Prologue

"Holding the Wheel"

“Would you choose
water over wine?” –Incubus

Chapter One

“Remember”

“I’m so afraid to love you,
but more afraid to lose,
Clinging to a past,
That doesn’t let me choose.” –Sarah McLaughlin

One month later…

He had just pulled his pants on when he heard his door bang open, and he smiled to himself. Only one person he knew made an entrance like that. “Spike, hurry up! Where are you?”

He emerged from the bathroom, running a hand through his damp hair. “In a hurry?” he asked.

“Well, killing a demon, hello? Got money to make.”

This had become their job. Angel had come up with the brilliant idea of hiring them both to take care of some of Wolfram and Harts nastier clients. And since neither of them happened to be on the payroll, the senior partners couldn’t do a damn thing about it. The perk was that they got paid in cash. Also, some of the rarer demon pieces sold for a nice price on the black market. He was making more money than he knew what to do with, which explained the ridiculously huge apartment he was residing in. Azrael had gotten her own digs as well, but Spike really wondered if she was ever there. When she wasn’t with him, she was out at the clubs; he really doubted she ever slept. But then again, he didn’t know if she really needed to.

Azrael seemed to have a mission, and that was doing everything wrong she could possibly think of, to a certain point, of course. She smoked incessantly, drank ridiculous amounts of alcohol, and the one time he’d taken her out, she’d actually made him uncomfortable when he’d watched her on the dance floor, writhing against any human body that would get close enough to her. She had rhythm that even he couldn’t understand; she was tapped into something much more ancient and primal than even he could image. Older than any vampire, and god, and her favorite thing to do was sweat to hip-hop music whenever she got the chance. It didn’t make any bloody sense.

What really confused him was a certain part of Azrael’s mission that involved her wanting to shag the hell out of him. Not just him, but Angel as well. She knew she could have anyone she damn well pleased, but seemed uninterested when it came to anyone but her two former charges. Sometimes, Spike was tempted. Hell, more than tempted, on the very verge, but he knew he couldn’t. Every time he was really raring to go, all it took was just one memory, and he couldn’t believe himself for what he’d been about to do.

Once they were outside, Azrael filled him in on that night’s plan. “This guy’s a Smemnov demon. His case is in less than a month.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m up on my demons, love, but I’ve never heard the name.”

“They’re pretty harmless, really. Except for the fact that they vomit. A lot.”

“Wonderful. If they’re so harmless, why are we killing him?”

“Smemnovs are lackeys. They’re weak, so they attach themselves to the bigger baddies. Angel’s hoping if we kill him, whatever has been making all the vamps in the past couple of weeks will have to show itself. He thinks this guy’s working for them. He’s been spotted stealing blood more than once.”

“Is that what his case is over?”

“Nope.” She smiled, seeming amused. “Trafficking. Coke.”

“How boring.”

“Extremely. This should be an easy kill.” Her eyes brightened. “We can go out when we’re done!” “I hardly think I’m in the mood to watch that tonight, pet.”

She gave him a sultry look. “What, are you jealous?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not quite. Deprived would be a better term.”

“I told you I could take care of that,” she replied coyly.

“And I told you, it’s not that simple.”

She huffed. “Fine.”

*

Nearly two hours later, Spike was walking Azrael to her apartment, trying desperately not to laugh. The girl was covered head to foot in demon puke, her arms held stiffly at her sides, and an expression of extreme disgust on her face.

“This is all your fault,” she said.

“Oh, right,” he replied. “You’re the one that said you could handle it. Arrogant is what you are.”

“Stinky is what I am. I just want to go to bed.”

“I’d recommend a hot shower before that. But that’s fine. I can go let Angel know we got the job done.”

She smiled. “If I could stand to, I’d go up there like this. Just to see his face.”

Spike shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

*

He walked into the office to see his grandsire staring out the window into the night. It seemed he hadn’t even heard Spike walk in. “What’s on the moping menu for tonight?” he asked, surprised when Angel nearly fell out of his chair.

He righted himself, trying to glare at Spike, then sighed, dropping the act. “Just got off the phone.”

“Hate the phone that much, do you?”

“With Buffy.” Spike turned his head, his jaw clenching, but he knew he couldn’t hide his pain. “She’s coming back.”

“Back?” he asked, his gaze returning to Angel. “Back to where?”

“She’s coming to L.A. She’s with Xander. The others are already here. She’s still collecting slayers.”

“For what?”

“They’re starting the Council up here. Giles has already bought some old hotel downtown; it’s being remodeled. They’re all going to be staying there.”

Spike licked his lips nervously. “Did you… tell her?”

Angel shook his head. “I didn’t even think about it. She was just going on and on about Europe, and Ireland. She was in Boston when she called; all she could talk about was the shoes she’d bought.”

“She’s happy, then?”

“Sounded that way, yeah.”

Spike took a deep breath. “Don’t.” Angel looked at him curiously. “Don’t tell her.”

“What? I mean, that’s a little surprising.”

“She’s happy, and that’s all I need to know. Things… they ended right, you know? I shouldn’t even be here now, and I don’t want to go mucking up her life again.” His eyes trailed to the skyline outside as he collected himself. “Look, the demon’s taken care of.”

“Is Azrael alright?”

He felt himself smile a bit. “Yeah. Just got a little on her.” He turned to the door. “I’m gonna head out.”

Angel looked at him in a way that Spike couldn’t figure out before realizing what it was; he was vulnerable. Scared. “It’s still early,” he commented, but it sounded more like a plea.

Spike pressed his lips together, trying to find the right words, but they wouldn’t come. They never did when he needed them. “Yeah, mate, but when I brood, I tend to do it alone.” Before Angel could reply, he walked out.

*

Knock, knock.

She rolled over in bed, yawning.

Knock, knock.

“What the hell?” she mumbled, still mostly asleep. The sound came again, and she stood up, grumbling as she walked to the door completely naked. “What do you want?” she snapped after she’d answered it.

Spike smiled. “Forgot your clothes, love.”

“What are you doing here?”

He walked in, not answering, and went straight to her liquor cabinet. After a generous shot, he turned to face her. She could see a war going on behind his eyes, and wished desperately that she still had the power to know his thoughts. Not with this brain, though. Her intuition was vague compared to her former angelic powers. “What’s the deal?” she asked. He only looked her up and down, and she sighed. “Fine, I’ll put something on.” She turned to leave the room, and felt his cool hand grip her arm. She gave him a curious look, and shivered at the way his eyes burned into hers. “Spike?”

Before she knew what was happening, his lips were crushed against hers, and she was pressed against her own fridge. There was no coherent thought at first, other than finally! She could have anyone she wanted, she knew that, but to Azrael, there were only two options, and one of them was kissing her hungrily when just moments before, she would have thought it impossible. She already knew Angel was a lost cause, and had given up on it immediately.

She sighed with pleasure as she felt Spike’s hand trailing up her inner thigh, but an annoying thought chose that very moment to enter her mind. Why is this happening?

She pushed him away, looking up into his face. “What?” he rasped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You want it, right?”

“You know that. But you never did. What’s going on?” He turned his eyes away, and she saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “What is it? I mean, I’d love to be a huge slut for you tonight, but I want a reason for the sudden change of heart.”

Spike walked across the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

He looked up from the tile, smiling a little. “Put something on.”

Azrael obeyed, and the two of them sat on her couch. “So, what could possibly make you come here and throw your virtue to the wind?” she asked, lighting a cigarette.

He took a deep breath. “She’s coming back.”

Azrael was getting ready to ask ‘who’ when she realized. “Oh… when?”

“Don’t know for sure. Soon.”

“And she doesn’t know?”

“No. Decided it would be better if she didn’t. Things have really changed for her. I want her to be happy, stay happy. She deserves that.”

Azrael nodded, exhaling smoke. “You couldn’t do that for her?”

“She’d never let me.”

“She’s going to be here? In L.A.?” Spike nodded. “And you really think she’s never going to find out?”

“Not saying that. Just not gonna go knocking on her door on my knees. Those days are through.”

“Good for you.” She grinned wickedly, hoping to cheer him up. “Still wanna do me?”

Spike rolled his eyes, shaking with silent laughter. “Never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Sorry, pet, but you’ve got a better chance with the poofter tonight.”

“Right, I can see that.”

“Well, he did shag Eve senseless.”

“I prefer for my guys to have free will during sex. Just a thing I have.”

“Hey, I’ve seen him look at you. Probably afraid he’ll catch fire or something if he lays a hand on you, though.”

“Hey, he might. I’m pretty hot.” Spike laughed again, and Azrael felt good about herself. She seemed the only one capable of making him laugh since he’d come back. “Why would I have a chance with him tonight? Is it the same reason I almost had a chance with you?” He only nodded. “Damn, I can’t say I really like Buffy much. Too much competition when it comes to my boys.”

“I feel bad,” he admitted, looking disgusted with himself. “Not like he treats me all that bloody well, but he didn’t want to be left alone.”

“Maybe you should go back.”

Spike shrugged. “Might be alright at first, but one wrong word, and we’d be at each other’s throats.”

“And that would be different from what other time?” she inquired.

*

Angel looked up when he heard the door open. “What are you doing back here?” he asked Spike, looking in confusion at the six-pack of beer in his grandchilde’s hand.

“Trying to behave,” Spike replied, taking a seat and opening a beer before swinging his feet up to rest on Angel’s desk.

“Behave?”

Spike winked. “Almost shagged the winger, bout an hour ago.”

Angel tried to hide his immediate interest. “Uh… really? I guess something happened, then?”

Spike let out an amused chuckle. “Yeah, you git, she got suspicious of my intentions. It’s not like the Powers were going to come down from the sky and flay me for it. She’s just a girl now, Liam.”

“A girl that could break you in half.”

“Hell, can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it.” They shared a knowing look. “But, not going to.”

“Buffy.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Guess I’m still taken, like it or not.”

Angel couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the younger vampire. “She cared about you, you know.”

“I do. But there are reasons, just like with you. It’d never happen, not the way I’d want it to.” His eyes were far away. “She’s too dark. For me. Hell, for herself. I tried to make her understand that, but I failed. She doesn’t have to understand it now. No telling how many bloody slayers are out there roaming about. She’s not alone anymore. Not in the dark.”

The vampires let out twin sighs, and silence filled the room.

“Shadows”

“My shadow’s
shedding skin
I’ve been picking
Scabs again.” –Tool

Again in another anonymous hotel room, like so many in the past month. Xander was already asleep in the adjacent room, and the two slayers they’d collected were across the hall. She supposed it would have been wiser, and cheaper, to have them stay with her, but she needed the time alone.

She opened the folder in her lap, as she did nearly every night since Giles had put it together. They’d gone all over England, collecting spare pieces of the Council’s history from the homes of dead watchers and their families. Yet so much was still lost. Giles had taken over the job of documenting as much as he could remember, but it was apparent that the job of watching was being forced into a fresh start.

This folder, however, was the only one she carried with her. She had every page, every picture, memorized.

It was his.

She supposed it was a little sick, to carry around the history of her ex lover’s less human days, but it was all she had.

The first few days after the collapse of Sunnydale had been hard. Xander had been so torn up over Anya, and Dawn… Dawn had lost it just hours after leaving, weeping hysterically over Spike. That she’d never forgiven him, and that he was gone forever. Buffy had to be the comforting friend, and big sister.

In Europe, things had gotten better. There was so much to do, and see. They all stayed busy, and Xander had thrown himself into acting as her right hand man, helping her track down slayers, tell them about their gifts, then ask if they wanted to join them.

It had taken her a week to realize the problem. It usually only happened when she was alone, when she started noticing something wrong. There always seemed to be an empty place next to her. When she had a sarcastic comment to throw, there was no one to catch it. When she patrolled unfamiliar territory, there was no one to watch her back. No one to needlessly protect her.

She hadn’t had time to grieve. There were others that were much better at it.

There were ways, however, ways that no one had to see. It had started in Paris, with a bottle of whiskey and a pack of Reds. She’d found a moldy European cemetery, and had staked out a crypt. There, she’d gotten stupidly drunk, smoking nearly half the pack of cigarettes before pouring her heart out to him. It was the only funeral she could think of for someone twice dead.

That had only been the first time. She’d done it in nearly every city, and was afraid she was getting hooked on nicotine, but it felt good to confess, even if it was to someone that wasn’t there to hear her anymore.

Sighing, Buffy flipped through the pages of the file, until she found the one that interested her most of all, plucking it out. Just a typed page, with a photograph stapled to it. A photograph of a vampire.

She was beautiful, with curling brown hair and a demure expression. An octoroon, Giles had explained, which was an old term meaning she wasn’t quite Caucasian, as far as Buffy could determine. She guessed maybe it was a rarer thing back in the day.

The girl’s name was Sophia Leblanc. She’d been from St. Francisville, Louisiana, and had only killed one human since she’d been turned, in 1939.

Turned by Spike.

He’d thought Drusilla had killed her, but she’d been spotted two years ago.

In Los Angeles. Buffy didn’t know why she needed to meet this vampire so badly, but she couldn’t wait to get done and go back. She wanted to hear this girl’s story, wanted to know what Spike had been like. Horrible most likely, she thought, smiling slightly.

She’d been feeling guilty, for everything they’d gone through, all that she’d done. With every midnight drunk fest, the guilt faded, but it was being replaced with bitterness. It was like the world had given her the most beautiful opportunity, and the only price had been the one she’d finally realized she wanted to share it with. Always a moment too late, she supposed. She could have forced him to escape, could have dragged him out with her, and the result would have been the same. He still would have save the world.

And if she’d done that, he’d be with her now… Right?

She wondered. If he hadn’t died, would she have grown the nerve? To defy her friends and their opinions? To look Giles in the eye and tell him ‘this is what I want?’ She wished she could believe it, but she wasn’t sure at all.

*

Spike let himself into his apartment just before dawn, stumbling toward his bedroom. It had been quite the pity party with Angel, but now he was alone, and he could lose it. He felt that it was coming. “Why here?” he whispered. “Why bloody here?” He practically fell into bed, not bothering to undress or cover himself. If shagging or drinking wouldn’t lessen the pain, a damn blanket wasn’t going to help.

*

Buffy was dreaming.

She stared at the fire before her, heaving a great sigh. “Do we really have to do this again?” she called into the darkness.

The smell of cigarettes and worn leather.

She gasped, waking herself up, the scent of him fading as reality stole over her. Tears flooded her eyes and she pressed her face into the unfamiliar pillow.

*

He’d been asleep for only an hour when Spike suddenly sat up in bed, looking around his bedroom wildly. “What the hell?” he whispered. His hand went to his temple; the hangover had already set in, but he was more worried over the dream he’d just had. Of course, it had been about Buffy, but something had been wrong. Trying not to dwell on it (it was making his headache worse), he lay back down, even though he knew there would be no more sleep for him. Not after that.

*

Willow’s mouth fell open as the doors of the elevator parted, revealing the fourth floor of Wolfram and Hart.

“Willow?” She jumped, becoming even more startled to realize the owner of the squeal was Harmony. The blond vampire was practically bouncing her way. “Oh, my God!”

“Uh. Hey, Harmony.” She noted the girl’s business suit and lifted her eyebrows. “You… work here?”

“Uh-huh! I’m Angel’s assistant. What brings you here?”

“Oh. I just thought I’d stop by, do the neighborly thing.” She looked around in awe. “This place is…”

“Massive, I know. Did you want to see Angel?”

“If he’s not busy.”

“No, he’s just having coffee with Azrael.” She rolled her eyes at the name.

“I’m guessing you don’t like this person?”

“Well, Angel just acts like she’s God’s gift, and Sp—“ she stopped abruptly, remembering her ex’s warning. Or death threat, rather. “She just gets way more attention than she deserves, if you ask me.” Harmony’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Also, she’s kind of skanky.”

“I see.”

“But, anyway, come on!” Harmony took Willow’s hand, leading her to the door of Angel’s office, where she knocked lightly before poking her head in. “You have company,” she told her boss, moving aside to allow Willow entrance.

As soon as the witch stepped into the room, she felt a powerful energy; more powerful than her own, and her eyes locked onto the girl seated across from Angel. Not human, no way.

She was broken from the spell by Angel’s voice. “Willow.” He stood, looking sincerely pleased. “It’s great to see you.”

She blinked, smiling. “Hi, Angel.”

“Have a seat,” he told her, gesturing to the empty chair, right next to Azrael. Warily, Willow sat down.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Angel?” the girl asked, her voice low and sultry, which Willow had been expecting. It went perfectly with her sloe-eyes.

“Oh! Willow, this is Azrael, an… employee of mine.”

Azrael gave him a smirk before extending her hand to Willow. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Willow took the offered hand, trying to hide the waves of electricity the touch sent rolling through her. “Finally?” she asked, before quickly withdrawing her fingers.

“Well, you did me a huge favor, once.”

“I did?” Anything else I can do? her mind whispered, and she smacked her own inner sex demon. Down, girl.

“Angel here, he was mine to take care of, for a long time,” she explained as the vampire shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “But I couldn’t do a damn thing for him unless he had the soul.”

“Oh…” Willow’s brow furrowed. “And, um, why was he yours, exactly?”

“Oh, I thought you’d know. I’m an angel.”

The word echoed through Willow’s head. An angel? She’s been having nasty, lustful thoughts about an angel? Not that she could be blamed, she assured herself. She was nearly positive angels weren’t supposed to wear leather mini-skirts and sweaters so tight that there was no question of a missing bra.

“Oh,” was again her clever reply.

Angel was eager to change the subject. “So, how are things going with the new Council?” he asked.

Willow immediately brightened. “Wonderful! Buffy and Xander just got in last night. There are seven slayers so far.”

“Wow,” he commented, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“Yeah, and I start teaching on Monday.”

“Teaching?”

“I’m going to tutor the girls, instead of having them go to school. It will work around their training more easily.” Angel nodded.

“And how’s Buffy?” Azrael asked, surprising the redhead.

“Oh, um, she’s fine,” Willow replied, noting immediately that Angel knew she was lying. “Well, I mean, she got in really late last night, and she was kind of quiet, but…”

“She’s probably tired,” Angel finished, letting her off the hook. “All that traveling.”

“Yeah. She was still in bed when I left.”

Azrael stood suddenly, flashing a quick smile. “Well, you two have fun catching up,” she told them, then looked to Angel. “I’ll call you later about Mr. Forbes.” Her gaze swept over to Willow. “See you later, cutie.” With a flip of her skirt, she left the room, and Willow turned her wide eyes to Angel.

“That’s an angel?”

He chuckled. “Apparently.”

“What’s she doing working for you?”

“She’s fallen.”

Willow crossed her arms, looking very much like a teacher suddenly. “Well, I think I can see why,” she replied, trying to appear unflustered by Azrael’s farewell.

*

In the lobby stood seven girls in a row, their heads held high, their eyes going left to right to survey their mentor as she paced in front of them, looking each one over carefully.

Buffy stopped at the far end, looking to the first one. A perky looking redhead, with her hair cut shockingly short, matching her height. “Tell us about you,” she told the girl.

“Amber Delaney. Fourteen. From New York City.”

“Killed any vampires?”

“One,” the girl replied, her large blue eyes insecure.

Buffy paid no attention, moving to the next in line. “You?”

“Trisha Young. Seventeen. From Baltimore.” This girl wasn’t much taller than Amber, but her legs made up most of her frame.

“Ever killed?”

“No,” Trisha admitted. “I’m… I’m really clumsy.”

Buffy nodded, moving down the line.

“Blake Morris,” the girl jumped right in. She was gorgeous and tall, with beautiful, chestnut brown hair. “Seventeen. From Charlotte, North Carolina. I’ve killed three vampires.” Buffy raised her eyebrows, impressed before moving on.

“Liz Brown,” the next girl stated in a barely there voice. She was pale, with curling black hair, and Buffy couldn’t believe she was a slayer. She looked like a strong wind would knock her over. “Fifteen. From Shreveport, Louisiana. And I’ve never killed anything.”

“Staci Truss,” the next girl spoke up. “Sixteen, from Reseda.” Buffy didn’t need to be told where the girl was from, it was glaringly obvious by her makeup and clothes. “I’ve never even seen a vampire.”

“Angelina Davis!” the next girl stated brightly, grinning to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth that went well with her perfectly golden curls. “I’m fifteen, and I’m from Lufkin, Texas.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’ve killed two vamps, and I’m real excited to be here.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Buffy replied, trying to hide a smile.

The last girl glared at Buffy, and the expression reminded her eerily of Faith, not to mention her brown hair and trashy ensemble. “And you?”

“Meg Sanders. Seventeen. From around. I lost count of the vamps after Virginia.”

Buffy stepped back. “Well, I’m glad some of you have experience, but you’ll be getting a lot more before I let up on you. Yes, you’re slayers, you have just as much strength as I do. But you’re green. You will train here, eat here, and go to school here. You go out when I tell you, you sleep when I tell you, until you prove you can take me in a fight. Then, you’re free to do what you like.” Meg rolled her eyes, but Buffy ignored it. “I’ll be doing most of your training. Giles will help out, and I’ve spoken to a friend of mine, a vampire, who will also come help when he has the time.” A few eyes widened at that. “He doesn’t kill. He has a soul. But back to my point; you’re free to leave anytime you want. We’re not holding you here. This place is open to all slayers, all the time. But if you’re staying here, you’re playing by the rules. Got it?”

Six heads nodded obediently. “Meg?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Chapter Three

“Love and the Dark”

Two months later…

She’d been patrolling the same cemetery for over an hour, and she was getting severely ticked off. Someone was tracking her, a vampire, and she couldn’t find it.

She knew they were there. She had the tingles and everything, but somehow, they were alluding her. She drew the stake from her waistband, making it obvious that she meant business. “You know,” she called, “there’s really no sense in avoiding this.”

“Slayer?”

Buffy whirled around, nearly falling on her ass, her stake slipping from her hand and flying into the tall grass. Smooth.

Her embarrassment was soon erased, however, as she looked upon the vampire. “Sophia?”

The girl shook her head slightly, her eyes wide, a slight smile on her lips. “Sophie. I’ve been looking for you.”

“What a coincidence.”

“Not really. I knew you were looking for me, so I decided to make it easier for you.”

Buffy retrieved her stake from the ground, eyeing Sophie. “You’re really not dangerous, right?”

“Not to you. You can put your weapon away.” Her accent was lilting, strange. Buffy shoved the stake in her back pocket.

“How did you know I was looking for you?”

“Your thoughts.”

Buffy cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not, like, all Drusilla crazy, are you?”

Sophie’s smile widened, and it was shockingly innocent. She reminded Buffy so much of Dawn, it was insane. “No. But I am blessed.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, sure that she wouldn’t understand even if it was explained to her.

“You want me to talk to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, if it’s okay with you.”

“Yes. But… is he really dead?”

Buffy stood frozen. There was so much pain in the girl’s voice, over a sire she’d never really known. “Yeah. He is.” The vampire only nodded, then joined Buffy to walk out of the cemetery.

“I had a dream, of his death, but I never really felt his passing. I wasn’t sure. My dreams have been so strange lately.”

“You dream a lot?”

“Constantly.”

“I do, too. It’s sort of part of my job, though.” She felt Sophie’s brown eyes on her, and felt suddenly naked.

“You love him.”

Buffy took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

“Real love is never used in that tense.”

Buffy let herself smile. “I guess not.”

*

Azrael let herself into Spike’s apartment to see him in a dead sleep on the couch. Sighing in frustration, she kicked at him with the toe of her boot. He groaned, but didn’t budge, and she noticed the empty bottle of tequila on the floor. “You asshole,” she muttered, but her tone wasn’t angry. She knelt down beside him, absently stroking his arm. “I’m sorry she’s back,” she whispered. “Sorry it hurts.” A slow smile crept onto her face. “But her witch friend’s real cute.”

“Glad you’re concerned, love,” he purred sleepily, and smiled with closed eyes at the feel of her jumping next to him.

She smacked him hard across the chest, and he let out a howl, sitting up. “You’re an ass!” she yelled.

He smirked. “Thought we’d established that.”

“Are we going to take out this Forbes guy, or what?”

“Yeah. Let me get a shirt on.”

Ten minutes later, they were patrolling. “So, got it for Red?” he asked between draws from his cigarette.

Azrael shrugged. “She had it for me first.”

“Well, I knew what team she was playing for. What’s with you?”

“Hey, I was given a human body. I could’ve been a guy just as easily.”

“Then, you wouldn’t have got to kiss me,” he informed her, a cocky expression on his face.

“I believe you were the one doing the kissing, William, dear. No, I like being a girl. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let it hold me back.”

He grinned. “You’re every teenage boy’s dream, pet.”

*

The two of them sat across from each other in the darkened crypt, the bottle of whiskey laid to waste, each slowly smoking a cigarette. Buffy had thought sharing this experience would be awkward, but it had been comforting instead.

Sophie had long finished the story of her past, and the talk had progressed to Buffy’s. “So, I’m apparently still ignoring my ‘darkness,’” she told Sophie, finishing up the recount of her latest Slayer dream.

“It must be hard. I’m sure other slayers had friends and family, but none so… involved. Is it so hard to love them, though? As a slayer?”

“No. It’s just scary, the whole slayer feeling.”

Sophie nodded slightly. “It’s primal.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Exactly. I feel like if I let it loose, I won’t be able to control it.”

The vampire’s eyes were knowing. “That’s why you couldn’t stand to be with him. He loved that in you.”

“That was part of it. But mostly, it the way he acted toward me, it reminded me so much of how I felt sometimes. He wasn’t afraid of that darkness. He didn’t fight it. He was a monster, and he loved me better than I’ve ever been able to love anyone. It didn’t make any sense.”

“I didn’t know him for long, but he didn’t make any sense then, either.”

“Well, I guess he didn’t get any better,” she giggled.

“I am so drunk,” Sophie replied, her eyes seemingly lost before she started laughing quietly as well. “I’ve never been drunk.”

“You really aren’t much of a vampire, then.”

“I know!”

In the darkness of the oldest cemetery in Los Angeles, laughter rang in the night, and a friendship was sealed.

“Ghosts”

Three months later…

Buffy woke, covered in a sheen of sweat. Whatever her dreams had been warning her of, it was coming, and soon. She still didn’t understand how Spike was a part of it. She never saw him in these visions, only smelled him, or heard his voice. She could never quite remember the words upon waking, though.

She slowly crawled out of bed, wanting to get through the day as quickly as possible, so she could go talk to Sophie. Her friend had been dreaming as well, and Buffy was eager to compare notes.

She had at least twelve hours to kill before that, however. She had slayers to train, a sister to get off to school, friends to talk to, Giles to meet with on the progress of her work. Angel had been helping her train the girls when he had time, but with a huge law firm to run, that time was sparse. Not that she was complaining. It was hard to be around him, now that she knew what her heart really wanted, even if it was something she could never have.

She felt ready for whatever was coming, and she knew she had Sophie to thank for that. The vampire had helped her more than anyone with pushing the two pieces of herself together. She was still afraid of the secrets that were hidden in her history, but accepted them as part of her. She didn’t try to be Miss Sunshine around her loved ones unless she really felt that way. They actually seemed to appreciate it, which shocked her. But still, she didn’t tell them the ache she still felt. What would be the point? To see Xander’s jaw drop, or Dawn’s wounded eyes just at the mention of Spike’s name? No. There was no point in that at all.

*

Manhattan, New York

1:09 p.m.

Many of the pedestrians crowding the square saw the old man stagger, but turned their attention elsewhere when he righted himself and continued walking. No one wanted to ask if he needed help. He seemed more ancient than what was normal, and burning sores covered his face. His entire appearance screamed ‘homeless,’ so not many people even noted his existence.

He hobbled into a nearby alley, collapsing against the damp brick wall. He seemed to be in great pain, but a bitter smile crossed his haggard features just the same. “It goes with me, vampire,” he gasped before his eyes closed for the last time.

*

Azrael was summarizing the death of Mr. Forbes for Angel when she was interrupted by the vampire’s sudden collapse out of his chair. “Angel?” She jumped up, dodging the desk to reach him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, God,” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

“What?”

His eyes met hers, and she could see the panic in their depths. “I can’t hurt you, right?”

“Right.”

“Get me to the basement, as fast as you can.”

“But why?”

“It’s happening…”

Azrael’s lips parted as she realized. “Oh, shit, come on.” She pulled Angel up, supporting him as she walked quickly from the room.

Five minutes inside of a basement cell, and the change was complete. Azrael looked through the bars that held Angelus sadly. “I’ve got to find Fred,” she told him. He snarled, pure evil as he smiled at her, and she hated herself for fearing him. He couldn’t hurt her, she knew that, and yet… “Are you hungry, or anything?”

“Yeah, actually, I am,” he replied casually, walking toward her. “But I’ll take care of it later.”

“What?”

He laughed. “This won’t hold me for long. You know that, right?” Azrael looked at the bars; they weren’t much, this was an older cell, but the newer ones had no bars, just solid steel doors. She couldn’t stand to do such a thing to Angel.

“Then, we’ll move you. Until we find a way to fix it.”

“That’ll be fun. I’d really like to see what happens when a thing like you is drained.”

“Probably not much,” she replied, trying not to feel hurt over being called a ‘thing.’

He shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to find my little black book, then. Look up an old girlfriend. Doesn’t really matter. “I mean,” he chuckled, “an angel’s blood can’t really be that much better than a slayer’s, right?” His eyes brightened. “And I almost forgot, I have eight to choose from now. Wonder which one I’ll find first.”

“No sense in worrying about it. It’s not going to happen.”

*

He was watching her. Both of them.

It had been two hours since he’d finally tracked the Slayer down, yet the shock wouldn’t recede.

Azrael had phoned him at sunset, and he’d gone directly to Wolfram and Hart, where Angelus was still feeling giddy over the prospect of so much slayer blood nearby. Fred and Wesley were busy researching what could have caused the vampire’s sudden lack of soul, after ruling out the suggestion that Azrael had shagged him silly. The angel herself was preparing to go to the Council, to meet with Willow.

“He’s right, you know,” Spike had told her before she left. “He’ll get out, when he gets hungry enough.”

“I’m coming back soon. I’ll watch him.”

He’d seen the hidden fear in her eyes and had looked softly at her. “I know he can’t kill you, pet, but can you take him?”

She hadn’t answered the question directly. “Find Buffy,” she’d told him instead. “Watch her, just in case. He’ll go straight for her.”

“I know.”

So here he was, at the park, hiding behind a tree like a ponce.

He’d known she was with someone immediately, he wasn’t blind, but it hadn’t seemed important at first. Besides, the Slayer’s companion had her back turned to him.

It had only taken him a second to catch the scent, though, and he’d been a little surprised that Buffy was hanging about in the dark with a vampire. Only moments after his realization, however, the vampire had seemed to sense him as well, and had turned. Spike was still recovering from that moment.

Sophie. His childe.

Her senses apparently weren’t that strong; she’d seemed to shrug it off, returning to her conversation with Buffy, and allowing Spike to stare, spellbound, as the two of them talked like old friends. Were they friends, he wondered? What had changed in Buffy’s mind to cause such a thing to happen?

The more he studied her, however, the more changes he noticed. The first ones had been easy to spot. She’d colored her hair; it was run through with dark streaks. Very gothic for someone who’d always looked so sunny and blond.

The thing that nearly made his eyes fall out of his head, however, was to see Buffy take the cigarette Sophie had been smoking and finish the last half of it before crushing it on the ground. Smoking? Buffy? What the hell had happened?

He suddenly felt his cell shaking in the pocket of his duster, and reached to answer it. “Yeah?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“He’s out; Gunn managed to drug him. He shouldn’t be awake ‘till morning.”

“Alright.”

*

Willow opened the door, her eyes growing wide. “Um… Azrael?”

“No one called, did they?”

“Earlier. About Angel.”

“I came to ask you about the spell.”

“Oh. Oh! I’m sorry, come in.” Willow stepped back cautiously, as if Azrael would burn her, but couldn’t help but glance at the skin of her exposed back. She had beautiful shoulders.

*

Bayou Sara, 1939.

They said nothing, and the next night, they left St. Francisville, and the bayous of Louisiana.

Lost and Found

The Night After…

He was nursing his whiskey, something he normally didn’t do. There was just too bloody much to think about.

He knew it was only a matter of time before Angelus would escape; his friends trusted him too much, and they would make a mistake. Spike couldn’t stay there all hours to make sure they didn’t slip. He’d made his job protecting Buffy as of late, which was much harder. Watching her the past few nights, unable to get close enough for a really nice stare.

He now knew where the Council was, exactly, having followed her to it the night before. He’d had his heart broken all over again, seeing the Bit come out to greet her big sis. She’d gotten even taller, towering over the Slayer.

He was lost in memories, and didn’t notice when someone took the seat next to him at the bar. Not until the scent overwhelmed him. Slowly, he turned his head to the right.

“Sophie.”

“Spike.” A hint of a smile crossed her face. “I knew I smelled you the other night.”

“Remember after all that time, pet?”

She only nodded, and he suddenly regretted so much. “I’m sorry; know how bloody stupid that sounds, but still.” He found it in him suddenly to finish his drink.

“How are you still… here?” was all she said.

“Wasn’t for awhile. Long story.”

“How long have you been back?”

“Since November, technically.”

Her brow furrowed. “But… Buffy.”

His hand gripped her wrist suddenly. “You won’t tell her a damn thing.” She only stared at him in confusion. “Promise me.”

“I…” He strengthened his hold, hating to see her wince, but not letting up. “Okay. I promise.” He released her.

“Have you seen her tonight?” he asked before retrieving a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

“No. She’s patrolling, with the others. I never see her on Fridays.”

“She doing alright?”

“Well, Angel, he lost his soul again.”

“Up on that bit of news, love.”

“Buffy just told me the other night. I know I never met him, but do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Hell if I know. He’s still at Wolfram and Hart; they’ve got him chained or something. I haven’t been by.”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you… usually go by?”

“Well, yeah, I work for the ponce.”

“What? But Angel, he talks to Buffy all the time, and—“

“And he doesn’t want her to know, either. He won’t have her, but that doesn’t mean anyone else should, not in his eyes. ‘Specially me.” His eyes drank her in, feeling shame and pride at the same time. “How have you been, pet? You look amazing.”

She shrugged, seeming shy. “I’ve been alright.”

“Hope so. Thought Dru had done you in, or I’d’ve come back.”

“Don’t lie.” There was no anger in her eyes, and he relented.

“Alright. I wouldn’t have, but I probably would’ve felt bad about it. Wish I could’ve been there for you.”

“It’s probably better that you weren’t. I had to make my own rules, and I think I turned out better that way.”

“Your own rules?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I haven’t killed a single person. Not since the one.”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious?” She nodded again. Never much on words, and it hadn’t changed in all these years. “But… how?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you must be so weak.”

“I guess I’m not as strong as I should be, but it’s not like I go looking to get hurt, either.”

“And I guess having a slayer as your chum doesn’t hurt.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“How’d that happen, anyway?”

They settled in for a long conversation, leaving the bar when it closed and walking the streets until sunlight forced them to take shelter in his apartment, where they only talked more, until drowsiness took over. Spike took a blanket to sleep on the couch, letting his Childe take his bed.

Sleep wouldn’t come, however. Nothing made sense. A few hours with Sophie, and she was part of his life. How could it be so easy at times, and so impossible at others? Obviously, Sophie was already letting herself depend on him; she was still a child in so many ways, and he was to blame for that. He supposed he should be proud, that she’d never killed since, but he was still a vampire, and that part of him knew it wasn’t right. It made him want to take care of her, but he knew it wouldn’t replace the emptiness he’d always feel without Buffy in his arms. It didn’t seem fair, to receive everything he’d never hoped for, and have to deny himself the only thing he wanted. Of course, if he didn’t keep himself away, it would only make things worse than they’d ever been. He hated knowing that he’d trade everything for even one chance, however, if he could only be guaranteed not to hurt her again. And knowing that made everything good that had happened to him seem worthless.

It really wasn’t fair.

*

Willow opened the door to greet Azrael, who was holding the supplies she had been asked to bring. One being an Orb of Thesulah.

The girls didn’t speak as they made their way into the library, where the circle had already been prepared. They silently took their places across from one another, and Willow took the Orb, placing it on the pillow between them. “You know the Latin?” she asked. Azrael nodded.

And they began.

“Quod perditum est, invenietur.”

“What is lost, return.”

Azrael immediately felt something wrong with the energy in the air, but continued with the next line. “Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte.”

“I implore you, Lord, do not ignore this request.” Both of them heard a thump, and looked over to see a book on the floor that had fallen. They exchanged a wary glance.

“Nici mort, nici al fiintei...”

“Neither dead, nor of the living...”

“Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la el.”

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

A violent wind suddenly swept through the room, and it carried the sound of cynical laughter.

The Orb remained dark.