* * *

Faith shot a worried look at Buffy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the group, but not really seeing. Buffy would nod her head occasionally when addressed, but it was clear to everyone present that her thoughts were elsewhere.

“So,” Faith said, addressing Giles who was seated at the desk. “What do we do now?”

The Watcher took off his glasses and began cleaning them.

“Good question.” He paused, then put his glasses back on.

“I think that you,” he said, looking at Faith, “should stay here with Buffy. The Council won’t be looking for you in a place like this.” He gestured around the room. “It’s much too…”

“Classy?” Faith offered.

“Um, yes.” Giles readjusted his glasses. “Danvers and I need to report back to the Council. I suspect that they’ll have discovered King’s body by now and will be trying to find out what’s happened.” He glanced at Danvers. “We need to come up with a story…to buy some time.”

Danvers nodded.

“So, what will you tell them?” Faith asked.

“Well,” the Watcher said, scratching his head. “We can start with the truth about what actually happened last night: the five vampires, Spike, the Wiccan-“

“No,” Buffy spoke up suddenly. “Don’t tell them about Spike.”

Giles looked at her with concern. “All right,” he said gently. “We can leave out the part about Spike.”

He cleared his throat. “The Council will be concerned about this Witch, whoever she may be, if she’s as powerful as you’ve described. She’ll serve as a diversion.” He glanced at Danvers. “We’ll tell them that you were knocked unconscious. When you came to, Faith and the Wiccan were gone. You came to see me, looking for Faith, but I hadn’t seen her. We’ll tell them that Faith probably went after the Witch, or was captured. They’ll concentrate their efforts on finding them…together.”

“Think they’ll buy it?” Faith looked skeptical.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Giles replied. “Danvers and I have both sworn an oath, part of which includes telling the truth.”

* * *

After the two men left, Faith went to the window and drew back the drapes. The bright sunshine immediately transformed the room. Giles had specifically told her to keep the drapes closed, but she couldn’t stand the room’s almost palpable gloominess.

She paced the room, inwardly cursing her situation. She hated being cooped up and would’ve preferred running away. The only problem was, she was in a strange city, a strange country, with no passport, I.D. or money. It would be nearly impossible for her to get back to the States on her own.

‘This sucks!’ she thought, angrily clenching her teeth.

Buffy looked at her suddenly, as if she’d heard her thoughts. But the blonde girl’s eyes were still misty and distant.

Faith stopped pacing and walked over to the bed where Buffy was sitting.

“Hey,” she said gently. She seated herself next to the girl who she’d always envied.

“I’m sorry B, about Spike.” She started to put her hand on the Buffy’s back, but closed it into a fist, withdrawing at the last moment.

“I guess he must’ve really loved you,” Faith continued. She shrugged. “Well, then again, doesn’t everyone?” There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice and she felt jealousy stirring within her. It unsettled her and she tried to shake it off.

“But, I think he really did. He even changed for you-became a better, uh, person, I guess. I mean why else would he have saved me like he did?”

Buffy turned to Faith, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

“He can’t be dead,” she said quietly. “No more than I am.”

Faith shook her head. “But he is. I saw him die.”

“There are ways,” Buffy said, sounding odd, as if in a trance. “I’m living proof…”

“Buffy, you’re not making sense. What ways? What are you talking about?”

There was a sudden look of clarity in Buffy’s eyes.

“I need to…” She stood up, went to the window and looked out at the darkening sky. The clouds were moving in quickly and angrily. The sky was becoming a swirling mass of gray.

“I need to find her. She’s the only one who can bring him back.”

“Find who?” Faith asked, confused.

“Emily,” Buffy replied. Somberly, she watched the storm continue to grow, throwing a shadow over the city.

Chapter 17 - A Slayer’s Choice

“Emily?” Faith whispered. A look of understanding spread over her face. “The witch.”

Buffy turned away from the window. Although she now faced the other Slayer, she looked past her, at Faith’s elongated shadow on the wall. She nodded, barely moving her head.

“But she’s dangerous,” Faith said, frowning. “You should’ve seen what she did to that King guy.”

“She’s the only one I know of who can bring Spike back.”

“Bring Spike back? B, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Buffy asked, now focusing on Faith. Her eyes challenging the other girl. “They brought me back-took me out of heaven. I’m sure Spike’s not…where I was. He’s probably…” She paused, not wanting to think about the vampire being trapped in a hell dimension. “I can’t leave him there.”

Faith looked at Buffy and bit down on her bottom lip. “Giles told me about your friends bringing you back,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great that you’re back, but I know spells like that are dangerous-a lot could go wrong. If Giles knew what you were thinking-“

“Giles doesn’t need to know,” Buffy snapped, glaring at the other girl. Her look then softened. “I know he wouldn’t understand-no one can. It’s just--I have to bring Spike back. When I found out he was dead…” She looked down at the carpet, feeling her throat tighten.

Faith lowered her head as well. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

Buffy brushed away tears. She closed her eyes, not answering the question.

“But B, if you brought Spike back... Think about it--that chip he had in his head…it wouldn’t--”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? Are you nuts?” Agitated, Faith shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back. “He wasn’t like Angel. He didn’t a soul, remember? He’d be able to kill again…and you know he would.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” But Buffy questioned herself-how could she be so sure? She thought about Spike and how she had doubted him--almost to the end. But somehow, now, she knew she could trust him.

* * *

Quentin Travers glared at the two men seated opposite him. He made a fist and slammed it down angrily, on his desk.

“Leslie King was one of our best men,” he said, looking at Danvers. “This witch you mentioned-who is she? And what was she doing at the ambush site last night?

The large man shrank back in his chair. “I honestly don’t know. She came out of nowhere.” He swallowed hard. “She was responsible for killing at least three of the vampires last night. Perhaps she had a vendetta against them…”

“And King…why would she have killed him?”

“I was already knocked unconscious by then. I didn’t see how he was killed, or what happened to Faith.” Danvers looked down, unable to look his superior in the eye.

Giles leaned forward. “We believe that Faith may have gone after her…or perhaps was captured.”

Travers looked at him, thoughtfully. “Yes, Rupert, you’re probably right.” He pressed his fingers together in front of him, making a steeple with his hands. “We need to find out who this witch is. She may be a threat to us. The way King was killed last night indicates that she must be powerful. I’ll put a team on it right away. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Travers rose, indicating the meeting was over. Giles and Danvers stood up simultaneously and exchanged a glance. Wordlessly, they left the room.

* * *

Emily got out of the black Mercedes and looked upward. The sky was now layered with clouds in various shades of gray. She could feel electricity in the air. A warm wind lightly brushed her face, reminding her of fingers caressing her cheek--a man’s touch. She smiled at the memory.

She took in the elegant architecture of the Victorian-era hotel, then straightened the jacket of her tailored black suit and headed for the entrance. The bellman nodded to her and smiled. She returned the gesture and strode gracefully past him.

She was going to see the Slayer. Emily thought about the girl she’d briefly met once before-the girl William had loved. She then thought about the spell. If there were any other way…

She sighed softly. She would talk to the Slayer-convince her to come willingly. After all, there was a chance she would survive this. ‘I’m not a monster,’ Emily told herself. ‘I’m not-‘

She paused in mid-step. ‘But what if the Slayer refuses?’

Emily frowned and resumed walking until she reached the elevator. She stopped and delicately pressed the button a well-manicured hand. Bowing her head, she stared down at her designer shoes.

She would do what she had to. She could be very convincing, if necessary.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. The two surprised slayers glanced in the direction of the sound then looked at each other. Neither girl was expecting a visitor. Both were uncertain as to what to do. Finally, Buffy walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

She took a step back and wordlessly opened the door.

“Emily,” she said as if she had been expecting her. She let the vampire in.

Emily’s lips were fixed with a cold smile as she walked past Buffy. She glanced at the other girl standing by the window and paused. Recognition flashed in the Witch’s eyes.

“So,” Emily said, eyeing Faith. “You two know each other?” She turned to Buffy.

“Faith is a slayer, like me.”

The Wiccan’s eyes widened with surprise. “Two slayers? Is it possible?”

“Apparently,” Buffy replied.

The Witch nodded thoughtfully. “Very interesting,” she murmured to herself.

Buffy squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Emily,” she said, “I…I actually wanted to see you.”

“Really?” the vampire said, intrigued.

“Yes,” Buffy continued. “It’s about Spike. William. I want you to bring him back.”

Emily smiled again, this time showing a row of perfect white teeth. “Then we’re thinking alike, you and I,” she said, “I want him back also. There’s just one problem…”

“Problem?”

“Yes. I’ve done my research and found a workable spell. I’ve gotten almost everything I need, but there’s just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Emily ran her tongue over her bottom lip and looked at Faith. “Slayer’s blood,” she replied evenly.

Buffy took a step back, staring at the Wiccan. “Figures,” she muttered.

“So,” Emily said, looking first at one slayer then the other. “Who’s it going to be?”

“What do you mean?” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no question here about who. I’m the one who wants him resurrected. Faith has nothing to do with this.”

Emily looked doubtful. “William died saving her, certainly-“

“No!” Buffy interjected. “It has to be me.”

“You could die.”

“All the more reason that it has to be me.” Buffy glanced at the other Slayer. It was ironic. A few years before, she would’ve killed Faith to save Angel. But it was different now. Faith was different-and she was too.

The vampire laughed suddenly. “I can see why William loved you. You certainly have a heroic quality about you.”

Faith, who had been silently watching the exchange between Buffy and the Wiccan, cleared her throat. She had seen an opportunity-a chance for atonement. She couldn’t let it slip away.

“Buffy,” she said, taking a step forward. “I think that I should be the one…my blood…”

Buffy stared at the other Slayer, confused. She hadn’t believed Faith capable of such selflessness.

“It just makes sense,” Faith continued. “I’ve pretty much screwed up my life anyway.” She attempted a smile. “If I die, another slayer gets called. If you die, there’s just me. Now, could you imagine the whole weight of the world on my shoulders? Pretty scary, huh?”

“I can’t let you,” Buffy whispered, still not believing what she was hearing.

Faith looked at Emily. “You know it has to be me, don’t you?”

Emily nodded. “Yes,” she replied, glancing at Buffy. “I don’t think William would ever forgive me if I brought him back into a world which didn’t have you in it.” She waved her hand in the Slayer’s direction.

“Obdormio.”

Buffy crumpled to the floor, instantly asleep.

Emily turned to Faith, her lips twisted into a smile. “Let’s go.”

Faith stepped over Buffy’s unconscious body and followed the Witch out of the room.

* * *

Giles parked his car on a side street several blocks from the hotel. Although he was fairly certain he had not been followed, he wanted to be extra sure. He quickly ducked into the nearest store, not noticing until afterwards that it sold women’s lingerie.

“Lovely,” he muttered under his breath.

Trying to look inconspicuous, he pretended to shop, sorting through the nearest rack of women’s panties. He glanced out the window but saw nothing out of the ordinary-just people going about their business.

“May I help you?” a pretty, young sales girl asked, smiling at the Watcher.

Startled, Giles looked down, finding his hands on a lacy, red satin thong . He released the undergarment and stepped away from the rack, managing an embarrassed smile.

“Um, no, actually…I’m just looking,” he replied.

“Well, let me know if you need any help,” the sales girl said and moved on to another part of the store.

Giles sighed and turned his attention back to the window. There was still no sign of his having been followed. Satisfied, he left the shop and headed for the hotel.

Behind him, a man in a dark gray suit stepped out from an alley and began following the Watcher.

* * *

Buffy awoke to the sound of knocking. It started out softly but grew louder and more urgent.

“Buffy,” she heard Giles’ voice calling. “Are you there?”

She shook her head and looked around, wondering why she was on the floor. Still groggy, she stood up and opened the door. She saw her former Watcher standing in the hallway.

“Giles?”

The Watcher’s eyes widened at her disheveled appearance.

“What’s happened? Are you all right?” he asked, concerned

Buffy placed a hand on her forehead and leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah,” she replied, feeling dazed. “I must’ve…” She turned and glanced around the room. “Where’s Faith? And Emily?”

Giles frowned. He looked past Buffy, but saw that she was alone. “Let’s get inside,” he said, ushering the Slayer back into the room and shutting the door.

He turned to her. “Buffy, what’s happened? Who’s Emily?”

Buffy looked uncertain. “Emily is…” She thought about the consequences of telling Giles the truth. Would he tell the Council? Could they prevent Emily from resurrecting Spike? But Buffy knew she couldn’t let Faith die. They had to find her.

“Emily’s the Wiccan,” she said finally. “She’s also Spike’s sister.”

“Spike’s sister?”

“Yeah, she’s a vampire too. And she has Faith.”

“Oh dear,” Giles muttered.

There was knock on the door. Giles and Buffy looked at each other, surprised. Giles peered through the peephole and saw a man in a gray suit standing in the hallway. He recognized him immediately, a member of the Watchers’ Council-one of Quentin Travers’ assistants. Hesitantly he opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” Giles said, addressing the man.

“Travers had me follow you,” the assistant replied. “He had a hunch that you were hiding something.” He glanced at Buffy. “Who’s the girl?”

Giles looked at Buffy, but didn’t answer.

The man pulled out a cellular phone from his coat pocket. “I’m calling Travers,” he said. “I trust you’ll explain to him what’s going on here.”

Giles nodded. “You can tell Quentin… We’ll tell him everything we know. We’ve got to work together now-to find the Witch. She has Faith.”

Chapter 18 - Resurrection

“Emily Pierce,” Quentin Travers murmured thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of the witch. She’s something of a legend with the Council Wiccans.” He surveyed the three individuals sitting in his office. “But she died over a century ago. How could it be possible?”

Giles cleared his throat. “I know the records show that she died in a fire, but she must have been turned sometime before that. Apparently, she’s a vampire now.”

Travers pressed his lips together forming a straight line. “I see. But what business would she have with Faith? I don’t…” A look of understanding suddenly crossed his face. “Are they working together-Faith and the Wiccan? Is that why King was killed?”

“No!” Buffy said, frowning. “Faith…” She hesitated, feeling conflicted. She hadn’t told anyone, even Giles about Spike, or Emily’s plans to resurrect him. “Faith has nothing to do with her. Emily was looking for me.”

Giles glanced worriedly at the Slayer. “We believe that Faith may be in grave danger,” he said. “It’s imperative that we find her. There isn’t much time.”

Travers observed the Watcher with a critical eye then glanced at Danvers, who was seated next to Giles. “Well, perhaps if the two of you had been honest with me in the first place, Faith wouldn’t be in this rather dire situation. I’m disappointed…in both of you.”

“If we had been honest with you,” Giles countered angrily. “I’m sure that Faith would still be in danger-though perhaps not from the witch. You’re not the only one who’s disappointed, Quentin.”

A hint of surprise briefly crossed Travers’ face. “So, you know then.” He shrugged. “I do what is necessary.”

Giles’ eyes blazed. “You asked me to serve as her Watcher,” he said, struggling to contain his anger. “Yet you never even consulted me before you decided to-”

“I suppose you don’t agree with my decision on this matter,” Travers said. “But you don’t understand the Council like I do-how things really work. Believe me, Rupert. I was doing you a favor. The situation with Faith-it needed to be handled. I saw no reason for you to dirty your hands in this mess.”

“I still don’t…” Giles paused, collecting himself. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly.

“We’re wasting time,” he said finally. “We need to figure out where Emily is-so we can find Faith before it’s too late.”

Travers agreed. “This Witch is clearly a threat to us. I’ll send someone to the Dungeon right away to pull her record.”

Giles frowned. “Actually, I’ve recently seen the record on Emily Pierce. I don’t think it will help us. It ends with her death over a century ago.”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got,” Travers said grimly. “I’ll send someone for it anyway. Maybe there’s something you didn’t see. I’ll also have a team of men go back to the ambush site--perhaps there are some clues. But…” He shook his head.

There was a long silence. Travers turned to Buffy. “Miss Summers, you’ve had contact with the Wiccan-any ideas of where we should look?”

“I…” Buffy faltered. She recalled Emily’s designer clothes and her apparent taste for finer things. She doubted they would find her in a crypt. It would have to be a house-a mansion, maybe. “I think that she’d be in a house,” she said finally.

“Well, that certainly narrows it down,” Travers commented sarcastically.

Buffy thought about Emily’s love for her brother: feelings strong enough for her to want him resurrected. Would the vampire have similar attachments to other things that she’d cared for as a human? The Slayer remembered her visit to Spike’s past and the large home filled with family heirlooms and portraits.

“Maybe it does.” She paused, biting her lip. Part of her wanted to hold back--to give Emily time to perform the spell. If only bringing back Spike didn’t mean possible death for Faith. If she had a choice…

But of course she didn’t. She had to do what was right-as she always did.

“I think we should check out her old family home,” the Slayer said quietly. “Just a hunch, but it’s the first place I’d look.”

* * *

Emily moved about the cave-like chamber, making the final preparations for the resurrection spell. The secret room was located beneath the house and was accessed via a secret passage from her study. Her father had used the room during his days as a Watcher and it was the perfect place to conduct her magic. She sprinkled various dark, powdery substances onto a stone slab, then draped an ancient, yellowed shroud over the ashen mixture.

Emily lifted an oversized chalice of tarnished silver and examined its contents. A putrid, treacle-like liquid covered the bottom of the cup. She carefully placed the chalice on a stone step near the head of the slab.

Smiling with satisfaction, she grabbed a large, ceremonial knife with an ornately carved handle and looked at the girl standing nervously in the corner.

“It’s time,” the Witch said, gesturing for Faith to come forward.

The Slayer hesitated, her eyes darting to the doorway. She thought about escaping, but knew it was too late. Emily could easily stop her with a word.

Sensing Faith’s uncertainty, Emily crossed the room and put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder

“You won’t feel any pain,” Emily said, with compassion that seemed practiced. “And there is a chance that you’ll survive this. You’ll lose a great deal of blood-the chalice must be filled, but I will stop your bleeding as soon I have enough.”

The vampire nodded at a man dressed in a dark suit, who was standing quietly in the shadows.

“Max, my driver, will take you to the hospital immediately after…” The corners of her mouth turned upwards. “You see, I’m not a monster.”

Faith glanced at the chauffeur. “Guess it’s too late to change my mind about this,” she half whispered. She looked at Emily and swallowed. “Just get on with it.”

Emily took hold of the Slayer’s shaking hand and guided her to the head of the slab. He pushed down on her shoulder, forcing her to kneel on the floor, before the chalice.

Standing behind Faith, the Wiccan placed a hand on her head.

“Torpeo.”

Faith fell forward, nearly knocking over the large silver cup. Emily caught her, then glanced at Max, who came forward and held the girl upright, positioning her arms over the chalice. Emily gripped the knife a little tighter and placed its sharp edge across Faith’s upturned wrists.

With a flash of excitement in her eyes, the Wiccan began the incantation.

“Ancient Ones,

“I implore you.

“A Son of Darkness

“Has fallen.

“Let him rise again

“From the ashes.

“Accept this offering

“Of blood

“From the Chosen One.

“Guide William back

“From beyond the Veil.

“Refero me Frater.”

With a quick, fluid motion, Emily sliced into Faith’s wrists. Blood streamed from the wounds and fell into the silver cup. Its contents began to hiss and smoke.

When the chalice was nearly full, Emily stared at the Slayer’s open cuts and hesitated. She ran her tongue over her lower lip.

“Desino cruos,” she said finally, just as the red liquid began spilling over the cup’s rim.

The crimson stream immediately ceased. Emily dropped the knife and eagerly lifted the chalice with both hands. She nodded to Max, who dragged the unconscious slayer out of the room.

Eyes gleaming, the Wiccan stood over the stone slab and held the chalice high. Slowly, she poured the dark liquid over the yellowed shroud. The bloody mixture soaked into the cloth, until it was completely red.

“Accept this offering

“Of blood

“From the Chosen One.

“Guide William back

“From beyond the Veil.

“Refero me Frater.”

She repeated the incantation, watching the bloodied shroud with anticipation.

Her eyes widened as a man’s form pushed up from beneath the cloth. The crimson receded into the shroud’s center until it was dry and yellowed, once again.

* * *

Buffy paused and looked up at the old Victorian mansion. It was just as she’d remembered. Though more than a century older, little had changed. She recalled going back in time…and meeting William. She smiled as she thought the man Spike had been before becoming a vampire. He’d been sweet and thoughtful. So different from Spike-and yet strangely similar.

She bit her bottom lip and looked away, feeling a combination of excitement, fear and longing. Would her hunch be right? Would they find Emily here? Had she already performed the spell?

Their party consisted of five besides herself: Giles, Danvers, a Wiccan, and two more from Council’s Elite squad of assassins. Travers was overseeing the witch-hunt from Headquarters.

Buffy hastened to catch up with Giles and Danvers, who were already at the front door. The remaining members of the party were staking out the back of the house. They were all here to observe and investigate. Perhaps they’d get lucky.

Buffy wondered what would happen if they actually did find Emily. She shuddered. A powerful witch to start with, she’d had over a century to hone her skills. They could’ve brought every member of the Watcher organization and still have been no match for William’s sister.

Reaching the front step, she turned to a nervous-looking Giles.

“So what do we do now?” she asked. “Ring the doorbell?”

The Watcher looked dubious. “I suppose so,” he answered, glancing at Danvers. The tall man shrugged. “Perhaps the best approach is the direct one.” He pressed the button and a melodic chiming could be heard from inside the house.

The three figures waited nervously for several minutes.

Buffy frowned and looked into a window.

“Can’t really see anything because of the drapes,” she muttered. “But there are lights on inside.”

They waited several minutes more.

“Okay, I say we just kinda break the door down,” she suggested. “Now, I’m not really familiar with the laws in this country--me being an out-of-towner and all…but is breaking and entering a crime here?”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Buffy-“

She smirked. “Just thought I’d check before…”

With a leaping kick, Buffy knocked the heavy wooden door onto a wine-colored Persian rug.

* * *

“William,” Emily whispered. She hesitated for a second before pulling back the top of shroud. She let out a small sigh of relief as she gazed down at her brother lying, bare and still, on the stone slab. His hair was the chestnut brown color she had remembered--wavy and a bit unruly. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping.

“William,” she said again, a little louder and with a touch of urgency.

His eyes opened suddenly-a dead man come to life. It took a moment for him to focus. He stared up at his sister, frowning with confusion.

“Brother, I’ve brought you back.”

Spike sat upright and looked around the room. He appeared disoriented and frightened.

Noting the wild look in his eyes, Emily reached over to comfort him. Spike recoiled from her touch and fell from the slab. He then scurried into a corner and crouched down, hugging his knees.

Worried, Emily approached her brother. Had her spell gone wrong? Physically, he looked fine, but was he? She studied the creature huddled in the corner, shivering.

“William, everything’s all-“

A sudden crash from above caused Emily to glance upwards. Her eyes narrowed as she heard muffled voices coming from the main floor.

* * *

Buffy stepped into the foyer and scanned her surroundings. In the middle of the room stood a large, marble pedestal table, which held a Chinese vase filled with white Calla Lilies.

Just beyond was a sweeping staircase with a polished wood banister, gracefully curving upwards with each step. The walls leading up the stairs were lined with portraits. She studied her surroundings: the furniture, the pictures on the wall, each detail…

She turned to Giles, who was now standing next to her. “This is too weird,” she murmured. “Everything’s the same as it was.”

The Watcher stared at a portrait of a young man that was hung near the bottom of the stairs. Although, his hair was a different color, his clothes laughably out-of-character, and the look in his eyes indicated a gentle kindness-it was undeniably Spike. “I think we’re in the right place,” he said softly.

Buffy nodded. ‘Where would she be?’ she asked herself. ‘Where would she do the spell?’ She had to get to Emily first.

“Let’s split up. How about you guys search upstairs,” She said, gesturing to the staircase. “I’ll look around on this floor.”

Giles agreed, then pulled out a small walkie-talkie and contacted the other members of their party. “Um. Team Two, this is Team One. We’re in the house and it looks like we’re in the right place. We’re going to have a look around. I suggest you enter through the front door as it’s already, um, open. Giles out!”

The two men cautiously went upstairs while Buffy walked into the sitting room adjoining the foyer. She quickly searched each room on the first floor, finding nothing. The last room she came upon was the study. It had a masculine feel, with wood paneling, bookcases filled with faded volumes, and a dominating mahogany desk.

Buffy glanced at the desktop and frowned. It seemed strangely bare. She would’ve expected to see papers, pens, or other ‘officey’ things, but the desk was empty except for a large glass paperweight. She attempted to pick up the globe but it wouldn’t budge. Curious, she tried to wiggle it, then pressed on it.

Suddenly, she was startled by a rumbling sound from behind her. She turned and found that a section of the wood paneling had slid open, revealing stone steps leading downward into darkness. She took a deep breath and stepped into the hidden passage.

* * *

Slowly feeling her way, Buffy stumbled down the uneven steps. As she got closer to the bottom, she saw light coming from the chamber below. Hastening, she soon found herself in a room with rough stone walls and a dirt floor.

Her eyes immediately went to the girl standing in the center of the room-Emily.

The Wiccan smirked. “So, if it isn’t the other Slayer,” she said.

“Where’s Faith?”

Emily shrugged. “I had my driver take her to the hospital” Her eyes darted to a lump-like form crouched in the shadows.

“Hospital?” The Slayer frowned. She followed the Witch’s gaze to the corner of the room. Her eyes widened as she saw, for the first time, the man huddled there. “Is it…?” She rushed to his side and knelt down.

“Spike?”

His head jerked upward in response. Squinting, he studied the Slayer’s face. There was glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Looking uncertain, he opened his mouth to speak then looked down.

“Spike, it’s me,” she said softly. Hesitating, Buffy touched his shoulder.

“Oh my God!” she whispered. “His skin, it’s…” She looked up at Emily. “Is he…?”

The vampire stared down at her, expressionless. She nodded.

Chapter 19 - Alive

“Human,” Buffy whispered. Could it be true? She lightly caressed his cheek. It felt warm. His skin, once pale, was now flushed with color-and life. She ran her fingers through his hair, now brown and wavy.

“Yes,” Emily said, her face unreadable. “At least on the surface.”

Buffy’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

“There have been times when the resurrected came back ‘different’ - not a vampire and not a man, but something in between. Some were basically human but had vampire-like powers-heightened senses, strength… Others were just the opposite-vampires, but with no powers.” Emily shrugged. “Right now, it’s impossible to say what William is, exactly. We’ll find out later-after he’s adjusted to being brought back.”

The Slayer turned to Spike, studying him. Could it be possible? Could he be a man, but with supernatural powers-like a Slayer?

‘Like me.’ She touched him again, lightly grazing the skin on his shoulders with her fingertips.

She noticed that he was shivering.

“He’s cold,” she said, quickly glancing around the room. She spotted the discarded shroud near the stone slab and started to rise.

Following her gaze, Emily walked over to the shroud and picked it up. She then handed it to Buffy. “Here,” she said, eyes fixed on her brother.

Buffy wrapped Spike in the cloth and protectively encircled him in her arms. Rocking slightly, she held him close, to warm him. She pressed her cheek against his and savored the feel of his breath on her face. ‘He’s breathing.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Human. Could it really be?’

She knew what he was going through. He was disoriented and confused-as she had been after being resurrected. But he would come around, eventually.

She wondered what would happen when he emerged from his daze.

Would he have a vampire’s strength and heightened senses?

And what if he didn’t? Her fingers curled inward, tightly clutching the cloth.

What if he was just an ordinary man?

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured, blinking back tears. Spike’s shaking had subsided. She hugged him tighter.

She loved him.

And it wasn’t the strength. It wasn’t the darkness. It was the man.

It was the man in him that she’d fallen for…and not the one he’d once been over a century before, but the one he’d eventually become.

She nuzzled her face against his, wetting his cheek with her tears.

“You’re alive. You came back. It doesn’t matter…”

* * *

Standing off to the side, Emily studied the girl sitting on the dirt floor with her brother. The Slayer was now crying softly as she held William in her arms. The vampire recalled her brother once saying that the girl would never love him. Clearly, he had been mistaken.

She turned away, suddenly fearing that William would no longer be a part of her world-that she would be alone again. She exhaled softly and looked up to the ceiling. Her eyes narrowed as she sensed other intruders in her house besides the Slayer.

The Wiccan concentrated, conjuring images of the strangers in her mind: Several men who reminded her of body guards, a nervous-looking witch and an older gentlemen with glasses. The Watchers’ Council had sent them. Emily felt uncertain as she realized that she was no longer a ghost. The truth of her existence was now known.

She had avoided the Council for over a century. Despite her powers, she had always felt uneasy about facing them. In life, the organization had trained and embraced her. She still wanted to believe that she belonged-that she was one of them. But she knew it wasn’t true.

Her brows furrowed. It wouldn’t be long before they stumbled upon the passage-as the Slayer had done.

‘What to do?’ she wondered, glancing about the room.

She looked down at the couple on the floor and got an idea. A hint of a smile crossed her face as she mused about them returning home to America-to Sunnydale. What if she followed them there?

She’d always wanted to visit the Hellmouth, but she’d be much too conspicuous there. No, she would have to find a new home somewhere else-a major city, perhaps. A place where she could easily lose herself.

‘New York?

‘San Francisco?

‘Or maybe…Los Angeles.’ She nodded. ‘Yes. I think it might be a nice change of scenery.’ Her smile broadened. ‘The City of Angels…’

Emily backed into the shadows, whispering in Latin. The darkness enveloped her fading form. Seconds later, disembodied footsteps echoed up the hidden stairwell leading back to the study.

* * *

At a busy hospital several miles away, a young doctor looked at her patient’s slashed wrists and shook her head. The girl looked pale from excessive blood loss. The doctor immediately assumed her to be an attempted suicide.

“Let’s start an IV!” she yelled. “I need four units of O-negative. Let’s do a CBC, PT, PTT and a chem panel.”

Within seconds, the doctor’s orders were being complied with as two nurses attended to the patient. They had just started the IV when the machine monitoring her vitals began to emit a loud, even tone.

The physician looked up to see a flat green line on the screen. “Call a code! Start CPR and get the crash cart! Now!”

One of the nurses began manual compressions on the patient’s sternum. The other rushed out of the room and returned seconds later with the defibrillator, quickly positioning the equipment near the gurney. Within minutes, the room was filled with emergency department staff. The first nurse discontinued CPR and stepped aside as another placed the conducting pads on the patient’s chest.

“Charge 200 Joules!” the doctor ordered, grabbing the paddles and applying them to the girl’s sternum.

“Clear!” She depressed the button on the handle, delivering the shock.

The patient’s body arched then slumped back on the gurney. The doctor glanced at the screen. ‘No change.’

“One milligram epinephrine IV push. Charge 300 Joules!” She said, holding the paddles over the patient.

She brought them down.

“Clear!” The girl’s body jerked upward again and flopped back down. ‘Flat line still.’

“Go to 360. Charge!”

Teeth clenched, she held the paddles in place.

“Clear!”

After the fifth try, her hopes began to fade. She brushed the sweat from her forehead.

‘Okay, one more time.’ She turned to the nurse. “How many minutes since the last epinephrine?”

“Five.”

“All right, three milligrams epi and charge 360!”

The doctor sent another surge of electricity into the young girl’s body. Exhausted, she paused before looking at the screen.

“Doctor!” There was surprise in the nurse’s voice. “Sinus rhythm!”

“I’ve got a femoral pulse,” another nurse announced.

“Check her blood pressure!” the physician yelled.

“Ninety over sixty.”

“Okay, she’s stable, let’s get her to the ICU!”

As the girl was wheeled to the Intensive Care Unit, the doctor hurried on to her next patient, completely unaware of the repercussions of the events that had just occurred in the emergency room that night.

* * *

He felt sick. He felt lost. He felt strange. He felt like…

‘Bloody Hell!’

Sights, smells, sounds, the feel of things against his skin--everything overwhelmed him. Everything was screaming at the loudest of decibels.

Shutting his eyes, he tried to calm himself. He took a deep breath, then another…and another. His respiration soon became even, like the ebb and flow of the tide. In and out, in and out… It calmed him.

He thought of the ocean and of floating in the temperate, salty water. He was surrounded by warmth, slowly rocking him back and forth. He could actually feel the wetness on his face and even taste it.

He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, fully expecting to smell the sea. But it was something sweeter. The fragrance was light and fresh, and faintly familiar. Vanilla. He remembered smelling it before. He inhaled again, deeper. It came to him now, a memory of the scent mixed with sweat on skin.

He listened carefully. What had first sounded like waves, crashing far away, was actually the quiet sobbing of a girl, very near.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw a stream of golden hair. The owner’s face was hidden, pressed against his cheek. He pulled away so he could look at her.

His eyes focused on her-he felt a sudden hint of clarity. He knew who she was. And now, he knew who he was, too.

Spike’s hand emerged from beneath the shroud and tentatively brushed away Buffy’s tears. His fingers lingered on her face, lightly caressing her skin.

“Don’t cry, luv,” he whispered. He stared at her in wonder and tilted his head to one side.

She looked into his face, her eyes anxiously searching, questioning. She attempted a smile.

“Happy tears,” she explained quietly.

His brow furrowed. “What happened to me?” He remembered the darkness, the silence.

“Y…You died,” Buffy replied softly. “Emily brought you back.”

“Died?” He stopped breathing for several seconds, until his body forced him to inhale again. He pressed his fingers against his cheeks, feeling their warmth. He placed his hand over his heart. It was beating.

Buffy watched him as realization spread over his face. She nodded.

He stared back at her, incredulous.

“Oh my God, Buffy.” He took another breath. Slowly, his lips curled upwards. “I’m alive.”