saw fury, pain and loss in his expression. What caught her off-guard, though, was the flash of admiration in his eyes.

When Murdoch fixed his eyes on her, Ms. Drakulic closed hers, resigned to death. A tear slipped from beneath her lids and ran down her cheek. With surprising restraint, the vampire stepped forward, brushed the tear away with his thumb, and commanded quietly, "Go. Leave while you still have a heartbeat. Don't return until morning."

The woman didn't need to be told twice. Although she looked like she almost pitied him, she offered no false professions of regret. No one would have believed she was sorry for what she had done in self-defense. Without another word, she fled her own home.

Returning his gaze to his childe's ashes, Murdoch said to Willow and Spike, "Leave me."

Spike made no reply, only held out his hand to Willow. He knew that Murdoch's grief, not simply for the loss of his childe but for the betrayal that couldn't be punished and resolved, was not for them to witness. Not if they didn't want a very ugly fight and an eternal enemy.

Willow murmured, "I'm sorry," before allowing Spike to lead her away from the devastating scene and out into the night.

They walked in silence for a while. Willow hadn't expected anything like that when she had first agreed to meet with Andrew Murdoch. It was only supposed to be a challenge, a distraction.

Something to take her mind off Angel.

"Spike?" she said at last.

"Yeah?"

"I know that you and Angel had a falling-out after he was cursed with his soul. But I thought when you betrayed him, it had to do with the soul, or with Drusilla. Is betrayal *normal* between sires and their childer?"

"Hell yeah," Spike admitted grimly. "Nothin' odd 'bout that, though. Greatest threat to a master is often his own childe."

"But the bond..."

"Bond's always there, even when you'd like to kill each other. Sire-childe relations are powerful, but they're damned well not sugar and spice. When secrets start piling up, it's a sure bet things'll go sour."

Willow absorbed this. More than ever now, she was resolved that she needed to confront Angel. There were too many secrets between them.

"There's still one thing I don't understand. Why did he let her live?" Willow asked, puzzled.

Spike smirked and gave her a sideways glance. "You're joking, right? You had to've seen it."

"Well, I saw the look he gave her," Willow admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that she killed his childe. Wouldn't he want revenge? Or at least wouldn't he want to kill her for harming what was his?"

" 'Course 'e would," Spike agreed. He stopped walking, faced Willow squarely, and placed his hands on either side of her face. His eyes burned into hers. "But strength and power can be irresistible to a vampire. One of the first traits we seek out in a mate. Bloke's mourning his childe, all right, but that little snip impressed him. Be willing to bet she won't stay human much longer."

"Over ten years...and I can still be confused by my own kind," Willow shook her head, even as she tilted it up to meet Spike's lips with her own.

*****

The following afternoon, Willow awakened earlier than usual and slipped down the hall from her room to Angel's suite. She hadn't spent a night in the suite with Angel since their return from France. As she had hoped, he was still asleep. Willow sat down on the foot of the bed and watched him quietly. Within a few moments, he began to stir. No doubt he had sensed that he wasn't alone.

When his eyes opened and focused on her, Willow could best describe the look he gave her as one of intense longing. Almost immediately, however, a wall went up, closing off his emotions. Sitting up, he asked, "Willow--is something wrong?"

"I came here to ask you the same question," she countered softly. "You're asking if something is wrong, just because you woke to find me watching you. It didn't used to be that way. We used to wake together. I used to be welcome here."

Angel's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner."

"That's what I don't understand. I know it has to do with what happened in London, but I thought we *did* talk about that."

"Not London. It's about Paris," Angel confessed uncomfortably.

"Paris?" Willow echoed, her heart sinking, dragging down with it her ability to speak coherently. "Angel...if I'd had a choice...What am I saying? I did have a choice. I could have turned him into a slimy newt, or, or a three-toed sloth. I wasn't thinking. When Angelus threatened Giles...Angel, I'm so sorry--"

The dark vampire interrupted her flustered stream of babble and reassured her, "Willow, I'm not angry at you for that. If anything, I'm angry with myself."

"You? But you weren't in control of what happened."

"Not for that. For not owning up sooner. I shouldn't have let you wonder about what was bothering me for so long. I guess I didn't know how to talk to you. It would make it so...final..."

"Final?" Willow murmured as dread began to gnaw at her insides. "Do you not want me here any more?"

When Angel didn't answer immediately, Willow recoiled as if he had slapped her, and rejection constricted her throat. Angel immediately reached out and grasped her hand.

"Willow, your place is here, for as long as you want. It's just...I can't be with you any more, not like we have been. That's what I realized in Paris." Eyes heavy with regret, he paused for a moment and stroked her cheek tentatively, as though he feared she would vanish. "I love you -- body, mind and soul. I'd been trying to ignore the signs, and put off the inevitable...but it's too strong for me to avoid now."

Willow gaped at him, unprepared for that revelation.

Slowly, her brow furrowed as she took it all in. Part of her glowed, warmed by the thought that he loved her that much. Yet the greater part of her was devastated, because this meant the end to an intimacy that was such a treasured part of her existence. From now on, they would have to keep a safe, civil distance between them.

It was the prudent thing to do, the responsible thing.

And so damned unsatisfying.

The redheaded vampire extended a trembling hand and ran her fingertips lightly over her beloved mentor's lips. Angel's eyes slipped shut and his lips parted as he gave himself over to the bittersweet pleasure of her touch.

"Can you still hold me?" Willow asked uncertainly.

Angel opened his eyes and, with a gentle, sad smile, pulled her into his arms.

*****

The next few days were difficult for both Angel and Willow. However, simply having confronted the truth alleviated some of the awkwardness that had been festering between them. Angel worked to include Willow more frequently in the business of Angel Investigations, since it was clear that she needed a challenge. Spike had explained that restless boredom was often the root of soured relations between sire and childe. In Spike's view, boredom was the bane of a vampire existence, considering that if nobody staked them, they could be around for a long time.

Willow was plying Spike for more of his insights about vampire relations over drinks at Caritas one evening when Andrew Murdoch strolled in. He was in better spirits than when they'd last seen him, and the reason was easy to see. At his right hand stood Nadia Drakulic -- minus her heartbeat.

Spike shrugged, lit himself a cigarette, and remarked, "Told you so."

Willow narrowed her eyes at him and chided, "Smart-ass."

"Thought you liked my ass, luv."

Their banter was interrupted as Murdoch and his new childe approached the table.

"May we join you?" Murdoch inquired smoothly, gesturing to the empty chairs.

"Please," Willow inclined her head in welcome.

"I assume you remember Nadia," Murdoch added as he guided his companion into her seat. "Nadia, these are Willow and Spike."

Nadia cocked her head to the side and said, "From before."

Spike took a long drag on his cigarette but didn't bother to extend his hand. He knew how territorial masters were around newly-made childer. With a bemused smirk, he muttered, "Welcome to the club."

Willow nodded and smiled, before turning to Murdoch and asking, "What brings you to Caritas? I don't think I've seen you here before."

"This is known as one of your haunts. I wanted to speak to you about another business proposition."

"Not more embezzling?" Willow demanded warily.

"No, and I've been meaning to thank you for your help with that," Murdoch answered evenly, his face pleasantly neutral. "However, the events of that evening have left a vacancy in my organization. I was wondering if you would consider accepting the position formerly held by my childe. You're good."

Willow's eyes widened in surprise, and a low, displeased growl rumbled in Spike's throat. Diplomatically, Murdoch amended, "That is, if you don't have other ambitions. I must admit, it's difficult to come by information about the Trinity. You're among the most powerful vampires in the city, yet you seem to have your designs on nothing. Unless, of course, you've been devoting yourself to the hunt for the child -- which is the current assumption in some circles."

"Hunt for the child?" Willow echoed as she exchanged a puzzled look with Spike.

Murdoch stared at her as if it were obvious. "The Slayer. Her human keepers haven't found her yet. The rumor is that she's barely eleven years old -- practically defenseless. Vampires everywhere are looking for her. An easy prize."

Spike snorted disdainfully. "Right. They think they'll have bragging rights for taking down a baby girl. If they want a real notch in their belts, let 'em try taking one out in her prime."

Murdoch acquiesced with a light shrug of his shoulders. "Not all of them can be William the Bloody." Turning to Willow, he restated his offer. "I take it that you aren't pursuing the hunt. In that case, the position at my company is yours. I can make the arrangement very attractive. Do consider it."

"I'll think about it, but I won't promise anything," Willow stated flatly. Turning to Spike, she said, "I'm going to the bar for a re-fill. Want anything?"

Spike eyed her half-full glass with an arched brow and declined. He knew exactly why she was going to the bar, and it wasn't to get another drink.

At the bar, Willow perched herself on one of the stools and motioned to the scaly, speckled bartender. He approached and asked in a voice that warbled two-part harmony, "What can I get you?"

"Lorne," Willow answered. "Tell the Host I need to see him."

"Well...he's kind of entertaining a private party right now..." the bartender apologized.

Willow sized up the demon across from her, and surmised what would be the most effective reply. Taking a chance, she asked sweetly, "How would you like your lower register to be permanently flat, and your upper register to be permanently sharp?"

The bartender grimaced. Willow's reputation as an adept witch carried far and wide. He lowered his eyes in defeat and withdrew to fetch his employer. As he left, he motioned to one of the busboys to fill in for him.

Willow waited a few moments. She fiddled with the glass she'd brought to the bar with her, took a few sips of her drink, then noticed that someone had moved to stand beside her. Willow turned her head to see the fledgling Nadia wave the stand-in bartender over and order two glasses of red wine. Willow could see in her eyes that the newly-made vampire was curious about her, but was studiously trying to hide it. Since Willow was equally interested to know how Nadia had come to join the community of the undead, and knew that the younger vampire wouldn't speak first, she broached the subject directly.

"So, he found you?" Willow remarked casually.

Nadia nodded. "Two nights after..."

"After you killed his childe," Willow finished, understanding that it might be an awkward subject for one who, as a childe herself now, could understand the full gravity of what had happened. "And he turned you then."

"No. It wasn't until a week later," Nadia explained. When she saw Willow's startled face, she elaborated, "I remember that I hadn't even planned to be around...I meant to leave town the next day. But my bank account was frozen -- and I knew. I knew it was him. I didn't know what to do. I called a friend and stayed with her the first night, then went back to my place to pack whatever I could sell for cash into my car and hit the road. I figured starting over from scratch was my only choice. That's when he showed up. He asked me out to dinner...and I realized that if he'd wanted me dead, it would have happened already. So I went. And that's all we did, up until the night he turned me. We had dinner and we talked."

"He seduced you," Willow concluded, understanding.

Nadia fidgeted, and Willow knew even before she opened her mouth what she would say next. "I've heard...about you. I know it didn't happen the same way..."

Willow had been through this more times than she could count. It was long past the "getting old" stage, too familiar to be annoying any more, and had simply become part of her own, personal litany.

"A minion stumbled across me at a bus stop. My illustrious sire got himself staked the following night," Willow drawled indifferently. Taking a sip of her drink, she added, "Not all of us are wined and dined before we're dined on."

Nadia blinked in surprise and released a flustered cross between a laugh and a snort. As a newly-made childe, she felt the bond with her sire deeply, and Willow's complete lack of feeling for her own sire perplexed her. Something about Willow's relaxed demeanor must have given Nadia the courage to press further. Succumbing to her overwhelming curiosity, she asked, "Doesn't it bother you, not having a sire?"

Willow regarded her thoughtfully before admitting, "Sometimes. Mostly it's something I wonder about, like a hypothetical question. But there's no point in spending too much time on something I can't really change."

Nadia frowned, still unable to fathom Willow's calm disinterest about her lack of blood ties. The busboy slid the requested glasses of wine in front of her. The younger vampire stared, befuddled, at her enigmatic elder for a few moments more, and then simply retreated wordlessly to the table where her sire chatted with Spike.

Amused by the exchange, Willow cracked a half-smile. She was just raising her own glass to her lips when The Host finally arrived, looking very put-out.

"Do you have any idea who you dragged me away from?" he huffed irritably. "Barbra Streisand's agent. The woman may be past her prime, but she can still belt them out better than most of the prancing teenagers you hear these days. And I *almost* had her persuaded to book Barbra for two shows here -- this had *better* be good, toots."

"I need you to tell me what you've heard about a hunt for the Slayer," Willow demanded with urgency.

The green-skinned demon rolled his eyes disdainfully. "You dragged me out here for *that*? You've been hanging around tall, dark and angst-ridden too long -- his bad habits are rubbing off on you."

"Lorne, enough with the drama queen routine. This is serious," Willow insisted sternly.

The Host sighed, and reminded her stubbornly, "You know the rules."

Her patience wearing thin, Willow narrowed her eyes wickedly and brayed in a flat, monotone voice, "Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beeeeeeeer--"

"Stop, already!" Lorne raised his hands in disgust. "You *are* taking after His Broodness. Okay, I don't know much, but here's what I can tell you..."

*****

Giles was aghast.

When Willow had called him, he'd assumed she was checking up on him, as had been her habit ever since their return from Europe. When he heard her recount what she had learned about the Slayer, it chilled him to the core.

"By killing Buffy before her time -- at least five years too soon, if the rumors about the next Slayer's age are correct -- they left this girl completely vulnerable," Giles fumed indignantly. "How could they not have considered that?!"

"I seem to have lost any remorse I felt," Willow agreed through the telephone receiver. "Giles, is there any way you could make some inquiries about this?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I can make inquiries, but I doubt I'll get much of a response. As you predicted, my former associates aren't speaking to me."

"Anything you can learn will be helpful," Willow assured him. "We have to find this girl before someone else does."

"We certainly agree on that," Giles replied fervently.

"Angel and the others just came in, so I have to go. Call me if you uncover anything."

"I will," he promised before disconnecting.

Giles sat on the edge of his bed and felt very old as he absorbed this latest turn of events. He had just begun to move on with his life after Buffy, and was slowly adjusting to no longer being a central player in the fight against evil. True, he had missed the gratification of making a difference in the world, but he'd learned to find satisfaction in the modest contribution he and Xander made toward keeping their small corner of the world safe. Day by day, he managed to give meaning to his existence, and learned to cope with the pain that memories of Buffy could still evoke.

All of that was now thrown into disarray. It was heart-wrenching to know that Buffy should have been with them for another five years. Moreover, there was a threat to the new Slayer, and Giles knew that he was needed. A seasoned veteran of more battles than most people -- most Watchers, even -- faced in a normal lifetime, Giles felt the stirring of familiar reflexes. He rose to set on some water for tea and begin making his inquiries.

*****

More than a month after Willow spoke with Giles about the threat to the new Slayer, Cordelia had a vision that gave them their first clue to her location. Wanting to claim the prize for themselves, most vampires were as tight-lipped as the Watchers. All they could discover was that the girl was most likely somewhere in the Western United States. However, Cordelia's vision narrowed the range considerably. She saw an alley next to The Cutthroat Saloon, a sign for hot springs, and...

"...horses," Cordelia announced as she massaged her temples. Per their usual routine, Angel handed her a glass of water and waited for her to recover. One of the small mercies of the excruciating pain she'd suffered from the vision of Buffy's assassination was that, in comparison, all others since then had been almost bearable. The Seer now recovered much more quickly and had an easier time sorting out the images.

"Horses?" Angel prompted.

Cordelia knit her brow as she worked to bring everything into focus. "Yes...ranches, actually...wait...Pagosa Trails..."

Wesley was already en route to the computer. "It shouldn't be too difficult to cross-reference ranches named Pagosa Trails with towns that have a Cutthroat Saloon."

"Wow, your visions are getting pretty good with the specifics," Willow noted wryly. "Think we could nudge the Powers a little and get them to flash you a post office with the zip code on front?"

"No nudging! Jeez, don't jinx me, vamp girl. I've gotten used to *not* needing mega-doses of ibuprofen after these," Cordelia retorted peevishly.

Willow stuck her tongue out at the brunette, then went to help Wesley. Within twenty minutes, they found three small towns that boasted a Pagosa Trails ranch and a Cutthroat Saloon, but only one that was also near natural hot springs.

Pagosa Springs, Colorado.

Unlike Cordelia's usual visions, this one had indicated no immediate threat; only a place, and an image of a young girl with dark braids and alert sable eyes. As it was already after the departure of most night flights from L.A., Angel instructed Cordelia to make arrangements for him to catch a flight to Albuquerque the next evening.

"Make that two tickets, Cordy," Willow piped up.

Angel shook his head. "No, Willow. If we both go, it will arouse suspicion. Other vampires may be watching us, and we could end up leading them straight to her."

Willow met his firm denial with her own, steady resolve. "Then let me go alone. I *need* to help with this, Angel. I haven't felt right since London. Besides, you know that there isn't anyone better-equipped to sense a Slayer than me."

"Willow, Cordelia's visions are my marching orders from the Powers, they always have been. Believe me, I understand why you want to help, but as much as I trust you, I can't send you to do my work. I won't take the risk that, for whatever reason, I was meant to be there," Angel insisted.

"So we both go, then. Even if we do lead some of the others to her, there will be two of us to protect her," Willow argued.

They debated at length. Finally, Angel pulled rank.

"Willow, as a member of my clan, you're still under my authority. Do you need a reminder?"

A shiver of desire ran through Willow. There was that damned voice again, compelling and seductive. Did she need a reminder? Did she *want* one? God...how she wanted it. The feel of his fangs in her neck once again, after they had refrained for so long. It would be more than a reminder of his authority. As with anything that involved blood, it would summon up the powerful feelings they shared -- not as powerful as a sire-childe bond, but very potent in their own right.

Too potent. Willow might want a reminder, but she knew neither of them could afford it.

"No reminder necessary," Willow deferred softly, lowering her eyes. When she raised them again, she saw her own frustrated desire mirrored in Angel's eyes. Although he looked like he wanted to pull her into his arms, he stepped away.

Discretion: the better part of valor, and the ultimate cold shower for passion.

However, the following afternoon, the Powers That Be decided the matter in favor of Willow. Cordelia had yet another vision, this time one that pictured Angel responding to a crisis in Los Angeles. Still uncomfortable with the idea of not handling such an important matter as the Slayer's safety himself, the dark vampire suggested that Willow take Spike along with her. Evidently, she had persuaded him that having two of them close enough to protect the young Slayer outweighed the risk that too many vampires would follow them.

Cordelia made some costly, last-minute changes to the flight reservations, and soon after dusk Willow and Spike left on their mission.

*****

Spike screwed up his face in disgust. Augh! Just his luck that the Slayer was holed up in a backwater town rife with the odor of livestock. It assaulted his acute vampire senses mercilessly. Maybe he could persuade Willow to start the search near that Cutthroat Saloon the Seer had envisioned. He certainly liked the name -- sounded like his kind of place.

Right.

An eleven-year-old girl at a saloon. Willow would really go for that one.

Why the hell had he let her drag him out here, anyway? Give him a good, densely-populated city any day. He didn't care for sleepy country hamlets -- never had, not even in life. With the possible exception of the saloon -- and Willow -- the town offered none of his favorite distractions. 'Course, he could cook up distractions enough. A decent brawl for starters, or maybe scaring some sweet, wholesome country girl senseless before draining her.

But his sire had threatened him with a nice rooftop view of the sunrise if he called too much attention to them before the girl was safe.

The blond vampire scowled.

He knew bloody well why he was here.

He'd pulled every damned trick out of his arse to get Willow to snap out of her funk, and this was just one more. She'd somehow fallen prey to the idea that she'd done something *wrong* in London. Passing regret, he might've understood. But this was bloody ridiculous. It was like rescuing the infant Slayer was some kind of penance. And for what? Doing something sanctioned by Angel's sodding *Powers* themselves.

On top of it all, she was pining for his sire. It was Drusilla all over again.

He hadn't minded that her affections were divided between Angel and himself. Well...not *too* much. Unlike his insane princess, Willow never forgot whom she was with, and gave him her full attention when they were together. Angel was also no Angelus. He didn't exploit every opportunity to make Spike feel like Willow's second choice. The two males had managed to honor their agreement not to repeat the Drusilla situation.

Someone had bloody well forgotten to tell Willow about the deal, though.

Although she didn't mope over Angel as overtly as Dru had, the same longing was ever-present. For some reason, it had gotten worse in the past couple of months, and it was wearing on Spike's nerves. He wondered sullenly how long he could put up with it.

He glanced at the determined, fiery beauty who walked beside him, her eyes narrowed as she concentrated intently on sensing the Slayer, and to his chagrin knew that he'd put up with it forever.

She was the most challenging, alluring -- and taxing -- creature to cross his path in a century, and he was hooked.

What a pathetic, sorry sod.

Damned lucky, too. Even more than Dru had, Willow made him feel like a prince among demons.

"Spike, you're either having a muscle spasm in your jaw, or something is bothering you."

Damn, her attention wasn't quite as focused on the search as he'd assumed.

"Just wondering why the helpless little waif had to live in the middle of a stinking cow pasture," Spike grumbled.

Willow graced him with one of her soft, knee-weakening smiles and laced her fingers through his.

"I think it's kind of pretty out here. We don't see nearly this many stars in L.A."

It was true. The obsidian dome of the night sky was bedecked with a seemingly-infinite array of stars. Some shone in clusters, others glittered in solitude like beacons at sea. They were framed only by the void of the dark, silhouetted hills. Spike shrugged. He was in no mood to be distracted by starlight and a full moon.

"Nice enough. Look, luv, we've been at this since we got in almost three hours ago. Chit's probably in bed by now. We've practically been from one end of this town to the other. What say we go nip a local or two at the saloon and call it a night?"

Willow pulled her hand away from his and lowered her eyes in disappointment.

"We've still got a good four hours until dawn. She may be asleep, but I'll still be able to sense her. If you're that hungry, you go ahead and I'll meet you back at the cabin."

Spike looked away, but didn't bother to disguise the sullen tone in his voice.

"No, if you're determined to carry on with your crusade, I might as well come along for the ride. Wouldn't want to miss the excitement if you actually find her."

Willow halted, faced him with hands on hips, and retorted, "Crusade? You think this is a joke?"

Oh, sod.

"Not a very good one. But I think *you've* got a helluva lot riding on this."

Willow flinched and took a moment before answering softly, "You wouldn't understand."

"Damn right," Spike snorted. "Angel could've handled this. Oh, I know -- the other vision. But he could've made quick work of that and been out here in plenty of time. D'you have any idea what you're really looking for? 'Cos it's not just the Slayer."

"No...I don't," Willow confessed slowly.

They stood apart for several minutes, the surrounding silence disturbed only by the occasional rustling of wind in the trees. Seemingly out of the blue, Willow asked, "Spike, have you ever made a childe?"

He blinked and shifted his stance. Odd question.

"No. Why d'you ask?"

"But you could."

" 'Course I could. Red, you owe me an answer. Why the interest all of a sudden?"

"I guess...I just feel out of sorts, lately. I don't know where I belong. It's always been this way, but it didn't bother me too much -- until London. Now, for the first time, other vampires treat me like I'm really one of them. It's like I traded up by killing a few Watchers. It would be so easy just to settle into the community, play the game, jostle the other masters for power...but I don't know if that's what I want..."

Spike fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Willow...are you asking me if siring a childe can fill that void?"

"I don't think I could bring myself to do it," Willow confessed awkwardly, looking for all the world like a lost child. "But I just want to know. What makes a vampire do it? And why haven't you ever...?"

Spike pursed his lips thoughtfully. He knew she'd asked Angel about this before, so she obviously didn't want the standard explanations: Companionship. Empire-building. Legacy. What the hell was she looking for?

"If you're wondering whether there's a connection between sire and childe that gives them a clear sense of their place in the world, the answer is yes. As for my lack of progeny...'spose I never felt the need for a childe. Walking beside Angelus was..." a distant, passionate fire burned in his eyes, "...everything I could have ever wanted. Later, I made my own place in the world. Besides, I never found anyone that suited me. Most chits I'd just as soon drain, maybe shag once or twice...but not many I'd want under foot for eternity."

"But you were willing to spend over a century with Drusilla," Willow pointed out.

"Dru needed me...and I liked feeling needed. She was my princess," Spike agreed, smiling ruefully at the thought of his erstwhile lover. "But Angelus got to her first. Who knows, if I'd happened across her before he did, I might've turned her. Might've spared her mind."

Willow's eyes softened, and she pressed further. "You once offered to turn me."

"I'd make you the same offer again, if I could," Spike responded instantly, his voice tempered with deep emotion. "Guess my timing bites. Someone else always gets to the best ones before I do."

The look in Willow's eyes nearly melted him. They shone as if he'd given her a gift, as if there was nobody else in the world but him. It was enough to make him want to throw her down then and there.

Perhaps with a quick glance at the ground for cow dung.

"If I had the chance again, I'd say yes," Willow murmured, stepping closer. She kissed him gently and added, "I love you, Spike."

Spike reminded himself that he was dead, and that it was *not* the thrumming of his heart he'd just felt.

They had done just about everything lovers could do -- usually, while they were both naked. But although their relationship encompassed the fierce passion of demons and the tender familiarity of dedicated mates, those words hadn't really entered into the picture.

Breathe, dammit. Wait, he didn't breathe. Say something.

"And I, you," Spike answered softly, swelling with pleasure. He knew she'd said it to Angel, too, but somehow she was able to love *him* just as completely. Willow matched him, fire for fire. "If Dru was a princess, you are my queen."

With firm, insistent hands he drew her up against his body. Spike cradled her cheek with one hand, gently stroking it with his thumb, and kissed her again. Her lips parted eagerly as his tongue thrust forward, seeking its mate. They were joined together in intimate exploration for what could have been hours, yet when Willow pulled away the dawn was still far from creeping over the hills.

"Spike...I know you don't altogether understand why I'm doing this, but I need to keep looking. Can I promise you we'll pick up where we left off, later, at the cabin?"

He smiled and dropped his forehead against his fist in defeat. She was overpowering. When his eyes once again met hers, he leered. "Make me as many promises as you like. I love collecting."

Spike let Willow coax him into continuing along her chosen path. A true predator, as they passed different homes, he took note of the surroundings and the number of heartbeats he detected. He, too, remained alert for the Slayer, having to admit to himself that he was a little curious about how a pre-adolescent Slayer would register.

Dawn was almost upon them when Spike felt Willow go very still. He paused, straining to detect what had caught her attention. They were half-way down the long, winding approach to yet another ranch house, which looked much like all the others. Spike smelled the musky odor of horses, but was as yet unable to sense anything human. Willow began to walk briskly toward the house; Spike kept pace with her. When they were about twenty yards away, he felt his familiar response to a Slayer. A cold prickling ran along his spine and a dull ache throbbed in his fangs.

They'd found her. But with hardly a moment to spare.

"She's here," Willow announced excitedly.

Spike nodded. "Not much we can do at the moment, though. Unless you fancy spending the day in the barn, we'd best get back to our cabin and come back tomorrow night." When Willow hesitated, he added, "Even if another vamp tracked us here, he wouldn't be able to go after her in daylight."

Willow relaxed slightly. "You're right. But we should be back here at dusk."

Spike agreed, his earlier reluctance forgotten at the prospect of encountering an untrained child-Slayer. True, he'd no interest in taking her out -- it would be so easy, it was beneath him. But he'd never faced a Slayer who wasn't his equal before, and the novelty of it intrigued him.

They made it back to their private cabin at a local resort easily before sunrise. It was a bit too rustic for his taste -- Spike suspected the main lodge had a bit more flair. However, being secluded from the other guests and staff had its advantages.

Very notable advantages, Spike acknowledged as he lay on their bed and shivered as Willow delicately brushed her tongue along the tender underside of his shaft. With no annoying neighbors around to hear, he threw back his head and growled with pleasure.

Damn, he loved it when she....oh, yeah...

*****

After dusk, Willow helped Spike dispose of the brawny young man they had drained. Both of them had been famished, since they'd had no chance to feed the night before. She insisted that they use extra discretion, since people in a community this small were more likely to notice if a neighbor went missing. They'd listened in on conversations at the Cutthroat Saloon until they were certain they'd found someone from out of town, then waited for him to step outside.

When they were through, they headed immediately for the ranch where they'd detected the Slayer the night before. Willow was still worried about the possibility that she and Spike had inadvertently led other vampires here -- especially given what Andrew Murdoch had told her.

Her worst fears were realized as they neared the ranch house and Willow sensed not only the girl, but another vampire. Through her unique Slayer-telepathy, Willow perceived that the child was poised to fight and held some sort of a weapon. A quarter-staff? No...more like a shovel. Knowing that Spike would follow, Willow broke out into a run.

She found them in the stable. Willow recognized the vampire who menaced the Slayer as a mature minion she had seen at Caritas once or twice. No doubt he hoped to elevate himself to master status by killing the girl. Willow surveyed the damage quickly. An adult male and female, most likely the girl's parents, lay unconscious on the ground. She caught the scent of blood -- and lots of it -- coming from the male, whose hands clutched a rifle. Sure enough, the attacking minion sported several entry- and exit-wounds.

Resolutely squared off against him was the Slayer, the girl Cordelia had described from her vision. From the look of the shovel she wielded, she'd been in the middle of her chores, cleaning out the stalls, when the vampire had jumped her. Willow guessed that her screams had brought the unfortunate parents running. Yet though the girl was small, and clearly frightened, her Slayer instincts had kicked in and enabled her to hold her ground.

Sensing the presence of rival vampires, the minion turned and snarled, "Mine!"

"Wanna bet?" Willow retorted. Launching herself at him, but not dropping immediately into gameface for fear of ruining her chances with the Slayer, it took her only a few jabs and feints before she had him in a headlock. Pulling a stake from the pocket of her coat, she addressed the Slayer, who was stunned by Willow's actions. "The most effective way to dispatch a vampire is a stake through the heart. Make sure your aim is precise."

Willow punctuated her lesson with a demonstration. The minion promptly disintegrated. But when she fixed her eyes on the young Slayer and took a step toward her, the girl raised her shovel and warned shakily, "Stay away from me!"

Willow complied, and advised her calmly, "You should move your parents inside the house. If there are any others of our kind in the area, they won't be able to harm them there. A vampire can't enter a human residence without an invitation."

"You're vampires, too..." the girl deduced, still tensed for a fight.

Spike, who had stayed back to this point, advanced a few paces, flashed his demon face and taunted, "Couldn't you tell?"

When the Slayer appeared confused and made no reply, Willow asked, "Did you feel strange around the one who attacked you? Do you feel the same thing around us?"

The girl hesitated for a few beats, obviously wary of telling the monstrous strangers anything. However, she eventually admitted, "Kind of. It's like butterflies in my stomach."

"Learn to understand the signals your body is sending you. That's your warning that vampires are in the area. It's one of your special abilities as the Slayer," Willow explained.

"Slayer?"

"Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. In each generation, a girl is called to protect humans from our kind. The task has fallen to you," Willow continued.

"But I don't want to be one," the girl protested.

Willow recalled how difficult it had been for Buffy to adjust to the responsibilities of her calling, when all she'd wanted was to be a teenager and enjoy the usual activities of teenaged life. It pained her to think that the Council's actions had not only robbed Buffy of her life, but would rob this girl of her remaining childhood. Possibly her life, as well.

"What's your name?" Willow asked gently.

The Slayer hesitated.

Willow understood that the girl might be reluctant to volunteer her name to strangers, but was nonetheless impatient due to the urgency of the situation. "Tell me, or don't tell me. You know we could kill you if we wanted to, so not telling me your name isn't really much of a safety measure, is it? My name is Willow, if it matters."

Startled by such bluntness, the girl wrinkled her brow at Willow's logic. Confused, she found herself murmuring, "Megan."

"Megan, it's not something you can really choose. You were born to this. Even if you try to ignore it, other vampires will seek you out, and they'll know what you are. The minion who attacked you tonight was only the first."

"And he was far from the worst you'll meet," Spike added.

"Are you going to kill me?" Megan's timid question wasn't directed specifically at either one of them. Though she suppressed the noise of sobs, her small frame trembled and tears leaked from her eyes.

"No, we're here to help," Willow assured her.

"How do I know that? You're a vampire, like the other one," Megan blurted accusingly.

"Not all vampires are alike," Willow explained. "But I know it will be hard for you to trust us. And that's good -- vampires are deadly, and a Slayer's guard must always be up. However, right now, we're all you've got. I'm willing to earn your trust. We can start by getting your parents inside."

"Looks like mommy's about to wake up, anyway," Spike observed.

"How can you tell?" Megan wondered, glancing between the intimidating vampire and her mother, whose body remained motionless.

"Vampire, remember?" Spike quipped brusquely. "We're experts at reading pulse, heartbeat, body temperature...Take you. Your pulse isn't going quite as fast now as it was a few minutes ago. Oughta be careful, little thing, you don't dare get too comfortable around us."

Megan's eyes widened, and she impulsively felt for the pulse at her throat, which had quickened at Spike's sinister words. He snickered.

As Spike had anticipated, Megan's mother slowly regained consciousness. A low moan signaled that she was awake, and she sat up. When she saw Willow and Spike, she grabbed her husband's rifle in alarm and aimed it at them.

"Megan, come here," the woman urged her daughter nervously. Still wielding the shovel, the young Slayer moved to stand beside her mother. Staring coldly at the two vampires, the woman demanded, "Who are you?"

"My name is Willow, and my companion is Spike. Since you're probably wondering, yes, like the one who attacked you, we're vampires. Unlike him, we're here to help your daughter."

"Vampires are a myth. They don't exist," the woman challenged.

Not surprised by her response, since most humans remained blissfully ignorant of the predators who stalked them, Willow allowed her demon face to emerge. However, the gesture so startled the woman that she pulled the trigger of the rifle. Willow recoiled in pain from the impact of the bullet.

Spike howled with rage, and before the woman could react, he seized the rifle and flung it clear across the stable, completely unconcerned about the risk that the impact with the ground might set it off. Before he could attack the Slayer's mother, however, Willow stretched out her arm to wave him back. Wincing, she muttered, "Spike, don't -- I'm okay. Could you fish it out before the wound closes up?"

With a final glare at the astonished humans who looked on, Spike turned to Willow. She braced herself, gripping his shoulders firmly with both hands, and gave him a faint smile to reassure him. His eyes held a silent apology as he plunged his fingers into the wound. Willow hissed and dug her fingernails into his duster. A moment later, Spike pulled out the offending bullet. Gazing at her mischievously, he brought the bullet to his mouth and licked it clean with slow, erotic swipes of his tongue.

Appalled, the Slayer's mother grimaced at the macabre sight.

Remembering that they had an audience, Willow gave Spike a quick kiss of thanks, then turned back to Megan and her mother and advised, "Bullets don't work against vampires. A stake to the heart, decapitation, crosses, holy water, sunlight -- those are your best bets. A private residence makes a good safe haven if you're unable to fight. And speaking of that, we should get all of you inside your home. I can help you with him as far as the threshold."

Megan's mother stood her ground for several moments, still uncertain and hopelessly ill-equipped to judge whether or not she could really trust the two vampires. At last, she nodded. It was less a choice than a gesture of defeat. Willow moved to lift the still-unconscious man so she could carry him to the house, but Spike stopped her. Indicating the wound in her chest, which was slowly mending itself, he said, "Ease up for a bit, luv."

Crouching down, Spike slung the Slayer's father over his shoulder and followed the human females to their house. When they reached the front door, he shifted the man to his arms and handed him to Megan. Without even thinking, the small girl reached out to accept her father, but then blinked in surprise when she realized she was supporting his full weight. Her muscles barely strained, despite the fact that he was more than twice her size.

Spike saw her look of astonishment and pursed his lips in amusement. "Slayer strength. One of the perks of the job."

"You'll understand if I don't invite you in," Megan's mother muttered awkwardly as she ushered her daughter inside.

Willow nodded. "We'll stay nearby, though, since there's no way to know whether there are other vampires in the area. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but life won't ever be the same for you. I suggest you call a man named Rupert Giles at this number." Willow reached into her coat pocket and withdrew a business card for the magic shop. "He'll be able to help you understand this, and it will probably be easier for you to hear it from a human."

Hesitantly, Megan's mother reached across the threshold and took the card from Willow. When she looked doubtfully at the enigmatic redhead, Willow re-iterated, "Call him, please. For Megan's safety." As the Slayer's mother began to close the door, Willow added, "By the way, from the sound of his pulse and the pallor of his skin, I'd say your husband has lost at least three pints of blood, maybe more. Get him to a hospital as soon as you can."

Megan, who had set her father down on the living-room sofa and returned to the doorway, whispered timidly, "Could he die?"

As Willow turned toward Spike, who was waiting on the porch steps, she looked gravely into the girl's eyes and acknowledged, "Yes."

*****

Hang it all!

Giles slammed down the telephone, so frustrated he felt he was about to burst out of his own skin. This was the fifth call he'd made to the Council since Wesley had informed him that the Slayer had been located, and that Willow and Spike were on their way to retrieve her. He'd tried diplomacy, pleading, angry shouts, but their exchanges always ended the same way. He couldn't convince the Council to send a new Watcher for the Slayer. They insisted that he tell them where to find her, and when he refused, out of concern for the girl's safety, he was left with a dial tone.

They were blind fools, clinging to their suspicions and their need to call the shots.

He was jolted out of his silent rant when the telephone rang. His breath caught in his throat. Could they have finally decided to listen to reason?

"Hello?" he addressed the caller.

"Is this....Rupert...Guyles?" a woman's voice asked hesitantly.

"Ah, yes it is, or, rather *Giles*, as in...er, genteel," he acknowledged.

"My name is Leah MacKenzie. This is going to sound strange, but...I was given your card by a...a...vampire."

"Willow?" Giles prompted hopefully.

"Yes. It's about our daughter."

"Did Willow already explain that your daughter is rather...unique...and is in considerable danger at the moment?"

"She did, but I don't know how to believe any of this. Frankly, I don't even know quite why I called you, except..."

"...you can't really think of anyone else to call?" Giles offered helpfully when she didn't finish.

"I don't know what to think about anything," the strain was evident in Mrs. MacKenzie's voice. "Vampires are *fictional*. They belong in horror movies, *not* in my stable threatening my only child. And now there are two of them, waiting outside my home, trying to get me to accept that they're here to help. What am I supposed to believe?!"

"Mrs. MacKenzie, I think it would be best if we started from the beginning..."

Giles settled in for a very long discussion. He knew it would take tremendous patience and every verbal skill he could muster to persuade this woman to take the biggest leap of faith in her entire life.

*****

Early in the morning, the Slayer's father was flown by helicopter to Santa Fe, which had the nearest hospital with a trauma unit. Megan and her mother drove down to be near him, and checked into a local motel. After nearly three hours on the phone, Giles had indeed worked the miracle he'd hoped to, and convinced Mrs. MacKenzie to trust Willow. Thus, as soon as the sun permitted, she and Spike followed and set themselves up in an adjoining room, reserved for them by Giles.

Spike was tremendously pleased to be rid of barnyards and quiet small towns, and went out for a celebratory spot of bloodshed their first evening in town. When he returned, he found Megan sitting beside her mother on their bed, inundating Willow with questions.

"So, you're really dead?" Megan asked curiously.

"I've been dead for nearly twelve years," Willow acknowledged.

"What's it like?"

Willow chuckled and tilted her head upward. "Meg, there's more than I could begin to tell."

"Well...what does blood taste like?" the girl persisted.

As Spike plopped down onto the bed beside Willow, he snorted, "Everyone knows what blood tastes like."

"Not everyone is a vampire," Megan pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Ever cut your finger before?" Spike fired back.

"Yeah," the girl admitted with a puzzled frown.

"What'd you do?"

"I put a Band-Aid on it."

Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. "*Before* that. What was your first response to the sight of your own blood seeping out of the cut?"

"I put my finger in--"

"--your mouth," Spike finished for her. "Everyone does it. Animal instinct. Means everyone's tasted blood."

"So when you drink people's blood, it's no different than when I suck on a paper cut?" Megan seemed disappointed at such a mundane explanation.

"Don't know. D'you come when you nurse a paper cut?"

"Spike!!!" Willow protested in alarm.

"Honey, it's about time for bed," Mrs. MacKenzie broke in hastily, wanting to steer her daughter away from the conversation. "We might be able to see dad tomorrow morning."

Instantly, Megan's interest in vampire nature was eclipsed by the more-pressing concern for her father. "Do you think he'll be awake?"

Mrs. MacKenzie smiled gently at her. "The doctor said he thinks the chances are good."

Megan chewed on her lower lip and her face became a mask of stoicism that seemed out of place on one so young. She leaned in and gave her mother a crushing hug, then got up to brush her teeth. While her daughter was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Mrs. MacKenzie asked Willow in a low voice, "Are there vampires in Santa Fe?"

"It's a city," Willow confirmed. "Vampires tend to settle in wherever humans congregate."

"So how long will we be safe here?" the Slayer's mother posed the crucial question. Her eyes had the beleaguered look of someone not used to being hunted.

"In a normal motel room, probably not more than one or two days. They're not really private residences, so vampires can come and go as they please. And this town's vamps will catch wind of Megan pretty quickly. But as soon as we got here, I set a protection spell around our rooms," Willow assured her.

"Oh...that's right. Mr. Giles said you're also a witch," Mrs. MacKenzie murmured to herself.

"It should keep them out," Willow continued. A thought occurred to her, and she frowned slightly. "Unless one of them has a faroe stone...but that's not very likely. At any rate, Spike and I will keep watch at night."

Mrs. MacKenzie nodded, but said nothing further as Megan approached, now changed into an over-sized sleep shirt, and prepared to crawl into bed. Willow rose up and gestured for Spike to follow her. "Spike and I will be right next door if you need anything. 'Night, Megan."

"Good night, Willow. Good night, Spike," the Slayer responded. Before Willow left the room, Megan called after her, "Hey, Willow?"

"Hmm?" the redheaded vampire paused in the doorway separating their rooms.

"Can you turn into a bat?"

Willow grinned. "No, but I've turned Spike into a rat before."

"Oh, thank *you*!" Spike's irate voice bellowed from the other room. "She didn't need to know about that."

Megan giggled and pulled the covers around herself.

*****

Roy MacKenzie, Megan's father, was on the road to recovery after several blood transfusions. The severity of his injuries and long period of unconsciousness meant that his memories of the attack were fairly garbled. So, it took the combined efforts of his wife, his daughter, and the two vampires to convince him of what had happened, and that he and his family would soon have to make some life-altering decisions.

The group was sitting in Mr. MacKenzie's hospital room, awaiting the results of a few final tests his doctor wanted to run before discharging him, when Willow mentioned the likelihood that they would have to move.

"Megan won't be safe for long if you stay at your ranch. Spike and I can't stay there indefinitely. The town is so small that our...um, special needs...would attract attention," Willow cautioned, delicately side-stepping the issue of feeding.

"But you keep telling us she's some kind of vampire killer," Mr. MacKenzie objected. "Her mother and I have seen the strength she has. If we're careful--"

"Having strength and being the Slayer helps, but it isn't enough," Willow interrupted sternly. "She needs to be trained. Giles was assigned to train..." Her voice caught momentarily as an image of Buffy flickered in her mind. "...the previous Slayer, but he feels it would be best for Megan to work with someone younger. If we can finally get through to the Watchers Council -- the organization responsible for monitoring Slayers -- they should be able to send someone who can teach Megan everything she'll need to know."

"*If* you can get through...? Why is that a problem?" Mrs. MacKenzie asked. "And if this Watchers Council is in charge of Vampire Slayers, why didn't they send somebody to find Megan? Why did they leave the job to two vampires? Unless...do you work for them?"

"Fat chance!" Spike snorted with distaste. "The Watchers've suffered a bit of a...set-back. Not sure who's minding the store at the moment."

Willow shot him a quick, silencing look, fearful that he would blurt out certain details that it wouldn't be good for Megan and her parents to know right now. Such as the role of the Watchers Council in Buffy's premature demise, or the murderous acts Willow, Angel and Spike had committed in retribution. It had been hard enough as it was to convince them of the girl's Slayer nature and earn their trust.

"What Spike means is that the Council is plagued by its own internal politics as much as any powerful organization," Willow chose her words carefully. "They've had a recent change in leadership, which has interrupted their usual flow of communication. That's in part why your daughter is vulnerable at the moment."

"And you're helping because...?" Mr. MacKenzie repeated his wife's question, still dubious about the two vampires.

With a sad smile, Willow replied, "The previous Slayer, Buffy, was my friend. We knew each other before I was turned. I feel like I owe this to her."

"You mean even her own friends got turned into vampires?" Megan exclaimed in dismay.

Willow crossed from the wall she'd been leaning against and crouched down before Megan, who sat beside her father on the bed. As gently as she could, Willow explained, "It isn't the Slayer's choice to be surrounded by danger. It just comes with the territory. Which means that her friends sometimes find themselves in trouble. It's nobody's fault, that's just the way things are."

"You've told us that vampires are remorseless demons," Mrs. MacKenzie argued, regarding her with puzzlement. "How is it that you care so much?"

Before Willow could answer, Spike volunteered his own opinion. "Red's not an ordinary vamp. Wrong chap sank his teeth into her. 'sides, who you were as a human has some influence over what you're like as a vampire, and she was as good as they come."

Willow's eyes softened and she gave Spike a loving look. However, not wanting to make him too uncomfortable with a sentimental display in front of the humans, Willow held her tongue.

She'd find a way to use it later. Preferably, while Spike was flat on his back.

Instead, she steered the conversation back to Megan's future. "Eventually, the Council will want to assign the Slayer where she's most needed. I know this has all been sudden, and it's probably too much to grasp right now...but sooner or later, you'll have to think about moving."

"Just pull up stakes and leave everything behind?" Mr. MacKenzie shook his head uncomfortably.

"Not exactly how I'd have put it," Spike muttered bemusedly at the man's choice of terms.

"It's better than risking losing everything -- including your lives," Willow warned. "You'll be vulnerable if you stay at your ranch, without anyone to teach Megan how to handle our kind, let alone the host of other demons she might encounter."

"Other demons?" Megan's eyes widened. "You mean there's more?"

Spike arched an eyebrow at her and chuckled wickedly. "Oh, we're just two of the beasts in the zoo, little girl. Try some Hellmouth Spawn on for size."

Mrs. MacKenzie glared at Spike and retorted, "There's no need to scare her like that. We understand the danger."

Spike narrowed his eyes and appraised the Slayer's mother from head-to-toe. The woman squirmed self-consciously. Almost casually, but with the unmistakable edge of a killer, Spike strolled over to her until he was towering over her chair. "No, you don't understand," he replied softly. "If you did, you'd be more than scared. You'd be petrified."

*****

Spike's ominous warning about just how much the MacKenzie family had to fear was soon thrown into stark relief by another attack on the inexperienced Slayer. Her parents had insisted on returning to their ranch in Pagosa Springs, needing time to sort through everything Giles, Willow and Spike had told them. However, the unsettling attack made it clear that they didn't have the luxury of time to consider their options.

And so, as difficult as it was, they let Willow and Spike take Megan back with them to Los Angeles. The pained expressions on their faces as they watched their daughter drive away with her unnatural protectors gave testimony to their doubts. Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie couldn't simply abandon the ranch and move without the means to support the family in a new town, no matter how tempted they might have been to do just that. It was agreed that they would remain behind only so long as necessary to wrap up their affairs in Pagosa Springs and find work in Sunnydale -- presumably, where the Slayer would be assigned. Meanwhile, rather than exposing the untrained Slayer to an active Hellmouth straightaway, Willow felt it would be better to take her back to their lair at the Hyperion where she could train with seasoned fighters until the Council got its act together.

Willow looked on sympathetically as Megan ventured into the grand lobby, almost swallowed up by the huge space. The girl paused a few paces in, warily eyeing Angel, Gunn, Cordelia and Wesley, who had obviously waited up to greet their new arrival. As she shifted her attention from one to the other, her interest focused on Angel.

Glancing uncertainly at Willow, she asked, "It's still kind of hard for me to tell. Which one is the vampire?"

Nodding toward Angel, Willow explained with a grin, "The cute one on the left. The others work with him."

On cue, all four stepped forward. Cordelia bent over, resting her hands just above her knees, and offered a perky, sing-songy, "Hi, I'm Cordy! And you must be Meggie."

"Uh...yeah..." Megan replied, wincing uncomfortably at the Seer, as she did at any adult who spoke to her like she was five years old.

Not to be outdone, Wesley patted her on the shoulder in what was intended to be a reassuring gesture, but came across to Megan as yet more adult condescension. "I'm Wesley Wyndham-Price. I'm sure this is probably *very* overwhelming for you, but we'll do our best to help you in any way we can. We've been at this for quite some time, you know."

"Great," the Slayer nodded awkwardly with a half-smile.

"Call me Gunn. How you doin'?" Gunn greeted her with a casual handshake.

Megan smiled, feeling better about this guy. At least he wasn't acting like a phoney. She then looked at Angel, who had been holding back slightly. He looked as awkward as she felt; somehow, this set the girl at ease.

"I'm Angel," the dark vampire offered.

"Megan," she said in return, extending her hand. Barely smiling, he shook her hand cautiously, and the young Slayer had the distinct impression that he wasn't comfortable around kids.

Sure enough, when he withdrew his hand, instead of talking to Megan he turned to Cordelia and asked, "Did you get her room ready? She's probably tired from the trip."

"All set to go," Cordelia confirmed. Leaning down to the Slayer once more, she chirped, "Meggie, how'd you like to go see your room? I decorated it myself -- you're going to *love* it."

Megan shrugged. "Sure." As she walked away with Cordelia, the girl paused and glanced back at Willow. "Do you have a room here, Willow?"

Caught off guard, Willow blinked momentarily before explaining, "Well, I...ah...I have a room, but it's mostly for my books and Wiccan supplies...Spike and I usually share a room."

"Well, duh! I guessed that," Megan smirked triumphantly, enjoying her chance to appear sophisticated. "But could we hang out there for a while later, or is it all R-Rated and stuff?"

"Damn, she's cool," Gunn mused, watching with amusement at the familiar, flustered look on Wesley's face.

Spike threw his head back and laughed. Draping his arm over Willow's shoulder, he corrected, "More like X-Rated, luv. 'Spose we could hide the whips and chains if you'd like to come over for a bit of girl talk, though."

Megan grinned at the blond vampire, grateful to him for treating her like an adult.

Willow grinned back at Megan and waved her away. "Go on, check out your room. We can sit around and drink hot chocolate later."

Megan stopped and looked at her quizzically. "Vampires drink hot chocolate?"

"This one does," Willow assured her, smiling as she watched Cordelia lead Megan away to her room.

The lobby was silent for a few moments after they left.

Looking to Wesley, her expression now turned serious, Willow murmured, "Still no luck with the Watchers Council?"

Lowering his eyes, but not before they had betrayed a wearied exasperation, Wesley acknowledged, "None at all, I'm afraid. First they refused to take action until we told them where she was. Now we've let them know exactly where to come and find her, but they won't send a new Watcher to Los Angeles. They still insist that vampires...and, er, you three in particular...are not to be trusted. Now they want her sent out to London."

"Where they can brainwash her," Angel concluded darkly. "Everything they did to Buffy could be safely buried, and we'd be Public Enemy Number One."

"When will they get over themselves?!" Willow ranted in disbelief at the Council's stubbornness. "I mean, we were the ones to make sure she was safe. Isn't that enough?"

"Don't you get it? We wounded their pride. Sending a Watcher out here to our turf would be just another reminder of what a sorry lot they are," Spike sneered.

"While I might not have put it *quite* that way, Spike is right," Wesley conceded. "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do at the moment."

"Yes, there is," Angel declared firmly. "We can teach her to survive."

Willow caught his eyes and, smiling fondly at him, concluded, "Just like old times."

*****

The first day of sparring took a greater toll on the vampires than on the young girl they sought to train. For one thing, it was indeed a *day* of sparring. Figuring that it would be easier for them to adjust to strenuous activity during the mid-afternoon than it would be to ask Megan to begin her first lessons in combat at her usual bedtime, Angel, Willow and Spike altered their sleep schedule. Although Megan was attentive, focused and eager to learn, Angel found himself unsure of how far he could push her.

Megan's instincts about his awkwardness around children were indeed correct. It had been over two centuries since he'd had any first-hand experience with pre-teenagers. In Angel's mind, children were as fragile as butterflies, and he couldn't shake the fear that his strength would crush Megan. More than once, he had to remind himself that, though she was young and inexperienced as a fighter, she was still the Slayer.

Oddly enough, Spike turned out to be the best sparring partner for Megan. Of the three vampires, he had been the least concerned for her welfare, lending his assistance only because it mattered to Willow. But somewhere along the way he and Megan developed an easy rapport -- perhaps because he decided she wasn't irritating, and she appreciated the fact that he didn't baby her.

Soon, Willow and Angel kept to the side-lines, offering instructions, but letting Megan practice her moves against Spike.

"Stop!" Willow's voice echoed sharply through the dojo.

The girl and the blond vampire froze in their positions, and Willow approached them on the mat. Spike remained calmly poised, but Megan panted rapidly, gulping in air. Her skin was flushed and her ponytail clung, matted down by sweat, to the nape of her neck.

"Look at the way your feet are planted. Then at how Spike is standing. What do you see?"

"Well, his feet are farther apart...oh, yeah, and I forgot to bend my knees...sorry..." Megan apologized, frowning in deep concentration as she struggled to remember all the things she'd been taught so far.

"That's right. The result is that your weight is thrown off. Your opponent could tip you over like that." Willow shoved her, and Megan landed on her behind with a thud. When Megan stood up, Willow nudged her into a more stable posture. "If you adjust your stance, like so, you'll keep your balance. It could mean the difference between life and death. Now give it another try."

Willow retreated to the edge of the mat and stood next to Angel. She glanced at him and caught him smiling at her, his eyes warm with amusement and pride. She wrinkled her brow at him quizzically, wondering what could have put him in such a mood, when it hit her.

She couldn't help smiling herself as the memories flooded in.

Angel had given her almost the exact same advice when she had first started training with him.

She looked again at Megan, awkwardly deflecting Spike's obvious, exaggerated blows, and saw herself as she had been in the early days. Time had snuck up on her somehow, and she'd forgotten to take notice of how far she'd come. Yet here she was, mentoring the girl-Slayer, prematurely thrust into an existence she wasn't prepared for, just as Angel had done for her.

Resting his hand lightly on the small of her back, Angel leaned close to her ear and teased, "My little girl has grown up."

Willow smirked and nudged him in the side with her elbow, but couldn't mask the emotion in her eyes. For the first time since London, Willow felt a part of herself, buried deep inside, that she thought she had lost.

And she understood at last what her coven sisters had told her.

*****

It had been a strenuous workout for Megan, despite the fact that she had been used to physically-demanding chores on the ranch and could tap into her Slayer strength. She fell asleep almost as soon as she crawled into her enormous bed.

When Angel had asked Cordelia to prepare a room at the Hyperion suitable for an eleven-year-old girl, the Seer had embraced the assignment with zeal. From the politely unimpressed expression on Megan's face, Cordelia had overdone it with the stuffed animals and frilly comforter. However, the posters of horses scored big points, and Megan seemed to settle in well enough.

Willow remained cautious, dreading the melt-down that she anticipated wouldn't be long in coming.

She knew that the adrenaline and intense concentration of a training session could do wonders to distract the mind from problems, but when the sweat dried, worries and anxieties soon returned. And while Megan demonstrated the power and agility that were the hallmark of a Slayer, she was also a young girl. Until recently, she had never traveled much further from home than Denver. Nor had she spent the night in a strange place without her parents -- let alone with three vampires, creatures whom she'd recently been told it was her mission to destroy.

Talk about conflicting messages.

Rather than leaving to hunt with Spike after Megan went to bed, Willow opted to stay in. She wanted to be nearby, in case the stress of all the changes that had been thrust upon the girl -- new life, new town, new guardians -- proved to be too much.

Sure enough, around midnight Willow felt phantom traces of burning moisture in her eyes and a tightness in her throat, accompanied by an overwhelming loneliness. As Willow approached Megan's room, she detected the faint scent of salt and heard muffled sniffles.

Rapping lightly on Megan's door, Willow peered in and asked, "Trouble sleeping?"

"Everything is so different," Megan admitted, wiping her eyes in an effort to appear calm and self-assured. "I miss mom and dad, and Brownie, my horse."

"Your parents will be out here as soon as they can," Willow assured her as she sat down on the bed. "With Giles and Xander helping them look, I'm sure it won't take long for your mom and dad to find work."

"Yeah...I guess so..." Megan conceded, sounding only partly convinced.

"Is there anything I can do?" Willow offered.

Megan didn't answer immediately. She lowered her eyes awkwardly and nibbled on her bottom lip -- a nervous habit that reminded Willow of herself as a human. When Megan finally looked at Willow, the girl seemed embarrassed. "Would you stay with me for a while?"

Willow smiled broadly. "Sure."

The redheaded vampire stretched out above the covers and Megan snuggled up against her. They lay cuddled together like sisters for several minutes, and Willow stroked the girl's hair soothingly until she felt her heartbeat begin to slow. Soon, Megan drifted off to sleep and Willow wrapped one arm around her protectively.

As she watched the young Slayer sleep, Willow sensed Angel's presence and glanced at the doorway. He stood there, looking at them both with tenderness in his eyes. Willow held out her hand, and after a brief moment of indecision, Angel approached the bed and eased himself down on the other side of the sleeping girl. It was an arrangement that the world had never before seen: a child-Slayer dreaming peacefully amid the haven provided by two vampires.

Willow and Angel regarded each other quietly, as if speaking would shatter the magic of the experience. Turbulent emotions quivered in the pit of Angel's stomach. He'd never thought about what it would be like to have a family in the normal, human sense -- at least, not until he met Buffy. And then, all he could think of was what he could never give her. Sharing this fleeting glimpse of something so precious with Willow was almost too much to bear. Willow, too, was deeply moved. Here, at last, she felt the profound connection she had been seeking. Tentatively, she brushed her hand over Angel's as it rested on Megan's arm, then entwined her fingers with his. Willow saw tenderness, touched with regret, in the dark embers of his eyes.

Though neither said a word, the same thought whispered through their minds.

<I wish...>

*****

Megan had been living at the Hyperion with her vampire trainers for two weeks when the good news finally came that her parents had been able to find work in Sunnydale. Her father, who had served the Pagosa Springs community as a veterinarian, had been hired by one of Sunnydale's many animal clinics. Although his practice had centered around horses and cattle, for the sake of his family he was willing to shift to house pets. Meanwhile, Giles -- who still had a few connections in the public school system from his days as a librarian -- had arranged for Megan's mother to float as a substitute teacher until she was assigned her own classroom.

The young Slayer was giddy at the prospect of being with her parents again. Of course, when it threw her concentration off during her daily work-out, Spike took the opportunity to give her a few serious bruises as a reminder of what happened to Slayers whose minds wandered.

"Ow!" Megan complained as she sat on the practice mat and massaged a sore shin, courtesy of the blond vampire.

"Tsk, tsk," Spike chided her smugly. "You still leave your left flank exposed when you lunge. Haven't cured you of that bad habit, have I?"

"Sod off!" the eleven-year-old sulked at him, eliciting a grin not only from Spike, but from Willow. The redheaded vampire crossed the mat and offered her hand to help Megan up.

Handing Megan a dry, white towel, Willow announced, "I'd say you're done for the day. There's no reason to wear you out when you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

As Megan accepted the towel and wiped the sweat from her face and neck, Spike asked, "So, all packed?"

Megan nodded as the three of them walked toward the stairs. "There wasn't a lot to pack, anyway. Most of my stuff is with mom and dad."

At the foot of the stairs leading up from the dojo, she retrieved her water bottle and swallowed several draughts as they ascended to the lobby. When Willow and Spike hung back as she continued toward her room, Megan paused and offered a shy, hopeful invitation. "Wanna come hang out for a bit, seeing as I'm kinda leaving tomorrow?"

Spike raised his eyebrows in an expression of bored disinterest and replied gruffly as he started toward the revolving door, "Sorry, luv. Workin' out gave me an appetite." With a wicked grin, he taunted. "I feel the need to go out and *kill* people."

Megan's face paled slightly at the blunt reminder about his nature, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Willow's eyes narrowed as she watched Spike stroll out into the night and thought to herself, <Ooooh, I'll get him for that one.>

Turning to Megan, Willow offered a smile to lighten her mood. "Why don't you go shower off, and I'll be right up. You can pick my brains about life in Sunnydale."

"Thanks," Megan muttered with a less-than-enthusiastic half-smile.

When the girl still made no move to head to her room, Willow reached out, gave her a playful poke just beneath the chin, and ribbed, "Okay, out with it, kiddo. You know full well that Angel is the only one allowed to brood around here."

The Slayer shrugged, doing her best to feign detachment. "I don't know... I guess I'm sort of going to miss you guys."

"We'll miss you, too," Willow assured her, watching her face closely for clues as to what troubled her.

"Yeah, maybe..." Megan agreed, but with a disappointed glance at the entrance to the lobby. Willow closed her eyes and smiled, understanding.

"Spike will miss you, too. Why do you think he snuck out so quickly?"

"Are you kidding? He thinks I'm a weak little dweeb who can't fight," Megan protested, but with a gleam of hope in her eyes that belied her brusque dismissal.

"No, Spike will miss you," Willow insisted. "He just doesn't want to admit that he cares." Shifting into her best imitation of the blond vampire, Willow huffed, "Vamps bloody well don't care about little girls, see? And I'm the *Big* *Bad*, so if you're tryin' to tell me I've gone soft over some little chit, I'll rip your bleedin' tongue out of your 'ead!"

By the time Willow finished lampooning Spike in her mock tirade, Megan was shrieking with laughter and clutching at her aching sides. The sound echoed through the cavernous lobby and lured Angel out of his suite. He sauntered over, slightly bemused, but with an underlying grimness that caught Willow's attention. She could tell that he wanted to talk to her alone.

"How was the work-out?" Angel asked nonchalantly.

Still grinning broadly from Willow's performance, Megan quipped, "Same as always. I fell on my butt alot."

"Maybe your butt could do with a nice, relaxing shower," Angel suggested with a friendly tilt of the head.

Megan folded her arms across her chest and demanded with mock haughtiness, "Are you saying I smell bad?"

Not to be outdone, Angel -- who had finally found his comfort zone with the young girl -- staggered back with his hand over his nose and moaned, "Oh, God! It's awful...it's overwhelming..."

Willow shook her head and chuckled softly. Angel really could be a ham sometimes.

"Oh, bite me!" Megan drawled, jutting her chin out loftily.

Now Willow couldn't resist getting in the game. With a conspiratorial look at Angel, she vamped out and he followed suit.

"Now there's an idea," Willow growled with false menace. She and Angel stalked toward the young Slayer, who rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. See you in a few, Willow."

After the girl was out of earshot, Willow turned expectantly to Angel and waited for him to explain the source of his concern. When he gestured for her to follow him into the privacy of his suite, her sense of unease mounted. Angel shut the door behind them and conveyed the news he had just received.

"Giles called while you and Spike were training with Megan. The Council still hasn't agreed to send her a Watcher," Angel informed her soberly.

Willow's eyes darkened, but she wasn't surprised so much as disgusted. "You mean they'd leave her on her own at an active Hellmouth? What about her training?"

"Giles and I talked about that..." Angel confessed slowly. "He's offered to do what he can, and said that Xander is willing to put on the human punching-bag suit 'for old time's sake'. But he was wondering if you and Spike would be able to help out... It would mean moving back to Sunnydale for a while."

Willow was silent for several moments. Angel shifted uncomfortably.

Feeling a hollow pit in her gut, Willow stated, "You wouldn't be going with us."

"No."

Willow calmly swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart heavy at the prospect of being away from Angel for what could be an indefinite period. It had been hard enough for her to accept the shift in their relationship, and the fact that when she entered his suite, she now went no further than the sitting room. She felt that circumstances were conspiring to push them even farther apart, and it was beyond her control to do anything about it.

Even when he had been avoiding her, she had still gone to sleep each morning sensing his comforting, familiar presence in the hotel. It was one of the few things that gave her a real sense of connection any more. She had no blood kin; of the two lovers who had been so close to her in her formative years, only Spike was left to her. Must she lose yet another tie?

Yet, at the same time, Willow had grown fond of Megan, and had to admit that the idea of continuing to shepherd her in her development was appealing.

"Los Angeles isn't so far away," Angel offered awkwardly, sharing Willow's quiet anguish at the thought of no longer having her constant companionship.

Willow made an effort at a brave smile, but the slight quivering in her chin was Angel's undoing. He wrapped his arms around her and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She squeezed him gently in gratitude and, raised her head to kiss his cheek. At this simple gesture, Willow felt his hands tighten ever so slightly on her hips and the mood changed unmistakably. Each of them tensed even as their bodies relaxed into the embrace, and neither made a move to retreat to a more platonic distance.

Angel closed his eyes, allowing tactile sensation to take over. Gently he stroked her back as she likewise traced her hands lightly up and down his spine. It was as if they sought to erase physically the discord of the preceding few months. Not needing vision to guide them, Willow and Angel closed what small distance remained between them as their lips met in a kiss that was anything but innocent. Their mouths locked together with crushing need. Angel's tongue explored her mouth with demanding, possessive strokes, as if he were staking a claim. Willow welcomed him in, offering herself entirely.

But when she felt the slight teasing of his fangs at her lip, Willow started and pushed herself free. Her alarm was mirrored in Angel's eyes, and he gulped, "We shouldn't do this."

"No, we shouldn't," Willow agreed reluctantly. After regaining her composure, she added, "I'll go see if Megan is ready to quiz me about Sunnydale."

"Willow, there's one more thing," Angel stopped her. "The vampires in town have figured out by now that we've been keeping the Slayer here, and Giles told me that the news has spread to Sunnydale. Megan should be safe when her parents come to pick her up tomorrow, since they'll be traveling during the day, but Giles is worried that there might be trouble tomorrow night."

"When Sunnydale's vamps sense that she's in their territory and assume that we aren't around to protect her any more," Willow nodded her head. She fixed him with a resigned, steady gaze and said, "I'll explain the situation Spike. He and I should be able to leave as soon as it's dusk. Tell Giles to be prepared to handle things until we get there."

As he watched her go, Angel murmured, "Safe journey, Willow."

*****

Willow had assured Megan that Spike cared, despite his gruff unwillingness to show it.

Two evenings after Willow and Spike arrived to set up shop in Sunnydale, little doubt remained as to his attachment to the girl.

As Giles had feared, the local vampire population quickly got wind of the new Slayer's arrival. Well aware of her youth and inexperience, they hoped to take her out with a quick strike. They pulled one of the oldest tricks in the book to lure her out of her home, since Giles had counseled her against patrolling after dark until she had honed her skills.

Fire.

Many of the MacKenzies' possessions were still packed in boxes from their recent move when the vampires struck. Roughly a dozen of them surrounded the house, hurled torches through the windows and waited for the human residents to flee. They got far more than they bargained for.

Willow and Spike, who had been keeping a close watch on the Slayer and her family, charged the stunned vampires. Hoping to avoid a fight, Megan's protectors had advertised their presence loudly, yet apparently there were those who simply couldn't believe that any vampire would willingly assist a Slayer.

It seemed they'd all forgotten how closely Buffy had worked with her undead allies.

The first vampire who reached for Megan barely had a chance to let out a startled yelp before Spike viciously ripped his throat out.

Megan gawked for a split-second, grateful to be alive yet shaken by the horrifying realization of exactly what Spike was capable of. The idealized vision of her rough, cocky trainer slipped a few notches. Nonetheless, the immediate threat kicked her Slayer instincts into gear, and rather than dwelling on the brutality she'd witnessed, she threw herself into the fight.

Willow and Spike prevented most of the attacking vampires from getting anywhere near Megan. Each of them made several quick, efficient kills, and in a short time they had chastened the Sunnydale vamps enough that the few survivors fled while they still had the chance.

The fighting had almost completely died down, but one vampire stubbornly struggled with the young Slayer, hoping to overpower her before either Willow or Spike could come to her aid. Just as Spike dispatched a minion he'd been grappling with, the vampire who had cornered Megan lunged and sank his fangs into her shoulder. She screamed.

Willow turned just in time to see Spike launch himself at Megan's attacker. She could only recall seeing him this enraged once or twice before.

At the sight of another vampire's teeth latching onto Megan, something inside Spike snapped. He became, literally, demon possessed as he reacted instinctively to an intolerable trespass against his territory. He'd helped train the girl to keep Willow happy, and hadn't minded the chance to knock the kid about without fear of reprisal. No matter how much he pushed her, teased her, or scared her, she stubbornly bounced back...even seemed to look up to him. It meant nothing to him, Spike had assured himself during the past two weeks. She was just a silly kid.

But *nobody* laid a finger on this silly kid except him.

Spike yanked the vamp away from the girl and flung it across the yard. It lay stunned from the impact, and before it could push itself up and escape, Spike was upon it, ripping it to shreds. He dragged clawed hands from the ill-fated vamp's chin all the way down to its groin, opening its chest more completely than a pathologist examining a cadaver. Spike's victim released an unearthly scream. It writhed in a vain attempt to free itself as the blond vampire pried its ribs apart with a sickening crack, plunged his hand into the gaping cavity and tore out its inert heart.

The vampire that had bitten Megan disintegrated into a pile of ashes, leaving Spike kneeling on the ground with blood on his hands and a wild, triumphant flame in his eyes.

Making a decision, Willow released the minion she had been about to stake and shoved him toward the sidewalk. He would be more useful to them as a witness. Having no desire to stick around after what he'd seen, the minion ran off.

Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie stared in shock and horror at the blond vampire who had thrown himself into the frenzy of battle with sadistic zeal. What little they had seen in Pagosa Springs paled in comparison to the cannibalistic bloodbath they had just witnessed on their front lawn. Hearing the crackling fire which continued to consume their home, they clutched at each other in a moment of numbing despair before rushing toward Megan.

Willow saw the conflict that strained Megan's features, and knew that this was yet another chilling lesson for the girl. Vampires could look seductively human, adopt a vast array of human mannerisms, and even had the capacity to feel affection. But they were no more tame than a grizzly bear, and every bit as deadly when provoked.

Shifting her attention to Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie, then to their house, Willow stretched out her hand and chanted softly. The flames inside receded until the fire was extinguished. She crossed the lawn to the humans, who still clutched at each other in shock. Trying to ease their fears, Willow suggested, "I think they'll think twice about coming after you again any time soon. But just to be safe, why don't we get you inside."

Dimly, functioning on auto-pilot, Megan's parents began to move toward the house, but the young Slayer hesitated, her eyes fixed on Spike. He remained on his knees in the spot where he'd torn apart her attacker.

When Mr. MacKenzie saw that Megan wasn't coming along with them, he paused, but Willow ushered him toward the front door.

"I don't want to leave her alone with him after that," Mr. MacKenzie protested in a low voice.

"Spike saved her life," Willow reminded him as she continued to steer both parents away from Spike and Megan.

"But that was...horrible. Dark. It looked like he enjoyed it."

They had crossed the threshold and stood inside the smoky, charred foyer. Willow's eyes locked with Mr. MacKenzie's in a sympathetic but uncompromising gaze. "He did enjoy it. You owe your lives, and your safety, to creatures who thrive on death. It's what we are. This is your world now, like it or not."

Megan's parents shifted uneasily, but said nothing.

Outside, Spike had finally risen to his feet, but he kept an aloof distance from Megan. Without looking at her, he muttered, "Go on, then. Get inside, before mum and dad drop dead from worrying. You'll want to clean off that bite, too. No telling where his fangs've been."

The girl's forehead wrinkled and she looked at him with wide, perplexed eyes. For a split second, it seemed as though she was about to turn on her heel and head inside. But without warning, she launched herself at him and wrapped her small arms around his waist.

Startled, Spike struggled to free himself.

"Hey! Easy does it, you little chit! You gone completely daft or something?"

Megan hugged him insistently, and when he found that he was unable to extricate himself from her stubborn embrace, Spike finally stilled. His hands, which had been pushing her away, now rested awkwardly on her shoulders. Still bloody, they left crimson smears on her tee shirt.

"Thank you, Spike," Megan murmured fervently against his chest, squeezing him even tighter.

Spike looked down at the child who clung to him like a savior, wholly at a loss for a response. Haltingly, he let his arms drop from her shoulders and then encircled her with them. Closing his eyes, he finally let go and just held her.

The rest of the world be damned.

*****

Xander and his contracting firm came over the following day to begin repairing the damage to the Slayer's home. Anya came to offer a long-time resident's perspective about life on the Hellmouth, and brought Jesse and Julie along to get acquainted with Megan. In the two Harris children, Megan discovered the closest thing to peers. Although they were younger than she -- Jesse being nine, and Julie, seven -- their parents' eventful history in Sunnydale made them familiar with vampires and other creatures that stalked the night.

Eventually, things calmed down and Megan settled into an almost comfortable routine of training with Willow and Spike after school. The vampires slept at Giles's apartment during the day while he tended the magic shop, then met the Slayer in the same work-out room Buffy had used when she was still alive. Giles did his best to school her in the responsibilities of a Slayer, and teach her to identify a variety of demons and the method of destroying each one.

Megan made steady progress, but little could be done to change the fact that she was limited by the body of a pre-adolescent girl. It made Willow that much more determined to bolster Megan's confidence, and convince her that someone who started out at a disadvantage could still be a survivor.

From time to time, Willow fell prey to a profound loneliness when she thought about Angel. They spoke regularly, and she even made occasional trips back to Los Angeles, since he was interested in hearing about Megan's development. He also missed Willow as much as she missed him. But when Willow felt herself wallowing too deeply, she redoubled her attention to Megan's training. The task allowed her to bury her feelings.

Or, at least her feelings for Angel. Being back in Sunnydale summoned up a whole host of other feelings and memories about Buffy. There was nowhere Willow could go that wasn't associated with something she and Buffy had done together at one time or another. They had patrolled every inch of the small town, spent way too much time at the hospital, and relaxed at the Bronze or the magic shop when things were quiet.

But surprisingly enough, after the first few nights, revisiting the familiar old haunts actually helped Willow make her peace with Buffy's death once and for all. Helping Megan adjust, making the nightly rounds, and working with Giles somehow seemed to honor Buffy's memory in a way that felt right. Willow would catch herself smiling ruefully at the thought of a vampire feeling the need to honor a Slayer's memory, but each time she reminded herself that she had never been an ordinary vampire.

Then, four months after Spike and Willow had resettled in Sunnydale, the call came.

The Council was sending a Watcher for Megan.

*****

Willow stalked through the cemetery.

She was so frustrated it left her fuming. Needing to vent her anger, she hoped that a local vamp or demon would be considerate enough to stumble across her path.

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this! After everything she and Spike had done...

"Willow!"

Under normal circumstances, she would have stopped for that voice. But her foul mood led Willow to quicken her pace. She wasn't ready to have this argument yet. She refused to listen to reason.

"Willow, don't walk away from me!"

Clenching her fists, she stopped. She remained absolutely still, refusing to turn around and look at him. Soon enough, he caught up to her and moved to stand before her. Willow focused her eyes on a nearby grave.

"Look at me, Willow."

God, she hated it when he did that, when he used that voice that made it impossible to refuse him anything. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and stared into the stern, sable eyes of her mentor.

"Angel, I don't want to go another round right now. You're not going to convince me that this is for the best. For crying out loud, *you* were ready to kill every last one of them not so long ago."

"Giles has been persuaded that they're sincere. I trust his judgment. It's not like you won't have the chance to see her," Angel noted calmly.

"Some consolation!" Willow spat indignantly. "Spike and I did all the work, and now this...this Cecil Smith--"

"Smythe," Angel corrected.

"--wants to waltz in and take over!" Willow finished, having ignored the interruption.

Her shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes tightly, as if she could shut out the impending changes that the Council had proposed, and to which Giles and Angel seemed resigned.

Cecil Smythe, Megan's Watcher, had arrived a day after the Council had called Giles and attempted to take the first steps toward restoring good relations with their estranged former colleague. Giles had been pleasantly surprised by the conciliatory tone of the conversation, and the straightforward admission that the failure to assign the Slayer a Watcher sooner had been a consequence of internal struggles in the Council. After the deaths of the seven conspirators, the truth had come out about Buffy's assassination. It set off a fierce battle for control between various factions, some who staunchly opposed any collaboration with "the enemy", others who believed that that very doctrinaire stance was responsible for the Council's dilemma.

Smythe's character was a concrete indication that the more liberal faction in the Council had won out. In his mid-thirties, sprightly, and sincere, he was a far cry from the stuffy, tight-lipped old men that dominated Willow's mental image of the Watchers Council. True, his elevated pulse and rapid breathing had testified to his anxiety that first day, when he'd arrived and met not only Megan, but her two vampire guardians. Willow would hardly have expected less, since she didn't doubt that she and Spike were known to anyone associated with the Watchers' organization as two of the vampires who had tortured the former head of the Council to death.

But his patience and willingness to work closely with Willow and Spike, despite their obvious mistrust, had surprised her.

It angered her that she had gradually allowed herself to approve of him. Not long after she had realized that she might eventually accept his stewardship of the Slayer, he had expressed concerns that left Willow feeling betrayed.

He had suggested that Megan needed to have room to grow into her role as the Slayer without the constant -- and potentially distracting -- presence of her vampire companions.

Spike had nearly killed him.

For Willow, it had been a greater shock when Giles had agreed it would be better for Megan if Willow and Spike returned to Los Angeles.

"The Council has agreed to leave the final decision to you. They recognize everything that you've done to help her, and realize that they are in no position to give orders. But they also feel that if Megan is to be truly effective as a Slayer, she needs to be able to develop the same trust with her Watcher that Buffy and I shared. And that will be difficult if there are others who are the primary objects of her trust," Giles had explained as gently as he could.

Willow's response to his patient entreaty still echoed in her head, even two nights later. "Trust?! This *is* the organization that betrayed and murdered their own Slayer we're talking about, isn't it? Who do they think they are, talking about the need to build trust?!"

After two nights of heated discussion, when he had been unable to sway Willow or Spike, Giles had turned to Angel.

And so Willow found herself in a cemetery, adamantly opposing someone she desperately did not want to fight. She would not, could not, accept the Council's proposal; yet she could deny Angel nothing. She was balanced on the razor's edge, and wasn't certain which way she'd fall.

"You'll be able to visit any time you like," Angel pointed out. "Megan's Watcher would actually encourage it. He thinks it would be good for her to train with you. Just not all the time."

"Great!" Willow sneered sarcastically. "It'll be just like joint custody. We'll have visiting rights."

"Willow, this isn't a custody battle," came Angel's mild rebuke. "She isn't yours to lose. She *has* parents, and you're not her mother."

Willow was almost as stunned as Angel when her hand struck out, delivering a sharp blow across his cheek. Her palm stung from the impact, but not nearly as much as she smarted inwardly at his comment, which had cut too close.

"How dare you!" Willow choked with rage.

"Stop it, Willow," Angel growled at her, rapidly losing patience. "Don't you see? This is exactly why you need to distance yourself from Megan. This isn't concern, it's possessiveness. Pure demon possessiveness. Let it go, for her sake."

"Don't tell me about distance!" Willow countered hotly. "Distance is exactly what got Buffy killed. Don't tell me you never wonder if you might have been able to save her if you hadn't been all the way over in L.A."

It was a deliberately cruel remark and Willow knew it. She didn't need the angry face of Angel's demon to let her know that she'd pushed him too far, and wasn't surprised when his arm shot out, lifted her in the air and hurled her against a crypt twenty paces away. As she pushed herself up, she saw him storming toward her, more Angelus than Angel.

"I've had enough of this temper tantrum, little one," the dark vampire warned in a low, deadly voice.

Willow awaited him, poised to fight, her demon to the fore. "So the Council will leave the choice up to me, but you won't."

"I won't let your demon choose for you," Angel snapped.

Willow struck first, with a precision kick aimed directly at his chest. Too quick for her, Angel caught her foot and shoved her off balance, but before he could tackle her, Willow rolled aside and leaped back to her feet. They alternated between a furious blur of punches and kicks, and deceptively calm interludes in which they circled each other, looking for signs of fatigue. Finally, Angel's superior strength and experience won out and he pinned her to the ground.

Nose to nose, their bodies pressed together more intimately than they had been in months, Willow and Angel glared at each other. Although Angel had subdued her physically, Willow stubbornly refused to give in.

"Do it," she insisted through clenched teeth, baring her neck to him.

Angel flinched and pulled back slightly, but didn't restore his human face.

"Do it," Willow repeated, but in a soft, despairing voice that revealed how close she was to the breaking point. "Drink me, Angel. I defied you; restore your authority." When the dark vampire remained silent and motionless, Willow closed her eyes and a tear leaked from beneath her lashes. "If I were Spike...if I were your childe...you would have already done it."

Seeing her in such pain caused Angel's anger to evaporate. His more handsome, human face returned and he sat up. Suddenly, Angel understood that their fight had been far more complicated than he'd realized.

Willow lay sobbing on the ground for a few moments, her hands pressed over her eyes. Eventually, she sat up and turned her back to him, too filled with shame and self-loathing to look at him. From her huddled position, she murmured, "You invoked your authority as sire to get Spike to let Megan alone, didn't you?"

"Yes," Angel confessed, knowing where this was leading and hating the fact that Willow was hurting inside.

"But you can't do that with me, and so we went through our little dance...and you can't even imprint your seal on my vein..." she whispered forlornly.

"I'm sorry. Willow, please don't," Angel murmured. But Willow continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"I can't have you...I can't be with Megan...Only Spike..." Abruptly, Willow pushed herself up. She stood with her back still turned to Angel, straightening her shoulders with resignation. "I'll leave tomorrow night. I want the chance to say good-bye to her."

She started to walk away.

"Willow--" Angel called after her. She broke into a run and left him in the cemetery.

After a few moments, Angel stood up and began a slow, heartsick walk back to the magic shop.

*****

"Do you have to go?" Megan whimpered as her eyes stared pleadingly into Willow's.

Willow flicked a brief, cold glance at Giles, Angel and Smythe, who stood near the bookshelves along one wall of Giles's store. At least they had the decency to look sorry.

Looking back down at Megan, Willow smiled sadly and laid her hands on the girl's shoulders. "It's best for you right now, Meg. You need to work with your Watcher; it's not good for you to get too comfortable with the enemy."

"You're not the enemy!" Megan protested vehemently.

Spike, who had been standing sullenly a few feet away from Angel -- the twin points of his sire's mark visible on his neck -- laughed bitterly and approached her. "Shows how much you know, little thing. I've taken down two Slayers in my time, both of 'em tougher than you. What makes you think I won't come after you? Just 'cos you're too small to be worth my while right now, don't get any ideas that I'm not your worst nightmare."

Suddenly, he swooped down on her. Caught off-guard, Megan was unable to react before Spike gripped her firmly and pierced her neck with his fangs. She let out a startled cry and Cecil Smythe moved to intercede. However, he found himself face-to-face with Willow in gameface. Her vicious snarl held him in check, and just as suddenly as Spike had latched onto Megan, he released her and stormed out of the magic shop.

Megan stared after him in shock, clutching absently at her throbbing neck, and then fled to the solace of her training room.

Willow resumed her human appearance and remarked coolly, "Spike and I will find our own way back to the lair, Angel." She pivoted on her heel and strode out in search of her companion.

When she had left, the dark vampire moved away from Giles and Smythe, the emotional strain of the past twenty-four hours showing in his weary movements. Giles, too, bore a haunted look which revealed how deeply the arguments with Willow had taken their toll.

Mr. Smythe, shaken but attempting to muster a sufficiently diplomatic response, observed, "In a way, he's spared her...Although it was brutal, he...he made a clean break of it. Someday, she'll understand that it was a kindness of sorts..."

"He didn't do that to make it easier for her to let go," Angel muttered.

Megan's Watcher blinked in confusion. Giles, who had far more experience with vampires, explained to his younger colleague, "Spike marked her. The scar will be a warning to other vampires that he considers her one of his own."

"Protection..." Mr. Smythe breathed as comprehension finally dawned on him.

Angel turned and crossed toward him. "Protection from our kind, yes -- but not against you and your organization. I'll say this just once." The dark vampire fixed Mr. Smythe with a deadly gaze. "Tell the Council they'd better forget about their usual tricks. No poisonings, no tests. Not this time. You'll answer to me for it."

With that, Angel walked out of the store.

"He means it," Mr. Smythe stated in a trembling voice.

"He'd have my help," Giles warned soberly. He stared unflinchingly at his successor for a moment, not out of hostility toward the man, but simply wanting him to understand that he and the Council still had far to go toward restoring the trust that had been shattered by Buffy's assassination. With a final, stern appraisal of Mr. Smythe, Giles turned and headed for the work-out room, hoping to console Megan as best he could.

Megan's Watcher was left standing in the center of the shop, painfully aware of how little his training had done to equip him to deal with situations like this.

*****

Angel watched as Willow paced restlessly in the courtyard. Her frustration had permeated the Hyperion ever since her return, and she seemed more like a caged animal than someone who had come home.

She didn't seem to be holding a grudge against him. He was thankful that she hadn't stopped speaking to him, but there was still something so closed off about her. When she looked at him, there was a sadness and distance that troubled him.

When his mind snapped out of these reflections and he was again aware of his surroundings, Angel realized that Willow saw him. He'd been caught.

Silently, they regarded each other for a few moments. Then, without a word, Willow turned and slipped out into the night.

*****

Tara, Hannah and Cyrene sat quietly in the Wiccan couple's living room, their expressions a mixture of loss, compassion, regret and hope.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Cyrene asked.

"It's what I need to do," Willow affirmed. "I can't take this anymore. I may never find what I'm looking for, but I can't sit by and do nothing. I'm past the stage where I can be content with things as they are."

"But that doesn't mean you have to leave the coven," Tara reminded her. "Wherever it is you're going, the bond will remain. It could sustain you through some of what you might face."

Willow smiled but shook her head. "No, Tara. It will be safer for all of you if you release me. I've been reading everything recorded by humans that I could find, and nothing has given me the answer. When I leave, I'll be going into demon territory. I don't want the dark power to travel through me back to you." Turning to look at Hannah, Willow's smile broadened even further. "Especially now that Hannah is pregnant."

Hannah and Cyrene grinned sheepishly, and Cyrene explained, "We've been talking about it for a while. We didn't want to say anything until it took. Hannah's doctor only confirmed it two weeks ago, while you were in Sunnydale. I guess we should have known you'd figure it out."

"Two heartbeats," Willow grinned, nodding toward Hannah. "So, artificial insemination?"

"No...Loïc," Hannah clarified. "We talked about it with him, and he agreed. He flew here a few months ago, and...uh..."

"Lent a helping...*hand*?" Willow teased, as the four of them chuckled. "Well, don't I feel out-of-the-loop. So, what happened to no secrets in the circle?"

"We knew you had your mind on other things -- important things," Cyrene apologized. "And we didn't want to get anyone's hopes up until we were successful."

"I was *kidding*, Cyrene," Willow assured her. "It's a very private decision. But in a similar spirit, I'd like to ask you to do the same for me. You're the only ones I've discussed this with. I'd rather you didn't say anything about this to anyone -- especially not Angel. If I can't find what I'm looking for, it will be better if he doesn't have any false hopes."

"We understand," the dark-haired woman agreed.

Hesitantly, the four friends looked at each other, none wanting to be the one to move forward with the dissolution of their coven.

At last, however, Cyrene stretched out her hands and said, "Our sister has a journey ahead of her. Let's not add to her burden..."

At the end of the ritual, when they released hands, the last of Willow's ties to those she cared for was broken.

*****

THE END

To Be Continued in Masters and Minions 6: Coming of Age