Chapter 1

The paper landed on the table with a thump and Giles looked up from the book he was studying to see the young girl standing there, hands on hips.



“Look - look at it! Page 5 - I told you there was something going on!” she exclaimed.



Giles sighed wearily and picked up the paper.



“Not this again, Dawn,” he started as he turned to the right page. He had been about to say something more when the headline caught his eye.



200% Rise in Stillbirths In Last Year Remains Unexplained



He scanned down the columns before looking back up at the girl, who had a slight smile of triumph on her face - she’d been trying to get him to listen to her for almost a year now. He took a breath.



“Erm, well, I…” he started.



“I was right, wasn’t I?” Dawn said, not able to keep the excitement out of her voice.



“Yes, it certainly looks like you might have been. I just wish you weren’t.”



“Wish she wasn’t right about what?” Willow asked as she entered the room, carrying another pile of books.



“Dawn has a theory - one which I have dismissed as nonsense for a while now - but it looks as if that was a little foolish of me.”



Willow placed her pile down on the desk and turned to the young brunette with a look of curiosity.



“What’s the theory then Dawnie?” she asked.



“First up - don’t call me Dawnie. It was okay when I was like 14, but that was a while ago now.”



“Fine, fine - Dawn. But, the theory?”



“Oh, yeah. I started noticing a while back that reports of stillbirths, miscarriages and deaths during childbirth seemed to be increasing. And not just in third world countries, where you might be able to dismiss that kind of thing for health reasons. It was happening all over the world.



“So, I did a little research into it and guess what? The increase started around the time of that spell you did last year - the one to turn all Potentials into Slayers?



“Anyway, I came up with this theory - I don’t think that the average human female has the strength to carry a slayer foetus to full-term. I don’t know why, but, if you take into account the estimated number of Potentials that were out there and use that to work out the number which would have been born every year, and then compare that figure to the increase in the number of stillbirths, miscarriages and deaths… Well, lets just say that the figure is pretty similar.”



“I believe she’s right,” Giles said with a sigh.



“So, let me get this straight,” Willow said, sitting down at the table. “We turned all the Potentials into Slayers, so there are no more Potentials…”



“Which seems to have had the effect that every foetus that would have been a Potential is now a Slayer,” Dawn supplemented.



“But, a normal woman can’t carry a Slayer foetus to full-term,” Willow continued.



“Right, probably because of the increased strength and needs of a Slayer,” Dawn supposed.



“So, would a Slayer be able to carry a Slayer foetus to full-term?” Willow tried.



“Possibly, but we already know from Nikki that just because a Slayer has a kid it’s not guaranteed to be a Slayer - it doesn’t work like that.”



“But, Nikki had a boy. Maybe if it was a girl it would be guaranteed to be a Slayer,” Willow argued.



“Possibly, I s’pose, but no guarantee. I mean, why would that be the case?” Dawn asked.



“Inherited traits - passed down the female line?” Willow theorised.



“Through the blood?” Dawn asked her, raising an eyebrow.



“Yes…” Willow said haltingly, getting the feeling that Dawn had already followed this one through to it’s conclusion and she was merely waiting to enlighten the others.



“But, if that were the case, wouldn’t it make sense for me to be a Slayer?” Dawn asked.



“But, you’re not Buffy’s daughter - you’re her sister…” Willow stated.



“No, I’m not. Not in the sense you’re talking about. I wasn’t born to my mother. I was made, by the monks. I was made from Buffy’s blood. Therefore I should have inherited whatever Buffy’s blood could pass on. I should have inherited the Slayer. I didn’t, remember.” Willow and Giles were quiet, they couldn’t think of an answer to that one.



“So, what we could possibly be looking at here,” Giles concluded, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “is a situation in which we have an ageing slayer population and where, in less than a century, there may be no slayers at all.”



Silence fell as the three digested this information.



“There must be something that can be done,” Dawn tried hesitantly.



“Yes, well, in my experience, there usually is. It’s just a case of finding it,” Giles replied thoughtfully, frowning slightly.



After a minute he looked up, seemingly surprised to see Dawn still standing there.



“Well - go on then.”



“’Go on then’ what?” she asked, confused.



“This is your theory, your problem - go find your solution,” he explained dismissively. Dawn just stood there, wide-eyed.



“You want me to research this?”



“Yes, of course. You wanted to be a watcher, help me reform the Council. Well, it’s about time you did something on your own - took some responsibility. Anyway, I’m sure Willow will help you if you ask her.”



“Sure I’ll help - come on Dawnie. I mean Dawn.” Willow turned to walk out of the room, but stopped when Dawn didn’t follow.



“You’re really not going to help?” Dawn asked Giles in a slightly incredulous voice.



“No, Dawn, I’m really not going to help. This isn’t exactly an urgent problem and I have far too much work to do on all of this,” he indicated the room about them, but they all knew that he meant much more than that, “to have to worry about something you’re more than capable of coping with on your own.” Dawn looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then nodded, sighed and followed Willow out of the room.



Giles shook his head and winced as he felt another headache coming on. He willed it away and turned back to the books he was going through.



He wondered again about how he’d managed to get stuck behind a desk day in, day out, paper shuffling. It hadn’t started out to be this way - after the destruction of Sunnydale they’d all gravitated towards Cleveland. It had all been a bit of an anticlimax in retrospect. Everyone had been high on their success and had come ready for the fight.



They’d been disappointed.



For some reason, the Hellmouth in Cleveland didn’t seem to have the same pull as the one in Sunnydale had had. Nothing more exciting than the regular vampires and the odd demon - enough that the nightly patrol usually turned up something, but not nearly enough to keep a whole gang of slayers busy.



So, somewhere along the line, the original plan - which had been no more defined than ‘move to Cleveland, defend the Hellmouth’ - had been expanded.



It had started when Giles had found out about the Watcher’s Council Accounts - a Swiss Bank account that had more money in it that they could spend in a whole series of lifetimes.



Naturally, when they found out that funding wasn’t a problem, the ideas started flowing. They’d talked about collecting together the slayers, properly training them, but the idea had never properly been discussed because nobody could come up with a way of paying for it. Suddenly that had no longer been a problem.



It was Andrew who had come up with the idea of a school of sorts six months ago and it had spiralled from there. Then there was the other major project - the restoration and reformation of the Watcher’s Council. Not the most popular idea at first, it had finally been agreed that it would have to return in some form, just not in the way it had existed before - Buffy and Faith alone had sworn that they would see to that.



So, here he was, sitting in an upstairs room of the old mansion they had bought for a base a few months back, going through piles of paperwork. There was far, far too much to do, but the world didn’t seem to be going anywhere and it would all get done.

Chapter 2

“I think I might have found something!” Willow declared, looking up from the large, leather-bound tome she had been studying for the last couple of hours.



Dawn looked up from her pile of papers eagerly.



“What?” she asked, hoping that this didn’t turn out to be yet another false lead. She felt as if they had been researching constantly for the last couple of weeks with absolutely no success. They’d started with the books, then the Internet. Now, having no luck with either, they’d gone back to the beginning and were trolling through the books again.



“Well, I think we’ve been looking in the wrong place. We’ve been looking for a way to allow normal women to carry slayer babies, right?”



“Yeah, I know - how could I ever forget? It’s all I seem to think about these days. I think I’ve learnt more about anatomy and physiology in the past few weeks than the average doctor will ever know. Trust me, I’m never having kids…” Dawn moaned.



“Yeah, yeah - so you keep saying. Where was I? Right - the wrong place. Anyway, so I got a bit side-tracked a while back and picked up the wrong book.” She indicated the one lying in front of her. “It’s a book of prophecy,” she explained, seeing Dawn’s questioning look.



“Prophesy? How’s that meant to help?”



“That’s what I thought, but one caught my eye.”



“Just like that?”



“Just like that.”



“My, how… convenient.”



“I know - if it turns out to be the one thing we’re looking for, it’ll be majorly weird.”



“So, what’s it say?” Dawn asked, moving to look over Willow’s shoulder.



“You’re better at ancient languages than I am - you read it. I’m not sure if I got the translation correct.” She stood up and indicated for Dawn to sit.



“Right, lets see - that symbol means war and that’s, oh, extinction…” Dawn paused and looked up. “Never a good word.”



“Yeah - that’s the one that got my attention as well.”



Dawn read on for a few minutes.



“Got it. It reads:



“In the days following the end wars the lineage of those who defend and protect will be threatened with extinction. From this peril will rise the Guardian, the one who will defend for eternity.



“She shall become from the loins of the last One, she who loves the dark Champion - the one who has won and lost that which was taken from him.



“The two shall unite as one, together for eternity, joined by the Flame who holds the power of dark and light and they shall never again be parted.



“From this bonding shall become the Guardian and she shall possess the strengths of both and the frailties of neither.



“Right. So the only question is, what does it mean?” Dawn asked.



“Well, let’s start at the beginning. We’re obviously in the days following the end wars - really don’t think that there’s any argument there. If there are going to be any more end wars, I really don’t want to be around to see them,” Willow decided.



“Definitely! So, ‘those who defend and protect’ - I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that they’re the slayers.”



“Think that’s also a given. So, we already know that they’re threatened with extinction. But the whole ‘Guardian rising from peril’ thing?” Willow shrugged.



“Ooh - I think I might have it. It says that this Guardian ‘becomes from the loins’ - that suggests baby, right?” Dawn suggested.



“Oh no - please, no more mystical children! They never turn out well!” Willow moaned.



“Looks like there may be no choice - after all, we are looking at a book of prophecy…”



“Yeah, but they never turn out the way you think they will. Okay, okay - back to the whole deciphering thing.



“’Defend for eternity’ - that’s unusual. Suggests an immortal, but how?” Willow looked confused. Dawn reread the page, checking for translation errors.



“It’s definitely the right translation. So, who is the ‘last One’?”



“That should be obvious, though I’m not sure she’ll like it…” Willow hedged.



“Oh no, she’ll freak! Well, you can tell her!” Dawn decided as she realised what Willow was going on about.



“No! No way. Nuh uh. I intend to be out of the house - out of the city when this news is broken to her!” Willow exclaimed, gesturing to emphasise her ‘not going there’ness.



“There is no way in hell I am telling my sister that she has to have a freakin’ baby with some as yet unidentified person!” Dawn screeched.



“Fine. Giles can tell her,” Willow concluded happily.



“Sounds good to me. Right, where were we?”



“The ‘last One’,” Willow provided helpfully.



“Right - the ‘last One’ - Buffy, as all the other slayers since have been plural, never singular. So, next there’s ‘she who loves the dark Champion’ - okay, so, we know ‘she’ is Buffy, so the ‘Champion’ is someone she loves.”



“Remember - ‘dark Champion’,” Willow corrected.



“It makes a difference?”



“Of course. These things always make a difference,” Willow lectured.



“Whatever - you sound like a schoolteacher. So, ‘dark Champion’ - still no further along.”



“Does the next bit help? ‘He who has won and lost that which was taken from him’?”



“Well, considering it’s to do with Buffy and love - I’d say that we’re talking vampire here,” Dawn said thoughtfully.



“That would definitely fit with the whole ‘dark’ thing.” Willow agreed.



“So, vampires…” Dawn thought for a minute then looked up at the redhead. “You think that ‘that which was taken from him’ could mean his soul?”



“That would make sense. Which can mean only one thing - if the soul’s been won and lost it can only mean one particular vampire - Angel.”



“I don’t buy that,” Dawn immediately disagreed.



“Dawn, there’s nothing to buy - he’s fairly unique in that respect.”



“But Buffy doesn’t love him. ‘Loved’, maybe, but not ‘love’ present tense.”



“You sure about that?” Willow asked doubtfully.



“Yes - absolutely positive. We’ve been talking a lot recently - about all the stuff she kept from us over the years. All the stuff she felt she could never talk about before.” *Or most of it* Dawn thought to herself as she recalled that there were some subjects that her sister still wouldn’t approach. “We’ve talked about Angel. She still cares for him - I think she always will. But she’s not in love with him anymore.”



“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? The prophecy doesn’t call for her to be ‘in love’ just for her to ‘love’ - there’s a big difference.” Willow argued.



“I still don’t buy it.”



“Dawn - you have to face the fact that there is no other option.”



“There must be. We have to be missing something. We have to keep looking!” Dawn exclaimed, positive that there must be another option that didn’t condemn her sister to a life with someone she would be less than perfectly happy with.

Chapter 3

The man flinched as the brick flew through his window, pulling the curtain aside slightly and scattering glass across the floor. He hunched further into the corner of the empty room, as far away from the shaft of sunlight as he could get - the rational part of his mind telling him that this was ridiculous behaviour, that there was no threat. But his memories called to him as well. Memories of the burning, searing pain and the overwhelming fear and threat of fiery death.



The kids ran away laughing, their bravery at approaching the dilapidated house that was rumoured to be inhabited by a crazy man firmly established once again.



His was a life of fear; it surrounded him and consumed him. Fear of the world around him, fear of the day and the bright light, which burned in his memory. Fear of the dark night and the dangers he knew that it held. Knew because that was what he had been - one of the dangers in the night, one of the stories mothers used to tell their children to frighten them into behaving.



Except now he was no longer one of the hunters. Somehow he’d become one of the hunted. Prey. And the fear consumed him.



He still didn’t know how it happened, or really even what had happened. His memories had been hazy for a long time, but they were now slowly returning. He could remember all of his life, and unlife, before. He had no other way of describing what he couldn’t explain other than as before. Before all of this, in the days when he was strong, when he had the confidence and poise of the hunter. When he was the best.



Before it had all been taken from him.



He remembered the pain, the glorious, burning pain. There was no other way of describing it. He was fairly sure that if someone had told him that pain, his pain, could be glorious before he felt it, he would have laughed in his face and told him that he was a ‘bloody twit’ or some other phrase like it.



But it had been glorious.



He’d know that he was dying - really dying - but it didn’t seem to matter. It had seemed right somehow. He laughed to himself again as the memory flitted through his head, wishing that he could find the words to describe it better, to explain, even to himself, properly. There was nothing sad about it, no regrets, nothing and he knew that he’d died the way he’d always wanted to - with a laugh of defiance.



He hadn’t expected to wake up.



That had been the first shock. Opening his eyes. Dust shouldn’t have eyes to open, but his had flicked open and taken in the land around him.



The second shock had followed quickly on the heels of the first as he realised the sun was beating down upon his body. That had him up and running with no time to think of who he was or where he was.



It was strange, in retrospect. He didn’t recover his memory of what had gone before until days, maybe weeks, later. But he had been instinctively afraid of the sun that day as he ran, looking desperately for somewhere to hide, to take cover.



There was nowhere. He was in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing but desert around him.



He’d found a blanket blowing in the breeze - a strange thing to find when there was nothing around except sand, dirt and rubble. He’d wrapped it around himself, covering as much of him as possible and started walking.



Eventually he’d found a road - a road that had started in the middle of nowhere - and walked it.



It had taken him a day and a night to reach this tiny town and he’d taken up residence in the abandoned house on the top of the hill.



Memories had returned, slowly, very slowly and he cried when he realised what he had been, what he had done.



Then the memory of her returned and he cried again at everything he’d lost. She was gone and he couldn’t find her - couldn’t even try. How could he when he wouldn’t even leave the house, when he had to be forced by hunger pains to walk to the bottom of the hill to the store there, just to get enough food to live off. When the only time deemed safe enough to venture outside was the few hours between day and night - at dusk.



No, he couldn’t look for her, and he wouldn’t. She hadn’t loved him then and she wouldn’t love him now. Better to forget, to grow old, to be able to finally die and rest in peace.



The man withdrew further into the shadows, face away from the shaft of light, and waited for the night and the horrors it would bring.



*~*~



“Giles? You around anywhere?” Xander called as he walked through the front door of the mansion, arms full. It had been weeks since he and Vi had left on their latest hunt for Slayers and this one had been less fruitful than some of the previous ones, but Giles would want to know what had gone on immediately. The older man appeared out of a door off to one side.



“Xander, you’re back. I didn’t expect you…” he trailed off as he realised what the young, dark haired man was carrying.



“I know what you’re going to say, but I couldn’t just leave her there.” Xander tried to explain and he shifted the sleeping form of the tiny child to try and find a more comfortable way of carrying her.



“Xander,” Giles started in his best ‘I know best’ voice. “We all agreed when we started out on this venture, that we should not take girls of less than 13 - it is not good for them to be separated from their parents at such a young age. This girl is, what, four - five years old at the most?”



“She’s five, and her name’s Emma. And I totally agree with you about not taking little girls away from their parents…” he started.



“And the reason she’s here then is…?”



“I didn’t take her from her parents. We found her - Vi and me - she was all alone, in a park at midnight. Covered in dirt. Apparently, from what I could get out of her, she’s never had a father and her mother had obviously been killed by the vampire she was fending off. She’s strong, Giles, she’d managed to hold her own for quite a while when we came along, but she was tiring quickly. Vi staked the vamp and I got Emma. We couldn’t just leave her there, and she didn’t seem to want to be separated from me for some reason. She’s a Slayer, Giles, we would have picked her up in a few years anyway. She’s got nowhere else to go,” Xander appealed to the older man.



“Well, it’s getting late now. She’ll have to sleep in the room next to yours - it’s empty at the moment. We’ll discuss this in the morning. But I’m not happy about it!” Giles shook his head and retreated back into his study as Xander carried the sleeping child up to her new room. He’d found her, as he’d told Giles, a few days ago now and he’d grown rather attached to her.



Since Anya had died he’d tried to distance himself from the people around him. He’d found her death hard to cope with, after he’d got over the initial shock of not dying himself and he had decided that he never wanted to risk that kind of loss again and withdrew into himself.



But this tiny child had found a crack in his carefully built wall that he hadn’t known existed. She didn’t care that he was withdrawn, in fact she had seemed to find his tenacity easier to cope with, less intimidating than Vi’s open friendliness. The first night after her rescue he’d fallen asleep in the armchair of their motel room, so that Emma could have the second bed to herself, only to awaken in the morning with her tiny form curled up on his lap. She hadn’t left his side since.



He looked down at her as he tucked her into the bed as smiled. She’d definitely wormed her way into his heart and made herself a home there. He walked across the room and flicked the switch to plunge the room into darkness, the only light now coming from the shaft which fell through the door, partially illuminating the bed.



*And I intend to make sure that she has a home here,* he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him and made his way to his own bed and sleep.



*~*~



“Buffy?” Giles spoke into the receiver, the line crackling with static as he tried to listen for any response from the other end of the line.



“Giles?” a voice came faintly through the static.



“Buffy? Is that you? Where are you?” he spoke loudly, over enunciating his words to try and make himself understood over the static.



“Thailand,” came the faint reply.



“Look Buffy, this is no good. I need to speak to you. Can you get to a better line?” Giles asked, getting frustrated. Yet again the girl who he once considered his Slayer had gone jetting off without a word to anyone. He understood her need for freedom, to explore now that she no longer had a duty and a calling hanging over her head - he just wished that she would give them a heads up before disappearing in the middle of the night - which is what she’d done three days ago.



“Fine… will… hotel…maybe… couple of days… bye,” was all he got before the line went dead. Which means he had no other option that to sit and wait for her to call.



“And she won’t be happy to hear what I have to tell her…” he grumbled to himself.



Chapter 4




Xander paused for a minute outside the office and took a deep breath as he gathered his determination before pushing the door open firmly and entering the room.



Giles looked up from his phone call as the younger man entered and motioned for him to take a seat whilst he finished the call.



“Yes, I’m certain we need you back…” he said unwearyingly into the receiver. There was a pause whilst he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. “I know you’ve only just gone, but if you’d actually spoken to us instead of sneaking off in the middle of the night like some naughty teenager…” Giles held the receiver away from his ear and grimaced as the voice at the other end of the line suddenly got louder. “I appreciate the fact that I can’t dictate where you go or what you do. I’m not trying to do that. If you really want to stay then fine - I’ll just recall Faith instead.”



Both Giles and Xander suppressed a laugh as the voice on the other end of the line suddenly went quiet. Giles listened for a minute before saying, “You’ll be home in the morning? Fabulous - I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport. Bye Buffy.” Giles put the phone down and turned to Xander.



“Thought you were gonna lose her there for a moment, but you pulled the Aces out at the last possible minute,” Xander said with a smile. “What do you need her back for, anyway?” Giles sighed and rubbed at his temples.



“You haven’t seen Willow or Dawn yet then?” he asked wearily.



“No - you said last night you wanted to talk to me first thing so, here I am, ready to be talked at!”



“Oh, right, yes, of course - the Emma situation,” Giles began.



“It’s best if she stays here!” Xander declared before Giles could say anything else.



“I’ve given it some thought overnight…”



“But she’s got nowhere else to go!” the younger man continued desperately.



“…and I’ve decided I completely agree with you,” Giles finished patiently.



”But…!” Xander finally processed what Giles had just said. “Oh, right. Thanks.”



“But you will have to take care of her welfare. She will be your sole responsibility - are you sure you realise what you’re taking on? A small girl can be quite a handful under normal circumstances, never mind when she’s a Slayer.”



“We’ll be just fine Giles, I swear,” Xander said with determination. “Now, what’s this I don’t know about Buffy?” he asked, eager to change the subject.



*~*~



“Oh.”



“That’s your only response - oh?” Giles asked incredulously.



“What, you tell me that one of my best friends has been prophesised to have a baby with one of the walking undead - the very one who I happen to loathe above all others at the…” Xander ranted.



“We’re not absolutely positive about that yet…” Giles interjected.



“Oh, well - that’s alright then! Come on! She’s still prophesised to spawn the child of a blood-sucking creature of the night! Did you really expect me to be okay with this?” Xander shouted incredulously



“You think any of us are actually happy about this state of affairs?” Giles asked, exasperation seeping into his tone.



“I know Giles,” Xander said wearily, not wanting to fight about this right now. He paused for a second and looked at the other man. “Has anyone told Buffy yet?”



“No - I didn’t think it was the kind of thing one announced over the phone.”



“Too damned right! She’d probably never come back!” Xander forced out a laugh - he was only half joking.



“Indeed. I think we need to sit down with Willow and Dawn and discuss the best way to tell her.”



“This isn’t going to be easy,” Xander agreed.



*~*~



Dawn chewed on a fingernail nervously as she waited for her sister at the gate. She wasn’t exactly happy to be there, but it had been a trade-off.



It had finally been decided that a delaying tactic was needed - everyone had agreed that hurling the truth at Buffy when she’d been in the air for over 24 hours was not a good idea and she needed a few days to get herself mentally together before she would be anywhere near being in a fit state to handle what they were going to throw at her.



So a plan had been concocted, the general essence of which was that Buffy would be told that Kennedy had been taken ill and Buffy was needed to run the fighting training classes until she recovered.



Kennedy, naturally, didn’t take to the idea too well at first. The girl prided herself on always being fit and well and the idea of even a few days of forced confinement to her room had her almost shouting the place down. It had taken them hours to talk her round.



So, here Dawn was, standing at the gate, waiting to lie to her sister. The trade-off being that if she did this part, Giles would eventually break the news to Buffy about her newfound ‘destiny’. Dawn figured she got the better end of the deal.



The passengers finally started to leave the plane and Dawn scanned the crowd eagerly for some sign of her sister - all apprehension forgotten as she realised how much she had missed her sister. She smiled and waved as she spotted the petite woman towards the back of the throng of people. Buffy waved back and made her way towards Dawn.



“God! I feel like I’ve been stuck on that plane forever!” Buffy declared as she deposited her carry-on bag at her sister’s feet. “Do you know why Giles wanted me back so bad? It better be good ‘cause I abandoned a scuba-diving date with the cutest guy to haul my ass back to this God-forsaken place!”



“And hello to you too!” Dawn said sarcastically before smiling and giving her sister a hug.



“Hiya Dawn. Sorry, just, you know…”



“I know, I know - long flight and all equals grouchy Buffy. Come on, lets go get the rest of your bags and get back to the house.”



“So, you never answered my question - why does Giles want me back?” Buffy asked as she followed her sister through the airport.



“Erm, well, you see…” Dawn took a breath and prayed that Buffy didn’t see through the carefully constructed web of lies she was about to hand her.



“Yes?” Buffy asked, wondering what was up.



“Kennedy got sick and we needed someone to cover the training classes,” Dawn explained hurriedly.



“What? Oh, bloody hell!” Buffy exclaimed loudly before going on, too lost in her tirade to notice the look which her sister shot her at her choice of words. “He dragged me half way round the bloody world because he didn’t have anyone else to teach his classes? That’s just typical. I go away for a few weeks and the world just falls apart! Wasn’t there anyone else who could have filled in?” Dawn breathed a sigh of relief - pissed off Buffy she could handle; at least she seemed to have bought the story.



“No, there was no-one else. You, Kennedy and Faith are the only ones with the training to teach the girls, and you know it. Kennedy’s ill and Faith’s out on research duty - looking for more Slayers. And anyway, she’s never been very good at the whole training thing - she hates teaching and the girls hate her teaching them. It’s a no win situation. So that left you.” Dawn surprised herself with how easily the explanation tripped off her tongue and Buffy nodded.



”I know. Sorry - I didn’t mean to rant at you, it’s just, well. You know how I feel we’ve talked about this so many times, about how I wanted to get away, see some of the world. But every time I announced that I was going, something would come up that I absolutely had to be there.” Buffy shook her head.



“So, that’s why you disappeared in the middle of the night then?” Dawn asked sympathetically.



“Yeah, figured that it was the only way to get away. That maybe, if I was already gone then…” she trailed off. Dawn smiled sadly, suddenly feeling extremely guilty.



“Then we’d all just leave you alone for a bit?” she asked.



“Exactly,” Buffy agreed.



“Sorry.”



“That’s okay, Dawn. It’s not your fault I was called back.” Buffy stopped and gave Dawn a hug, which she returned uncomfortably - very aware that she was the reason her sister was back in the States.



“Come on,” Dawn said, desperate to change the subject. “Let’s get you back - you must be exhausted.”

The corridor was empty as Willow walked down it, her footfalls muffled by the thick carpeting. With the steadily growing number girls living here to walk down an empty corridor was something of a rarity.



She was about halfway down the corridor when she saw the feet. Two small feet clad in new, shiny, pink, patent shoes peeking out from the bottom of one of the full-length, green velvet curtains that hung at each of the many large windows which rang along the length of the corridor, allowing amazing views out over the grounds in which the mansion was set.



Willow smiled and slowed to a stop, looking around her for the dark-haired young man who she was sure could not be far way.



Sure enough, not a minute later, Xander came round the corner at the far end of the corridor, obviously pretending to move stealthily whilst making enough noise to alert the little girl behind the curtain of his approach.



Willow laughed silently as she watched the approach of her friend, and pointed at the little pink shoes decorating the bottom of the curtain. Xander nodded and brought a finger to his lips to indicate that she should stay quiet.



“Now, where could she be?” Xander asked thoughtfully, seemingly to himself, but making sure that he could be heard along the corridor. “I’m sure there’s a little girl around here somewhere.” He walked up to the nearest curtain. “I wonder if she’s behind here?” he asked as he whisked the curtain back with aplomb to reveal the bare window. “Nope. Not here.” He moved further down the corridor, checking every curtain and keeping up a running commentary of his progress, always getting nearer to Willow and the curtain with the little pink feet.



Willow fought back a laugh as the curtain started to giggle quietly and the feet shuffled. She and Xander shared a look and Xander moved to the now laughing curtain and pounced, throwing back the heavy material to reveal the little girl, who shrieked and tried to run off back down the corridor.



She didn’t get far as Xander reached out and grabbed her round the waist before overbalancing, sending them both tumbling to the floor.



“Gotcha!” he exclaimed.



“Can we play again?” Emma asked, still chuckling, wriggling out of his hold.



“No, not at the moment - it’s taken me almost an hour to find you this time! Maybe a bit later, okay Em?” Xander replied, lying on his back on the floor. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he said, gesturing towards the slim redhead who had been standing quietly in the background. He stood up and walked over to Willow. Emma reluctantly joined him, sanding behind him and peeking out from behind his legs.



“You must be Emma,” Willow said, somewhat condescendingly, kneeling down to bring herself down to the level of the little girl. “My name’s Willow.”



Emma’s only response was to bury her face into Xander’s leg. Xander looked at Willow sympathetically and shrugged.



“Aren’t you going to say ‘hello’ Em?” Xander asked kindly, stroking the dark hair that seemed to be trying to attach itself to his leg. Emma shook her head. Willow decided to try again.



“I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since you got her, you know? Do you know how long that is?””



“Two days.” The already quiet response was further muffled by the fact it was spoken into Xander’s leg. Willow smiled at her small triumph in getting even such a little response.



”Did you know that I’ve been Xander’s best friend since we were about your age?” Willow asked.



The only reply was a headshake, but Emma turned her head so she could look at Willow through one eye.



“That’s right, we met on the first day of school. I broke my crayon and was too scared to tell anyone about it - isn’t that silly?” Emma smiled slightly and nodded, head still resting again Xander’s leg. “I know, it was, wasn’t it? And I cried and Xander helped me, and we’ve been best friend’s ever since. All because of a silly little yellow crayon.” Willow smiled encouragingly at Emma, who laughed and loosened her grip on Xander’s trousers. He decided that this was a good time to move and reached down to extricate himself totally from the little girl’s hold, moving to stand behind her.



“You gonna say ‘hello’ to Willow now, Em?” he prompted once again. Emma chewed on her lip nervously for a second and then took a little breath.



”Hello, Willow,” she said quietly. Willow smiled and reached out to brush a stray strand of hair out of the little girl’s eyes.



Emma flinched and disappeared round the back of Xander’s legs. Willow frowned and looked up towards the man questioningly. He nodded and reached down to pick up the little girl, who threw her arms round his neck and buried her head into his shoulder.



“Okay, Em,” Xander choked out. “No need to hang on quite so tight.” Emma relaxed her hold and Xander sighed and turned to Willow. “Her reaction - it’s nothing personal. She doesn’t really like to be touched.” Willow raised her eyebrows at the sight of the little girl buried in her friend’s arms. “I know - I seem to be the exception. But she freaks out whenever anyone else touches her and she won’t tell me what the matter is. There’s so much I don’t know, but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she wants to.” He smiled sadly and stroked Emma’s hair lovingly. Willow joined his smile and decided the best thing to do would be to change the subject.



“Dawn should be back form the airport with Buffy any minute - I was just going to meet them. You wanna come with?” she asked.



“Don’t think so - thought that me and Em would just stay out of the way for a couple of days. Don’t really want to be in the midst of the hell-beast that will be Buff when she works out what’s going on. Just call me a coward.”



“Coward. No, I understand - you’ve got enough to deal with.” She nodded towards Emma. “Fine, you go make yourself scarce. I’ll go see if they’re here yet.”



“Fine, see ya later then,” Xander said before putting Emma down, taking her hand and walking off down the long corridor. Willow watched them go for a minute before taking a determined breath and heading towards the front door to await whatever Buffy’s return would bring.



*~*~



Willow arrived at the front door of the mansion as Dawn’s car pulled up outside. Her heart leapt into her mouth as the passenger door opened and Buffy stepped out - Willow couldn’t help but wonder if Buffy had bought the story Dawn should have told her at the airport.



*Thank Goddess we at least don’t have to worry about Kennedy,* Willow thought to herself as she plastered on a smile and walked to meet the sisters. She had managed to convince Kennedy that being confined to her room for the next few days didn’t have to be all bad - but the battle had been a long one and Willow had to acknowledge that she’d only won the argument by a whisker.



“Hi, Buffy - how was your trip?” Willow asked cheerfully.



“Long. Boring,” Buffy replied, not really in the mood for anything more than monosyllabic answers. *Let them realise that I’m less that thrilled to be back, might make them think twice about doing it again.* Buffy thought grumpily as she walked up the stone steps to the wide front door of the mansion, Dawn trailing a little way behind.



“I take it you want to see Giles?” Willow asked realising that her friend was in no mood for small talk.



“Oh, yeah - I want to bloody well see Giles alright,” Buffy said determinedly. “Where is he - stuck behind that desk as usual?”



”As if he’s ever anywhere else.” Willow said light-heartedly.



“Fine. You know where I’ll be.” Buffy shouted back over her shoulder as she stalked into the house I search of her former Watcher.



Once they were sure that she had really gone, Willow walked over to Dawn.



“Do you think she bought it?” the witch asked nervously.



“Yeah.” Dawn answered, sounding depressed. Willow frowned.



“What’s up? You should sound a little happier.”



“Oh, sorry, my bad - here, let me jump for joy at being allowed to lie to my sister.” Dawn sneered sarcastically.



“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Willow sounded contrite.



“I know, it’s just…”



“Yeah.” The two girls sighed in unison and looked towards the house.



“How do you think she’s doing” Willow asked.



”I’m still worried about her. You heard her just now - she’s still doing it.”



“The language thing?”



“Yeah. I don’t think she even realises she does it, but if she’s stressed it’s all ‘bloody hell’ and ‘bleeding wanker’.” Dawn shook her head.



“She spent a lot of time with him Dawn, it’s not surprising she picked up some of his mannerisms.” Willow explained.



“She never used them before… we came here. And it’s not that simple. Since we moved here we’ve been talking. Buffy’s really opened up. We talked about Angel, about Riley - I mean, she even told me about Parker and that’s not the kind of thing you generally tell your little sister! But she won’t talk about him. You know what she’s like - you mention his name and she…”



“Completely ignores you? Pretends like you never said a word?” Willow supplied.



“Exactly. It’s like she’s trying to pretend that he never existed. But at the same time she’s dropping his favourite lines into conversation and she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it. It’s just not right!” Dawn exclaimed worriedly.



“I really think you’re reading too much into this, Dawn.” Willow disagreed.



“We’ll see,” the younger girl answered before walking into the house.

Chapter 6

The darkness was overpowering, blacker than the blackest night. And it was constricting, pressing down like a great weight, making it hard to draw breath. Thick and cloying the total darkness threatened to overwhelm her.



There had to be a way out - some kind of relief from the never-ending night, she knew that it was here somewhere, but it eluded her, her search hampered by the darkness itself.



Panic welled in the pit of her stomach as she felt herself growing weaker, the exit so near she could feel it, but forever eluding her. She felt her panic grow as unconsciousness loomed and death approached.



*~*~



Buffy awoke with a gasping breath and sat up in bed, sweat dripping from her, the memory of the dream already fading. She knew it was the same dream that had been haunting her for the past few months but yet she still had difficulty recalling any more detail than the fact that she was trapped somewhere dark and couldn’t get out.



She shook off the feeling of dread that, as usual, accompanied the passing of the nightmare. This one didn’t have the clarity of a Slayer dream so she was fairly sure that there was nothing prophetic about it. But she was awake now and there was no chance of her getting back to sleep in the near future - of that she was sure.



“Time for a little midnight snack,” she decided, climbing out of bed and sliding her feet into her slippers.



She padded through the hallways of the mansion, lit only by the light of the moon, which was streaming in through the large windows, and headed for the kitchens. There was always leftover food in the fridges and she was bound to be able to come up with something to eat without too much effort.



The kitchens were dark when she entered and she didn’t bother to switch on the lights. She padded over to the large refrigerator and opened the door, the beam from the interior bathing her face in light and spilling out behind her to illuminate the room.



She smiled as she caught sight of some leftover pizza and grabbed herself a slice before turning, closing the fridge door behind her.



It was then that she realised that she wasn’t alone in the kitchen. There, sat at the table in the centre of the room was another girl, also tucking into a slice of pizza. The girl looked up and Buffy frowned.



“Kennedy,” she said simply, raising an eyebrow.



“Oh, er, hi?” Kennedy answered hopefully.



“Feeling better are we?” Buffy asked cynically as she realised that this girl definitely had none of the signs of the terrible flu that both her sister and Giles had described to her that morning.



“Better? Oh, yes, much, much better - it’s amazing!” Kennedy agreed enthusiastically.



“Okay! I want to know what the hell is going on and I want to know right now!” Buffy declared determinedly.



“Hey, don’t get mad at me! This wasn’t exactly my idea you know!” Kennedy shouted back. Buffy bit back a retort and turned on her heel, marching out of the kitchen.



*Oh, I can believe that this wasn’t Kennedy’s idea, but I bet I know whose idea it was!*



*~*~



The hunger gnawed at his stomach. It felt like something was eating away at him from the inside and he couldn’t stand it any longer.



It had been three days since he had eaten, three long, lonely days and he wondered if he could stand the suffering any longer, if he had the strength to simply curl up into a ball and lie there until the hunger killed him and freed him from this existence.



But he knew that he could never let that happen - his survival instinct was too strong.



He looked towards the window. Heavy drapes covered the majority of the panes, but enough was left to show a murky light filtering through into the bare, dusty room. Dusk. If he was going to eat at any time during the next day he would have to brave the outdoors now. If he left it much longer it would be dark.



His stomach growled in protest as he contemplated another day without food and he hauled himself to him feet and went in search of enough money to buy the bare minimum he would need to see him through the next week.



*~*~



Angel grumbled to himself as he reached the city limits of the previously unheard of town in the middle of the Californian desert.



He wondered once again what he was doing here. He had no idea what was so important - why he needed to be here. But that wasn’t the point - he had been told that he needed to be here and so here he was. He could only assume that the reason for him wasting his valuable time in the arse-end of nowhere would make itself apparent in the near future.



He pulled up outside the town’s only store and sat at the wheel of his car, fingers tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel as he waited for the sun to fall low enough in the sky for him to safely leave the confines of the vehicle.



His eyes idly scanned the people who walked past outside, never really seeing them, just watching for want of some other occupation.



He wasn’t really sure what it was about the man who passed directly in front of him that caught his attention, but suddenly his head snapped up and his eyes were fixed intently on the figure hurrying into the store.



Angel checked the position of the sun and decided that it was low enough for him to be able to risk it, so he opened his door and dashed towards the store entrance, intent on following the man.



He tailed his discreetly round the store, trying to pinpoint what it was about the dishevelled creature that held his interest. The man was of a medium height and looked to be skinny under the almost ragged clothes he was wearing. His hair was brown and curly and looked as though it hadn’t been washed in months. Angel caught sight of the man’s face once and saw that the majority of it was covered in a matted beard - this was someone who didn’t list personal hygiene high on their list of ‘important things to do on a regular basis’.



Angel’s natural predator’s way of looking at things noted the man’s posture - the way he walked with his shoulders hunched and his back curved and the way he would never make eye contact with others practically screamed ‘fear’.



But, despite all of this, there was something about the man that called to the vampire - something almost familiar that Angel couldn’t put a finger on.



He followed the man, making sure to remain out of sight, until he left the store and started back up the hill towards the desolate and abandoned house at its summit. Angel followed close behind, hairs rising at the back of his neck as he wondered where this would all lead.



He watched as the man entered the house and then slowly walked up to the door. He checked the front porch - the house was practically falling down, there was no way anyone would live here unless they had nowhere else to go.



He tried the front door, which opened without the need for force. Angel checked the locks - the door had been forced at some time in the past. All good signs. He decided to try it and was only mildly surprised as he walked over the threshold without the need for an invitation.



He wandered quietly through the house, encountering empty room after empty room. No sign of the man who had entered the house only minutes before him.



He finally found the figure in what had probably once been a library, curled up in a corner, ravenously wolfing down the cold and congealed contents of a tin of spaghetti. Angel grimaced in disgust at the sight. Nobody should live like this and the place simply stank.



He stood there for a moment in the shadow of the doorway before the man in the corner realised he was there. The man looked up, locking eye contact with the dark haired vampire.



The reaction was instantaneous.



The man cowered further into the corner, tin falling forgotten from his hands as he lifted his arms up around his face in an effort to protect himself from whatever had came for him.



For Angel, the reaction was somewhat different. He drew in an unneeded breath as the man’s eyes met his. In that instant he knew what had seemed so familiar about the man. One look at the intense blue gaze was all he needed.



“Spike?” he asked, disbelievingly.

Chapter 7

The door to the bedroom slammed against the wall and the force nearly ripped it off its hinges. It was definitely enough to shake the occupant of the bed on the far side of the room out of his sleep.





Giles sat up, bleary eyed and peered through the darkness at the shadowy outline of the figure who was standing in the doorway. He frowned. “Buffy? Is that you? Have you any idea what the time is? It’s the middle of the night!”





“Yeah, I know.” She shrugged and walked into the room, flipping on the overhead lights and making the older man wince at the sudden bright light. *Good,* she thought. *Let him be uncomfortable.* She positioned herself at the far end of the bed and looked at him, an interested expression on her face. “The thing is, I couldn’t sleep,” she explained reasonably.





“So, you decided the rest of us wouldn’t sleep either, is that it?” Giles grumbled.





“No, actually, I decided that a midnight snack might help. So I went to the kitchens. And guess what I found there?”





“I have no idea. But obviously you think it’s important, so why don’t you just tell me and then I could possibly get back to sleep.”





“No, no - I want you to guess,” she insisted.





“Buffy, for goodness sake! It’s 4am, I have a full day tomorrow - or should I say today - and I really don’t have time for your silly, childish games. Now, if it’s so important that you feel the need to wake me in the middle of the night then just bloody well tell me and stop pussy-footing around!” Giles shouted.





“You wanna tell me what the hell a perfectly healthy Kennedy was doing sitting in the kitchen eating pizza then?” she asked coldly, arms folded tightly across her chest, one foot tapping on the floor. She tilted her hand to one side and looked at him; interested to hear what explanation he would come up with.





“Kennedy? Oh dear.” Giles sighed in defeat. There was no way he was going to even try to lie to his Slayer now.





“Yes, Giles. Oh dear,” she responded calmly. “Now tell me what the bloody hell is going on here. I want to know and I want to know right now!” she shouted, suddenly losing her cool.





“Alright Buffy, I’ll tell you, just calm down - there’s no need to wake up the rest of the house.” Giles tried to calm the girl down as he got out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown.





“Too late for that,” Dawn yawned as she padded into the room. “I heard shouting - what’s going on?” She looked from a harassed Giles to a seriously pissed off looking Buffy and a sinking feeling appeared in the pit of her stomach.





“Go back to bed, Dawn - this doesn’t concern you.” Buffy flashed her sister a dismissive glance and Dawn looked to Giles questioningly.





“Actually, Buffy, this does concern Dawn,” Giles interrupted. Buffy looked at him, not understanding what he was getting at and he sighed. “I think we all need to go and talk about this. Dawn, will you go and wake Willow and meet us in the living room please.”





Dawn nodded and disappeared out of the door, suddenly realising what must have happened. The only thing she didn’t know was how her sister had found out.





“What’s going on Giles?” Buffy asked, suddenly worried.





“Look, I’ll tell you, but can we wait for Willow and Dawn? It’ll make more sense that way?”





“Giles…” Buffy started warningly.





“Please, just a few more minutes. Come on - lets go down stairs, I’ll make some coffee and then we’ll tell you everything.”





Buffy paused for a minute, then sighed and nodded her consent before following him out of the room.





*~*~





Dawn sipped nervously at her coffee, trying to make herself as small and insignificant as possible, but she knew that it would be no good - she knew that Giles would expect her to explain what was going on sooner or later. She curled further into her seat and closed her eyes regressing back to the childish hope that if she couldn’t see them they wouldn’t notice her.





Willow sat on the other side of the room, perched right on the edge of her chair, nervously playing with the fringe of the large woollen shawl she had thrown on over her pyjamas when Dawn had woken her a few minutes ago. The news that Buffy seemed to have found out that they were lying to her had woken her quickly enough. She and Dawn had met Kennedy in the hall on the way down here who had given a hurried explanation of what had happened in the kitchen before disappearing off. Willow was fuming at the girl, who had taken the opinion that none of this was her fault and it was a stupid plan anyway.





*She just can’t even do the simplest of things when it involves doing something she doesn’t like. That girl really is a spoilt brat. She and I are going to have to have a very long talk in the near future…* Willow thought as she twisted the long black strands of the fringe around a finger before letting them go and starting again. This was not going to be fun.





Giles stood at the fireplace, leaning on the mantelshelf, cleaning his glasses. Not that they were dirty, but it gave him something to do and whilst he was busy he didn’t have to be facing his Slayer.





Buffy paced. Back and forth, up and down. Not looking at any of the other figures in the room she walked, trying to calm herself down enough to listen to what they had to say. This was worse than she thought - she’d originally imagined that this was all Giles’ doing, but now it appeared that her best friend and her sister were involved as well. What could they have to tell her that required subterfuge enough that so many people seemed to be involved? She tried to quash her rising panic, but the only way to do that seemed to be with anger. Anger that she could feel clawing its way up from under her diaphragm, pushing its way up through her chest to strangle her heart and lungs, making it hard to breath, hard to cope. She pushed it back down, but that only allowed the panic to rise instead. She couldn’t do this - she had to know.





Buffy suddenly sat down on one of the many chairs that were scattered around the room and let her head drop forward into her hands. The other three looked at her, surprised by this sudden stillness and waited, hardly daring to breath, to see what would come next.





Buffy raised her hand from her hands and looked around the room. She suddenly felt tired of it all - she suddenly felt very old. But she knew that this was her life whether she liked it or not - that nothing would ever change that and she had to face up to it.





“So, what’s going on?” she asked wearily.





“Well, erm…” Giles started, not knowing where to begin.





“It’s all my fault.” The small, but resolute, voice cut through Giles’ stammering and Buffy looked towards where her sister had finally uncurled herself from her seat and was now sitting bolt upright, ready to face her sister with the truth, however hard that might be.





“Fault? Dawn, I’d hardly say…” Giles began.





“Well, I’m the reason we’re all sitting here right now, aren’t I? I’d say fault is as good a word as any.” Dawn cut the older man off determinedly.





“Not…”





“Shut up Giles,” Dawn said dismissively and with such authority that Giles found himself doing just that before he had time to actually register what she’d just said.





Dawn turned to her sister. “I had this theory you see…”





*~*~





“Spike?” Angel asked again, more softly this time. The man on the floor whimpered softly and tried to push himself further back into the corner. Angel took a step forward, bringing himself out of the shadowy doorway and into the dull light of the room. He bent down slightly, as though he was talking to a small child or a beaten puppy. “That is you, isn’t it? I know it is, just like you know it’s me.” The figure had stopped whimpering the moment Angel had left the shadows, but was still curled up in a ball in the corner.





“Spike? Talk to me,” Angel encouraged. He gave no thought to the customary animosity and hatred that had grown up between the pair over the last century as the familial bond kicked in and he felt the overwhelming need to know what had happened to his grandchilde and to help him with, well, whatever it was that had happened.





“’s dead.” The voice was so quiet that at first Angel wondered if he hadn’t imagined it.





Angel frowned in confusion. “What?”





The figure on the floor lifted his head slightly. “He’s dead - gone,” he croaked, the gravely tone of his voice making it clear that he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time.





“What?” Angel was still confused.





“Spike. He’s dead, gone,” the voice was clearer now, the logistics of speaking returning to the creature on the floor who had been silent for so long that he thought he had forgotten how to talk.





“But, I, you. No, you’re Spike - I know you are!” Angel spluttered as he reached the figure.





That’s when he heard it and that small sound stopped him in his tracks.





Thump.

Thump.

Thump.





He frowned and then his nostrils flared slightly as the smell hit him. Under the almost overwhelming stench of the unwashed figure on the floor there was that smell, the one he could have caught over anything.





The smell of blood. Fresh blood. He could sense it flowing through the veins of the figure in front of him, being pushed round by the beating of a living heart.





Angel took a step back before turning and leaving the room, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket as he went. He pressed a number and waited impatiently until it connected.





“Hi, it’s me…





“Yeah, got here fine…





“Not quite what I expected…





“No, don’t need backup - I can handle this one, but I’m gonna be here a bit longer than I thought…





“Coupla days, maybe a week. Not sure…





“I’d rather not say. It’s a… family matter.





“Yes, I’m sure I’ll be fine…





“Of course I’ll check in…





“I have to go now.”





Angel shut off the phone and walked back into the room. He looked around and shivered in disgust at the state of it - there was at least an inch of dust on every surface and he knew that those were rat droppings on the floor; the scratching behind the walls confirmed it. The room was bare of furniture and he wrinkled his nose before crouching down beside the shivering shape.





*But where to begin?* he thought to himself.





“Does this place have any water?” he asked, pushing back the multitude of questions that flooded into his mind as he looked at the shape of his grandchilde. *Well, former grandchilde now I guess*





The figure looked up at his and Angel saw a little of the former spark glint in his eyes for a second. “What do you think?” was his only response.





“That’ll be a ‘no’ then.” Angel said grimly before standing abruptly. “Come on, we’re getting out of here. We’re checking into a motel - we have to do something about you.” He walked towards the door, fully expecting to be obeyed.





“No.”





Angel stopped and turned - the word had been said with such force, the first definite thing to come out of the man’s mouth all night. It was completely unexpected.





“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked in disbelief.





The man lifted his head, determination glinting out of his cerulean eyes, an act only betrayed by the fretful shaking of his body. “I mean ‘no’. I’m not going with you. I have to stay here.”





“Here? Why?” Angel just couldn’t understand why anyone would voluntarily stay in a dump like this, not if they had any alternative. And here he was, offering Spike an alternative and he was being turned down.





“It’s not safe out there. It’s dark,” Spike explained.





“Since when were you afraid of the dark?”





Spike looked down at his feet before taking a deep breath and looking up at the tall, dark vampire in front of him. “Since I became this.” he gestured down at himself. “Since things like you could hurt me.”





Angel tried not to wince at the use of the word ‘things’. *Guess I should be used to it by now.* “Spike, being here’s not going to protect you,” Angel tried to reason with him.





“My place, they can’t come in.”





“Yes, they can. I came in, didn’t I? This isn’t your place, Spike. Now come on.” Angel was starting to lose patience with the dishevelled, scared, but surprisingly stubborn man.





“No!”





*~*~





An hour later Angel opened the door to the motel room and flipped on the light. He walked inside and dumped his bags on the nearest bed.





A sullen Spike followed him in, before closing and locking the door securely behind them. Angel watched as the smaller man methodically checked that all of the windows were securely fastened and obsessively closed the curtains so that when the sun rose, not even the slightest ray would enter the room.





“Right, you go and have a shower - a long one. You’re filthy. When you’ve done that we’re gonna have to do something about your hair. And you will have a shave!” Angel carried the bags from the store into what passed for a kitchen towards the back of the room. “Then you can eat something - you’re all skin and bones.”





“You sound like my mother. Since when did you bloody care, anyway - you hate me.” In the hour that it had taken Angel to convince Spike to come with him, Spike had recovered most of his former antagonistic qualities and part of Angel was cursing whatever joke had sent him up here in the first place.





“For your information, it’s you that hates me. I don’t hate you, I just don’t like you,” Angel grumbled as he pulled a warmed cup of blood from the microwave and took a sip. “Now, shower - you stink.”





Spike scowled at the older vampire before grabbing the bag of newly bought toiletries and disappearing into the bathroom.





He reappeared some time later looking slightly more presentable. His hair was still long - reaching almost down to his shoulders - and, now that it was clean, Angel could see that it was a dark blonde colour - *The way it used to be,* he thought - and that it fell in soft waves.





The beard had disappeared to, revealing the chiselled lines that Angel remembered so well, lines that were thrown into sharp relief by his current emaciated state.





“Eat,” Angel commanded, thrusting a plate of food beneath Spike’s nose. “Eat - and then I want answers from you.”





There was no way that he could wait much longer without knowing what the hell was going on.



 

Next