She stumbles as we separate. I'm holding Zara, but I reach out one arm to steady her. She clings to me, and I can feel tremors running through her body. She's exhausted. Stupid pillock! Why didn't I see that earlier? She's just had a baby, she should be tucked up somewhere with her feet up. Instead, she's been on the run since minutes after Zara was born.

There were two women waiting for us when we arrived. Jenna spoke to them quietly for a few seconds, and now one of them is helping us out of the room. She's is talking, her voice gentle and comforting.

"Let's get you off to bed, my dears. Poor thing, you must be exhausted. We've got a room organised for you upstairs for a day or two. When the cottage is ready you can move in there, but you'll be comfortable enough here for now. We've got some baby things ready, just hope it's enough. It's mainly second hand, I'm afraid, there's just not the shops around here to get things locally, but everything's clean. Most of it belonged to my grandchildren, but they grow out of things so fast. Once you're feeling up to it, I dare say you'll enjoy a day in Plymouth or Exeter to buy what you want."

Her words seem to be what Buffy needs to hear, easing her fear, and I'm grateful. We climb a huge, ornate staircase, taking it slowly. Zara sleeps contentedly in my arms. I smile as I look at her little face. My daughter. I've got to say the words every so often or it's as though it won't be true any more.

We reach the top of the staircase, and walk past doors until we come to one which looks identical to the others. Our guide opens it, and shows us into a large bedroom. It's comfortably furnished, with a large bed, a couple of chests of drawers and a wardrobe. There're also a couple of large chairs, and on the other side of the bed, there's a small cot. As I think the word, I realise that Buffy'll call it a crib, or some such thing. To me, it's a cot - a baby's bed with bars around it.

"There's a bathroom through that door," she explains, pointing. "And we've left nappies and so on. The top drawer there has some clothes, enough to keep you going for a while."

Buffy is looking around the room. She looks totally bewildered. I place Zara in the cot, covering her in the duvet which is covered in what look like pink ponies. She doesn't stir. Our guide turns her attention to me.

"Get her to bed. She'll be better after some sleep."

She turns away from me to close the curtains. It's daylight outside, and I'm guessing it's more like getting-up time than anything else, but she's right. I need sleep, so Buffy must be ready to fall over.

With one, last concerned look at us, our guide leaves, closing the door after her. I take a look in one of the drawers, and find they've left clothes for us as well as Zara. I find a night gown - not exactly Buffy's usual style, but that's not important. I bring it to her, and suggest she gets ready for bed. She nods, and goes into the bathroom.

While she's gone, I've change too, pulling on a pair of sweats that're a couple of sizes too big, but I don't care. When Buffy emerges, she looks as though she doesn't know what to do, totally confused by her whereabouts, so I just take over, pulling her over towards the bed, and then pushing her into it. I pull the duvet over her, then go round to the other side and climb in beside her.

I pull her into my arms, and kiss her hair. She hasn't said a word since we arrived, and she's already asleep. I allow myself to drift off too, holding her in my arms.

Crying. There's a baby crying somewhere, and I wish someone'd stop it. I know Buffy needs to sleep, hasn't been asleep for nearly long enough. And she's not the only one. I try to filter it out, but it doesn't work, and against my will, I'm pulled to total consciousness.

Wait a minute. Baby. That should mean something. I'm out of bed before I can even form the words in my mind. It's Zara, and she's crying. Why didn't I realise before? Poor mite's breaking her heart, and I just wanted to sleep.

I glance at Buffy, but she's still out of it. I pick Zara up, but it's pretty obvious why she's so miserable. I carry her into the bathroom, hoping that I can find what I need.

I'm relieved to find a pack of disposable nappies, and some wipes. I'm less happy to note that the sleep suit will also need changing. I peel off the soiled clothing, and open the nappy with distinct feelings of trepidation. I try to persuade myself that it's not as bad as it looks. It's mainly red blood cells anyway, and as an ex-vampire, that's not something that should squick me out, but it's not working.

I clean her up, wondering if there're enough wipes in the pack to do it properly. Obviously whoever decided how big to make the pack knows more than I do, because I do it with plenty to spare. When she's clean, I put on a fresh nappy. I know Buffy's going to call it a diaper, but we're in England now, so I feel oddly justified.

She stopped crying as soon as I started cleaning her up, and now she's lying quite happily on the changing mat on the floor. I leave her there while I wash my hands, then I pick her up, holding her close to me as I go in search of clean clothes for her. I find them, then spend an inordinate amount of time getting four wriggling limbs into the correct openings. The amount of strength I need to use seems inappropriate for such a small child, but it's the only way. I work on the assumption that I've never heard of a baby being injured by a baby-gro before.

By the time I've finished, she's getting grizzly again, and I assume she's hungry. Well, that's something I personally can't do anything about right now, so I take her over to the bed. I place her in the middle, close to her mother, and she turns her head immediately towards Buffy. I place a hand on Buffy's shoulder and shake her gently.

"Bit's hungry, love," I whisper, kissing her cheek softly. Her eyes flutter open, and she glances down to where Zara is desperately rooting for something to put in her mouth. Buffy rouses enough to unbutton her night-dress and get Zara started, then seems to drift off while the feast continues. I prop myself on one elbow beside them and just watch. I've never seen such a beautiful sight. I can't tear my eyes off them, one sleeping, the other feeding greedily, then slowing, becoming sleepy too. I'm waiting for Zara to finish so I can put her back into her own bed, but my eyes are closing too.

I never thought the Big Bad would run away. But, that was when I only had to worry about myself. Now, I'll do anything I have to to keep my girls safe. We've no home, no friends around, and everything is liable to fall around our ears, but the contentment I feel right now is like nothing I've ever experienced. They're mine. Both of them, both of my girls. I've loved them for so long, never believing they would ever care for me, and to watch them like this is just the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. As Big Bads go, I'm pathetic, I know it. But if I ever get my hands on whoever's done this to us, they'll find out just how bad I can be.

I waken slowly, feeling much better. My daughter is sleeping next to me, and her father is lying on her other side, his arm curled around her, his eyes closed as he sleeps. I study the two faces, and I'm surprised at how alike they are. Spike always looks younger when he's asleep, when he's not trying to project an image. His face right now is boyish, innocent. I wish their eyes were open so I could compare the colours, but even as I think that, I know it's too soon to know. Zara's still has the greyish tone of new-born babies, and, try as I might, I can't be sure that Dawn's shade of blue was exactly like Spike's.

I wonder that I never noticed, but then, when I was able to look at Dawn's eyes, I had no idea of her relationship to Spike. I assumed she took her colouring from my father. I never really noticed her eyes as being the strong blue that Spike has, although her darker hair colour could be responsible for that. Of course, Spike's natural colour is a lot darker too.

I have a vague memory of feeding Zara a couple of times since I went to bed. I didn't hear her crying, didn't get up to change her, but Spike delivered her to me, and all I had to do was lie here and let her feed.

As I'm watching them, Spike's eyes twitch, and I know he's wakening. I watch him, as the slight tremor moves throughout his body, almost as if he's being brought back to life one muscle group at a time. His eyes open at last, and when they focus, he smiles at me. It's a gentle, lazy, loving smile, and I wonder at it. It's so unlike the face he wants to project to the world, yet it's so much closer to his real self than anything else.

"Mornin', Pet," he mutters.

"Hey," I answer.

"You feeling better?"

I think about that, trying to remember how I felt before I slept. The immediate past seems like it happened to someone else. Everything after saying goodbye to the others seems rather vague.

"Yeah, I think so."

We're interrupted by a growl, and I realise it's my stomach complaining about a lack of food. I giggle at that, and Spike joins in too.

"What d'you say I go and see if I can find some food?" he offers.

I agree enthusiastically.

He gets out of bed, peels off his sweats and pulls on the jeans and t-shirt he discarded earlier. And then I'm alone with my daughter.

It occurs to me that this is the first time I've been alone with her. I know Spike'll be back soon, but the idea of being alone with this baby is strangely terrifying. Still, as long as she's asleep, it should be ok.

No sooner do I think that, than she starts to stir, fretting slightly as she wakens. I'm gripped with panic, but I force it down. In no time, she's fully awake and making her displeasure known to the world.

My first reaction is to feed her, but when I go to lift her, I consider the possibility that she might need a change of diaper. I did that a couple of times before I slept, but then I always had someone else around.

I pull myself out of the bed, noticing for the first time the peachy-coloured night-gown and wince. Peach and Buffy are unmixy things.

I glance around the room, trying to remember which door is the bathroom. I remember which one Spike used, so I assume it's the other. I lift my daughter, and take her to the door.

Ok, so that was a good guess, or is that memory? There's a changing mat on the floor, and a pack of diapers open beside it. Spike's obviously been busy while I slept.

I manage the change more easily than I'd have thought, pulling the sleeper back on when I've finished. She's making her displeasure pretty obvious by now, so I pick her up and go back to the bedroom. I settle myself in one of the chairs, and let her feed.

It's surprisingly relaxing sitting like this. As soon as she knows there's food available, Zara becomes quiet, concentrating on her meal.

Spike returns a short while later, carrying a tray. He puts it on the chest, then stands in front of it arranging something. He turns a moment later, and brings me a glass of orange juice and a plate with what looks like toast.

"I was offered cooked, but I said we'd make do with toast just now. She made enough for a small army, so there's plenty. I've buttered it for now, wasn't sure if you'd want marmalade."

I suspect that I'd eat it if he offered me buttered cardboard, and the orange juice is welcome too.

"I got tea, wasn't sure how you'd feel about instant coffee," he adds, "but that can wait until Zara's finished."

Zara does finish pretty soon, and Spike takes her from me, intending to put her into the crib. She has other ideas, and wails as soon as she's put down. Spike immediately picks her up again, rocking her and talking softly. As soon as she's in his arms, she quietens, apparently staring at him. I take the opportunity to visit the tray for myself, pouring myself a cup of tea, and spreading some more toast with the marmalade. It's good, but I feel like a hot meal would have been good too.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"About fivish," he answers. "We pretty well slept through the day."

He walks to the window, and pulls open the curtain. I get up and walk towards him as he stands looking out. It's a beautiful view, gardens close to the house giving way to a huge expanse of green. If there's a road nearby, I can't see it.

"Jenna's gone," he tells me.

I look at him, surprised.

"She went right back, thought it wouldn't do for her to disappear along with us in case it gave a hint to where we are."

It makes sense, but I'm saddened too. I wasn't particularly close to Jenna, but it now seems that I'm alone in a strange country, and the only familiar faces are Spike and Zara. And then I realise that wherever I am, that's actually all I need.

"They're pretty keen to talk to you," he adds. "And they're all desperate to see the Bit."

"They?"

"Well, I only spoke to one, but she seemed to be speaking for others. I chatted a bit while the toast was doing. The coven's got a pretty big membership as these things go, but most of them live around the country. There're only a few live here all the time."

"It's a huge house," I observe, remembering the view from the window, and the other windows I saw.

"That it is, Pet. Used to be the local manor house. One of the previous ladies of the manor got involved with the local coven, and she left the house to them when she died. I get the feeling there's money that goes with it too, certainly didn’t get the feeling that they're having to count the pennies."

We're interrupted then by a knock at the door, and Spike goes to answer as I go to find something to put on top of the night-gown. I find a wrap which is a perfect match for the night-gown. I grimace at the shade. Still….

I turn around to find that Spike's been waiting until I was 'decent' before inviting our 'guest' in. It's the woman I vaguely remember from last night, and she's also carrying a tray.

"He said toast'd be fine, but he's not eating for two," she says by way of explanation.

This second tray has two large plates each with bacon, sausage, eggs, fried bread, and something, black and crumbly that I don't recognise. The smell hits me, and I'm immediately famished again.

"I'll leave you to enjoy it. Feel free to come downstairs when you're ready."

I fall on the plate of food, starting with a mouthful of sausage.

"What's that?" I ask, trying not to punctuate the words with a spray of meat.

"The black stuff? It's called black pudding. It's made from blood and fillers and such. Not too keen on it myself, or at least I wasn't when I was alive. Of course, after that, I preferred my blood fresh."

I know that there'd have been a time when I'd have had problems with the idea of something made mainly from blood, but it seems strangely appetising now. I cut off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. It's not too bad, although it doesn't actually taste a lot like blood. I carry on with my food, watching with amusement as Spike tries to eat one-handed, Zara still awake in his arms.

When we've finished, I check out the clothes we've been left. It's a mixture of sweats and t-shirts, and I just know the pants are going to be too long. I suspect that a shopping trip would be a good idea, but then I realise I've no idea whether or not we've got any money.

I leave father and daughter to their mutual admiration, and go to investigate the bathroom. There's a shower over the old-style bath, and I enjoy a refreshing shower before pulling on some borrowed clothes.

Once back in the bedroom, I find Spike chatting to Zara. It's interesting to note that he's not actually using a form of 'baby talk', but using his normal voice. It looks like he's going round the room introducing her to the various things he can see, describing the bed and other things. I can't stop myself smiling.

He spots me watching him, and carries on with what he's doing, but when he's finished, he approaches me.

"And this is your mum. Don't forget, you're in England now, and the correct word is mum. You're going to be spending a lot of time with her for a while, because she's carrying around your food supply. But then, you already know that, don't you?"

Having finished that explanation, he addresses me.

"Feel like going downstairs?"

"Yeah," I agree. Apart from the fact that it'd be only polite, I admit that I'm quite interested to meet the people who have been kind enough to offer us sanctuary.

I count the doors between ours and the staircase, unsure that I'll be able to find my way back otherwise. Spike's still carrying Zara and I feel a twinge of jealousy. It seems as though he's spent more time with her than I have. Then again, I needed to sleep. I don't ever remember being so tired as I was.

We're met in the hallway by the same woman who brought the breakfast.

"Hello, my dears. I hope you slept well."

"Yes, thanks, very well," I manage.

"Welcome to my home."

She waves her arm around the ample proportions of the hallway as she speaks.

"I know, it's a bit grand, but it's home for me. Come into the main lounge, and we'll let you take the weight off your feet for a while."

She leads us into a large room towards the front of the house. The decoration is appropriate to the room, without being too ostentatious. The chair, when I sit down, is surprisingly comfortable.

"It's time I introduced myself," our host offers. "My name is Morwenna, and I already know you're Buffy, Spike and Zara. As you can see, Jenna has been keeping us informed of everything that's been happening. The coven is based here, but its members are spread around the country, while Jenna, of course, is currently in California. This wing is the living quarters of the coven members themselves. The north wing is really quite a separate thing altogether. It's there your friend Willow spent some time last year. We offer training to many who think they have a gift, but these days, very few have any real talent. Your friend, of course, is an exception."

I'm not sure what to say, how much she knows, or needs to know. It seems she's happy to talk for all of us.

"And this is the little one. So small to have such a fate. May I hold her?"

For a second, I think Spike is going to refuse, but then he pulls his over-protective instinct back, and offers up the baby. Morwenna coos and clucks over Zara, obviously just loving the fact of holding a tiny baby.

"There's a midwife in the village," she tells us. "She's my daughter-in-law, and I can promise that she's completely to be trusted. If you'd like, I can ask her to give the baby the usual checks. I think they normally have a midwife visit daily for the first few days, just to make sure everything's normal. Not that I don't think it is, but it might put your mind at rest."

"Thanks," I manage, still completely bemused.

"The cottage should be ready for you some time tomorrow," she continues. "I think you'll find it quite comfortable."

"Where exactly are we?" I manage to ask. I mean, I know we're in England, and it's not that big, and I remember Willow talking a bit about her time here, but I don't remember the details.

"Well, the nearest town in called Westbury, and we're in Devon. There's a village a couple of miles away, called Torchurch. You'll need a car around here, I'm afraid, there's only two buses a week go through the village. There's one we keep for visiting coven members, though, and you're welcome to use that. I'll show you later. In fact, that might be something you'd like to do tomorrow. Go for a drive around, see the local area. You'll probably want to do some food shopping and such. I've arranged for someone to stock up the cottage with basics, but we've all got our own tastes in these things."

The money question occurs to me again, and I glance at Spike, but he seems to be quite calm. "Don't worry about money," Morwenna jumps in, addressing Spike as if she's read my mind. "I'm sure we can organise you a job in no time. The summer season's coming up, and there're always lots of extra staff wanted. It might not be what you're used to, but I'm sure you won't mind. And, until then, we can make sure you're not short of anything."

"But …" Spike begins. "I've got money, it's just …"

"In America, and if you start transferring it over here, it's going to be difficult to hide your whereabouts. And that brings me to the next thing. We can hide you here. We can use magic to stop anyone finding out where you are. But, this is a small community. It'd be much easier for you if you've got a connection with the place."

"What do you suggest?" Spike asks.

"Well, it's common knowledge that my late sister lived in London. And that she had a son who went to work in America."

"Wouldn't that mean changing our names?"

"Your surname, yes. But I don't see why you shouldn't keep your own first names."

I nod as she says that. The prospect of being someone else seems completely daunting. Even though I speak the language, I feel out of place here.

"Look," Morwenna continues. "Have a think about it. I've had no real contact with my nephew for many years, so you'd not have to pretend to know anything about my life. And my sister moved to London so long ago that not too many people will remember her. I've got some things I've got to do, so why don't you have a chat. We'll be eating dinner at about eight, if you're hungry."

With that, she stands up and hands Zara back to me.

"You ok?" Spike asks when she's gone.

"Yeah, just a bit … overwhelmed."

"She's something, isn't she?"

"But a good something, I think."

"Yes, I think she could be. But, it's just as well there's a cottage. It'll be nice to have her visit, but I'm not sure I want to live in the same house."

I can't help but agree with that. "Do you fancy a walk?" Spike asks.

As soon as he suggests it, I know that's exactly what I'd like. Zara in my arms, we walk towards the front door. There are steps down to a gravel driveway, and beyond that, there are paths through the gardens. It's bright and warm, and the fresh air is more than welcome.

As we walk, I almost get the feeling that I'm watching someone else. This doesn't seem like my life. I'm the Slayer. I'm an American. Men don't stay with me.

And yet, here I am, walking in daylight in a foreign country, with the man I love and our daughter. As far as I know, there are no vampires within miles. It's going to take a lot to adjust to the changes, and I'm not even sure I'll be able to. Spike's arm snakes around my waist as we walk, and I'm starting to think that I could actually get used to this new life, always assuming that it lasts.

I had an interesting call this morning. I knew the name, although I've never met the man. He was one of those who visited Buffy right after Dawn was taken from us - Simon Westgate. He wants to meet me later, and from the way he's gone about arranging the meeting, he's very keen that someone doesn't find out about it. I run over the details in my head again and sigh. I never really wanted to be James Bond, but when you combine the number of times I get knocked out, and then escape from inevitable death, with the rigmarole I've got to go through to get to this meeting, I suspect I almost qualify.

I haven't told anyone about the meeting. If I had, I doubt I'd be allowed to go alone, and Westgate was adamant that I not have Willow or Jenna with me. I don't know how he'd feel about Xander, but I decided not to risk that either, in case Anya got wind of it. So, I'm going to go alone. I've taken whatever precautions I can, and while they seem pitifully few, I sensed that I could, in some way, trust the man. Certainly, the little we learned from Buffy about their escape from captivity suggested that Westgate had been instrumental in it.

Jacob and Rebecca have brought back what they know about the creatures who are able to absorb magic. They've been working with Willow and Jenna to try to find a way to counter the effect. We're hoping that if we succeed, we can get rid of Dawson and anyone else who's working with her. Our first priority is to get the Defenders off our back. Dealing with the dangers most would consider fictional is our greatest strength. Dealing with the Government really isn't something I'm comfortable with. If we can prove that the Defenders have been infiltrated, maybe we can get back to what we do best. And, just in case that isn't enough, I'm going to meet Westgate.

Life has returned to normal, or as normal as it can be in Sunnydale without Buffy. I keep expecting her to walk in, to be there, to call me, but she doesn't. I know she can't, and that any contact with us would be extremely foolish, but I still wish I knew where they were, and how they're doing.

Little as there has been for me to do since they left, there's been even less for Xander. I know he feels Buffy's absence acutely, and I think Anya's been doing her best to distract him. And I have to say, she seems to have been doing a remarkably good job of it. The alternative, with Xander demanding to know where the evil is so he can go and kill it, would simply exacerbate my current feeling of impotence.

I check my watch. It's time I was going. I know where I have to be, and that once there, I'll find another car with details of where to go then.

The first stop is a supermarket car park. I choose a place close to the store, and go in. I buy a few things, quickly, then walk past my own car to one which matches the description I've been given. It's at the outer edge of the car park, where it stands out clearly. As the note implied, I find the keys in the exhaust pipe, and I throw my purchases into the boot. In there, I spot a note, and another set of keys. I pick them up and get into the driving seat. The instructions are quite clear. I've to drive to a shopping mall on the other side of town, make a purchase, then find yet another car which fits the second set of keys. I can hardly believe that all this is really necessary, but I don't feel I've got any choice.

When I reach the next car, there are further instructions and another set of keys in the boot. This time I've got to go to an industrial area outside town. Another car park, and another car with still more instructions. No keys this time, which I take as a good sign.

I drive to the indicated spot, some way out of Sunnydale, a pull in off a quiet road. There is no one there when I arrive, so I park and look at the view over dry, parched land. At times like this, I realise just how alien this area seems. It's a huge expanse of nothing, with no evidence of human life beyond the car. It's so different from home, and I can't help but think that life would be so much simpler if I were back in England.

After ten minutes, I'm considering the possibility that I've been set up, or worse, that Westgate's been stopped from attending, when I hear another car drive in.

Nervously, I check my pockets. I've got a stake, but given the fact that it's broad daylight, that's unlikely to be of any use. I've also got some powder that Willow gave me a while ago. It should be of use against humans and demons who breathe, knocking them out for a while without doing any permanent harm. Other than that, I'm pretty much a sitting duck.

I'm relieved to see that Westgate gets out of his car, and that he's alone, so I do the same. We walk towards each other in a scene reminiscent of the old cowboy films I watched as a child, both of us holding our hands visible so there can be no doubt about our intentions.

Once we're close enough for conversation, he speaks.

"Thanks for coming."

"You said you had information."

"Yes."

"Well?" I demand. We're still keeping our distance, both wary.

"I have information, but mainly, I need your help."

I turn around and take a few steps away.

"And just why should we help you? After everything you've done, everything that could have happened, you'd better have a bloody good reason for wanting our help."

"I've got Dawson," he offers.

It's not a lot, but it's enough to keep me interested.

"And?"

"She's alive, but not being too co-operative. I know she's been involved in things that're not part of official policy. I think she's in league with something that's not human. I don't understand what it is, or how it fits into everything, but I know it's not good. I'm under … pressure right now. Those in authority are pressing for me to hand Dawson over. She's got support from above, and I don't know if they understand what she's been up to, or if she's just managed to pull the wool over their eyes. Either way, I'm holding them off with the story about her being too ill to be moved, but that won't work much longer. I need something, anything, to discredit her. All I've got right now is circumstantial, and, frankly, so unlikely, that I'm going to be a laughing stock if I report it."

"So, if she's been unco-operative, how have you come up with all this?"

"Riley, mainly."

"How is he?" I keep my voice level, trying to hide my anxiety.

"He's well, and safe for now."

"Where?"

"He's actually in the psychiatric ward of a military hospital."

"But …"

He holds up a hand.

"I know, it's not fair, but right now, it's the safest place for him. It was either that, or give him up to someone I have even less reason to trust. He's safe, and after everything that happened to Sam, he could do with some down-time. And, while he's there, he won't be seen as a threat."

Ok, I can accept that for now.

"So, what do you need?"

"I'd like to set something up. I'm not sure how the details will work out, but, I suspect that when I try to move Dawson, someone will try to rescue her. I think that attempt will be successful, unless I know a lot more than I do right now. So, I give them a reason to come out in the open, you give me the means to get them when they do. Then, hopefully, I'll have the evidence I need to convince my commanding officers that we have a problem."

"And what will that achieve?"

"I can't promise, but, personally, I'll push for a local disbandment of the Defenders as a minimum, a national disbandment if I can get it."

Which is exactly what we want. The question is, is his offer just too good to be true?

"I need to discuss this with the others."

"Buffy?"

"No, I don't know where she is, as I'm sure you're quite aware. So, how do I contact you?"

"You don't. I'll be in touch tomorrow evening. I'll expect an answer by then."

"What if we want to help, but we're not ready by then?"

"Then, you'd better be ready to have Dawson back in circulation."

I nod. That's the last thing we want.

As I drive back, going through the whole rigmarole in reverse, I'm thinking. I'm still inclined to trust Westgate, at least to a point. I'm not at all sure how the others are going to feel. I suspect I'm going to have to do some persuading.

That evening, I suggest patrolling to Willow. She knows I've got something else in mind, and agrees.

Once we're in a cemetery, she quickly ensures we won't be overheard. I explain what we've been offered, as Willow practises her newly perfected artificial sunlight. It's proving remarkably effective, although its range is limited. This leads to our conversation being regularly interrupted by blasts of light and falling dust.

"So, he offered you a deal that's almost exactly what we need." Her statement re-ignites my own doubts.

"Yes. That could, of course, be because we're both working towards the same end, at least in the short term."

"It could, but …"

"I know, Willow. But, from the sound of it, the deal depends on your success at countering the magic absorbers, whatever they're called."

"We've been calling them sponges," she smiles back.

"So, what's the latest?"

"Well, you could say we've found something that should work. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but we think we should be able to shield ourselves from the effect, and use the same shielding to keep them out of the picture, at least for a short while. Of course, we won't get the chance to do a test run, so it's pretty risky."

There's another flash of light, followed by a dust shower, and I sigh. It seems to me that Willow's playing this for the maximum effect. With her magickally enhanced sight, I'm sure she's aware of their presence long before I am.

"So, how do you feel about the risk?"

"I'll go with it, but we can make sure to plan to keep it as low as possible. Once he's close enough, I can probably get enough of a feeling from Westgate to know whether or not he's for real. It might be too late by then, but I'm hoping not."

"And Jenna?"

"Well, it'll be her decision. But I can manage the mojo on my own if I have to, so we'll be ok."

She pauses then, before asking, "What about Xander?"

"I haven't told him yet. I'm really not sure how he's going to react."

"To tell the truth, I don't know either, but I'm hoping I can persuade him. Even better, maybe we can persuade Anya to help. That teleporting thing could be very useful."

"Is that affected by the, what was it, sponges?"

"Our best guess is no. It's like, for a vengeance demon to teleport is pretty much like us walking. It's not magic, just a skill that's part of them. At least, that's what I'm hoping."

"Willow," I warn, pointing to the approaching vampire.

She negligently waves her hand, and there's another flash, this time far enough away that I don't have to brush down my jacket.

"You up for some more patrolling?" she asks. "There's a cemetery real close to Xander's, and maybe we could invite him to join the fun."

I agree, but do my best to hide the fact that it's been great to see Willow so obviously enjoying herself. She's been better since, well, since Zara arrived. I think the guilt she felt has lessened now that it's obvious that her actions didn't actually affect the final outcome.

There haven't been any other instances of her more mundane sight returning, as far as I know. I wonder if she's considered doing anything to increase the likelihood of that happening, or if she's so used to the enhanced perception she has now, that she feels that seeing with her eyes would actually be a backward step.

And, if she were to ask me for advice on that, I honestly don't know what I would say.

The plan's as ready as it's going to be. I've told them I'm ready, that I'm sure I can do what we need, but the truth is? Not so sure. It's hard. I've been part of the Slayage team for as long as I remember, but it went wrong. I got on a power kick, and I did things I wish I hadn't. I hurt people, but they forgave me, at least, those who survived forgave me. And I've been back on the mojo, but always with someone looking over my shoulder. Now, Buffy's gone, Jenna's trying to make me deal with things on my own again, and Giles and the others are relying on me.

We had a long planning session last night, working out the details. I think Westgate's going to get a surprise. Giles is inclined to trust him, but it's obvious that he doesn't know who to trust. He thinks that someone above him is in the same camp as Dawson, but he's not sure how far up the problem goes.

Westgate has agreed to transfer Dawson to a military hospital some hundred miles north of here. He just doesn't believe she's going to get there. The ambulance will be leaving the underground complex, and the plan is that we're going to stay close enough to stop the suspected ambush if there’s something other than standard military tactics used. Of course, Westgate is expecting that, between us, we’ll foil the ambush, and take Dawson and some evidence back to his base. Our plan is slightly different.

It took a bit of organisation earlier today, but Xander came up with the transport again – a van, and I've done my best to hide it. It's not so easy to make something as big as that actually invisible, so I'm going for inconspicuous. The idea is that no one should give it a second look. We're hoping that whoever they send will have no experience with magic beyond the ability to neutralise it. It's a big gamble, but we don't think anyone too senior in the organisation is likely to show up on this type of operation. Whoever they are, they haven't been too big on taking risks so far.

So, here we are, skulking in the bushes by the side of the road, waiting.

Sure enough, right on cue, the ambulance appears. Xander pulls out onto the road behind it and we begin the journey.

Giles is up front with Xander. Jenna and I are behind, and the tension's at a high level. Anya promised to keep an eye on us when she could, but none of us have any idea exactly what that might mean.

Logically, on the intended route, the most likely place for an ambush is close to the start. The area is deserted, so there's almost no likelihood of unwanted witnesses.

And two miles into the journey, we're proved right. We've been following a way behind, and Jenna and I have been keeping track of the ambulance to make sure nothing happens while we're out of visual contact. The first hint we get is a lessening of the picture we're getting. It's like everything gets slightly blurred, and then we start losing the peripheral vision. Even though everything we are seeing looks normal, I know we're getting close, so we signal to Xander to put his foot down, and Jenna and I start to put together the spell we're going to need.

The best theory we've got on the sponges is that that they counter magic by opening millions of minute wormhole things, and these draw the magic in. The shielding we've managed to come up with should seal these wormholes, and hopefully do it fast enough that the magic can't escape. There're a lot of ifs and maybes there, but it's the best we've got. Once we've set it up, Jenna's going to handle that side of things, leaving me to do whatever else needs to be done.

We've got a plan for the sponges themselves. I'm going to teleport them to Angel's mansion. We've erected a cage there, but it shouldn't be needed for long. Jacob and Rebecca are waiting there, and as soon as they've had the chance to check them out, they're going to send them back to their own world, as proof to their people that one of their myths might not be as mythical as they'd thought.

As we round the last bend, I put everything I've got into the sealing spell, and I feel the blurring start to clear. Jenna nods, telling me she can handle it alone for now, and I get into the teleportation.

The first time I tried teleportation it was pretty spectacular. Of course, I was up against a hellgod, and it left me with nosebleeds and things, but hey, it did the job. I've ironed out some of the kinks since then. It'll probably cause me a headache, but I'm hoping I'm past the nosebleeds, and I've managed to control the destination pretty well. Which is kinda the plan here.

As the van stops, I pull my attention to what's going on outside. The ambulance has been stopped, and it looks like its tyres have burst. It's slewed across the road, but upright. It's surrounded by armed men, and their guns are trained on the driver of the ambulance. There's an armed man by his side, but he's realised that they're outnumbered. They both get out when ordered to do so.

I'm gratified to note that neither group seems to have noticed us approaching, judging by their looks of incredulity as they take in the appearance of a third vehicle. But, there's a lot more to do, so I make use of their temporary confusion to move the plan along a stage. First teleportation, get rid of the sponges. When that's done, I glance at Jenna, noticing just how much her job took out of her. I'm still feeling pretty good, I've got to admit. There's the start of a headache, but I can pretty much ignore it. The feeling of success is more than enough to counter a bit of achiness.

The next stage is to find a way to get Dawson out of here without anyone getting hurt. I train my sight on the inside of the ambulance, but Westgate's in there with Dawson, and they're physically too close for me to teleport one without the other. The attackers are getting nervous now, and I sense that some of them are itching to start firing, so they're my next priority.

I fill my mind with the memory of an area not too far away, about ten minutes walk from the nearest road. Then I add the men to that picture, focus my will, and say the words that finish the spell.

The remaining men are now grabbing the weapons they'd previously thrown down, and looking towards our van. They’re obviously confused, thinking on one hand that we're possibly on their side, but they're also suspicious about how we've managed to get rid of their attackers, so we're back to having weapons trained on us. Then again, perhaps Westgate warned them about us. I’m not sure, but I’m not about to take any chances.

I pause only long enough to picture the second area I had in mind, this time a couple of miles south of the first. Repeating the procedure, I banish the rest of the men there.

"Ok, let's do this," I suggest to the others.

Giles and I get out of the van, and approach the ambulance. Giles gives the pre-arranged signal - several thumps on the door, and Westgate opens it. As we agreed with him, only he and Dawson are inside, but then, I already knew that.

"I didn't hear any shots being fired," he comments, looking around. Then he spots that things aren't as he expected.

"Where are my men?" he demands. "What have you done with them?"

"I sent them out to do some field work," I answer.

"Giles, that wasn't part of the plan," he replies, ignoring me.

"Well, actually, it was," Giles admits. "Not your plan, perhaps, but …"

His eyes narrow as he takes in the situation.

"I could start firing," he warns, hefting his weapon.

"You could, although I could probably stop you," I admit. "Or I could send you to join your men. Or even to join the others. That might be interesting, don't you think?"

I know, it's childish, but I can't resist. I really don't like being ignored like that.

"Listen to her," Giles advises. "She can do that. No one's been hurt so far, and we'd like to keep it that way. We're just going to take Dawson, and then we'll be on our way."

He thinks about that for a moment, but it's obvious he can see he hasn't really got a choice.

"That's quite a team you've got there," he says, words still directed at Giles. "Even without the Slayer, it's a force to be reckoned with. Makes me wonder why you've been having all those problems in the first place."

Giles shrugs. "We've still got a lot of work to do before the end of this. If you're interested, we'll share any information we come up with. I wish we could have done things differently, but we really don't have too many reasons to trust you yet."

Xander and Jenna have joined us, and Giles addresses Xander. "Help me transfer Dawson to our van."

I stay close to Westgate while the two men climb into the ambulance. They emerge a moment later, with the woman, who's unconscious.

"She's drugged," Westgate offers. "Should wear off in a couple of hours, though. Be careful then, she's quite a handful."

Westgate's looking nervous, and I know he's trying to work out how to explain what happened. I suspect it'd be easier for him to look innocent if he's at least found with his own men, so I imagine where I sent them. I add Westgate to that mental picture, and he's gone too. I follow his thoughts as he finds himself transported away, and I intrude on them long enough to add, "The men who attacked you are here." To that thought, I add a mental map of the surrounding area with a ‘You Are Here’ arrow, and a flashing red dot for the others. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but it gives him the option to at least try to capture the other men. Of course, if they’re only following orders, they might not know anything useful.

We load Dawson into our van, and drive off quickly, while I scan the surroundings for anyone intent on stopping us from getting away.

The plan's as ready as it's going to be. I've told them I'm ready, that I'm sure I can do what we need, but the truth is? Not so sure. It's hard. I've been part of the Slayage team for as long as I remember, but it went wrong. I got on a power kick, and I did things I wish I hadn't. I hurt people, but they forgave me, at least, those who survived forgave me. And I've been back on the mojo, but always with someone looking over my shoulder. Now, Buffy's gone, Jenna's trying to make me deal with things on my own again, and Giles and the others are relying on me.

We had a long planning session last night, working out the details. I think Westgate's going to get a surprise. Giles is inclined to trust him, but it's obvious that he doesn't know who to trust. He thinks that someone above him is in the same camp as Dawson, but he's not sure how far up the problem goes.

Westgate has agreed to transfer Dawson to a military hospital some hundred miles north of here. He just doesn't believe she's going to get there. The ambulance will be leaving the underground complex, and the plan is that we're going to stay close enough to stop the suspected ambush if there’s something other than standard military tactics used. Of course, Westgate is expecting that, between us, we’ll foil the ambush, and take Dawson and some evidence back to his base. Our plan is slightly different.

It took a bit of organisation earlier today, but Xander came up with the transport again – a van, and I've done my best to hide it. It's not so easy to make something as big as that actually invisible, so I'm going for inconspicuous. The idea is that no one should give it a second look. We're hoping that whoever they send will have no experience with magic beyond the ability to neutralise it. It's a big gamble, but we don't think anyone too senior in the organisation is likely to show up on this type of operation. Whoever they are, they haven't been too big on taking risks so far.

So, here we are, skulking in the bushes by the side of the road, waiting.

Sure enough, right on cue, the ambulance appears. Xander pulls out onto the road behind it and we begin the journey.

Giles is up front with Xander. Jenna and I are behind, and the tension's at a high level. Anya promised to keep an eye on us when she could, but none of us have any idea exactly what that might mean.

Logically, on the intended route, the most likely place for an ambush is close to the start. The area is deserted, so there's almost no likelihood of unwanted witnesses.

And two miles into the journey, we're proved right. We've been following a way behind, and Jenna and I have been keeping track of the ambulance to make sure nothing happens while we're out of visual contact. The first hint we get is a lessening of the picture we're getting. It's like everything gets slightly blurred, and then we start losing the peripheral vision. Even though everything we are seeing looks normal, I know we're getting close, so we signal to Xander to put his foot down, and Jenna and I start to put together the spell we're going to need.

The best theory we've got on the sponges is that that they counter magic by opening millions of minute wormhole things, and these draw the magic in. The shielding we've managed to come up with should seal these wormholes, and hopefully do it fast enough that the magic can't escape. There're a lot of ifs and maybes there, but it's the best we've got. Once we've set it up, Jenna's going to handle that side of things, leaving me to do whatever else needs to be done.

We've got a plan for the sponges themselves. I'm going to teleport them to Angel's mansion. We've erected a cage there, but it shouldn't be needed for long. Jacob and Rebecca are waiting there, and as soon as they've had the chance to check them out, they're going to send them back to their own world, as proof to their people that one of their myths might not be as mythical as they'd thought.

As we round the last bend, I put everything I've got into the sealing spell, and I feel the blurring start to clear. Jenna nods, telling me she can handle it alone for now, and I get into the teleportation.

The first time I tried teleportation it was pretty spectacular. Of course, I was up against a hellgod, and it left me with nosebleeds and things, but hey, it did the job. I've ironed out some of the kinks since then. It'll probably cause me a headache, but I'm hoping I'm past the nosebleeds, and I've managed to control the destination pretty well. Which is kinda the plan here.

As the van stops, I pull my attention to what's going on outside. The ambulance has been stopped, and it looks like its tyres have burst. It's slewed across the road, but upright. It's surrounded by armed men, and their guns are trained on the driver of the ambulance. There's an armed man by his side, but he's realised that they're outnumbered. They both get out when ordered to do so.

I'm gratified to note that neither group seems to have noticed us approaching, judging by their looks of incredulity as they take in the appearance of a third vehicle. But, there's a lot more to do, so I make use of their temporary confusion to move the plan along a stage. First teleportation, get rid of the sponges. When that's done, I glance at Jenna, noticing just how much her job took out of her. I'm still feeling pretty good, I've got to admit. There's the start of a headache, but I can pretty much ignore it. The feeling of success is more than enough to counter a bit of achiness.

The next stage is to find a way to get Dawson out of here without anyone getting hurt. I train my sight on the inside of the ambulance, but Westgate's in there with Dawson, and they're physically too close for me to teleport one without the other. The attackers are getting nervous now, and I sense that some of them are itching to start firing, so they're my next priority.

I fill my mind with the memory of an area not too far away, about ten minutes walk from the nearest road. Then I add the men to that picture, focus my will, and say the words that finish the spell.

The remaining men are now grabbing the weapons they'd previously thrown down, and looking towards our van. They’re obviously confused, thinking on one hand that we're possibly on their side, but they're also suspicious about how we've managed to get rid of their attackers, so we're back to having weapons trained on us. Then again, perhaps Westgate warned them about us. I’m not sure, but I’m not about to take any chances.

I pause only long enough to picture the second area I had in mind, this time a couple of miles south of the first. Repeating the procedure, I banish the rest of the men there.

"Ok, let's do this," I suggest to the others.

Giles and I get out of the van, and approach the ambulance. Giles gives the pre-arranged signal - several thumps on the door, and Westgate opens it. As we agreed with him, only he and Dawson are inside, but then, I already knew that.

"I didn't hear any shots being fired," he comments, looking around. Then he spots that things aren't as he expected.

"Where are my men?" he demands. "What have you done with them?"

"I sent them out to do some field work," I answer.

"Giles, that wasn't part of the plan," he replies, ignoring me.

"Well, actually, it was," Giles admits. "Not your plan, perhaps, but …"

His eyes narrow as he takes in the situation.

"I could start firing," he warns, hefting his weapon.

"You could, although I could probably stop you," I admit. "Or I could send you to join your men. Or even to join the others. That might be interesting, don't you think?"

I know, it's childish, but I can't resist. I really don't like being ignored like that.

"Listen to her," Giles advises. "She can do that. No one's been hurt so far, and we'd like to keep it that way. We're just going to take Dawson, and then we'll be on our way."

He thinks about that for a moment, but it's obvious he can see he hasn't really got a choice.

"That's quite a team you've got there," he says, words still directed at Giles. "Even without the Slayer, it's a force to be reckoned with. Makes me wonder why you've been having all those problems in the first place."

Giles shrugs. "We've still got a lot of work to do before the end of this. If you're interested, we'll share any information we come up with. I wish we could have done things differently, but we really don't have too many reasons to trust you yet."

Xander and Jenna have joined us, and Giles addresses Xander. "Help me transfer Dawson to our van."

I stay close to Westgate while the two men climb into the ambulance. They emerge a moment later, with the woman, who's unconscious.

"She's drugged," Westgate offers. "Should wear off in a couple of hours, though. Be careful then, she's quite a handful."

Westgate's looking nervous, and I know he's trying to work out how to explain what happened. I suspect it'd be easier for him to look innocent if he's at least found with his own men, so I imagine where I sent them. I add Westgate to that mental picture, and he's gone too. I follow his thoughts as he finds himself transported away, and I intrude on them long enough to add, "The men who attacked you are here." To that thought, I add a mental map of the surrounding area with a ‘You Are Here’ arrow, and a flashing red dot for the others. I don’t know if it’ll do any good, but it gives him the option to at least try to capture the other men. Of course, if they’re only following orders, they might not know anything useful.

We load Dawson into our van, and drive off quickly, while I scan the surroundings for anyone intent on stopping us from getting away.

Chapter 7 - Crime Investigation

When we leave the Monastery, we quickly find a café on the sea front and order lunch of pasties and tea. By the time we've finished, Zara seems to want food too, so we go back to the car. I pull it around to a car park just outside town where there's a good view, and Buffy feeds her. We don't talk much, just enjoy the fact that we're together. When she's finished, I return her to her car seat, and we make for the beach Morwenna suggested. It's as lovely and deserted as she suggested, and I decide to get in some quality time with my daughter, claiming the right to carry her in the contraption we bought in Plymouth. We take off across the beach, my arm around Buffy. It looks as though the tide comes pretty much all the way in, because the sand is firm and wet where we're walking. Soon, we both take off our shoes and we move towards the water, feeling its shocking coldness as it laps towards our ankles. It's a good afternoon, peaceful and sunny and again I feel the rightness of it all. I can't help but think that if Buffy'd been able to spend some time like this while she was in Sunnydale, maybe the whole slaying thing wouldn't have seemed so hard.

We stop off on the way back to pick up a newspaper and some fresh milk, then return to our cottage. There's a note from Morwenna in the letterbox, asking us to come up to the main house when we get back. Assuming she just wants to know how the interview went, we leave our things and go there.

Once inside, one look at Morwenna's face makes it clear it's not just a social call. She takes us into a small room that she uses as an office, and sits us down.

"Is there news from Sunnydale?" Buffy asks.

"No, my dear, not at all. It's something rather more local that I wanted your opinion on. I'm sorry if I worried you. You see, in a community like this, everyone knows everyone else, and it's all but impossible to keep secrets. After you left, I had a call from a friend in the village and she told me something rather disturbing. Her son's in the police, working out of the station in Torquay. You'll have heard about the woman who was attacked on the moors. It's in all the papers."

"No, I hadn't heard," I answer. "We bought a paper, but we haven't read it yet."

"The reports I read said it was an animal attack. There are stories on a fairly regular basis of some big cats roaming the moors. Normally it's just sheep that are attacked, and sometimes there're sightings by walkers, or occasionally in the outlying villages during bad weather. Well, this woman, she lived on the moors. Has done for years, a bit of a recluse. Her body was found yesterday, and the papers are saying it was one of the cats. Well, that's worrying enough as it is, because these cats don't seem big enough to try to take an adult. But Jerry, that's my friend's son, he says it doesn't look like a cat attack to him. He said there're only two wounds, and they're in the neck, like two sharp teeth. He also says there're some bruises, and the doctor that looked at the body said that it looks like she'd been in a fight with someone lately - they look like bruises she'd get defending herself from a man."

"And you think it might be a vampire," Buffy finishes for her.

"Well, you're the expert, of course, but it does seem possible."

"Do you have problems with vampires around here?"

"Not that I've heard of. In the big cities, you know, London, Bristol, you hear things, but not enough to be significant. Around here? Never heard of the like."

"Is there some way I could see the body?" she asks.

"I'm sure I could arrange that, as long as you don't mind being out at night."

"I'd need someone to drive me," she says, and my reaction to that is immediate.

"I'll be driving," I tell her, hopefully in a way that stops the otherwise inevitable arguments

"But what about Zara?"

"Well, if it comes to it, I think I'm as able to recognise a vampire attack as you are, even if I don't have the job title to go with it."

"But …" she starts to argue, but she's interrupted by Morwenna.

"If that's the problem, I could look after Zara. She'd be safe with me."

"Are you sure?" she asks. "What if she needs to be fed?"

"Well, surely you're not planning on being away for long? And I'm sure you could leave some milk just in case."

She agrees, and I nod too. If there was some way we could take Zara along with us without risking her, I'd do it, but there isn't. We walk back to the cottage quietly, and I'm fighting the urge to just say 'sod it' to a local vampire problem and stay at home tonight. But Buffy won't do it, and so I won't.

~~~~~

Morwenna arrives as agreed, and for once Zara seems bent on co-operating. Normally, this time of the evening, she's wide awake and looking for attention. Whether it was the fresh air today or something else, I don't know, but the little mite's sound asleep. Somehow that makes it easier to go. As we go to the door, Morwenna hands us a cell phone.

"Take this and check on us if you like. And if you want to stay out a bit longer, let me know."

"We won't," Buffy argues.

"Why shouldn't you?" Morwenna asks. "There's nothing wrong with the two of you having a bit of time away - just an hour could make all the difference."

Buffy doesn't seem convinced, but she takes the phone. Must admit, I appreciate the thought. Must get us one of those things next time we're out.

We drive into Torquay without saying a lot. It seems so strange to be without Zara again, even if it's only for a short while. Morwenna made arrangements for us to meet someone called Sally, the grand daughter of another of her friends, at the entrance, and she's going to get us into the mortuary.

As we go in the main doors, we're met by Sally. She introduces herself and hands us both badges which identify us as visitors. She then takes us along the corridor and down some stairs to the basement. From there, it's a short walk to our destination, and she asks us to wait in an outer room while she checks on things.

She returns a moment later, and beckons us into an inner room where a body lies on a trolley covered in a green cloth. We approach, and Buffy pulls the cloth off the head and shoulders to reveal the injury. She doesn't seem to react, just checks the wound from a few angles. I'm surprised she even needs to do that. It's a fairly tidy wound, and one glance and I'm sure it's a vamp bite. Not much else it could be, unless it's a hoax by someone who has up close experience of vampire bites.

Buffy looks at me, and I nod to indicate that I've seen enough. She covers the body, and we glance at Sally. She checks the outer room first, then beckons for us to follow her.

"You ok to find your way out?" she asks once we're in the corridor.

"Yes, no problem," I answer. We both shake her by the hand, and she returns to the mortuary.

Less than five minutes later, we're in the car.

"So, we come half way round the world, and there're still vampires," Buffy comments as I start the engine.

"All over the world," I say. "But I'm surprised they're around here. It's too open, not enough places to get out of the sunshine. So, what do you want to do?"

"I'd like to go and see where she was found."

"Funny that, so do I."

I pull out of the car park, and turn out of town. Morwenna gave us the details before we left. The victim, Alice Winters, lived in a cottage out on the moors. She was found about a mile from her home, and a similar distance from the nearest road.

We drive along progressively narrower roads, until we reach one that goes only to the cottage. Once there, there's obvious signs of recent activity - I think the police were using the house as a base since it's about the only option for miles around. Finding the murder site's pretty easy from there, you've just got to follow the beaten path.

I follow the faint tang of blood, and I notice Buffy's sniffing carefully too. I flash her a grin, and she grins back. Not for the first time, I'm glad I kept some vamp advantages - and the sense of smell and night vision are definitely among those.

We reach the spot, and, sure enough, there's some blood still on the mossy ground. The vamp responsible was careful, tearing as little as possible, but there's bound to be some spillage.

I stand still, listening and just taking in anything and everything around me. I consciously discount the sound and scent of Buffy. To me, her scent's almost overpowering, a mixture of Buffy and milk and excitement, and it's all I can do to ignore it.

At last, I get it. It's not strong, and it's not all that close, but it's clear. Blood, but it's older than the blood at our feet.

"Can you smell it?" I ask, and Buffy turns so she's facing the same way I am. She inhales deeply, and nods. We start towards the smell, walking quickly but, I'm pleased to note, almost silently.

We make our way quickly, even though the ground is rough and uphill. It just feels so good to be out with my girl again, hunting. The buzz I'm experiencing makes me feel there's nothing I couldn't face right now.

We reach the top of the hill, and the wind's blowing around us, sending Buffy's hair into her face. We take stock again, and the scent takes us down slightly. We continue, and come to a ridge beyond which there's a sudden drop. I know we're close to the source of the smell, so I take a good look at what's below. There's a ledge maybe twenty feet down there. I gesture to Buffy that I'm going down. She doesn't agree, of course, but I'm not about to let her go alone. And I might need some help getting back up if I can't get a foot hold.

I drop down as quietly as I can, and as I suspected, there's an opening in the hill which seems to go some way back. I go inside, every sense on alert. The opening goes quite a way in, and it's quiet except for the drip, drip of water from somewhere ahead.

At last, I come to a widening of the opening, and I find what I was looking for. It looks like a nest. Not the most comfortable I've seen by any means, but it's got some rough bits of furniture, and there're a couple of dead sheep too. I check them over, and they're cold, but there's no sign of decay yet, so they haven't been there too long. Of course, it's colder here than above ground, so it's difficult to gauge. And they didn't include courses in forensic vet medicine when I was at school. No sign of the current occupants, though, so I turn to leave.

I make my way along the passageway, and as I near the entrance, I feel Buffy's excitement go up a notch. I pick up my speed, and once outside again, I can hear the familiar sound of a scuffle above. There's nothing to get my foot into visible, but there's a hand-hold maybe six feet above my head. I jump and catch it, bracing my feet against the sheer face below. I manage to find another hand hold above it, and pull myself up. Two more moves, and I reach the top, looking over the edge to see what's happening before I launch myself at whoever has the audacity to give my Slayer a hard time.

And there's just Buffy. Her chest is heaving with exertion, and I've never seen her looking more beautiful. I pull myself the rest of the way up, and saunter up to her.

"Vamps?" I ask.

"Two of them. Pretty strong too."

"Enjoyed it, did you?"

She just grins.

"Feel like going home?" I ask, nuzzling her neck. "its not like we have to go straight back to Morwenna, now is it?"

She takes in a sharp breath at what I say, then pulls the phone out. I grab her hand as she starts to speak to Morwenna, and pull her back the way we came. By the time we get back to the car, we know that Zara's fine, and sleeping, so there's nothing to stop us from taking a little 'us' time. And I for one, plan on making the most of it.