CHAPTER FIVE - HERE’S THE PLAN

Those left in the room let out their breath in one big sigh as the sound of the back door slamming died away.

“I’m sorry.” Alison broke the silence. “I’m stealing your thunder, Xander. That was a really stupid idea.”

“Don‘t worry about it,” Xander told her magnanimously.

“It wasn‘t a stupid idea,” Angel said firmly. “It’s the only idea we’ve got. Drusilla is able to predict the future sometimes. Spike’s got a point, but he’ll come round to seeing what’s got to be done.”

“It’s the ultimate paradox,” Giles mused. “In theory, Drusilla is an evil demon, therefore she doesn’t deserve our consideration, therefore giving her back her soul isn‘t a problem. But once she has her soul, then she becomes something worthy of our help and sympathy. And we shouldn’t inflict that pain on her.”

“Riiiight.“ Such philosophical dilemmas didn’t really interest Buffy. She turned to Angel. “Do you really think she’s stable enough to handle this?” she asked doubtfully. As far as I’m concerned, Drusilla is not the sharpest tool in the shed, she thought.

Angel shrugged, looking broody. “I can‘t really say, Buffy. She can be very fragile. But at the same time, she is very strong. I don’t know which would win out.”

“And would you be able to - interpret - for her?” Buffy asked Alison.

“I think so,” she replied. “I’d need help from Willow to establish the bond. But after that ...”

“Well,” Buffy announced, “it’s the only plan we’ve got at the moment. So I say we go with it. Angel, why don’t you go after Spike. Talk to him about this, see if there’s any way of convincing him that this is the only thing to do. Everyone else, let’s all keep thinking about the prophecy, see if we can come up with any other ideas. I don’t want to try messing around with Drusilla unless there’s nothing else to be done. Just in case, though, Willow had better start digging out her resouling spell. Alison, you and Willow work together to sort out what would need to be done to create the bond with Drusilla if we get that far. Giles, I know you’ve been researching this prophecy for weeks now, but see if you can get anything else out of it. Dawn can help you, she’ll be a fresh pair of eyes. Xander, we’re going to hit Willy’s And Willy. See if there’s anything on the grapevine that can help us.”

Buffy watched in satisfaction as everyone scurried to their assigned chores. She hated to admit it, but sometimes she really enjoyed parts of being the Slayer.

*****

How long had it been? Angel counted back. Years. It never seemed to change, though. Same quiet town, studiously ignoring the monsters in the midst, refusing to explain the need to get home before dark. It had always amazed Angel how the townsfolk of Sunnydale were determined to pretend that everything was just fine and dandy, thank you very much.

Over there is where I killed the telepathy demon to get its heart for Buffy. And down that street is the cemetery where we used to meet before patrol. And over that way ... he flinched but forced himself to continue ... is the place I lured Buffy to while Drusilla killed that Slayer in the library and captured Giles ....

He hunched his shoulders and tucked his head down, retreating from his little trip down memory lane. Why the hell did I come back?

And now he had to face Spike.

A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth at the thought of Spike. He may have changed a great deal in the past five years, but some things about Spike remained the same, and that quick-flaring temper was one of them.

When Spike had first turned up at the hotel, just over three years ago, stinking worse than a city dumpster, looking more like a skeleton than a man, dressed in filthy rags with long greasy hair, Angel had been too shocked to stake him on sight. After he had got over his shock, he had sensed that there was something wrong - no, different - about Spike. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, though, until Spike’s half-delirious ramblings had managed to bring out the tale of his quest for a soul, and Buffy’s love.

Angel remembered the overpowering, shaking rage that had surged through him at the start of Spike’s story, and then the overwhelming pity he had felt at the end. And respect, he admitted to himself, although it had taken a long time to admit. It seemed that Spike - Spike, for God’s sake - had proved himself a better person that Angel. Instead of staking the other vampire, Angel had devoted himself to helping Spike cope with the horrors of the past century. A friendship that the two had never known before had sprung up, tentatively at first, until now it was unshakeable. Angel knew exactly how Spike was feeling at the thought of ‘cursing’ Drusilla with her soul. But he also knew that Spike could be brought round to the idea. And he knew how to go about it.

*****

Angel found Spike stretched out on the sofa, staring into the flames of a recently lit fire that was the only illumination in the room.

Spike didn’t stir as Angel sprawled onto the other chair. Silence reigned for long minutes, broken only by the crackle and hiss of the flames. Finally, Angel began.

“The others are trying to come up with a way of making sense of the prophecy,” Angel said softly.

Spike grunted.

“No one wants to attempt ensouling Drusilla, Spike.”

A raised eyebrow, but no comment.

“After all, it’s pretty unlikely she would be able to help anyway.”

Spike stiffened slightly, then deliberately relaxed.

“Her visions were always, well, let’s face it, pretty wacky. Not much use to us until after the event.”

Was that a growl?

“And all that rubbish about stars, do you remember? God, how did you put up with her?”

“This isn’t going to work, Angel,” Spike snarled. “You know as well as I do that Drusilla was bloody accurate. Saved our arses more than once.”

Angel raised his eyebrows. Spike had called him by his name, not some godawful nickname. He’d better tread carefully.

“You’re right.” A pause. Angel picked his next words carefully. “You agree, then, that she could help us?”

A stretched silence. The light from the fire flicked over Spike’s face, casting slashing shadows beneath his cheekbones, hiding his eyes in shadow, preventing Angel from reading anything from their expression. He couldn’t miss the muscle flexing in Spike’s jaw, however, and prudently he kept quiet, waiting for Spike to react.

“Yes, of course she could bloody well help us.” The words seemed to explode from Spike, and he swung his legs off the sofa to sit up straight. “That’s not the bloody point. The point is whether getting her soul back would finally and completely finish the job you started on her a hundred and forty years ago.”

Angel winced. Point for Spike. He waited a moment before replying.

“I don’t want to harm Drusilla, Spike. You know that. God, it’s the last thing that I want to do. But you’re wrong. The point isn’t ‘how will this affect Dru?’ The point is ‘how do we stop hell being unleashed on earth?’”

Spike buried his face in his hands, and Angel knew that Spike had accepted what had to be done. “Fine. We’ll do it.” His voice was muffled.

Angel moved to sit next to him. “We’ll be there for her, Spike. We’ll help her. We’ll do everything we can to protect her.”

Spike let his hands drop away and met Angel’s eyes levelly. “Yes we bloody well will.”

******

“So we’re going to do it?” Buffy asked.

“Well, no one’s come up with any other suggestions in the past 24 hours,” Giles said dryly. “Willy was no help. Willow and Alison have everything ready to go. We really have no other options. And -” he hesitated “And Dawn may have worked something out in the prophecy.”

All eyes turned to Dawn, sitting quietly behind a pile of books. She flushed slightly under their scrutiny, then turned her gaze to Spike and began to talk.

“It just came to me when I was reading the prophecy, and it may be complete rubbish, but Giles thinks it makes as much sense as anything ...” She drew a breath. “It’s the bit that says ‘Only if the Empress of Night-time leads the way, only if the three of sadness come together’. The ‘Empress of Night-time’ bit rang a bell, but I couldn’t think why. So I started playing around with it, trying different translation. ‘Queen of Night’. ‘Queen of Darkness’. Then I realised what it reminded me of.” Her gaze held Spike’s. “What did you used to call Drusilla? Your pet name for her ...”

His eyes widened in understanding. “Princess.” His voice was choked. “My dark princess.”

“’Only if the dark princess leads the way’,” Dawn quoted. “And then ‘the three of sadness’. Angel. Spike. And ... Drusilla. Three souled vampires. It - it makes a kind of sense.”

There was silence.

Giles glanced around the room. Dawn’s theory seemed to ring true with everyone, and dispel any doubts about whether they should ensoul Drusilla. These prophecies were tricky things, but this certainly seemed to hang together. Beggars can’t be choosers. It was the best, and only, theory they had.

“If everyone is agreed?” There were nods around the table. “Then the next thing we need to do is find Drusilla. I think it would be best if we had her close by while Willow performs the spell.”

*****

Some phone calls made by Spike to ‘contacts’ in LA elicited the information that Drusilla had been seen in a few bars in the area, escorted by her latest paramour. Buffy was both amused and impressed by Spike’s ability to turn his Big Bad persona on and off as he dealt with the people (demons?) on the other end of the phone. It took him half an hour to narrow the possibilities down to one of three nightspots where Drusilla was likely to be that evening. Then he and Angel headed off to LA to ‘collect’ her.

Buffy had wanted to go to, but they had convinced her to stay in Sunnydale. It went against the grain, not being part of the action, but they had insisted that it would be better for them to act alone. Having the Slayer along might mess things up.

Instead, she had thrown herself into a training session. Not her own; they were hardly required anymore. But training for Xander, Willow and Dawn had become a regular event, and each of the three had shown strong skills. Willow was the weakest, physically, but her eye was good and her aim true, and armed with crossbow she was lethal. Dawn had proved to be a slippery little customer in hand-to-hand combat, using speed and flexibility to make up for the lack of supernatural strength. Both she and Xander were extra-handy with swords as well, and Xander’s new favourite weapon was a trusty battle axe that he could swing better than any Viking. They made a formidable team. With an apocalypse on the way, Buffy decided that some extra training could come in handy, and she even roped in Alison for the session.

Afterwards, they all sat around in the living room, Xander, Giles and Alison reluctant to return to their respective homes until they had heard something from LA. The hours dragged past, until at close to midnight the phone call came.

“We’ve got her,” Angel reported. “We’re heading back to Sunnydale now. She’s tranquillised, and we’ll keep her under until we get back to the mansion. When does Willow want to do the spell?”

Buffy relayed the news to the others.

“I think we should do the spell as soon as possible,” Willow suggested. “As soon as they’re back at the mansion. Don’t you think, Giles?”

“It makes sense,” he agreed. “Tell Angel that we’ll meet them there when they return.”

*****

Two hours later, Buffy’s vigil by the window of Angel’s mansion was rewarded by the sight of the car pulling up outside. Two figures emerged, indistinguishable in the darkness except for the glint of moonlight that turned Spike’s hair white. He was carrying Drusilla cradled carefully in his arms.

Buffy dropped the curtain and turned round. “They’re back,” she announced to the room at large.

Xander woke with a jerk from where he had been nodding off on the sofa, Willow curled up against him fast asleep. Dawn was asleep on the other sofa, and Giles and Alison were ensconced at the table nearby, still studying as many books as they could lay their hands on. At her words, Giles rose stiffly and stretched, and Alison closed her book softly and moved to shake Willow awake.

By the time Angel and Spike entered the room, all six were waiting, standing silently in the shadows, watching as Spike carried Drusilla upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

“Did everything go smoothly?” Giles asked Angel quietly.

“Fine. She’s still out of it.” Angel turned to where Spike had disappeared in the bend of the stairway. “He’s worried.”

“We’ve found a spell that may help,” Willow told him. “It acts like a kind of sedative. Drusilla will be conscious and everything, but kind of - numbed. It may help her deal with, well, everything, to start off with.”

“Good.” Angel gave a forced, unnatural smile. “Are you ready to do this?”

Willow nodded. “I’ll do the curse - spell - now, with Alison’s assistance. And the sedative one. Then, when Drusilla starts to come round, we’ll do the bonding one. The bond will Alison should also help her, you know, cope. So we should do it as soon as possible.”

“Do it, then.”

Everyone jumped. Spike had returned downstairs without them noticing, and stood now at the foot of the stairway. In a slight gentler tone, he repeated. “Do it. I’m going to sit with her. I want to be there - in case she wakes.”

“I’ll sit with you,” Angel said. He turned to Willow. “We’ll let you know when she starts to stir.”

Willow nodded, and they watched Angel and Spike move swiftly up the stairs and disappear. Then, Willow turned to the table and began to prepare the curse.

TBC

CHAPTER SIX - SPLINTERED

Fire and candlelight lent the room a warm golden glow, flickering against the profile of Giles seated on the floor by the coffee table, still going through massive volumes; highlighting red gleams like licks of fire in Willow’s hair as she moved around making her preparations; giving Alison, with her dark eyes and pale skin, a mysterious, ethereal air. The shadows hiding in the corners suddenly reared up against the floor and ceiling as the front door opened and the night breeze flooded in; Xander entered, arms laden, and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Coffee and donuts, troops,” he announced, laying supplies out on a handy sideboard. “And extra candles. Although why Angel couldn’t just hook this place up to electricity …”

Willow looked up from her arrangements and smiled distractedly.

“It’s atmospheric, Xander,” she said. Refusing a donut, she returned her attention to the objects spread before her. In the past, the preparations required prior to performing a spell had seemed a chore, like going supermarket shopping. Follow the steps, then you can do the fun part - the magic. Now, though, she found pleasure, a deep satisfaction, in the steps that slowly led her to the performance. Selecting the precise amount of herb; deliberating over the most desirable specimen; running over the words and the incantations in her mind - each stage took her along the path to that moment when she would open herself up to the magic that both surrounded her and belonged inside her; when she would be at her most vulnerable - not her most powerful, as she had once believed - until that exquisite, terrifying moment when she could feel her spell working and taking hold …

Her preparations were almost complete. Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself mentally for the next stage. She sensed someone standing beside, and turned her head to see Buffy there. Her friend was studying the items laid out on the table with curiosity.

“So how are you feeling about doing this, Will?” Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. “Ok, I guess. It’s not really a very complicated spell, and Alison and Dawn will be helping me. It’ll go fine, I promise.”

Buffy smiled at her warmly. “I don’t doubt you, Will. You’ve really got the magic thing down pat, now.”

It was true, Willow reflected. Now that she controlled her magic, and limited the number of spells she cast, it was rare that anything ever went wrong with them. Unheard of, even. But then, she guessed that she had made her fair share of mistakes during her teenage years, thanks to her bull-in-a-china-shop approach to magic.

“The spell not working isn’t what worries me,” Buffy continued. “It’s Drusilla. We just have no idea how she will react with a soul. She may turn into even more a fruit loop than she is now. And not even help us.”

Willow frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I think Dawn is right. About that prophecy. I think Drusilla will help us.” She smiled brightly. “Anyway, we may as well give it a go. We haven’t had any other bright ideas so far.”

Buffy sighed. “No. Definitely down on the bright ideas barometer.” She took Willow’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You do your funky thing, then.”

Willow nodded and caught Dawn’s and Alison’s eyes. They were ready.

*************************************

After selecting a coffee and a jelly donut, Buffy curled up on the sofa, watching curiously as Willow began the ritual. So this is how it happened ten years ago, she thought. While I was fighting Angel - Angelus - this is what Willow was doing.

A shadow of the pain from that day clenched at her heart, but then dissipated almost immediately.

It’s too long ago. Buffy could barely remember even being that girl any more. The girl who looked in the eyes of the man that she loved with everything she was, and then drove a sword into his heart. She remembered feeling the agony in her own chest, as though the blade was slicing into her own flesh. But now, it was a memory of pain. No more. No less.

The scent of incense wafted past, and she focussed again on Willow, Alison and Dawn. Dawn was holding the incense while Alison murmured Latin from a book, and Willow repeated the words of the spell with confidence in her voice that rarely appeared in her everyday life.

The orb of Thessulah began to glow with a faint golden light as Willow spoke, and Buffy could sense the power that her friend was gathering around her as she continued the spell.

(So it shall be! So it shall be! Now!)

There was a crackle in the air like electricity, and a flash of light from the Orb on the table before them, then Buffy watched as Willow relaxed and took a deep breath, and Alison closed the book.

Willow caught Buffy’s eye and nodded. “It’s done.”

*************************************

Buffy made her way slowly upstairs. She found the three vampires in the far bedroom. It was lit only by a couple of candles that flickered and jumped in an unseen draught, casting dark shadows against the walls. Drusilla was lying on top of the enormous four-poster bed, moving restlessly in her unnatural sleep. Angel sat silently, hidden, in a dark corner, but Spike was also on the bed, leaning against the headboard next to Drusilla, holding her hand and rubbing his thumb against her palm. He bent protectively towards Dru, barely looking up as Buffy entered.

“It’s done,” she said in a whisper, unable to fully break the silence that held the room.

“We know,” Angel replied just as softly. “We could tell.”

“I think she’s beginning to wake,” Spike said, still looking down at Drusilla.

“Oh.” Buffy hovered in the doorway, watching as Spike brushed his free hand against Dru’s cheek in an attempt to soothe her. Unexpectedly, emotion flared up inside Buffy. She remembered when Spike had looked at her like that, as though he would do anything to protect and help her, as though she was the only thing of any importance in the world ... when the touch of his hand against her skin could either lull her to sleep, or send her rocketing to the stars in ecstasy .... when she had known, without even caring, that she was so unspeakably precious to him that he could go against his very nature in an attempt to make her happy ...

Drusilla murmured something, frowning, and twisted on the bed. Her eyelids flickered and then raised. Angel jerked to his feet and, almost against his will, moved to the other side of the bed, his eyes also riveted to Dru’s face. Buffy withdrew noiselessly into the shadows, knowing she should leave but unable to tear herself away from the tableau.

“Spike? ....” Drusilla was focussing on Spike, still half-asleep. There was a clarity in her eyes that Buffy had never seen before, an innocence. Drusilla’s gaze moved to Angel, who sat down tentatively on the bed. She still seemed to be under the influence of the drug, conscious but only barely, still not aware of what was going on around her. Buffy waited, hardly able to breath, for the moment when everything would change.

Dru smiled softly and began to raise a thin white hand to Angel’s face, but then dropped it suddenly. From where she stood, Buffy could see the exact moment that the memories, the horror, hit Dru.

Even with the sedation spell that Willow had performed earlier to protect Drusilla, the emotions and the images were overpowering. A shadow came over Dru’s eyes and her face crumpled. “Oh God ... no...no …” The tears began to flow, and Buffy felt the prickle of moisture in her own eyes.

“Dru, my pet, it’s okay, I’m here ...” Spike crooned to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his body. She clung to him for a moment, then raised her head and looked at Angel, her expression one of complete revulsion.

Angel bowed his head, guilt and sorrow radiating from him.

“I’m so sorry, Dru. I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

She stared at him for a long minute, then slowly raised her hand again and cupped Angel’s cheek in benediction. Buffy watched as Angel also folded his arms around Drusilla and the three clung together, tears streaming down their cheeks. Only then did Buffy, her own cheeks wet, turn and head downstairs.

*****

After a while, Angel joined them in the lounge area.

“How is she?” Alison asked softly.

Angel shrugged. “I don’t know. Better than I expected, I guess. I did wonder if Spike was right, if this would actually make Dru fall apart.” He paused and considered. “I think, it seems as though it’s actually helping her.”

Giles raised his head and met Angel’s eyes. An unspoken communication passed between them. Giles had wondered what effect the spell would have on Dru; he hadn’t been sure that having a soul would make her help them. Now, Giles relaxed slightly. Angel seemed to think that all had gone well, and he trusted his judgement.

“Is Spike still with her?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah. She’s rambling a bit. Talking about her family.” Angel looked at Alison. “It might be a good idea to do this bonding thing as soon as possible.”

“Absolutely.” Alison looked over at Willow, who nodded. Collecting a vial of ointment and an ancient tome, Willow gestured for Alison, Angel, Dawn and Buffy to follow her. Xander and Giles trailed after them.

*****

“Okay. So what we need to do is this.” Willow looked around the room a little nervously. Drusilla was propped up on the headboard of the bed, with Spike still seated by her like a guard-dog about to attack, and Angel in position on her other side. “Alison needs to be physically linked to Drusilla while I do the spell, but we decided it might be too - intense - for her to be touching Drusilla directly. So Dawn and Buffy will act as go-betweens. Linking them. They won’t be affected by the spell, they’ll just filter the flow of information between Alison and Drusilla. Um, okay?”

Everyone nodded obediently and moved into position. Drusilla, deathly calm, watched without interest as Buffy and Dawn sat cross-legged on the bed and each took one of her limp white hands. Alison also sat on the bed and took hold of the free hands of Buffy and Dawn, forming a circle.

Willow dipped her finger in the ointment, then rubbed it into the temples of both Drusilla and Alison, and onto her own forehead and palms. Then she stood at the foot of the bed, behind Alison, and rested her hands on Alison’s shoulders. She closed her eyes and began to chant.

Willow had warned Buffy and Dawn that, while they wouldn’t share Drusilla’s thoughts and feelings in the same way the Alison would, they may pick up some residual emotion. Sure enough, Buffy could sense a wave of sorrow flowing through her and, meeting Dawn’s eyes, she knew that her sister felt the same. Buffy risked at glance at Alison, wondering how the older woman could handle the unedited version of Drusilla’s mind. Alison looked pale, and her eyes shone with unshed tears, but her gaze was steady, locked on Drusilla’s. And then Buffy began to sense emotions coming from Alison - sympathy, compassion, love. Drusilla’s fingers began to return the pressure on her own, gripping firmly, and Buffy felt the vampire sit up straighter, leaning slightly towards Alison.

At last, Willow stopped chanting and moved back, signalling that they could break the contact. As Buffy and Dawn released their grip, Alison spoke.

“Would you mind giving us some time alone?” He eyes didn’t move from Dru.

“Of course.” Quietly, they all began to leave the room except for Spike.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked attentively.

She nodded, a faint, mona lisa smile on her lips. “I’m fine Spike. Go now. We need to talk.”

His hand grasped Drusilla’s, and again Buffy felt the flare of emotion. “I’ll be downstairs.”

In the hallway, Giles paused. “They will probably be a while. Alison will want to strengthen the bond, learn some more about Drusilla and how her visions work. It might be a good idea for us all to get some rest.” He looked at Angel. “Are there some more bedrooms we can use?”

“Yeah …” Angel wandered down the hallway, opening a few doors. “There’s one here … and another here …”

One by one, the Scoobies filed into different rooms, until just Buffy, Spike and Angel remained. Dawn paused in a doorway. “Buff? Do you want to crash in with me? I’m used to your snoring …”

Buffy gave her a mock-scowl. “I don’t snore, that would be you.” Her face relaxed into a smile and she gave Dawn a brief hug. “I’m not really tired. I’m going to sit up for a bit, maybe have a nap later.”

Dawn’s nod was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. “’Kay then. G’night.”

Buffy followed the two vampires downstairs, taking up her former position curled into a corner of the couch. She felt wide awake as she watched Spike throw himself down onto the other couch, and Angel walk over to the french windows that led into the courtyard. He pulled open the doors, letting fresh cool air waft into the room.

“Sunrise soon,” he said quietly, almost to himself, then stepped outside and disappeared into the garden.

Silence filled the room, growing more oppressive as the seconds ticked by. Buffy looked over to Spike, barely visible in the dim light.

Desperate to break the silence, she cast around for something to say.

“I’m - I’m sure Dru is going to fine,” she said finally, then winced. Stupid thing to say, Buffy. You have no idea if Dru will be fine.

“Yeah,” Spike mumbled. “I hope so.” He stirred restlessly. “I think this bonding thing will be good for her. Give her the help she needs. She was always so alone before.”

“Alison will be able to help her,” Buffy told him, remembering the comforting emotions she had experienced while Willow was performing the bonding spell.

He looked at her, finally, and gave a little half-smile that sent a pang to her heart. There he is! There’s the old Spike that I remember.

Encouraged, she began to speak. “Spike, I’ve been thinking - a lot - about what you told me the other day. About - getting your soul. What you did, and why you did it.

“There hasn’t been an opportunity for me to tell you. That I really admire what you’ve done and what you’ve become. Choosing to win your soul is … incredible. I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but …I have so much respect for you.”

Spike looked back at her, his expression serious, his blue eyes gentle. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave a little smile, and his lips curved up in response.

She took another breath. “There are three vampires in this house that have souls. But you’re the only one who wanted one. And you’re the only one that ever helped us, without a soul. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I do now. I do recognise, how unique you are, what you sacrificed, and what you’ve achieved.”

Spike looked at her, speechless. He had never expected to hear such words from Buffy, and he had no idea how to respond. Unable to come up with the words, he instead reached across, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. Then, embarrassed, he favoured her with a smirk, and said again; “Thank you.”

Silence fell again, but this time it was a comfortable one. By the time Angel returned inside and drew the curtains against the first rays of the sun, they were both fast asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN - DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

Buffy was dreaming.

She woke with a gasp of air, shuddering.

“You’re ok, you’re ok.” Spike was crouched by the sofa, pushing a sweat-dampened strand of hair off her forehead. She noticed that someone had draped a blanket over her at some point while she slept, and she pulled it up to her chin, still shivering from the after-effects of her nightmare. Was it a nightmare? Or one of those prophetic dreams? She couldn’t think about it just yet. She shoved the memory to the back of her mind, and allowed herself to be calmed by Spike’s gentle stroking of her hair.

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking into the eyes so close to her own. Their gazes held and tangled for a long minute, and the wild thought rushed into Buffy’s mind - what would he do if I kissed him? She wrenched her eyes away, and Spike moved away, standing and stretching.

Buffy sat up, also working the kinks out of her back. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Giles replied from behind her. She twisted to face him. One by one, the Scoobies were filing down from up stairs, yawning and stretching. Alison came last, looking exhausted but calm. “Were you having a dream, Buffy?”

She nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I’m not sure. Let it simmer for a while, ‘kay?”

Her Watcher nodded. She often found her Slayer dreams too intense to deal with straight away. Giving her an hour or so to recover usually did the trick.

He turned his attention to Alison instead. She had roused them all a few minutes ago, telling them that she had received some useful information from Drusilla and they needed to talk.

Soon, everyone was gathered in the lounge area. Only Dru was absent, resting at Alison’s insistence.

“Right.” Giles kicked the meeting off. “Alison, what have you been able to find out from Drusilla?”

“Quite a bit. She told me about what is planned by the Order of Aurelius and how they will open the Hellmouth. She has also given me an idea of how it can be stopped.” She paused. “How much do you know about the Order of Aurelius?”

Everyone round the table looked at each other. No one volunteered anything. Finally, Angel spoke up.

“Not very much. Darla was into all that, but it wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, Drusilla explained a bit more about it,” Alison said. “The Order of Aurelius is the group of vampires that were sired by the Master. The two of you and Drusilla are also part of the Order due to Darla, but it’s those that are directly created by him that are the major players. They tend to be particularly strong, clever and, well, vicious.”

She paused, took a deep breath. “The head of the Order itself - the Master - is also a particularly strong vampire. With special skills and abilities. I’m not sure I understood this part fully, but this is the best I can do.

“We all know that a vampire is created when a demon inhabits and animates a human body. The vampire can live pretty much forever like that, except for the few threats we know about - sunlight and beheading and stakes through the heart and so on. These things destroy the human body, returning it to the dust that it should be, and therefore kill the demon that was animating it, and cannot survive without it.

“Except for a Master vampire. The human body that the Master inhabits can be destroyed in the same way as the usual vampire, but the demon isn’t. That’s why it would have been possible for those vampires to bring back the Master after you killed him, Buffy. They could revivify the body, and the vampire demon could inhabit it again.”

“Um.” Xander put up his hand. “I have a question. What?”

“I think that what Alison is saying is that the Master can be resurrected, Xander,” Giles explained. “It’s not something that could be done with many other vampires, but the Master is different.”

Angel spoke up. “Wolfram and Hart did something similar with Darla, a few years ago. But she was brought back as a human, not a vampire.”

Alison nodded. “That’s different. In this case, the Master would be brought back exactly as he was when he was destroyed. The same strength, the same abilities ... everything.”

Xander nodded, still looking a bit confused. Buffy sympathised. She decided to ask her own question.

“When I dusted the Master, his bones remained - which was pretty unusual. With those bones, the rest of the Order could, umm, revivify the body and the Master would “live” again. Is that right?” Alison nodded. “But I crushed the bones. So they can’t do it now, can they? Not without the bones?”

“Not as easily. But, if the time is right, then it can be done another way, or so Drusilla says,” Alison said. “There are a number of different factors involved, but it seems that all those things are coming together shortly. And so the Order will try again to bring back the Master. And the first thing that the Master will want to do, apparently, is open the Hellmouth.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “I think that that’s what my dream was saying, then. That the Master was coming back.” She explained her dream briefly.

“That makes sense,” Alison mused. She looked at Giles. “Drusilla also gave me a hint about the meaning of the prophecy, and how we can stop it. Buffy’s dream ties in as well.”

Everyone looked at her expectantly. “Well?” Giles prompted.

“Well. I think the translation of the prophecy is actually closer to this:

’Only if the Dark Princess leads the way; Only if the three souled vampires come together; Only if the two hands guide the spirit; Will the Hellmouth remain closed’,” Alison quoted.

“But what does the hands and the spirit bit mean?” Buffy asked in exasperation.

“It’s that spell,” Willow said suddenly. “Do you remember? When we fought Adam. Buffy, you were the hand. And I was the spirit.”

Alison nodded. “That’s what I thought as well.”

“However, the prophecy talks of two hands,” Giles pointed out. “The spell we did to destroy Adam only referred to one hand.”

Buffy held up both her hands. “I’ve got two of them,” she said helpfully, but Alison was shaking her head. She let them drop back into her lap.

“It’s not that,” Angel said slowly. “Not two of your hands. Two of you.”

“Two slayers,” breathed Giles, enlightened.

Buffy stared at him in dismay, realisation dawning on her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wait.” Xander pointed at Angel, then at Alison, then at Buffy. “Are you saying ... we’ve gotta have Faith?”

TBC

CHAPTER EIGHT - NOTHING BUT FEAR ITSELF

Angel hammered on the door for a second time. He was beginning to get frustrated. Turning to peer through the dark at Giles waiting in the car, he gave an exaggerated shrug. He could tell that Faith was home, but he was starting to think that those much-vaunted Slayer powers, such as enhanced hearing and the ability to sense vampires, were somewhat over-rated.

He turned back to the door, raised his fist for one final knock, then froze in place as the door slammed open and a stake honed in on his heart. For a split second, everything around him seemed to slow, and he watched, frozen, as the sharpened piece of wood came closer and closer to his chest. Then the stake stopped in its tracks, and time returned to normal.

“Angel.” Faith lowered her weapon with a reluctance that he found somewhat worrying. “What are you doing? Got a death wish?”

“Good to see you too, Faith,” Angel replied, testing out his little-boy grin.

She ignored him, squinting past him into the night. She stilled as she caught sight of his car, and the figure waiting within.

“God, it’s Rupert Giles.” She pasted on a saccharine smile and parodied a finger-tip wave. “Must be something big going on, if you’ve dragged Jeeves away from his books.”

“We need to talk to you,” Angel told her. She turned unreadable dark eyes up to him, looking him up and down before cocking a hip and leaning against the doorframe. Getting comfortable.

“Did the divine Ms Chase pass on my message?” she drawled, crossing her arms.

“Cordy? Message? What message?” I‘m getting even more confused than I usually do with Faith. Angel shook his head slightly, as if that might help things make sense. Faith in a mood wasn’t unusual. Faith being confusing wasn’t unusual. But on top of everything else that had been happening the past few days, it was just too bewildering.

“I dropped in to see you today,” Faith said casually, as though she “dropped in” on him to share a pot of tea and cucumber sandwiches every other day. She uncrossed her arms, inspecting a nail. “Needed to talk. The prom queen said she’d let you know when you next checked in. You aren’t answering your cell.”

“I‘m not?” Angel pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “Huh. I must have turned it off some time. How about that?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Yeah, how ‘bout that?” She straightened, and her voice changed. Getting serious now. “Look. Cordelia told me you were out of town. Why do you think I was surprised to see you on my doorstep?”

“That was ‘surprised’?” Angel teased. She favoured him with a small smile. “Ok. So why did you need to see me?”

Faith turned her attention to the nails of her other hand. “Had a wicked strange dream,” she said. “Felt all Slayer-like. I thought you might know if something is going down.”

A dream. “Yeah. It is.” Angel gestured back to Giles, still waiting patiently in the car. “Can we come in? We need to talk.”

******************************************

Even though he had volunteered to accompany Angel on this expedition to talk with Faith, as he stepped over the threshold Giles wished fervently that he was anywhere but here.

His feelings towards Faith had always been mixed.

There was the abhorrence of a Watcher towards a Slayer who had turned her back on her calling, and joined forces with those she had been chosen to fight.

There was a sense of betrayal on behalf of Buffy, whom Faith had tried so hard to destroy.

There was a certain wariness towards a girl that he had never been able to understand or feel close to, in the way that he did towards Buffy or Willow or Dawn.

However, the emotion at the forefront now, as he looked around the tiny flat, was guilt.

Although it was small, and furnished solely with hand-me-downs, he knew from Buffy’s descriptions of Faith’s motel lodgings in Sunnydale - somewhere he himself had never bothered to visit - that this home was vast improvement. Cluttered, warm, and with a definite charm, it was clearly a haven for Faith, and a sign of how much she had changed since he had last seen her.

And he felt guilty because he knew that Faith had achieved this with virtually no help from anyone. Least of all himself.

Giles had sometimes wondered, if he hadn’t been nursing his resentment at his own treatment by the Council, and dealing with Wesley’s nervous attempt to be a Watcher, and concentrating solely on Buffy as “his” Slayer - if, in short, he had paid more attention to Faith and supported her during what must have been an extremely difficult time for her, whether things might have turned out very differently.

Despite everything, she had managed to pull herself together, according to Angel. She had spent several years in prison before an early release for “good behaviour” - and heaven help him, he still found it difficult to use that phrase in the same sentence as Faith. Under Angel’s watchful eye, she had resumed Slayer duties, including training, and Wesley had also undertaken a Watcher’s role in helping her develop her abilities. She had also, entirely on her own, secured a job in a gym downtown, offering self defence classes.

Physically, he thought, she had barely changed. She still looked like a tainted madonna - dark soulful eyes; a mass of long black hair; white skin; and sex appeal oozing from every pore. Black and white where Buffy was golden; angles and secrets where Buffy was curves and shadows. But both powerful, strong and determined. He remembered the dark harmony of watching them fight side-by-side, individual methods melding into a mesmerising show of force. If they could ever work together again, they would be unstoppable.

Putting his feelings of guilt and discomfort aside, Giles forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. Faith had curled up in the corner of a couch covered in some embroidered rug, and Angel sat down next to her. Giles looked around and found a wooden chair to perch on opposite. The three sat in silence for a moment, then Angel spoke.

“Tell us about your dream, Faith.”

She frowned, looking away from Angel to stare into middle distance. “It was this dark cold space. Full of people, but I couldn’t really see any of them properly. And there was one man standing in the middle ...” She trailed off as she saw Giles and Angel exchange a look, and turned to Angel. “What?”

“You’re quite right, Faith,” Giles said. “It was a prophetic dream. Buffy had the same one.”

Faith shifted restlessly. “So what’s it mean?” Her glance flickered to Giles and then away again.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Giles explained the prophecy, and Drusilla’s subsequent assistance. By the time he was finished, Faith was leaning forward, eyes riveted on him.

“So you need me for some spell?” she asked. “Willow will work her mojo, and then do the slapdown on this Master guy?”

“Er, yes,” Giles agreed, glancing helplessly at Angel for confirmation that he had interpreted this correctly. Angel shrugged. “We very much need your help, Faith.”

She was silent for a moment, dark eyes studying him. “And what does B think about that?”

“Buffy? About your - return?” Giles paused. “I won’t lie to you, Faith. Seeing you again is not top of her list of priorities. She will find it - hard - to deal with having you there.” He fixed her with a stare. “But there is more at stake here - excuse the pun - than her history with you, and I will make sure she realises that if necessary.”

Their eyes held and caught, and Giles had the strange sensation that Faith was somehow reading his mind, checking to see if he was telling her the truth.

Slowly, she nodded. “Sure. Okay, I’m in.” She stood suddenly. “You want to head back tonight? Give me ten to pack.”

********************************************

Faith loved travelling by night. There was something about sitting, warm and cocooned inside a car, watching the dark world outside slip by, that made her feel safe and protected. She loved the green glow of light that came from the dashboard controls; she loved picking out the reflective cat’s eyes running down the middle of the road; she loved the soft, soporific hum of the engine that seemed so much more soothing at night than during the day. It was like being in your own little world.

Best of all was sitting in the back seat, like now, leaning against the cool, hard window, half-awake and half-asleep, listening to the two people up front converse in low tones, as though they were trying not to disturb you. Somewhere, way back in her past, there must be a memory of this kind of experience buried in her sub-conscious, from when she was very young and before everything had gone wrong - with her mother, with her own life. Whatever. All she cared about, was that it made her feel good. And individual moments of feeling good was how Faith got through her life.

For a moment her thoughts wandered ahead, to Sunnydale, and then she turned them away with a mental shake of her head. No use worrying about that. There was nothing she could do about it, nothing she could change. She would just have to live through facing them all, and then it would be over, and she could get on with what she had come here to do.

Then it’s back to nice, safe, normal LA, Faith thought to herself, with a smirk.

**********************************

Angel gently reached over to shake Faith’s shoulder. “Wake up. We’re here.”

She came awake with a lunge, wrapping a hand around Angel’s throat before realising who it was and letting go.

“Would you stop attacking me?” Angel complained, rubbing at his neck.

“Sorry,” she said. “Stop being a baby. I didn’t hurt you.”

She grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car, leaving Angel to follow and ignoring his plaintive; “Did. A bit.” She was here, she was about to face them, and she didn’t have the time or inclination to joke around with Angel.

They were parked outside the mansion, which looked deserted until she realised that she could see faint golden light coming from the windows. Several cars were parked outside, none of which she recognised, but which she assumed must belong to some of the ‘gang’. Faith took a deep breath, slung her bag over her shoulder, and followed Giles inside.

Nobody noticed them at first. The Scoobies were all seated on the couches round the fire, engrossed in something on the low table in front of them. Willow was there, and Xander, and Dawn and Buffy; and Spike. Faith had forgotten that he would be here, and she felt a frisson of relief at the sight of him. Spike had become a good friend; it made her feel better to know that he was there.

She hadn’t moved, but suddenly both Buffy and Spike looked up and over at her. Gotta love those Spidey senses, Faith thought, standing up straight. She balanced her weight on both legs, shifting her grip on her bag, looking directly at Buffy.

Couldn’t really blame B if she attacked me ... Unable to help herself, Faith gave a smirk and tilted her head towards the other Slayer.

“Hey, B. Long time no see.”

*********************************************

Oh God. She’s here.

Buffy rose slowly to her feet, turning to face Faith head-on, unable to keep herself from crossing her arms defensively in front of her.

“Hey B. Long time no see.”

Buffy felt her lips quirk upwards in response. Same old brash fearless Faith. It was almost reassuring.

“Faith.” She stopped, unable to think of anything else to say. Oh God, now I sound like Angel, and Xander, and Giles, greeting people with just their name. Should I give an awkward little nod now? “Yeah. Long time.”

Buffy felt Spike move beside her, and for a moment felt the old sense of assurance that came from knowing he was on her side. Then, she experienced a shock of loss as he moved away from her and towards Faith, enfolding the other Slayer in a bear hug.

“Hello lamb.”

Faith grinned up at him. “Spike, my man. So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself?” She gestured around the room in a graceful gesture.

“Not hiding.” He gave her a last squeeze then turned to face the others with his arm still around her shoulders. Buffy had a sense of deja vu. What was this scene reminding her of? Then she realised - the one on her porch the other night, when Spike had first faced Xander and Willow. The look on his face was just like the one that Dawn had had when she had gone to his side. Protective.

Faith’s eyes flickered over to the others. Xander. Willow. Dawn. The hostility in the room was overwhelming.

Giles cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“I realise that the situation is somewhat awkward,” he said, fixing his gaze on each of them. “And frankly, I don’t care.” Xander moved to speak, and Giles quelled him with a glare. “We have far more important things to worry about right now. If you want to fight it out, then you can wait until after.”

Buffy’s lips twitched. You go, Giles. Aloud, she queried innocently; “After the world has ended, Giles?”

His eyes shot to hers, surprised at the humour he read there. “Quite. When the world has ended, you may all kill each other. Is that clear?” He looked around with what Buffy has learned in recent years was a mock-glare. It still fooled the others, and they all hung their heads, but Buffy was unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face. Against her will, she caught Faith’s eye, and that was her undoing. A snort escaped her, and then she was giggling helplessly. Faith stared at her in amazement for a second, then she too began to laugh. Within minutes, the entire room was in fits of laughter, except for Giles, who stood with great calm in the centre of the storm.

“They used to respect me,” he murmured with simulated sorrow. Dawn flew over and wrapped her arms around him.

“We still respect you, Giles!” she insisted. “We’re not laughing at you. We’re laughing - near you.”

Giles allowed a faint smile to appear. Then, he too joined in the general laughter.

TBC

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