Elsewhere

There was no fidgeting as the instructor strode past their ranks. They were in two lines, standing as straight as they could. The thought of getting on her bad side was terrifying. She might have been under five foot three and 110 pounds, but no one ever argued with a vampire Slayer.

"I'm here to teach you guys some really simple lessons: how to kill Vaders." Lover II checked over the lines. "This isn't going to be easy or fun for most of you, but we've got to do it."

Gunn backed her up, "A lot of them are going to be bigger and stronger than most of you." He shook his head, "I'm telling you now, size don't mean nothin.'" He grabbed Buffy's arm from behind. She clamped her other hand on his wrist and used her hip to flip him head over feet onto the floor in front of her.

"I can't make you any bigger, but I will make you killers," Buffy told them calmly as she helped Gunn to his feet. "Because, as one of our best members said, it's kill or be killed. Take your bloody pick."

Another Elsewhere

"Some of you may have known me by other names, but as of now, my only name is Hanged Man," Angel addressed the recruits in their next class. Some couldn't look at him while others who had known him previously had no difficulty glaring at him balefully. "I'm going to teach you how to do something that I expect some of you have serious qualms about: killing humans."

He approached a blonde girl in the front row and spoke directly to her, "Believe me when I tell you I am an expert at this." He handed her a knife, vamping out. "Come at me."

She trembled; the blade shook in her hand.

"I'm giving you a chance. Go for my throat!" Angel yelled at her.

Her courage gathered, the girl swung the knife toward him. He caught her hand mid-strike, knocking the knife away. Ignoring the blade, he pulled toward him by the neck and viciously twisted to the left. There was a dull crack, and Angel let her body fall to the floor.

Nonchalantly, he picked up his knife. "And you may be wondering why I didn't cut her throat, since I could have taken her knife." His audience gaped at him. "Slitting throats is not quiet. The lacerated trachea makes this loud hissing noise, giving away your position. Not to mention the extremely mess gout of blood that sprays everywhere. Snapping the neck or stopping the blood flow to the brain by pressing on the arteries on either side of the neck are both much cleaner and quieter ways of killing someone. Everyone understand?"

No one twitched.

"Good." Angel reached down and hauled the body back to its feet, putting a brace from a nearby table around the body's neck.

Frowning at her new fashion ensemble, Harmony patiently waited for her bones to shift back into place. "Hi!" She greeted everyone. "I'm the Queen of Swords."

"I'm Judgment," Cordelia explained from a lotus position to her class, all sitting in similar positions. "As all of you have noticed, as part of joining the katra web of the Tarot, you have gotten some degree of mental powers. You will be trained to do several things with these new powers. You will be able to identify, predict, affect, deceive, and freeze our enemies without breaking a nail or mussing your hair."

"For starters, we will work on identifying. We have a few categories of creatures you will meet. Beings of unknown alliances are referred to as Scullies in humans and Jedi in non-humans. They constitute unknown threats. Allies, on the same line, are referred to as Mulders and Obi-Wans, no threat. Vaders and Hannibals are the enemy; those whose katras are infected with the Blight. Big threat. They can be anyone, your child, your mother, your wife. They can and will try to kill you. We need to be able to stop them, protect the civilians, and, yes, sometimes kill the Blighted. Is everyone clear on that?"

The recruits nodded.

"All right. Now we are going to learn how to scan katras."

The room was well lit, spacious, and centered around two men handing out what had to be an arsenal of weapons. "Here we are, all of our favorite slaying supplies. We've got stakes, crossbows, daggers, garlic, flamethrowers, napalm, and my personal favorite," The young man hefted a double-barreled shotgun. "The Equalizer. It's got garlic and gasoline laced silver bullets, perfect for blasting any Hannibal or Vader to pieces." He lazily twirled it once like a baton. "I'm Hermit, and that's Strength."

"Hey," Strength greeted everyone from where he had been separating the weapons into holsters.

"Now, as your weapons instructors, we need all of you to take one set of Vader killers and one set of Hannibal killers. Put the Vaders on your right side and the Hannibals on your left. Then you need to line up in front of one of those dummies." Pike pointed to one of the walls where someone had stuffed clothes and painted garish faces on pillowcases. "We are gonna teach you some really cool stuff."

"All of you have been identified to have some talent of magic," The Magician later addressed a much smaller class. "That is why you are here. No patrol goes out without at least one trained mage on it."

"Whatever you may have heard about magic before this, forget it," The High Priestess suddenly appeared in the center of the room. "Power circles, astral projections, shape-shifting . . . forget it. As far as we are concerned, none of it exists. You want to survive here, you will have to learn battle magic. You are going to learn exactly four spells: fire, water, telekinesis, and teleport."

She disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the room. "Of these spells, you will be experts. You will be able to do them under any circumstances, under any amount of distraction, under any torture." Willow pointed a finger at Ethan and he was lifted off the floor.

He responded by teleporting right next to her. "We'll teach you to protect yourselves and your team. We'll even get you to the point where you can save the lives of the civilians."

"But," Willow cut back in, capturing the group's attention, "You will learn all four spells."

"Welcome to Willy's," Temperance welcomed the one recruit they had sent him. "Do you have any bartending experience?"

The recruit seemed uncomfortable with his surroundings, "A little."

"Welcome to the Magic Shoppe," one of the Jheira's extra dimensional demons winked at him.

The recruit managed to stammer, "H-hel-lo."

The room was basically the current cafeteria with one side dedicated to a counter that Willy's and the Magic Shoppe shared equally. It had become too dangerous for Willy to continue operating, and the Magic Shoppe owner had been opted to sell all of his stock to David Nabbit and flee the town. Something about high mortality rates during times of trouble in Sunnydale. Now Willy served drinks in his spare time, and the demons doled out magic supplies so they got `human' experience.

"I hate sharing," Willy rolled his eyes and dragged the recruit toward his side of the bar. It was about time they'd given him an assistant.

"You have been chosen because all of you are able to read sufficiently well in a foreign language," Wesley led another group into the library. The coven of witches, Harry, Sam Zabuto, and Giles briefly looked up from their books.

"We are researching all possible prophecies pertaining to what Sunnydale is currently experiencing. While it is true that some of us in the Tarot do have the gift a precognition, as I've always said, forewarned is forearmed.

A very quiet British voice mumbled under his breath, "What happened to `preparation, preparation, preparation?'"

The room was wall to wall with monitors and other pieces of computer hardware, most of it state-of-the-art. David Nabbit stood proudly in front of one of his personal investments in the Tarot. "I hope all of you have some ability with computers." He punched up a few displays bearing US government logos. "We at the computer center monitor the computer activities of the Hannibals."

"You hacked into government databases?" Someone from the back voiced their disbelief.

"It was easy. Been doing it since I was a teenager," David dismissed the comment and went onto business, "This is also where we create Sunnydale ID cards for everyone and insert them into the system. We also train you to be operators so we can successfully equip the patrols and monitor their actions." He gave them a broad grin that showed exactly how much he loved computers, "Ready to get to work?"

Four imposing figures in suits examined the three recruits they had received. Piles and piles of papers and videos surrounded them.

"I'm World. This is Ace, Five, and Six of Pentacles. We run the data-sifting department," Lindsey McDonald told the petrified group. "We are the Tarot's version of the KGB. We attempt to know everything about everyone in Sunnydale. Any questions?"

Not giving them a chance to answer, Lilah Morgan handed them some files, "Good." The two other former Wolfram and Hart employees went back to work, silently snickering at how things hadn't changed much.

"Congratulations, you survived the first day." Xander then announced, "That was the easy part. The hard part is patrolling. Here's the situation."

He put a pointer on the outline of a Sunnydale map that was neatly divided into six sections with other various areas in lighter colors. "The Hannibals have got the city locked down in all of these major exits. Guarded day and night, no one can enter or leave Sunnydale without showing their ID and having a thorough search of the cargo. The Vaders seem to conjugate around the sewers and alleys." He pointed to a few spots on the map, "While we do not know exactly where either groups base of operations is located, we have detected some patterns. Patrols are particularly tough here, here, and here where the territories overlap."

Having found time away from their data sifting jobs, Pentacles Five and Six handed Xander a folder. Xander flipped it open and read, "Tonight we'll have five roving patrols since it has been, according to World, rather quiet except one possible disturbance in Sector 5. Teams will be Tower, High Priestess, Hermit, Justice, and Hierophant. Leaders need to pick up their assignments now and meet with your new team members an hour before the patrol starts. After that, I expect all of you to get equipped after that. Listen to these next people for your instructions on that."

"I'm the Ten of Clubs," David Nabbit held up a hands-free commlink. "These are your communicators. I call them the Tarot-Com." Only a few of the techies in the back coughed at that weak attempt at a joke. "Everyone gets one. Wear it at all times during the mission. It lets the operators hear you and track your location. Thing about Aliens, and you'll understand."

Cordelia and Harmony took center stage. "We're outfitting. Unless we tell you otherwise, there is only one color for this season in Sunnydale," Cordelia explained.

"Black," Harmony filled in.

"Almost everyone on night patrol has to wear it. I don't care how well you can shield. The web is no protection from electronics or cameras. So you are wearing black: shirts, shoes, pants, hats, gloves, everything. Face paint is an optional fashion accessory, though strongly recommended if you are in the woods or the commercial section." Cordelia finished and yielded to Willow.

"Tonight, every team has one trained mage. I've layered all of the protections spells against magic on you that I can. Since it is possible for certain patrols to occasionally last past sunrise, all vampires have a permanent anti-fire spell cast on them as soon as they join the web. It gives you 15 seconds of non-burning time. I'm not saying it's not gonna hurt, but you have 15 seconds to get out of the sun." She pointed her finger at a few of the vampires that looked a little too eager, "No one had better try playing chicken for a suntan."

Moving to her sterner teaching voice, she turned to her newly trained witches, not all of whom were scheduled for night patrol, "Remember, your job is to save your team, yourself, and then the civilians. In that order."

"Last, which is me," Pike stood up. "Come see Strength and I for equipment. Based on where you are patrolling tonight, you'll get different weapons."

"That's it for now," Xander told the group. "This is the start of your hour of free time, so I suggest you use it. Any questions should be directed to your team leaders. You can pick up your assignments from Five and Six over there."

In the corner of her eye, Willow saw Buffy pick up her bag and head toward the stairs. Being closest to Five and Six, Willow took her assignment without glancing at it and followed Buffy.

"Where are you going?" she caught Buffy right before the stairs.

"I already know my assignment. I've got Section 4, commercial district. Black makeup for me." She gave Willow a mischievous eyebrow wiggle. "You've got the woods. Whose gonna do your cameo?"

"I don't know," Willow admitted, checking her paper. "No fair. Your boyfriend practically makes the schedule."

Buffy abruptly ducked out of sight into the stairwell. Angel's voice called, "Willow!"

Stopping in her tracks, Willow hesitantly ventured, "What?"

"Did you have patrol in Sector 5 last night, East Sunnydale?" He waved around his assignment.

"Yeah," Willow replied cautiously as Buffy stayed hidden.

"I have Sector 5 today, so could you go over yesterday's patrol with me before I go out?"

"Sure," Willow answered.

Angel turned and walked back in the other direction, probably toward his room. Buffy popped up to comment, "Or you could stick with those one syllable sentences."

"I can't help it," Willow told her. "He talks to me, and I go all googly eyed. I'm lucky I remember my name."

"I know the feeling," Buffy said without thinking and hastily corrected, "With Spike." Willow shook her head, and Buffy conceded, "And with Angel, but not anymore."

"Don't worry." Willow shrugged, "As long as it doesn't hurt you-" she continued quickly, "-which you've told me several times it doesn't, I try not to worry."

"So?" Buffy gave her a gentle punch.

"So?" Willow mimicked.

"Are you going to make me beg?" Buffy went on, "How are . . . things?"

"Things? Like me and Angel things? Fine. Just fine."

"Only fine?" Buffy was disappointed.

"Well, they would be better, if we did something besides talk. And talk. And when we're done, talk some more after that."

"But I thought. You, him . . . towel," Buffy threw up her hands.

"That was last month. This is this month and, apparently, different." Willow complained, "I want smoochies."

"Then make the first move," Buffy suggested, walking down the stairs. "If he is being all talk and no action, you do it. In fact . . ." Buffy handed Willow something from her bag. "Here, take your own advice and keep these. You may need them."

"I said, smoochies, not the whole enchilada," Willow pocketed the birth control pills reluctantly. "And don't you need these?"

Buffy preened for a second. "Nah, I got a prescription that lasts longer than days to the Apocalypse. Use them when things get past smoochies." Buffy stopped at the open doorway. "And speaking of-"

They had entered one very special room in the mansion: the children's room.

The past month in Sunnydale had been difficult for many reasons. It seemed that the Hannibals had started recruiting from the human population for agents and killing all adult demons they were able to identify. In retaliation, the Vaders had struck back by killing adult humans and taking willing half-bloods into their fold. However, neither side cared to take children. They wandered the streets by their empty houses, easy prey for anyone.

The Tarot had been getting quite a collection of homeless, family-less, friendless children. Here they had a different life: food, shelter, safety, and the web. Inside the mansion, demonic, human, vampiric children played side by side, not knowing there was any other way.

Perhaps play was too weak of a word. They were being trained, subtly, to support the rest of the Tarot. For example, they were currently standing in a power circle that the witches often drew on to fuel their spells.

The teachers, oddly enough, were Joyce and Spike. Joyce loved kids, and she had a knack with them. Spike stayed with her because the children lent his shields power. They didn't use the power of the web in the quantities the adults did. He often referred to his time with them as the `recharging of the Big Bad batteries.' Buffy didn't disagree at all, since the web had climbed to well over 300 members.

Not everyone lived in the mansion or went on nightly patrols. Lots of the Obi-Wans were in the basements of churches where they couldn't be found. Some of the Mulders still lived in their own homes, and the gypsies were camped out in the mansion backyard. Many members were actively involved in information gathering, hiding members, monitoring patrols, and other support activities. Codenames were now assigned randomly, as opposed to `divinely,' with extra identification added by color, like Blue Three of Cups was one of the children. Categories were identified by suit now, children being in Cups and priests/ministers were Hearts.

As soon as he felt Buffy enter the room, Spike was on his feet. Nimbly hopping the children, he swung her up in his arms, kissing her for all he was worth. The world dissolved into a pink haze for them; nothing ever felt as good as the touch that brought them closer together, practically inside each other's skin.

Buffy broke it off when someone tugged on her foot. It was Jeta, the little gypsy werewolf. "Do you like him as much as he likes you? He's always talking about you."

"Probably more," Buffy put her legs down, facing Jeta.

Spike spooned up against her back, his hands on her stomach. Nuzzling her neck softly and sliding his hands higher, he purred, "I object."

She stopped his hands and quietly reminded him, "Kids. PG rating." She resumed her normal tone, "He must like me a lot because he's going to help me put on my makeup."

Spike made a horrified face, "I don't like you that much!"

The landing of the mansion was a flurry of activity as the twenty-five people slated for patrol finished off the final preparations. Everyone was dressed for their respective areas, and those who weren't going out were putting on and testing the commlinks of those who were.

"Hey!" Buffy giggled as Spike covered her forehead with black paint. "That tickles."

"It would tickle less if you held still," he continued to paint, carefully avoiding her neatly tied back hair.

Buffy tried to control herself, watching his face wrinkle in concentration. His brush slid across her cheekbones, causing her to grin. "Raise your chin," Spike instructed. She obeyed, and he started to work on her chin.

Spike took his time as her lips started to tremble. Giving up the fight, Buffy seized his shoulders and planted a long kiss on him. The brush fell to the ground.

Pulling back, Buffy smiled at his black-smeared face. "Black is a good color on you."

He wiped the black off his face with the back of his hand. "At the rate we're going, I'll never get finished." He gave her another kiss.

Up on the stairs, Angel turned away from the couple. Why did they have to be so damned cute? Couldn't they have looked awful or uncomfortable together covered in black paint? At least they could have had the decency to not do that sort of thing in front of him.

"You okay?" Cordelia asked from beside him. They had finished applying their streaks of black makeup in her room with her huge mirror. Cordelia had used the mirror; Angel . . . hadn't.

"Fine," Angel replied stiffly, deciding to ignore the emotions that came bubbling up in his chest by stomping down the stairs.

"Can you help me?" Willow approached them with two containers of paint. "I can tell you about Sector 5 while you work."

"Actually, Cordy and I were going to meet with our team," Angel started.

But Cordelia practically ran from them, tossing over her shoulder, "I need to go get my weapons from Oz." She whispered something in Oz's ear and pulled him out of the room.

Willow's face transformed with hope, and Angel nodded, "Sure." Sparing a glance at the still kissing couple, Angel raised her hand to his lips, "It would be my pleasure."

Eventually, Buffy and Spike went back to the task of preparing her for patrol. He was threading her communicator into her hair when she tested it. "All members of Hermit Team please report to Lover II."

"I don't see why you aren't the leader," Spike frowned. "You have the most experience." He put her black hat securely on her head, making certain all of her golden hair was tucked in.

"We've been over this before. Thanks to you," she gave him another short kiss to get rid of his frown, "Whom I love, it seems that me not being able to pick out the enemy on my own is a small problem."

One of her team members, Gene, walked up from the basement. He grimaced when he saw whom Buffy was with, though he too should have been expecting nothing else.

Suddenly stopping, Spike's eyes were drawn to Gene. He tilted his head in confusion as he saw the air around the boy was blurry, distorted. Then he heard it, a hum centered around the boy. Spike was filled with a sense of worried urgency, for there was a coiled tension in the air, and the hum intensified to a dull roar.

Spike shook his head to clear it and asked, "Is he one of yours tonight?"

"Yeah," Buffy saw the concern on his face and felt his distraction.

"Keep an eye on him," Spike didn't say anymore.

"Hullo, cousin," Emily called, leaving her husband trailing behind. She gave her big blonde cousin a hug around the waist, and Buffy rolled her eyes to Bob. She wondered if Spike realized how much she and Emily resembled each other. They were both small and blonde with the same bone structure. Emily was going to remain small forever since she had been turned at 15 by a nameless vampire that shortly met its end at the hand of that year's Slayer.

Pike came up with their single recruit, briefing him on the area they would be going to. He checked out the faces of the team and realized only Buffy had gone for a complete blackening of the face. "Nice makeup. Everyone ready?"

Bob disentangled his tiny wife from her cousin, and Spike gave Buffy another brief squeeze, "Be careful, luv. Come back in one piece, and remember what I said."

"I will," Buffy tried to ease his unnamed fear. She stepped away and joined the group.

"I'm the witch today," Emily began to give instructions. "Hold hands." The group linked arms, and Emily made a complex gesture with her free hand. Without a sound or a flash, Team Hermit faded from view.

Spike stood watching the spot where they had been long afterward.

DISCLAIMER:All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB. Except the recruits, the coven, Gene, Emily, Bob, and anyone else that you've never seen on BTVS or Angel. RATING:PG-13/R. Buffy/Spike, Angel/Willow. Extreme, graphic violence and death. BACKGROUND: Season 4 story. 25 days have passed since the last part, and Sunnydale is getting rough. Here we go for the roller coaster ride that is a typical day fon the Tarot. . .

Hidden between two houses in West Sunnydale, the two brown demons held the human's arms as he struggled. They were debating on what would be the most enjoyable way to eat his liver when someone stepped out of the shadows.

"What have we caught?" A deep voice asked.

Upon seeing who had interrupted them, the demons dropped to their knees, forcing their prisoner down as well. They groveled; one managing to say, "My Lord Adam, of whom we are mere servants, we did not know."

Adam contemplated their statement of allegiance by lifting one grotesque green arm under his chin. He was flanked by a werewolf and a blonde vampiress who was openly suspicious of the demons. Eventually, Adam came forward and plucked the human away by the collar, lifting him a foot off the ground. "What were you planning to do with him?"

"We-" One demon raised his head.

"Heads down!" The vampiress hissed at them. They obeyed without question.

"We were going to bring him to you," the demon said in a voice much unlike the one it had been using minutes before.

"Were you?" Adam doubted. "I'm here now, so what am I going to do with this toy?" He considered his options, "I could kill him now or torture him later." His voice changed noticeably, "Or we could start a band. The wolf can play the guitar, the vamp gets the tambourine, of course, since she's the chick. I'll sing, and he can play the drums."

The demons exchanged expressions of confusion, "My Lord?"

Simultaneously, two sword blades swooped down, neatly decapitating both demons.

Adam's shape disappeared as Xander Harris dispelled the mental illusion he had been projecting. He stumbled a little from the energy it took to maintain the illusion and keep the rescued human off the ground with one arm. Oz broke from his side to examine the two dead demons.

"Nice job," Xander acknowledged the two new recruits that had killed the demons. Following his orders, they had sneaked behind the demons while Xander, Harmony, and Oz performed the diversion and retrieved the captured Scully.

He spoke into his comm., "Tower reporting. Scully in custody. Two Vaders out of commission. Sector 1 secure. Tower out."

"Good job, Tower Team," Ethan told him from the computer room.

"Hierophant here. Team in pursuit of six Hannibals. Do you have a fix on our location?"

"We read your location as Sector 2, area 5. Over," Amber confirmed their location, one of the eleven cemeteries.

"Good," Giles ran faster past the headstones. His team had sighted six armed Hannibals, who had no idea that they were being tailed. Jheira was running in front of him, as was Gunn, though Anya and the recruit kept his pace.

There was an unearthly howl from one of the monuments near the Hannibals, causing Giles to scan the katras ahead. "Down!"

Feeling the urgency over the bond, his team had taken cover behind headstones almost before the word was out of his mouth, readying their weapons in the event a fight broke out.

A giant tan demon rushed through the Hannibals, scattering them in various directions. The unBlighted demon was about eight feet tall, horned and still howling. The Hannibals regrouped and swung their guns to sight the demon.

"Sun!" Giles called out Jheira's codename.

Without words, Jheira already knew what he wanted of her. She stepped out into the open and stretched her hands out. Her hands began to glow, which made the Hannibals notice her presence. Then they dropped their guns in surprise when she heated the weapons past the point of comfort. Caught between the giant demon and her blazing, ghostly figure, the Hannibals headed out the cemetery as fast as they could.

Once they sensed that the Hannibals had no intention of returning, the rest of the group came out of hiding. The demon watched them with no small amount of trepidation, especially because they too were armed.

"What is that?" Gunn asked Giles.

It growled something at Gunn.

Anya sheathed her dagger in relief, "It's a Fyeral demon." The demon repeated the growl, and she shrugged, "Sorry, I don't speak Fyeral."

"Team Hierophant requesting assistance," Giles decided to use the resources of the web.

"Yes?" One of Jheira's demons answered him this time.

"Do we have anyone who speaks Fyeral?" Giles hoped.

"Got it, mate," Spike broke in, ever monitoring the patrols from his room when Buffy was out on them. "It can understand you just fine. Ask it to repeat whatever it said."

"Can you say that again?" Giles hesitantly asked the demon.

The demon obeyed, and Spike's laughter was heard over the transmission. "It's asking if you are friends. Specifically, his friends."

"It wants to know if we're friends?" Giles blurted out loud.

Apparently showing some initiative and trust in the lessons Cordelia had taught her, the recruit took a few steps toward the Fyeral and told it, "We're friends."

The Fyeral let her get close and grumbled something else. Spike chuckled, "It says it's looking for a job. I think we may have some room for him on our staff. Don't you?"

"I concur," Giles agreed.

"Perform the ceremony then. Word to the wise: if it starts to sneeze, get out of the way."

"Hold steady here," Willow commanded her squad. They were in the Miller's Woods park, hiding in the two long rows of bushes lining a sidewalk.

A scan thirty seconds earlier had revealed four Vaders chasing a Scully in this direction along the aforementioned sidewalk. Though no one had made visual contact yet, High Priestess Team had deployed, intent on ambushing the Vaders when they passed the bushes. Willow was up in a nearby tree to coordinate the timing of the ambush, protect the Scully, and, only as a last resort, help kill the Vaders.

Footsteps. Running footsteps. The team tensed, waiting for her mental command. The human ran down the walk with four furry Vaders six steps behind him.

*Now!* The group couldn't actually hear her think the word, but they felt it.

Breaking out of the bushes' cover, Jeremy sprang out in wolf form onto the first demon, and Wesley hit the next one with his battle-axe. Their new half-Lister recruit trusted her demon strength, pummeling the Vader for all she was worth. The equally new human recruit opted to stab the Vader directly in the temple with his dagger. In three short seconds, the Vaders were all down.

An unseen hand halted the fleeing human in his tracks, and Willow floated down from her tree to examine him. The scan proved he was a Scully, which was good, but when she saw whom they had rescued, all she felt was surprise. "Forrest?"

"Judgment Team in Sector 5 investigating the reported Area 6 disturbance." Cordelia shook her head at the destructive scene before her. What had once probably been a nice house had been vandalized. Its doors had been ripped from their hinges, the windows broken, the lawn destroyed. Tools and children's toys littered the demolished yard of the empty house. But the worst sight had to be the spray painted graffiti that marred the front of the house: `Humans Rule." It was truly a nice touch, really bringing class to the deserted neighborhood. "I wonder who lived here. I wonder if they're still living."

Tara kicked some of the turf with her foot, "I-I don't see any supernatural evidence here. This h-had to be done by humans."

"Paint smells recent," Angel observed. "They could still be around."

"And so could survivors," Cordelia decided, hoping some had at least escaped. She tried to find the best method for checking it out. "Let's split up and do a sweep of the block. We'll take four minutes." Now how to divide the team, "Page of Wands, take Red Three of Swords with you, that way." Tara and their demon recruit went left. "And-"

"You take Green Three of Pentacles," Angel told her to take the other recruit.

"Are you sure?" Cordelia didn't want to leave him blind, but at this point, the recruit's inexperience was the bigger liability, not Angel.

"I'm going to explore the house, see if I can find some clues," Angel explained. Cordelia let him have his way and took their human recruit right.

Angel stood for a moment, trying to discern the whereabouts of the former owners by scent. Upon sniffing the air, he caught a whiff of something he didn't recognize. It wasn't coming from the house, but from the direction they had come from. He followed it to a driveway between two houses farther down the block and was suddenly grateful that he did not have a gag reflex. The mystery of the smell and the occupants of the house was solved. They, a male demon, a female human, and their half-blood child, were definitely dead, if being chopped into pieces qualified for that. The scent had been the odd mixture of bloods, which were quite possibly on the pavement from this driveway to their house.

"They didn't have a chance," Whistler said from the garage.

"What?" Angel focused on the short, eternally bad-dressed demon.

"They didn't know he was a demon," Whistler pointed to the remains of the demon. "He didn't know; his wife didn't know." He shook his head, "They were dragged from their house right after curfew. She and the kid wouldn't leave him, even when they were told what he was."

"So they killed them all? Didn't anyone notice?" Angel stared at the little family before him, hating the Hannibals for their cruelty.

"What're a few more screams in this neighborhood?" Whistler said. "The Powers are not pleased. I expected more out of you. Things are getting out of control."

That was when a blood-curdling shriek cut through the night air. Angel charged off in the direction of the sound. He knew that scream; it was Cordelia's.

"I've got multiple Blighted signatures up ahead!" Pike yelled into his comm over the noise of the brawl they were approaching. "Hermit Team enroute."

The team was running toward the edge of Main Street at the end of the Sunnydale commercial district, right by the recently closed Magic Shoppe. Ahead of them was a huge press of at least twenty bodies fighting against each other, apparently a vampire versus human event.

Buffy, who was in the lead, had to stop short of the battle because she need them to be `identified' for her. "Any Scullies or Jedi?" All she could personally see was fifteen vampires and five humans.

"Two!" Emily shouted and ran past her into the fray, stake in hand.

Pike pointed to three of the vampires on the left and called, "Vaders!" Buffy went for them as Pike, Gene, and their recruit picked on a group of vampires that had three of the humans.

Brutally efficient, Buffy kicked one to the ground in the same smooth motion that she used to stake another. Using her empty had, she forced the third's arm backward and slammed her stake home. Then she plunged the stake right through the one on the ground, shattering the stake on the manhole cover beneath him.

She turned to see Pike and his recruit take down another vampire. Gene pulled away the only surviving human out of the grasp of a vampire, shoving him out of the way. Whooping with delight, Gene drove his stake into the vamp's heart.

As Buffy took a step to help them out, she realized something about the manhole cover -

***BANG!***

Angel clutched Cordelia to him while she collapsed. "What happened?" He desperately checked her over for wounds, fearing the worst. Was she hit? Was she dying?

Her eyes twitched rapidly, and her mouth gasped for air like she was suffocating. Angel held her tightly, unsure of what to do as the rest of the team reeled around him.

"Oh no!" Willow choked out, her team trying to remain on their feet.

By shifting half into human form, Oz was able to prevent Xander from toppling over. "What?" he growled, his voice a combination of human and wolf. Finishing the change, Oz felt it too.

Anya spoke into the comm, frantically as Giles tried to shake Jheira back into consciousness, "Who?"

Spike crumpled to the floor, hitting his head. He was on his knees by his bed, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks, whispering in anguish, "Shield. Shield."

In complete silence, Buffy saw Gene drop backward, locked in a silent scream. There was a neat centimeter-wide hole in his left chest, red against his black clothing.

Nothing. Buffy could hear nothing, but she spun around to face the last sound she had heard. All her attention and confusion converged on the source of the noise.

The human. The one whose life Gene had saved moments before. The one who was standing over the motionless body smirking, a thin curl of smoke rising from the barrel of his pistol.

Glancing at Pike, fighting with one of the remaining vampires, Buffy saw him mouth one word at her. She couldn't hear it, but she understood. That one word was all she needed. Still deafened the blast at such a close range, Buffy sprinted toward the human. Not wasting finesse, she seized his head with her hands and, in a move straight out of Angel's class, twisted it 270 degrees. Bones may have crunched as they shattered, but she couldn't hear it, and even if she had, she wouldn't have cared.

"Hannibal." That was Pike's one word.

"Death," Cordy croaked. "We need to get to Buffy."

"Who?" Angel begged. *Don't let it be Buffy. Please God, don't be Buffy. Spare her life.* Angel never wished like he had at that very moment that he was able to sense the web. Coldness set into his stomach. Buffy couldn't be dead. "Is it Buffy?"

Cordelia's head wobbled a negative. "Gene. Buffy needs us. We're closest."

"Ace, do it!"

That was the first thing Buffy was able to hear, Spike's voice. He was giving orders of some type to Emily, the Ace of Swords.

Searching for Emily, Buffy saw her crouching over Gene's body. The posture, the way she was hunched over, intent on her subject gave it away. All it took was that one brief glimpse, and Buffy knew.

"No!" Buffy shouted, dropping the corpse and moving toward Emily.

Pike wrestled her down to the ground, "Stop!"

Emily started at their voices, raising her head to expose her demon vestige, stained crimson with Gene's blood. Going back to her work, she bit into her wrist and placed it over Gene's mouth.

"NO!" Buffy lurched to her feet, Pike attempting to hold her back. A new set of strong hands clamped down on her forearms, and Angel's face loomed over her. His eyes bore down on hers, for he, better than anyone else, knew what was coming.

Cordelia, battling to keep going, studied the scene with growing horror. The shock of the first death ever on the web had forced her to attempt to help Spike shield the rest of the group. It had sapped her strength, but she had to be strong now. Team Hermit had been fighting right overtop of one of the Vader's sewer access tunnels. She could sense something very deadly stirring beneath her feet. Gathering the remains of her energy, she ordered, "We have to go now!" She asked Pike, "Any civilians?"

He shook his head, indicating human bodies, "None that made it."

The manhole cover shifted, and Cordelia, threw out more instructions to Tara and the two teams, "Page. Get us out of here." Everyone formed a line with Cordelia holding Angel's shoulder in her aching left hand and Pike touching Emily's back.

While Tara started the teleportation, Buffy closed her eyes so she couldn't see, but it didn't help.

Thrown out of the computer lab and into the bar, Ethan Rayne, Amy Madison, and the coven raced to finish the incantation.

(Let this Orb be the vessel that will carry his soul to him.)

Unable to do anything more, Spike lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, his face a stony mask.

Willow lay her head on Angel's shoulder. "What did you think about?"

Angel brushed her hair gently with his hand, "When?"

"When you knew someone had died."

He considered his response for a long time, finally answering, "You."

"That's so sweet. I hoped it wasn't me either," Willow mumbled. "I'm going to take a nap now." She snuggled closer to him on the lounge couch, and Angel frowned at her curled up so trustingly against him.

Oz watched Cordelia sleep in her bed. He'd taken her back to her room when he'd gotten back from his patrol. With Xander out on patrol at the time and Spike incapacitated, she had been the person giving the orders and taking care of the debriefings. Her attitude had been bright, cheery, and extremely fake.

After he'd locked the door, separating them from the outside, she'd broken down, babbling to him about the night's tragedies. As carefully as he was able, Oz had helped her take of the gloves she still wore to cover her bandage. Her left hand had cramped up so he massaged the scarred palm until she had fallen asleep in pure exhaustion.

It had to be tough for her to be second in line on the web. She had never been essential to the Scooby Gang or even the detective agency. Now she was put on the spot because the Tarot needed her. She was one stake or one heartbeat (depending on either Spike or Buffydying) from being the top of the web, and it scared her. The pain in her hands scared her. The pain she'd felt when Gene had died scared her. She was afraid to fail, for she knew that a failure on her part could hurt or kill everyone.

He knew that fear very well.

Sighing, Oz tucked her arms under the covers and added another blanket.

As he downed his fifth cup of coffee and his third pair of NO-DOZ, Xander tiredly spoke to his new companion. "It's been a tough day."

Anya sleepily nodded from behind the bar, next to the slumbering new bartender.

"I've had those days," Forrest agreed, drinking his own cup of coffee.

"Then tell me, what do you want?" Xander asked outright.

"I need your help."

The three children were playing Ring-Around-the-Rosy.

"Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posey. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" They let go of hands.

"That was a fun game," Liam said.

"I don't like it," Anne retorted.

"Me neither," Delia seconded.

"I bet Ang'lus would like it," Liam tried to have them see it his way.

"I wanna go shopping," Delia decided instead.

"I thought we were playing today," Anne said.

"Ain't no fun without Ang'lus," Delia complained.

"We can so have fun without Ang'lus," Anne defended her want to play.

"Cannot."

"Can so."

"Cannot."

"Can so."

"Cannot."

"Can so. Right, Liam?" Anne couldn't find him. "Liam?"

He was gone.

They had to leave now, or they'd be caught.

Spike grabbed her shoulder and turned her around.

It wasn't Buffy. It was Dru.

Her eyes held his, "The loudest sound is that of a heart that does not beat."

"No!" Spike woke up, feeling for Buffy beside him. She was coiled around him, still in her patrolling clothes and makeup. When she'd managed to come in from patrol, she'd dropped into bed with him. They were content to simply hold each other, assuring themselves of their safety.

Her hands tightened on him, and he felt her flash of emotions as she woke. "Good, you're still here," Buffy yawned.

"I can't exactly go anywhere," Spike reminded her of how physically drained he was. "Where would I go?"

"I dunno. Dream," Buffy explained, not changing her position.

There was a flutter on the web, which Spike absently ignored to check the clock. It was almost time for the rest of the web to start waking up, so he intended on enjoying the quiet before he had to face the day.

The fluttering sensation came again, and this time Spike listened to it fully.

Despite his tiredness, he shot straight up in bed, pushing Buffy away, "Get to the roof."

"What?" Buffy sat up.

"Get to the roof and stop him!"

Buffy climbed out the open window onto the roof. She saw him in the faint light of the stars. "Gene?"

He was sitting on the edge, watching the cloudless night sky. "He sent you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Buffy sat next to him, her black painted face making her blend in to the darkness. "We want you to come back inside."

Gene didn't pay attention. "I loved my sister. Did you know that?"

"I'm sure you did," Buffy said awkwardly, unsure of how to comfort him on that one.

"I did. I hated her sometimes as well. I hated her for leaving us," Gene's voice shook with emotion. "I hated her for going with her Watcher, and I hated her for dying."

"We're Slayers," Buffy wished he could understand what that meant. "It's our job. We have to sacrifice things: our friends, our families, and, sometimes, our lives."

"I hated the vampires, too. They killed her," Gene got choked up as the words tumbled out. "I thought getting killed by vampires was the worst thing that could happen."

A red tear slipped down his cheek, "I was wrong."

She touched his cold hand, "Don't say that. We saved you today. It's not that bad." Yet her words of condolence seemed hollow even to her own ears.

His face morphed into his new vampire mask. "`Not that bad?' I may have a soul, but it does not matter. It is still in me. It wants to drink you, and it will, if I let it." He pulled her close hungrily. Eve's cross slid from under her black top and brushed his skin. Singed, Gene let her go, dropping back into his human features. "See?"

"This is not the answer. You can learn to control the demon," Buffy attempted.

"No," Gene stated with finality. He faced the sky again, "It will be over soon. According to High Priestess, I'll have 15 seconds." He turned to challenge her, "Are you going to try to stop me?"

Buffy gave in, "I won't stop you."

"I'm glad." His face, so defiant a moment before, softened, and Buffy was reminded that he was really just a kid. A young scared kid, shivering with fear. The next words were plaintive and hesitant, "Then can you wait with me?"

"Sure," Buffy would not have refused him anything, putting her arms around him.

And they waited together. Slowly the sky brightened, first a little, then the first touch of pink appeared, outshining the stars. It was followed by the darker russets and oranges, painting the sky like blood, until at last the full yellow fire of the sun breached the horizon.

Buffy left the roof alone.

"Why?" Spike asked her, quiet and controlled.

"Because it was what he wanted," Buffy replied.

"And what about what the web wanted?"

"Spike, he was miserable. He would have tried again and again until he succeeded. Did we want someone like that in the web?"

Spike scowled, "I could have stopped him. I could have kept him here."

"Do you think you can control everyone's lives!?" Buffy blurted out angrily. "You have no right to try to make someone's choices for them!"

"It's my job! I didn't ask for it, but it's the only bloody thing I have right now!" Spike growled, jumpng to his feet. His overtaxed system protested, and he pitched forward.

Buffy kept him from falling, "You're not God. People aren't your puppets, and you can't do everything for them. You're only one man." She burst into tears, "You're only the man I love."

"Shhh," Spike cradled her as best he could, wiping streaks in her black paint where her tears had been. "Sorry, love. It's not your fault."

"You weren't there, Spike. He faced it by himself, cut off from everyone else, so lonely." More tears fell, "I know what it's like. I'm so lonely sometimes."

Spike kissed her hair, "No, pet. I was with you both, the entire time."