And love is not the easy thing
The only baggage you can bring ...

January, 2003

"No." 

It came out as a whisper.  It was all that she could say.  And it
was so inadequate.  She stared at the place where he had been,
moments before.  Imagined she could still see the outline of his
body.  His last words rang in her ears.

"Buffy.  I knew you'd find me..."

And she hadn't said a thing to him.  She was running, still running
as that disgusting Turok-Han sunk a piece of wood into his chest. 
And now, he was gone.

Spike was gone.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

She could feel them all behind her.  She had screeched to a halt as
his form turned to dust, and somewhere, it seemed far away, she
could hear their footfalls slow, then stop.  They had been in shock,
at first, as she had been.  But her screams now had them moving
forward, coming to her aid, as usual.  They couldn't help her now. 
She held up her hand without looking behind her, and she heard Giles
say softly to the rest of them, "Wait."

And then, there he was.  There *it* was, daring to take his form,
daring to laugh at her.  And for a moment she wished it really was
him, even this version of him, if he would still just *be* there.

"Crying over me, are you?  Oh, Buffy, love, I didn't know you cared."

"You're not Spike."

It laughed again.  "No," it said, a hand to its chest, "I'm not. 
And I must say, I feel a bit of a failure, pet.  Never did convince
him to give in.  Tough, that one.  Stubborn as a mule.  And he died
just as you rode in on your white horse to save him, too.  `Buffy. 
I knew you'd find me!' it said with mock sincerity.  "Little did you
all realize that that's exactly what I was waiting for.  The look on
your face, pet.  Priceless!"

"Shut up!" she cried.  The tears came now, and she didn't care.  The
thing morphed into her own form, and Buffy took a step back.

"What's the matter, honey?  Don't like what you see?"

"I told you to shut up!"

It laughed again, and tossed its hair over its shoulder..  "Poor,
pathetic Spike.  After all, if it wasn't for you, he never would
have been in this mess to begin with.  He was a warrior.  A force of
nature.  And then he met you, and well, you turned him into a
sniveling, crazy, suicidal, sorry excuse for a demon.  Or a man, for
that matter."  It said all this with exceedingly good humor.

"That's not true!  He became a good man."

"Maybe.  But it doesn't really matter now.  Does it?  Anyway, I've
been trying to decide, kill you now, or kill you later?  Hmm, let's
see," it pondered.  "My little pet is chomping at the bit - so to
speak." 

The Turok-Han growled and took a step toward Buffy.  She stared it
down.

"But, I've decided it'll be much more fun to watch you all suffer
for awhile.  Come along, Fido."  The ubervamp growled again, licking
its lips, and then slunk off after its master.

"You're going to pay,"  Buffy said quietly, as the thing faded
away.  "You're going to pay for what you've done to Spike."  She
turned around and found Anya's face in the group of people behind
her.  "How do I call a vengeance demon here?" she asked, her voice
deadly calm.

"Turn around," said Anya.  "I think you just did."
     
***

Buffy turned around to find a statuesque woman in a stylish business
suit standing before her.  Her auburn hair fell straight to her
shoulders, and her wide, serious green eyes took in the scene before
her unflinchingly.  Her air of authority fit her as well as her
suit - tailor made.

"Wow," said Anya under her breath, "it's Tre'laken.."

"Anyanka," said the woman, "are you speaking to me?"

"Oh, no.  I mean yes.  I mean, Buffy, this is Tre'laken.  One of
D'Hoffryn's supervisors.  How are you, Tre'?"  Anya laughed
nervously.

"Fine," she said dismissively, turning back to Buffy.  "You desire
vengeance, Slayer?"

"I do," said Buffy, wiping the tears from her face with the back of
her hand. 

Tre'laken gazed at Buffy appraisingly.  "You are not one of
D'Hoffryn's favorite people, Slayer.  But he will not let any
personal differences between you interfere in a righteous quest for
vengeance.  He sends his sympathies regarding the loss of your
vampire.  You have been wronged.  Your wish will be granted."

"Good," Buffy said.  "I wish...."

"Hold on, just a moment!"  Giles stepped forward.  "Buffy, I know
how upset you must be, but a vengeance wish?  This is extremely ill
advised."

"I have to fix it," she said, "somehow."  She looked at him with
huge hazel eyes, imploring him to understand.

"I know," he said sympathetically.  "But do you remember when I
tried to take vengeance after Jenny was murdered?  I almost got
myself killed.  We need you, Buffy.  The world needs you."

"I have no intention of getting myself killed.  I just want to fix
it.  For Spike.  Because he went through so much, for me, and it's
not right that it was all for nothing."

"I agree.  I do.  But vengeance wishes are notoriously
unpredictable.  You of all people should know that!  There are any
number of ways a seemingly simple wish could go wrong.  You might be
thinking right now of wishing the First Evil away.  But evil
balances good, and without both, the universe might just wink out of
existence, we don't know."

"She couldn't do that anyway," Anya interjected.  "Something like
the First, we don't go there."

"You're throwing around the term `we' awfully freely, aren't you,
Anyanka?"  Tre'laken commented drily.

"Sorry.  Bad habit."

"However, she is correct," the woman continued.  "An entity like the
First is untouchable.  In addition, should you be considering it,
one may not wish another `back to life' so to speak.  Nor can a
vengeance demon directly cause a death.  We may, however change a
being's form or circumstance."

"Circumstance?" asked Xander.

"She means, Buffy couldn't wish Spike was alive here and now,
like `poof!' he's here.  But she could wish it was an earlier time
when he was still alive.  But then, we might all just do the same
things all over again and he'd still end up dusty."

Tre'laken shot a sharp look in Anya's direction.  "Thank you once
again for your assistance.  I think I can handle it from here." 
Anya shrank back behind Giles.  Tre' then directed her attention to
Buffy.  "Once again, however, she is correct.  We may not directly
affect life or death."

"Only indirectly, then.  How comforting," said Xander.
     
"But those frat boys...." said Buffy.

"That was different.  That was a wish reversal.  And it required a
very high price,"  said Tre'.  "Wouldn't you agree, Anyanka?"  Anya
said nothing.

"Then I'll wish something else."

"Buffy...."

"I'm sorry Giles, I'm going to do this.  Nothing you can say is
going to stop me.  I wish...I wish..."

Many scenarios flashed through her mind.  She thought of wishing
that it was two weeks ago or two months ago, but wouldn't that put
them right back in the same predicament all over again?  She
couldn't wish he'd never gotten a soul, that wouldn't be right. 
Maybe she should wish that they'd never met.  He'd certainly be
better off, but he would have killed a lot more people, so that
wouldn't do.  She didn't want to be selfish.  She didn't want to
wish something just for her own benefit.  Finally, it came to her. 
All the pain he'd experienced since he'd gotten his soul, all the
lost lives that haunted him.  She could save him from that.  She
could save all those lives, as well.  But she had to make sure.  Had
to see for herself.  She said it before she could change her mind
again. 

"I wish I could go back in time for one night, and keep William from
becoming a vampire."

"Buffy, no!" shouted Giles.  But it was too late.

Tre'laken's smooth features transformed into a series of veins and
ridges. 

"Wish granted," she intoned.

And Buffy was gone.

tbc...
 

And love is not the easy thing...
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can’t leave behind

Suddenly, Buffy was in what seemed to be a very elegant Victorian
home.  Dozens of people in period dress milled around her, nodding
and smiling as they passed.  Well, at least she knew she wasn't
invisible.  She looked down at herself to see that she was wearing a
gown similar in style to the ones the other ladies were wearing. 
For being stuffy Victorians, they sure weren't shy about the
cleavage.  The bodice of her off-the-shoulder gown was a lovely dark
green taffeta, tight fitting through the hips and then bustling in
the back.  The skirt was made of the same material, but gold in
color, and trimmed in lace along the bottom.  Her hand went to her
hair, which was pulled up in front, and fell in glossy ringlets in
back.  She would have been amused, had it not been for the
circumstances.  She had to find William.  Looking around, she did
see one familiar face.  But it wasn't his.

It was Halfrek.

"What the hell are you doing here, Hallie?" she whispered to
herself.  Buffy watched as the other woman entered a drawing room,
followed closely by a slight young man in spectacles.  She drew as
close as she could without drawing their attention, and hid behind a
potted palm.

Buffy listened in fascination as Hallie asked the young man if his
love poems were written for her, and he admitted that they were.

"Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good,
they're only words but... the feeling behind them... I love you,
Cecily."

He was so sweet, if a little nerdy.  And his voice, so
familiar.  It was Spike!  God, it was Spike.

"Please stop!" Hallie begged him.

"I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that...
that you try to see me- "

She cut him off.  "I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William.
You're beneath me."

It struck Buffy immediately that she had said the exact same words
to him -  `You're beneath me' - and felt a wave of regret that
threatened to overwhelm her and distract her from her mission.  Hallie got up and began to walk away,until Buffy stepped out from behind the plant and blocked her path. 

"Just a minute, Hallie."

The vengeance demon became flustered, and her color began to rise.  "I...My name is
Cecily.  And were you eavesdropping on us?  How rude!" she sniffed.

"Yes," said Buffy firmly.  "I heard every word.  And you're the one
who's rude."  Buffy looked back at William, who was staring at the
two of them in shock.  Buffy took Hallie's arm and marched  her a
few steps away from him.  "Is this some sort of vengeance wish or
something?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"William?  Heavens no!  He's simply an annoyance."

"Then haven't you ever heard of letting someone down easy?" Buffy
whispered.

Hallie wrenched her arm away and regarded Buffy coldly.  "You're an
American, aren't you?  That explains a lot."

"And you're a bitch.  That explains a lot."

"How dare you!  Besides, why do you care?  He's nobody."

"He a person with feelings!  And don't forget, I know who you are. 
Halfrek."

Hallie's eyes narrowed.  "Who are you?" she demanded.

"I'm the slayer."  The vengeance demon's eyes widened in
shock.  "Now, keep the hell away from William. Or I just might slay
you."  Red faced, Hallie rushed from the room. 

Buffy turned around and nearly jumped a foot when she found William
standing directly behind her. 

"So sorry, miss," he said, taking a step backward.  "Do you two,
know each other?"  He tilted his head toward her, and it was such a
Spike thing to do that she had to smile. 

"In a manner of speaking," she said.  "I thought she was very rude
to you.  And I told her so.  We Americans are like that," she said,
by way of explanation.

He smiled.  "I appreciate your...chivalry, as it were, but it's not
necessary.  Really, I don't know where my head was, thinking a woman
like Cecily could ever be interested in me."  His face had turned
bright red, and he stared at the floor.

"You're William, aren't you?" Buffy asked softly.

"Oh, how rude of me!" he said.  "William Bradshaw, so happy to meet
you."  He reached out and took her hand and kissed the back of it,
looking briefly into her eyes before releasing her. 

"I...I'm Buffy Summers," she stammered.  "Pleased to meet you, too."

"Buffy?" he asked.  "How unusual.  At least here in London.  Is it
common in America?"

"Not really.  My mother just liked it, I guess."

"It's a lovely name," he said shyly.

"Thank you.  Could we, maybe, sit down?" she asked.  He nodded and
led her back to the settee where he and `Cecily' had been sitting. 
She perched on the edge, adjusting her bustle as discreetly as she
could. 

William looked around nervously.  "Could I, fetch you a drink,
perhaps?"

"No thank you."

He nodded and fussed with the papers in his hands. 

She tried to think of something to say.  "You write poetry?" she
asked.

He smiled.  "Badly.  Quite badly, apparently."

Buffy grinned.  "Well, I love poetry.  It was one of my favorite
subjects in school."

"Really?" he asked, excited that someone else shared his
passion.  "Tell me, who is your favorite poet?"

Buffy racked her brain to think of the name of poet.  While it was
true she liked poetry, she was certainly no expert.  "Um, Emily
Dickinson?"

"Who?  I don't believe I've heard of her."

Oops, perhaps she was a few years too early.  "She...she's an
American!"  That excuse was certainly coming in handy.  He nodded in
understanding.  "And she writes a lot about loneliness, and feeling
isolated.  Feeling like no one understands you."

William gazed at her over the top of his glasses.  "Is that why you
like her poems?" he asked softly. 

"Yes.  I guess I do relate to them.  I...I feel that way sometimes. 
Like I'm the only one who feels the way I do, you know?"

"Yes," he said, tracing and retracing the crease in his folded 
papers with his fingertips.  "I know precisely what you mean."

"But I think that maybe we all feel that way, and if we'd only share
that with other people, than we wouldn't be so alone."  Uh oh.  He
was looking at her with that glazed over, besotted expression he
used to get sometimes.  During sex, usually.  Oh God.  She had a
strong urge to brush those curls out of his eyes. 

"So!  William!" she said, effectively breaking the mood.  "About
this Cecily person.  She's bad news.  You deserve someone better."

He chuckled.  "Someone better than Cecily?  Any man would feel lucky
to even be considered by her.  Her family is quite well off, and...."

"Is that what you care about, William?  I didn't think you were like
that."

He turned wounded eyes on her.  Did he have to look at her that way?  "Miss Summers.  I'm terribly sorry.  Have I offended you in some way?"

"No, no, I'm not offended.  It's just, I'd like to think it's more
important what kind of person you are than, you know, how rich your
family is."

"Her family's wealth has nothing to do with why I love Cecily!" 
She'd gotten him angry, and she actually felt a bit relieved.  It
passed quickly, though.  He shook his head, and stuck his poems in
his coat pocket.  "My apologies.  But you see, it's not her wealth,
or her station that appeal to me.  It's her beauty.  Both inward,
and outward.  I must confess, I have a certain weakness for
beautiful things."  He sighed.  "But you're right. I may have been
mistaken about the inward beauty."

This comment made her giggle, and he beamed at her.   She glanced
around the room, avoiding his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable again. 
Then she saw something that made her turn back to him and smile.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You may have a crush on Cecily," she said.  "But I think someone
has a crush on you."

"What?  I'm sure you're mistaken."  His eyes scanned the
room.  "Who?"

She laughed.  "You see that girl in the yellow dress over there,
with the blond hair?  The one who's trying very hard *not* to look
at us?"

"Oh," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand, "that's only
Molly.  She's a family friend.  We've known each other since we were
children."

"She likes you.  I mean, really *likes you,* likes you."

A smile spread slowly across his face, and he leaned in closer to
her.  "What makes you say so?" he asked.

"Well, let's just say, if looks could kill, I'd be dead.  She's
jealous."

"No!  Really?"  He looked back at Molly, who, caught looking,
quickly glanced away.  "She doesn't have many suitors," he said.  He
sounded sad for her.

"Why not?  She's very pretty.  Does she have a rotten personality,
or bad breath, or something?"

William laughed.  "No!  She's a lovely person.  Quite outspoken,
though.  Rather a lot like you, if I may be so bold, Miss Summers. 
Speaks of women's rights and that sort of thing."

"Ah," Buffy nodded in understanding.  "A lot of men feel threatened
by a strong woman."

"Yes," William said, still watching Molly, "they do."  He turned his
attention back to Buffy.  "Silly, really.  It's not the popular
opinion among men of my age, but I can think of nothing better than
a relationship of equals.  I would think it could be
quite...stimulating."

Buffy could feel herself begin to flush, and as she fussed with her
hair, she was sure that innocent William had no idea what he had
just said.  But when she finally dared to glance in his direction,
he had a rather mischievous glint in his eye.  God, he looked so
much like Spike right now, and she was left momentarily speechless.

"Well," he said, "it looks like the party is breaking up."  Buffy
was startled to find that the music had stopped and everyone was
putting on coats and wraps and saying goodbyes.  "Can I see you
home, perhaps?  Or to your hotel?"  He stood and offered her his
hand, helping her to her feet.

"The night is young, isn't it?  Let's go somewhere else!"  She had
to keep him occupied till sunrise.

"Somewhere else?  Where did you have in mind?"

"You decide!"

He looked confused.  "Well, it's actually quite late.  The only
establishments open at this hour are the taverns, and that wouldn't
be appropriate for a lady like yourself, of course."

Well, he certainly didn't remind her of Spike, now.  "Of course." 
She looked around the room, desperately trying to think of a way to
detain him.  It was still hours before dawn, and she couldn't let
him walk home by himself.  What if Drusilla found him?  Think,
Buffy, think.

"Miss Summers?  Are you staying with someone?"

"No," she replied, "I have a...a hotel."

"Which one?"

"I...don't remember?"

"Pardon me?"

Oh, God, how was she going to get herself out of this one?  "Um, I
mean, they...they lost my reservation.  And now there's no room."

"Oh, how unfortunate.  Where are your things?"

"What?"

He took a breath.  "Your bags?  You do have bags, don't you?"

Oh, hell.  She'd have to tell him the truth.  She couldn't tell him
the truth!  He'd have her committed.  How was she going to get out
of this?  She could feel her heart racing nervously and her palms
began to sweat.

"Miss Summers?  If there's some sort of trouble, perhaps I could...."

Couldn't he ever just be quiet? 

"Spike, will you just shut up and let me think for a minute!" 

There were only a few people preparing to leave at this point, but
they all turned and stared at her outburst.  William didn't seem to
notice them.

"What did you call me?"

"Will...William?"

He shook his head.  "No, it was `Spike.'  Are you mocking me as
well?  Is this what this entire evening has been about?"

"What....?"

"Those, those heathens who read my poetry aloud and then ridiculed
it.  You think I don't know what they say?  That they'd rather have
a railroad spike through their heads than listen to my
compositions?  So that's what they call me behind my back: Spike. 
How very amusing.  What I haven't determined is your role in all of
this.  Exactly what kind of game are you playing, Miss Summers?"

"No, you've got it all wrong!  I'm not one of them.  And I'm not
playing any game.  I swear."

"So a beautiful woman like yourself spends the entire evening with
me solely for the pleasure of my company?  Is that what you expect
me to believe?"

"I...I...." she stammered.

He shook his head in disgust, turned on his heel and strode out the
door. 

Buffy stamped her foot in frustration and started to follow him, but
just then a crowd of people descended the stairs and blocked her
exit.  By the time she made her way through the crowd, he was gone.

tbc...
 

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it’s a long way off

                             
What an idiot he was!  He sat in the alleyway and took his poems out
of his pocket, reading them over to himself.  God, they were awful. 
He began the meticulous task of tearing them into the smallest bits
possible.  It was no wonder he was the source of their amusement,
really.  But the girl, Miss Summers.  That had taken him completely
unawares.  What more calamity could this awful night hold for him? 
First Cecily's rejection, and now to find he's the object of some
elaborate joke.  He thought he had found a kindred spirit in Buffy. 
What a fool he was.  Tears began to fall from his eyes, hitting the
shreds of paper he still held in his hands and smearing the ink.  He
didn't hear her approach; wasn't even aware that she was there until
she spoke.

"And I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from
heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?"

He stood and turned around, finally seeing the beautiful dark haired
woman who stood at the entrance to the alley.  "Nothing," he
replied, "I wish to be alone."  He let the bits of paper fall to the
ground.

She began to speak then, mesmerizing him with her words.  At first
he thought her mad, but as she went on, he saw that here, finally,
was a woman who understood him.  Who saw him for whom he truly was. 
Before he knew it, he was backed up against the wall, and she was
closer to him than any woman had been before.

"I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something...
effulgent."

"But that's not exactly what you're offering him, is it Drusilla?" 

The dark haired woman, her face now that of a monster, stepped
backed from him quickly and snarled at Buffy.  Her eyes glowed
yellow; her teeth had become fangs.  He could only look from one
woman to the other, stunned at this turn of events.

"He's mine.  My wise, brave knight.  My William," said Drusilla.

"Well, he may be wise and brave, but he's not yours.  You can see
the future Dru.  What do you see now?"  Buffy stepped forward, the
makeshift wooden stake she held in one hand illuminated by the light
from a gas street lamp.

Drusilla grabbed her head between her hands as if in
pain.  "Ohhhhh!" she cried, "this is so disappointing!"  She ran out
of the alley and into the street, disappearing from view.  He could
only watch her go, still unable to move.

"Are you alright?  I got here before she bit you, didn't I?"  Buffy
moved toward him and took his chin in her hand, tilting his head to
the side so she could examine his neck.  "Good, no bite marks."  Her
hand fell from his face to his chest, where it remained for a
moment.  "At least I got here in time...this time."

His eyes searched hers for some understanding, and he noticed the
tears that were forming there.  He wasn't sure why he said it, but
it seemed to be the only thing he could say.

"Buffy, why are you here?"

"I'm here," she said, "for you."

***

They moved to a park and sat on a wooden bench.  It was damp and she
had no wrap, and she shivered in the cold.  He had also left the
party without his coat, but he took off his suit jacket and placed
it around her shoulders.

"So, that was an actual vampire?  I mean, her face...." he said, his
hands going to his own face.  "My word."

"She certainly was a vampire.  A very formidable one.  You were
lucky to get away.  She wanted to make you a vampire, too."

"I wouldn't have escaped, if it wasn't for you.  More chivalry from
the brave Miss Summers."  His tone was light, but she knew he was
frightened and confused.  He was also trembling, and she didn't
think it was from the cold.  All in all, he was handling this quite
well, though.  She should have known.  After all, he always was at
his best under pressure.

"It's why I'm here," she said. 

"I believe," he replied, "that you are going to have to give me a
bit more of an explanation that that."

She sighed.  "You'll never believe me."

His eyes danced with amusement.  "Oh, I don't know about that. 
Apparently, I now believe in vampires.  What could be more fanciful
than that?"

"How about, time travel?"

"Time travel?"

"That's what I said."

He sat back on the bench and tried to make himself
comfortable.  "Very well, Miss Summers.  I am intrigued.  Tell me
your story."

She smiled.  "O.K., but remember, you asked for it.  Where should I
begin?  Oh, I know.  Once upon a time...."

She told him about slayers and demons and witches and werewolves, a
world which before had lived for him only in books or the
imagination.

She told him the tale of what he would have become; of William, who
became Spike, the slayer of slayers, who then fell in love with one.

William took all this in quietly, until she reached mentioned love.  "A vampire in love with a slayer,' he said.  "How poetic."  It was all too much for him to absorb, in such a short
amount of time.  Nevertheless, this part of the story definitely
appealed to his romantic nature.
                                               
She told him about Spike's arrival in Sunnydale, his quest for a
soul, and his fate at the hand of the First.  And about her wish,
the reason for her visit.

William was, in turn, frightened, disgusted, sad, and finally, a bit
proud of what he had become in this other life.  It was almost dawn
by the time she finished.

"So," she said with a yawn, "do you think I'm completely insane?" 
He had his arm over the back of the bench they were sitting on, and
she was leaning her head there, using him for a pillow.  At first he
had been shocked by her familiarity, but after several hours of
listening to her fantastic narrative, he didn't think much could
shock him anymore.

"Oddly enough, I don't," he answered.  "It's very strange to think
that the vampire you call Spike is what I would have become, given a
twist of fate.  And you, making this dangerous journey, for me.  I
must tell you, Buffy, I am overcome with emotion."  He took her hand
in his.  "It is no wonder that this demon, I cannot think of him as me,
changed his very nature for you.  All that you describe is very
difficult for me to even imagine, but it is not difficult at all to
imagine that a heart such as yours could tame a savage beast."

"It wasn't me," she protested, "it was him."
 
Buffy began to cry, and William fished in his pocket for a
handkerchief, which he handed to her.  She took the cloth from him
and dabbed at her eyes.  "It's almost time for me to go, and I'm
scared.  I don't know how this wish of mine will change the future. 
And I'm never going to see you again."  She began to sob in earnest now.  "I've made it so
Spike will never even exist.  I can't imagine what it's going to
be like, not having him in my life."

"You're in love with him," William stated.

"I never told him."

He wiped a tear from her face with his thumb, and then leaned in and
kissed her on the cheek.  "Perhaps," he whispered, "in a way, you
just did."

The two of them sat in silence for awhile, watching the sky change
colors as dawn approached.  The black of night gave way to indigos
and purples, oranges and reds, and finally yellows and pinks.  The
stars receded, but a sliver of silvery moon still hung, alone, in
the sky. 

"I have an idea," he said, breaking the silence.  "A plan, if you
will."

Buffy rolled her eyes at him.  "In my world, you're not exactly
known for your extensive planning capabilities."

He smiled.  "Yet more evidence that your tale is, indeed, true.  But
I believe the fates may be with us this day.  Hear me out."

She listened, and they did indeed make a plan.  The sun rose over
the top of a church steeple nearby, and the moon finally
disappeared.  She stood and removed his jacket, handing it to him
and then hugging him tight.  "You should go now," she said.  "What
will your mother say?  You being out all night?"

"Best not to think of that right now," he answered, smiling down at
her.  "It may very well be a more frightening experience than last
evening's vampire attack."

She laughed.  "William," she said, "I have very much enjoyed the
pleasure of your company."

He blushed, and shrugged his jacket on.  "Buffy...."

"Shhh," she said, placing a finger to his lips.  "We've said all
there is to say.  You should go now."  She pressed the stake into
his hand.  "And carry this with you, just in case.  Have a good
life, William." 

He took a few steps in the direction of home, then turned around to
say one last thing.  "Buffy?"

But she was gone.

tbc...
 

And if your glass heart should crack
and for a second you turn back
                       

September 29, 1997

He entered the Bronze just after sundown.  He'd been told this was
the spot, the place where people of her age hung out, and he wasn't
disappointed.  He spoke briefly to the bartender, then scanned the
room, picking her out of the crowd almost immediately.  Circling
around the bar, he spiraled closer and closer to the dance floor,
watching her intently. 

There you are, pet.  The slayer.  The chosen one. 
I've been looking for you. 

He couldn't take his eyes off her.  He'd expected her to be
beautiful, but this was something else.  The way she moved.  The
life force that just seemed to radiate from her; it was palpable.

As the song ended and another, slower one, began, he saw her
hesitate and glance around as if she was looking for someone.  Not
finding whomever she sought out, she and her two friends began to
leave the dance floor.  She was with another girl, a cute redhead,
and a boy.  Not her boyfriend, that was obvious.  He stepped in
front of them, and she looked up, her face momentarily showing
annoyance, and then confusion as he spoke.  "Hello, love." 

"Oh look, it's Billy Idol," said the boy.

"Forgive me," he said, ignoring the jab, and speaking directly to
Buffy. "The name is William.  William Bradshaw."
           
"I'm...."

"You're Buffy.  Buffy Summers," he said with a smile.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"That," he said, taking her hand, "is a very interesting story. 
Come dance with me, and I'll tell you *all* about it."

"I...I don't know," she hesitated.

"Come on," he said, giving her a smile.  "I saw you before.  You know you want to dance."

She rolled her eyes at him, but allowed him to lead her back out to
the dance floor, and then she was swaying in his arms. 

"So, what's the big mystery, William?" she asked with a smirk.

Suddenly, he felt nervous, not sure if it was because of the strange
tale he had to tell, or the beautiful girl he was holding in his
arms.  Most likely both, in equal measures.  "I'm sorry for all the dramatics.  But you see, I've been waiting for this day, for a very long time."

She gave him a suspicious look  "What do you mean?  Waiting for what?  And how long?" Buffy asked.

"Waiting to meet you.  And for... a bit more than a century," he
said, waiting for her reaction.

"Wait a minute."  She stopped dancing.  "A century.  Are you a
vampire?"

He laughed out loud.  "No, love!  But funny you should ask."

***

"So, you're saying that Buffy pulled a Marty McFly and went back in
time?" asked the boy, whose name he'd learned was Xander. 

The four of them had left the Bronze after Buffy had called Giles,
her watcher.  They met him at the Library.  William liked him
immediately.  A woman named Jenny, another teacher, had joined them.

"Well, no DeLorean, but yeah mate, that's what I'm saying."

"And you say this," Giles said, carefully holding up an ancient
looking leather bound volume, "is your great, great, *great*
grandfather's journal?""

William smiled.  "I think you got the right number of greats in
there, yes."

"You're Will-i-am the Fifth, you am, you am?"  joked Xander.

"Sixth, actually.  And is he always like this?" he asked Giles.

Giles sighed.  "I'm afraid so."

"In any case," William said, "the journal's a bit worse for wear, as
you can see.  After grandfather's death, the family took great pains
to preserve it, but the art of archiving wasn't what it is today, of
course, so simple age has taken it's toll.  Then the war came, and
it sustained some damage...."

"Ah.  Yes of course...."

"....and unfortunately no one had thought to make a copy prior. 
Since then, father has had the paper deacidified, kept it in the
archival box you see here.  We keep it in a safe deposit box,
normally, but I knew you'd want to see it.  Of course, I've got it
transcribed on disk as well."  He took a floppy disk out of a
zippered compartment of the backpack he'd carried in with him.

Buffy took the book from Giles.  "It does look a little barbequed,"
she said.  She carefully opened the first page and read:

`Last evening I had the most fantastical experience, which I fear no
one will believe, but which I record here all the same.  I shall do
my best to transcribe these events accurately, as the information
may be of use to future generations, and especially to Miss Buffy
Summers, who visited me last evening from the twenty-first century. 
I fear that in saving me, Miss Summers may have unwittingly caused
harm to herself, for she told me that the vampire incarnation of myself
had assisted her on numerous occasions.  I am most concerned for her
welfare as he will now be absent from her life.' 

She turned a few more pages with great care and read silently, then
handed the book to Giles.  "It sounds like I went there to save him
from becoming a vampire.  I wonder why I would do that?  It doesn't
make any sense."

"William," said Giles, removing his glasses, "I do not wish to cast
doubt on you, but how are we to know that your claims are accurate
and this is not all some elaborate fabrication?"

"You want proof," said William with a smile.  He didn't blame them
for being skeptical.  After all, for the longest time he had only
half believed it himself.  The story had become legend in his
family, and he had enjoyed hearing the tale over and over again, but
when he'd discovered there really was a Buffy Summers living in
Sunnydale California, he'd begun to think it more than just a crazy
story.   Still, in the back of his mind was a voice that told him
this was all completely mad.  He leaned over close to Buffy.

"Perhaps," he teased, "I should ask you for proof that there are
vampires.  I've never actually met one, you know."  Her face flushed
as he leaned in closer to her, and held her eyes with his own.

"Oh, I think we can remedy that situation pretty quickly," said a
voice from the doorway.

Buffy stood up quickly.  "Angel!  How long have you been here?  And
what do you think you're doing?"  She obviously knew this vampire,
who had the same features as his grandfather had described in his journal, complete
with forehead ridges, and yellow eyes.  And the teeth.  Let's not
forget the teeth.

"Long enough.  And the boy wanted to meet a vampire, didn't he?" he
asked innocently, his grin showing off a mouthful of fangs. 

Buffy began to apologize to William, expecting him to be
frightened.  "It's o.k.," she said, "he's good.  He has a soul." 
She glared at Angel.  "He's just being a jerk for some reason.  Drop
the game face," she ordered Angel.

William simply stared at Angel in fascination as his vampire
features melted away to reveal a human face.  "Angel," William
said.  "I believe grandfather mentioned a vampire named `Angel.'"

Buffy's expression changed from annoyance to concern.  "What does it
say?"

"May I?" William asked Giles, indicating the computer.  "It'll be
much easier to find this way."  At Giles nod, he slipped the floppy
disk into the slot and brought up a file.  "Shall I read it?" he
asked.

"Go ahead," said Buffy.

William pulled his own glasses out of his coat pocket, put them on,
and began to read.  "Miss Summers relayed to me, in a somewhat
reluctant manner, the tale of Angel, another souled vampire
who...." 

"ANOTHER souled vampire?  There's another?" Buffy asked.

"Not that I know of," Angel replied, scratching his head. 

"Go on, William," said Buffy.

"Another souled vampire whom she had a relationship with."  William
looked from Buffy to Angel over the top of his wire rimmed glasses,
and Buffy looked away.  He turned back to the screen.  "Wait a
minute," said William, paging down the screen.  "There's something
else here about Angelus...is that you, too?"

"Angelus?"  Jenny stepped forward and read over William's shoulder.
                 
"What does it say?" Angel demanded.

"This section of the book is pretty damaged.  It just says something
about, let's see, `Angelus made Drusilla who made Spike.'  And then,
Buffy's birthday is also mentioned, but everything about Angelus
after that is gone."

"Who are Drusilla and Spike?" Buffy asked Angel.

"I...I...well, Drusilla, that part is true.  But I have no idea who
Spike is.  I swear!  This guy is pulling a fast one on all of you,
and this proves it!"

Buffy slowly looked from one man to the other.  "Who is Spike,
William?" Buffy asked.

"Spike was the vampire you kept William from becoming.  Apparently,
he went and won a soul," he said, removing his glasses, "for you,
Buffy."
                             
"For me?" she whispered.

"Just because he says so, that still doesn't proved anything," said
Angel.

William reached for his backpack and pulled out a padded manila
envelope, which he handed to Buffy.  "Perhaps this will help." 

She opened the envelope and removed a framed object, which she
stared at for several moments.  "Oh my God."

"I've had the date authenticated, but you're welcome to have it
tested yourself," he said.

"Buffy, what is it?" asked Giles.

She turned the frame around and held it up so they could see it.  It
held a small piece of yellowed paper.  "It's my handwriting," she
said, "and it's dated November 15, 1880."

tbc...
 

Oh no, be strong
Walk on

                 
October, 1997

"Well," said Giles, "between the damage that was done to the
journal, William's interpretation of Buffyspeak, and the fact that
we don't know what the bloody hell he's referring to most of the
time, this may not be as helpful to us as your ancestor hoped it
would be."  He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily.  He
could read ancient texts in small print for hours at a time, but
looking at the damn computer screen for more than a few minutes
really fatigued him.  "I suppose it was too much to hope that this
would be a blue print to all our destinies."

William spun around on his stool to face him.  The boy had so much
energy.  It was bloody annoying.  "Perhaps that's not such a bad
thing, Giles."

"How so?" he asked.  Not that he didn't agree, but he wanted to hear
William's reasoning.

"If one knows everything that's going to happen in the future, well,
that would be a right scary way to live, don't you think?  Besides,
there's always the chance that this will be helpful to us later. 
Might be a few useful tidbits in there, and we just don't realize it
yet.  It's like a puzzle, and we don't have enough pieces to see the
pattern yet."

Giles cleaned his glasses with the tail of his shirt and put them
back on.  "William, my boy, have you given much thought to your
future?  Any plans?"

William answered without hesitation, and with a rather sly
smile.  "My plans are to stay as close to Buffy as possible."
                             
Giles smiled back.  "Very good.  But actually, I was talking about
career plans.  Have you ever considered becoming...a watcher?"

***

November, 1997

"So, how goes the love triangle?"  Willow asked.

Buffy lay on her bed absently petting Mr. Gordo and staring at the
ceiling.  "I hate it."

"Yeah," teased Willow, "it must be tough having not one, but two hot
guys after you.  Poor Buffy."

"I'm serious, Will.  It's driving me crazy.  Angel is more non-talky
than ever, which, I really didn't think was possible.  But, I know
I've been kind of distant too.  That whole Angelus, Drusilla thing
sincerely gave me the wiggins.  And of course, since Drusilla sired,
well, would have sired, William's great whatever grandfather, that's
made things *so* not good between them, even without the whole `me'
factor.  I feel really bad for Angel.  But William ..."

"You really like him, don't you?"

"He's so not broody.  Which, a plus.  And he talks about his
feelings, you know?  I know where I stand with him."

"Which is where, exactly?"

Buffy sighed and rolled over on her stomach, propping Gordo up
against the headboard.  "He's very romantic.  He tells me that he
thinks we could be amazing together, but he doesn't want me to be
with him just because I think he's like Spike or something.  He's
even started to let his hair grow out."

"So, he's not jealous of Angel, but he thinks you have a thing for
Spike?"

"Well, he's a little jealous of Angel.  But yeah, the Spike thing
bothers him too.  At least, I think that's what `you're enamored
with the notion of a noble, self-sacrificing creature who's
distinction I am never likely to obtain' means."  She sighed.  "He's
cute when he's mad.  Gets all upper-crusty."

"Are you?" asked Willow.

"What?  Cute when I'm mad?  Because, definitely not upper-crusty."

"No, silly!  Do you have the warm fuzzies for Spike?"

"NO!"  She ducked her head.  "Well, maybe a little."

"Um, Buffy?  You do realize that Spike never actually existed, don't
you?"

Buffy sat up and grabbed Mr. Gordo.  "But he did, Will.  He did. 
And I know I don't know the whole story, but he loved me so much
that he went out and got a soul for me.  I mean, Angel was cursed
with his.  He admitted to me that nothing could have made him go and
seek out a soul when he didn't have one.  And then, I apparently
cared so much about Spike that I went back in time in order to keep
him from becoming a vampire."

"Yeah," Willow sighed, "kind of in the epic romance category, isn't
it?"  She paused, smiling gently.  "And kind of hard for a regular guy to top?"

"I guess I have been talking about Spike too much."  She combed the
stuffed animal's fur with her fingers.  "William told me to let him
know when I was ready for a real, live boy," she said with a
smile.  "That part I understood."

***

January, 1998

"So...Nice party."

"Yes it was.  Great party."  They strolled arm and arm down the
sidewalk, and she was walking as slowly as she could, not wanting it
to end.  She loved the way their bodies brushed together as they
walked, the feel of his hand covering hers, the sound of his voice. 
She'd been dancing in his arms all night, and she didn't look
forward to letting go.

"I noticed your friendly neighborhood vampire didn't make an
appearance, pet."

She shrugged.  "He said he'd try to make it.  Obviously he didn't." 
They had arrived at her house and turned to go up the walk.  She
looked up at him and smiled.  "I notice you didn't let anything keep
you from coming."

They had made it to the front porch, and stood in front of the
door.  William gazed down at her seriously and held both her hands
in his.  "Giles let me know yesterday that I've been accepted into
the Watcher's Academy," he said.

Her smile faltered, then she forced it back to her
face.  "That's...great!  Congratulations.  When do you leave?"  She
had to look away before she cried, and he let go of her hands and
took her face in his hands. 

"Don't look away," he said softly.

"I have to!" She could feel the tears coming now and was helpless to
stop them.  "Will," she said, "I don't want you to go."

"I'm not, love."

"What?"

"I told them I couldn't leave the states right now.  They said I
could reapply later if I wanted."  He wiped her tears away with his
thumbs.  "Can't leave you." he whispered.  She began to cry harder,
and he laughed helplessly.  "Oh pet, didn't want to make you cry. 
Especially not on your birthday.  I wanted it to be special."

She raised her hand to caress his face.  "It has been special.  It's
been perfect.  And it's because of you."

As William bent his head to kiss her, Angel left the shadows beneath
the tree and stepped out onto the walk.  Neither of them noticed
him; they were too caught up in each other.  He took one last look
at the ring in his hand, then put it back in his pocket and walked
away.

***

October, 1998

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that there's a new slayer in
town," Oz observed.

They had followed the young woman into the alley and now watched her
dispatch the vampire with an impressive display of grace and power.
All accomplished while wearing a rather tight outfit.

"You ain't kiddin', mate.  Wow, look at her... ow!" said
William, as Buffy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Watch it, buddy.  Or don't watch it, as the case may be." 

William stepped behind Buffy and wrapped his arms around her waist,
nuzzling her neck.  "Just admiring her...work ethic, love," he
teased.           

Buffy shook her head and smiled.  "I can see that this girl is going
to be nothing but trouble."

Later, back inside the Bronze, Faith regaled them all with tales of
slayerdom, Faith-style.

"The whole summer it was, like, the worst heat wave. So it's about a
hundred and eighteen degrees and I'm sleeping without a stitch on. 
And all of a sudden, I hear this screaming from outside. So I go
tearing out, stark nude,  and this church bus has broke down, and
there's these three vamps feasting on half the Baptists in South
Boston."  She paused as a waitress arrived at the table and sat down
a tray of muffins.  "So I waste the vamps, and the preacher comes
up, and he's hugging me like there's no tomorrow, when all of a
sudden, the cops pull up and they arrested us both." She grabbed a
muffing and tore into it.

"Wow," Xander said.  "They should film that story and show it every
Christmas."  Cordelia gave him The Look.  Buffy giggled.

"God, I could eat a horse. Isn't it crazy how slayin' just always
makes you hungry and horny?" Faith asked, popping another large
piece of muffin into her mouth.

"Tell me about it," Buffy agreed.  Everyone turned to stare at her,
save William, who just smiled serenely.  Buffy could feel her face
burning, and turned her head into his shoulder.

"I get it," said Cordelia.  Xander gave her a confused look. "Not
the horny thing. Yuck! But the two Slayer thing. There was one, and
then Buffy died for, like, two minutes, so then Faith was called.

Faith held up a hand and struggled to swallow her muffin.  "No, that
was some other babe.  Slayer named Kendra.  Jamaican, I think." 
Faith explained. "She died, then I was called.  It happens.  You
know the drill.  Where can I get another drink around here?" she
asked, looking around for the waitress.  The guys all left to fetch
drinks from the bar.

"So," said Faith, giving Buffy a nudge.  "The British guy, he yours?"

"Yes," Buffy said firmly.

Faith smiled.  "He is a major hottie.  Major."  Buffy smiled.
                                   
"And your man," she said to Cordelia, "he's funny.  Funny is sexy."

Cordy sat up a little taller in her seat.  "Why yes, yes it is!" she
replied.

"Oz is in a band," Willow offered.

Faith smiled at her.  "He's cute too.  None of them my type,
exactly, but still, you girls have done well for yourselves.  Now
that one over there," she raised her eyebrows suggestively.  "He's
my type."

"Who?" asked Willow, looking around the bar.

"That one," said Faith with a nod of her head.  "Tall, dark and
broody, lurking in the shadows over there?  He's the one for me."

Buffy turned to see where Faith was looking.  "Oh," she
said.  "Angel."

***

February, 1999

"Oh God.  Oh God!"  Faith backed away from the body.  "I didn't
know.  I swear I didn't know."

The man reached out desperately to them, and Buffy, knelt and tried
to apply pressure to the wound.  "We have to call 911.  I need
something to help stop the bleeding!"  But it was too late.  Faith's
stake had done too much damage.  Blood seeped through Buffy's
fingers and the man began to convulse.  Then, finally, he was
still.  "He's dead," Buffy said.  She stood and looked at her blood
covered hands in horror.

Faith backed further away.  "I thought he was a vampire."

"I know."

"We have to go!"  Faith grabbed her by the wrist and began running
down the alley.  As she began to climb over some boxes, Buffy
stopped and looked back toward the body lying in the alley.  Faith
continued over a wall and was gone. 

***

She was trying to wash the blood out of her shirt when the knock
came at the door.  What was that Shakespeare play she'd had to read
in English class?  With the chick who went crazy after she killed
someone?  She'd kind of liked that one, actually.   The knock came
again, harder this time.  She turned off the water and wiped her
hands on a towel.

Faith swung open the door, and he filled the doorway.  She felt
small in comparison.  So very small. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

He smiled.  "That's my girl."  Angel stepped into the room and
closed the door behind him, pulling her into his arms.  She made a
feeble attempt at protest, and then collapsed against him, taking
comfort in the scratchy feel of his jacket against her cheek, the
weight of his arms around her.  The solidness that was him.
           
"It's going to be o.k." he said.

"How can it be o.k.?  I killed someone."  She started to cry.  Damn,
she hated to cry.

"It was an accident.  We'll deal with it."

Faith shook her head against his chest, then pushed away from
him.  "Why do you care, anyway?  I thought you said you didn't want
to get `involved?'"

He smiled faintly.  "Looks like I already am."

"Well, just go back to your mansion and read your intellectual
French crap and leave me the hell alone!"
     
He took a step towards her.  "Faith, I'm not going anywhere.  Just
talk to me."

"Oh, right, because you're so good at that."  That made him smile,
even laugh a little.  Not many people could make the big guy smile,
and she always got a little thrill when she managed to do it, which
was more often than anyone else.  She sat down on the end of the
bed, and he sat down next to her.  "I really don't need this noble
bullshit from you, Angel," she said.  Her voice sound soft and sad
to her own ears, and she made an effort to harden it.  "In fact,
it's the last thing I need.  What are we going to do, huh?  Bond
over the fact that we're both killers?"  That stung him, she could
see that. 

She tried not to care.

He didn't back off, though.  Just kept looking at her calmly.  "You
have a choice," Angel said. 

"It's already happened."  Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I've talked to Giles.  Buffy told us what happened.  The watcher's
council will ... take care of it.  You can have counseling if you need
it.  Do you think you're the only slayer who's ever made a mistake
like this?"

She began to feel a glimmer of hope inside, and it scared the hell
out of her.  "They won't make me give up being a slayer?  I...I
thought they'd put me away or something.  Take away my membership
card."  She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

He shook his head.  "That's not going to happen."

"Angel, even if they don't... I just don't know how I'm going to
deal with this."

He leaned closer, brushing the hair back from her face and wiping
away a tear.  "How about, with a little help from your friends?  You
do have them, you know.  You've just got to let them in."

"Are you my friend?" she asked. 

"Always," he answered.

She put her arms around him and finally allowed herself to let it
all out, sobbing into his chest.  He stroked her hair and murmured
soothing words into her ear.

"I'm here, Faith.  I'll always be here."

***

March, 1999

"`lo?"

"God, you sound sexy when you're all sleepy," Buffy said.  One
syllable and she was all tingly.

"Do I, love?  Why don't you come over here and tell me that?  I
won't move a muscle till you get here," he purred, his voice low and
gravelly.  Muscle.  Muscles.  Back muscles, arm muscles, thigh
muscles.  Bad Buffy!  She could just imagine him stretched out in
bed like a big cat, his hair all tousled, a little stubble on his
face....

"I wish."  She sighed.  "I promised mom I'd run some errands for
her.  Just wanted to call you first.  You know how William's handy
dandy journal left us the clue about the ascension?"

"Right."  He didn't sound sleepy anymore.  "You find something?"

"A demon who claims to have these books of ascension he wants to
sell me.  Stopped me when I was out patrolling last night.  It's a
good thing Faith wasn't with me or he might have been dead before he
had a chance to spill.  She's of the `kill first, ask questions
later,' theory of slaying."

"I thought she was going with you," he said.

"She was supposed to, but she had a hot date with Angel and ... hold
on a minute.  Someone's at the door." 

Buffy opened the door, and Faith all but fell into her arms, sobbing
out her story in fits and starts.  Buffy could hear William on the
other end of the phone, calling her name.  Finally, she calmed Faith
enough to put the phone back to her ear.

"Did you hear that, Will?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh.   "Good-bye Angel, hello Angelus."     
     

tbc...
 

What you got they can’t steal it
No they can’t even feel it

March, 1999

He awoke abruptly, disoriented, and sat bolt upright, heart thudding
in his chest.  Had he heard an actual sound, or had that been in his
dream?  He paused for a moment, closed his eyes, tried to bring the
moment back.  No use; it was gone. 

The blinds were open, and moonlight filtered in, highlighting the
folds in their rumpled sheets.  Their perfectly neat little life had
become rather messy lately.  He turned to look at her, but she was
gone, her pillow still crumpled up in a ball like she always left
it.  He frowned.  Listened again.  The house was silent.

Throwing the covers back, he stood and pulled on a sweatshirt that
hung over a chair, padding barefoot out into the hallway.  He
checked the baby's room first, swinging the door open gently, but
the crib was empty.  That in and of itself was not so unusual,
because normally they were all in the big bed together.  Not
tonight, though.   His eyes traveled to the chair where she would
sometimes rock their newborn to sleep, if the little one was
fussy.  "No sense in all three of us being awake," she would say,
when he urged her to come back to bed.  He left the nursery, and
made his way down the darkened stairwell.

He found her in the living room, sitting on the sofa, the baby
snuggled asleep in her arms. Ella was wrapped securely in a
receiving blanket, but his dear wife wore only a thin silk gown.  He
picked up a throw from the chair and placed it around her
shoulders.  She continued to stare straight ahead.

"He's out there," she said dully, as if resigned to an unspeakable
fate.

Giles sat down next to her.  "Who, Jenny?"

"Angelus.  He's out there." 

"Have you seen him?" he asked, alarmed.

She shook her head.  "I just know.  I can feel him."

He got up and pulled the heavy draperies aside, peering out into the
night.  He saw no one.

"Don't worry, darling.  I don't see why he'd be interested in us,
anyway," he said, returning to her side.  He hoped he sounded
reassuring.  He gazed down into the peaceful face of his baby
daughter, with her chubby cheeks and her rosebud lips, and envied
her innocence.  Giles put his arm around his wife, but she remained
stiff, tense, unyielding to his embrace.

She looked up into his face, with stricken, haunted eyes.  "Rupert,"
Jenny said, "there's something I have to tell you."

A chill went down his spine.

***

"You knew?  You knew this could happen, and you didn't say
anything?"  Buffy didn't want to scare the baby, so she kept her
voice quiet and controlled.  Somehow, her perfectly contained rage
made her all the more intimidating.

"She didn't know...." Giles began.

Jenny put a hand on his arm.  "Let me," she said,  handing him the
baby.  "I didn't know that this exact thing would happen, that Angel
would lose his soul.  I didn't find out the details of the curse
until it was too late.  I was just told to keep you two apart," she
explained to Buffy.  She glanced at Faith, who sat huddled in a
chair, and lowered her voice.  "I didn't know I should keep him away
from Faith, too."     

"You still should have told us.  You had no right to keep this kind
of information from us," Buffy said.

"I'm so sorry.  If there was anything I could do ...."

"Why are you blaming Jenny?" came a voice from behind her.  Buffy
spun around, startled, to find that Faith had gotten up and crossed
the room.  "Why is it her fault?  Maybe it's your fault, you ever
think of that?  You with your time travel and your changing the
future!"  Her voice began to rise.  "Maybe none of this would have
happened if it wasn't for you.  But everything's turning out fine
for you, isn't it B?  You've got the great boyfriend, who wouldn't
even *exist* if you'd left things alone.  You have the great
family.  You have the great friends."  With every word Faith drew closer
and closer, until Buffy could feel her hot breath on her face.  "What do
I have B?  What do I have?"  Her eyes flashed angrily, but her lower lip
began to tremble.  "I'll tell you what.  Nothing.  Like always.  Nothing."
     

She stared at Buffy accusingly, and Buffy could only stare back in
stunned silence.

"Excuse me.  I hate to burst in on this `business' meeting of yours,
but as Mr. Giles would say, that's rubbish."  Joyce Summers stood in
the doorway to the room, arms crossed over her chest.  "Faith, if
someone has taught you that your nothing without a man, well," she
smiled, "I'm here to prove that wrong.  And you do have friends. 
Look at all the people in this room here," she said.  Faith reluctantly tore her eyes away from Buffy, and gazed around the room.  "They're all here because they care about you. 
And you do have family," she said, walking up to Faith and smoothing
her hair back with her hands.   "You have Buffy.  And you have me."

Joyce put her arms around Faith, and the girl collapsed against her,
inconsolable.  Buffy helped them both to the sofa and sat there next
to them while Joyce held Faith.

"Excuse me," said Cordelia, rushing toward the kitchen, "I have, uh,
something in my eye."

"Yeah, me too," said Xander quick on her heels.

"Me too!" Willow sobbed, clapping a hand over her mouth and running
after them. 

"Well," observed Oz, "it looks like there's been a sudden outbreak
of mysterious eye conditions."

"Yeah mate," said William, "looks like it's catching, too."

***

"Well, well, well.  To what do I owe this great honor?"  Mayor
Wilkins stood up from behind his desk and greeted his visitor warmly.

"I've heard you're the real power in this town," said Angelus,
glancing around the room.  He smiled.  "Well, till now, that is.  In
any case, the way I look at it, it's either beat you or join you.  I
figured I should meet you before I decided which."  He sprawled in a
chair, hanging one leg over the side.

The mayor smiled and sat down.  "My, aren't we the brash one?  You
young people have a lot to learn about manners," he scolded, though
his tone was amused.

"I'm two hundred and forty six."

"Well, is my face red!  Forgive me.  Angelus, is it?"  He sat back
in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.  His eyes
narrowed.  "Then you really *should* know better, shouldn't you? 
Tell me again why I shouldn't have you disposed of right now?"  With
the push of button, a swarm of underlings armed with stakes and
crossbows entered the room.  Angelus ignored them.

"You remember those little slayers that have been giving you such a
hard time?  I've got an in.  I can take care of them for you."  He
shrugged.  "One way or another."
                       
The mayor looked skeptical.  "And why would you want to do that?"

Angelus studied his cuticles.  "Because I'm bored, and it'll be
fun.  Torture, maim, kill, whatever.  Did I mention torture?"

Mayor Wilkins leaned forward and folded his hands on his
desk.  "Angelus," he said with a smile, "you're an intriguing
fellow.  Tell me more."

***

She dreamt of satin sheets and strong arms holding her close. 
Whispered words of love.  Skin sliding against skin, hands clasped
together.  She awoke with the same hands around her neck, his full
weight on top of her so that she could barely breathe.

"Miss me, lover?"

She said nothing, afraid that her voice would give her away. She had
to remain calm if she was going to get out of this.  In this
position she had no leverage, and even if she could scream he'd snap
her neck before Buffy even heard her in the next room. 

"I've missed you, Faith."  He removed his hands from her neck and
they traveled down her body.  She stiffened under his touch.  "Oh,
baby, don't you remember how good it was the last time?  So good you
made me lose my soul.  I'm just here to thank you."  He yanked her
roughly into a sitting position, but then his voice became
softer.  "I'm sorry about all those things I said before.  It was
just such a shock, you know?  But I really want you with me, Faith."  His
hand reached up to caress her face, and she closed her eyes,
desperately wanting to believe, and angry with herself for her
weakness.  "We could be such an incredible team, you and me."

"Team?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"We could rule this town, Faith.  Aren't you sick of playing second
fiddle to Buffy and her gang of geeks?  You're the real slayer, not
her.  And no matter what happens, they're going to blame you
anyway.  You made me the man I am today, after all."  His voice was
so seductive.  Mesmerizing.  "And it doesn't have to be that way. 
You could have everything.  Money, power, clothes, jewels, whatever
you want." His hand trailed down her neck.  "Even me.  I'm the only
one who ever loved you, Faith."  He leaned in, pulling her tightly
to him and kissing her passionately.

When she came up for air, she pushed him away and stood up, pacing
around the room.  "Not that I believe you, but just for arguments
sake, how do you propose we get all this stuff you're talking about?"

He lounged back on the bed.  "I've made a little...business deal
with the mayor.  You come on over to our team and we'll be set for
life."  He smiled.  "So to speak."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing you haven't done before." 

She turned her back on him and stared out the window, into the
night, but she was unable to see anything beyond the panes of
glass.  All she could see was her own reflection.  Invisible hands
slid over her shoulders and down her arms, and she shivered at his
cold touch. 

"You killed a man, Faith.  We're alike, you and me.  You know it's
true.  You can never go back, now.  You said so yourself.  It's too
late."  He moved her hair away and kissed the side of her
neck.  "What do you say, Faith?" he whispered in her ear.  "Do we
have an understanding?"

"Yeah," she replied to the transparent version of herself in the
glass, "we're five by five."

tbc...