by Sandy S.

Without speaking to one another, Buffy and Spike entered their dark room that had no outside window. A strange smell met Spike’s nose, but he couldn’t quite identify it, so he decided it was a quality of the decrepit building. As Buffy shut and latched the door behind him with a soft click, Spike flipped on the only switch he could locate along the wall. Low light flooded the room to reveal that a single bed was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the overhead light. Clean sheets that looked as if they’d been washed some time ago were folded atop the small mattress.

One bed. Just bloody great.

Buffy caught sight of his expression and touched his arm tentatively. “Spike.” His name was a whisper on her lips. . . almost undetectable.

Even though it went against what every fiber of his being was screaming, he shrugged her touch away, only deciding to hide his disdain at the last second and covering his hurt with minimal effectiveness. Striding to the bed and ignoring her eyes watching him, he tossed his bag to the ground and started roughly choosing some sheets out of the pile.

“About what happened with my. . . the phone call. . . ,” she began waveringly.

Spike pretended like he hadn’t heard her attempt to smooth things over between them. He didn’t want to play makeup; he’d had enough of her games to last lifetimes. “I’ll make a pallet on the floor.”

“It didn’t mean what you. . . ,” she continued bravely, standing still in the center of the room with her hands folded behind her back.

Spike jerked one of the sheets out beside him so that it fanned out a little over the mattress. He shot her a piercing glare. “Look. I don’t want to deal with your personal life while we’re on this mission. We have enough to think about and do without the soap opera of your indecisiveness.”

“Angel wasn’t this petulant about what happened,” she sniped back.

Beginning to arrange the sheets on the dirty floor well away from the bed, Spike lowered his voice, “I’m not Angel, pet.”

At his non-responsiveness, Buffy’s temper began unraveling, and she let it tumble apart, closing in on him as she spoke. “Well, at least, *he* let me talk with him about it. At least, *he* didn’t hide in his office for three days like a big nancy boy, not eating, avoiding everyone. Boo hoo. Buffy got a boyfriend. Geez! It’s been *three* years! What was I supposed to do? Hide under a rock? Not be around other people? Not live?”

As Buffy gave her brief, overly emotional speech, Spike sat back on his heels with his arms on his thighs, not centering his attention on anything other than her words. When she finished her diatribe, Spike rose from where he had been kneeling and fastened an intent look on her. . . one filled with a melting pot of emotions. . . deep, unrequited love, raw hurt, and sharp anger.

Hadn’t he always encouraged her to live. . . to grow. . . to be happy even in his soulless vampire days when he made mistakes? He never wanted her to pine away her life, and she knew it. And slowly, as she watched with shock and growing regret, a wall began going up, covering him. . . hiding away all the things he always so openly shared with her in the past.

With a deadpan voice, he said simply, “You obviously don’t know who I am.”

Buffy hesitated and almost reached for him, but in the end, she didn’t. Slinging her pack off her shoulder, she stomped toward one of the doors. “I’m going to take a shower,” she declared.

One hundred retaliatory comments rushed through Spike’s head, including the immature compulsion to shout Dawn’s patented “Get out, get out, get out!” at her. However, he chose to say nothing and busily ignored her.

Buffy tugged on the gritty doorknob, but the door was somehow jammed. Rather than ask Spike for help, she concentrated at her goal of taking a shower, focusing all her confusion and unresolved emotions on the inanimate object in front of her.

Finally, Spike could stand her small grunts of exasperation no more. “Need help?”

“No, no,” she batted down his offer. “I got it.”

With one last tug, the door sprang open, and Buffy flew back a bit with the motion.

She took one look at the contents of the tiny room, which was definitely not a bathroom, and screamed.

Concerned about Buffy and alarmed about what the vampire neighbors might think, Spike hopped up from where he was feigning nonchalance. “What’s wrong?”

Buffy merely pointed with a covered mouth. Spike directly saw what she was so upset about.

Inside the tiny closet was what seemed to be a ten- or eleven-year-old boy with shaggy hair. Spike identified the source of their room’s odd smell. Tattered, filthy rags hung off the boy’s emaciated frame, and his bare arms, legs, neck, and even his cheeks were littered with vampire bite marks. Spike observed that although the boy was not bound in any fashion, no doorknob graced the inside half of the door. His brown eyes were huge and sunken in his skull, and he didn’t appear to have the energy to go anywhere. . . to fight back any sort of attack. . . much less one of a demonic nature.

Buffy recovered enough to move toward the boy cautiously. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he shrank against the back wall of the closet.

“Careful, Buffy. We don’t know what he’s been through,” Spike warned.

“We can see what he’s been through,” Buffy corrected. She presented the boy with a small smile. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. We want to help you.”

As Spike viewed the scene between Buffy and the boy, bitterness rose in his throat. For some reason, seeing her help someone else made him wonder why she hadn’t stayed to help him. . . someone she’d given every indication of caring deeply about.

Pushing those feelings aside, he made excuses for her. He reminded himself that after countless years of being immersed in death and despair, she’d had little time to figure out who she was and deal with the aftermath of her own emotional destruction at the hands of the darkness, much less deal with his vulnerability upon becoming human.

He understood, but he couldn’t quite forgive her.

After several minutes of coaxing and gentle words, Buffy helped the child to the pallet Spike had made. She’d tried to get him to lie down on the bed, but he refused to go near it. Spike had a feeling he knew what the boy might have suffered on the bed, but he didn’t want to frighten Buffy with too many details about it.

Buffy found a nutrient bar in her pack and handed it to the boy who snatched it eagerly from her grasp and began gulping it down. His eyes remained steadfast on her as if he was afraid she might take away the food or slap him down.

As Buffy watched the boy, tears filled her eyes from the stress of the evening, and Spike patted her arm. He wouldn’t let himself do more than that even though his instincts told him to take her in his arms or rub the tension from her shoulders.

“What’s he doing here, and what will we do with him?” Buffy asked a while later as the boy finally allowed his hyper-alertness to fall, and the need for sleep overcame him.

“Didn’t Michael say there was fresh blood in every room?” Spike half-asked, half-reminded her. “There’s probably a human in every room.”

“That’s beyond horrible. I wonder if Angel has found his yet?” Something in her green eyes begged him to let her know somehow that things were temporarily okay between them.

Giving in, Spike sighed. “Should we. . . I mean, we should go check.”

They went together.

Angel had indeed found a young woman in his closet. She too was resting peacefully but in Angel’s bed. As soon as Buffy saw that the woman was safe, she and Spike returned to their room.

“What’ll we do about the rest of them?” Buffy asked Spike as they made up the bed together.

“The rest of the humans trapped in this motel?” Spike fastened a sheet around the edge of the mattress.

Buffy imitated Spike’s action on the other side of the bed. “Yeah. Are we going to rescue them all? Like a jailbreak? Dust all the vamp guests and free the slaves?”

“Don’t know if we can do that. It would probably cause too much of a ruckus and blow our cover,” Spike said thoughtfully.

“I don’t like it,” she declared as if that changed the situation.

“We don’t have much of a choice.” Spike read Buffy’s discontent and appended, “If you want, after we finish the mission, we’ll come back here and free everyone. How’s that?”

Knowing he was just placating her, Buffy peeked back at the sleeping boy with sadness and doubt on her face. “We will.”

“We will,” he corroborated.

The bed was made.

“I’m too tired to shower. Do you mind if we share?” She waved at the bed, using body language to explain further.

Spike reluctantly acquiesced. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Slipping under the covers after Buffy because he turned out the light, Spike was very careful not to touch her and kept his back facing her. Unhappily, he was on the edge of the bed, but then, so was Buffy. Stomach in knots, he finally gave in and settled toward her. Soon, they lay on their sides, facing away from each other, backs pressed firmly together.

He thought ironically that they’d always had each other’s back.

And he relished her touch more than he was willing to admit.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he made an abrupt decision and rolled onto his back, jarring Buffy from the edge of her dreams.

“What’s his name?” he whispered, poking her a little with his elbow to ensure that she was well on her way to waking.

“W-what?” Her voice was muffled, slightly disoriented.

“His name,” he repeated.

“Whose name?” She sounded a bit more coherent.

“The git you’re dating. What’s his name?”

“Why do you want to know?” Her voice carried a mix of slight levity and frustration.

He reached down beneath the sheets and swallowed her cool hand in his. She allowed the touch. “I just do.”

“His name is Jonathan,” she stated neutrally. “He’s a psychologist.”

“Oh.” He dropped her hand.

She picked his hand back up and inched closer to him, noting the tenseness of his muscles at each spot her body contacted his. “Spike. I broke up with him.” She was too tired to explain why. . . too tired to go into great detail.

“Oh,” he said again with a lighter tone. Despite this revelation, he still felt like he didn’t really know her anymore. . . not after they’d spent three years living separate lives. He knew they’d both been struggling, but he was more intimately aware of his own inner turmoil than hers. Would the gulf ever be crossed? He didn’t know, and his thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess. With ease, he gave up trying to figure it all out. . . at least for the remainder of the night.

As he was contemplating these things, Buffy rolled onto her side again. This time, he allowed her to snuggle closer in reassurance that things were a little better between them. . . at least until tomorrow.

* * *

Some people had an inner clock that told them to wake up after exactly so many hours of sleep no matter how exhausted they were the previous evening. Spike was one of those people. Being a covert poet at heart, he was also a person who was profoundly affected by his dreams.

And what had he dreamed?

As he woke, the essence of his dreams overpowered his thoughts and feelings, enshrouding him with a warm, gentle afterglow. His dreams had been filled with a hope he didn’t ever remember feeling. . . except before he was vamped by Dru. The hope was of a purity that comes only with innocence or youth. . . the kind that leaves the vaguest hint of a smile on the lips all day long for no particular reason except that one’s soul is *happy*.

The bubble of peaceful oblivion was shattered as he realized the source of his hope and dreams was a young woman whose arms and legs were wrapped tightly around him, tangled with his limbs as if they fit together like pieces of the same puzzle.

In seconds though, the events of the last three years, the last few days, flew back into his awareness, and he was filled with the urge to push her away and storm out of the room into the perpetually dark Vampire Villa. He had every right to do just that.

However, before he could, something stopped him.

Buffy stirred in his arms and let out a noise so faint that he almost couldn’t identify it. Then, his brain identified it.

She had said his name.

At first, he was inclined to dismiss the quiet sound as a figment of his imagination, but then, she repeated the single syllable, this time with more urgency and matching tension in the muscles throughout her body.

A bit alarmed, Spike halfway sat up, peered down at her, and was shocked that her fair cheeks were damp with cascading tears. His heart went out to her because despite her outward reactivity, her mind was still far from consciousness.

Tenderness filled him. . . something that he hadn’t felt toward her since he’d learned about her boyfriend. (Granted her revelation wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like months in his mind.) Spike stroked her tears away with gentle fingertips and kissed her eyelids delicately until she quieted and slowly began to awaken from her nightmare.

When she opened her eyes and smiled up at him with an expression he could only describe as relief, his heart swelled with compassion.

“You’re here,” she murmured with evident joy, burying her face in his chest.

Greatly relieved that she was okay, he returned her delight, “Yeah. Where else would I be?”

As soon as the words left his lips, her face fell, and sorrow touched her eyes, threatening to fill them with tears once more.

With sincerity, he asked, “What were you dreaming, pet?”

Shying away from him, she ducked her head. “Nothing.”

“No, no. Not nothing. You were having a nightmare and sobbing.” He caressed her hair briefly. “A-and you said my name.”

“I did?” she asked as if she hadn’t realized it, meeting his eyes with an indecisive glance.

He didn’t believe her. “You did. So tell me, what’s going on?”

“Y-you’ll think it’s stupid.” Tears tinged her tone.

“Pet, I won’t think it’s stupid. Granted, some of the choices you make are bloody stupid in my opinion, but your feelings aren’t stupid.”

She was silent for several seconds as if she were trying to decide how best to tell him the truth. Taking a deep breath, she admitted in a rush, “Okay. I’ve had nightmares about you for three years. Actually, I keep having the same nightmare. Sometimes I have it more frequently than other times.” Then, she tacked on, “I’ve had it a lot lately.”

Spike was stunned. “For three years?”

She nodded with a childish expression that occasionally accompanies frightening dreams. “Uh huh. Since I found you in the crater.”

“What kind of nightmares?” He slipped his hand in hers and held it loosely. He wasn’t sure if his gesture was meant to reassure her or himself. Relaxing against the mattress, he laid his head against the mattress parallel to hers. “Slayer dreams?” Slayer dreams might mean he would face some as yet undetermined doom. Buffy had been known to have prophetic dreams that were uncannily accurate.

Shaking her head, she whispered, “N-no. Not Slayer dreams.”

“About me?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t seem to want to tell him more.

But he had to know, “Tell me about them.”

She took some time to gather her thoughts, and he vaguely wondered if she were trying to decide which parts to tell him. “Okay.” She rubbed her thumb against his palm. “I dream that I have that feeling I told you about. It’s so strong in my dreams that I am often overwhelmed by it.”

“What feeling?” He needed her to be explicit.

“The one I had in L.A. before I went back to Sunnydale to find you.” She released his hand momentarily to straighten the arc of her golden hair fanning back behind her.

“Ah.” Her tiny hand readjusted itself until it was enfolded into his.

“Only this time, sometimes I go back to Sunnydale and sometimes I don’t.”

“So, you don’t go back for me?”

She studied his eyes, trying to get a sense of what he might be feeling. “No. Sometimes I do. And if I do, I spend what feels like hours in the crater. . . trapped and searching for you. I find all kinds of things that remind me of home. . . photo albums I lost, mom’s jewelry, my sticker collection. . .”

He snickered. “Your sticker collection? Little decals of butterflies and hearts and puppies?”

“Yeah! And fairies!” She mock-glared at him, pushing against his chest teasingly. “I used to collect them.”

“In what, third grade?”

“Did I say it made sense? Point is, as I’m searching, I find bits of my old life, but I can’t find you. And I get scared.” The confession of her reaction to her dream came out almost inaudibly. Before Spike could ask about her fear, she changed directions, “And other times, I dream about that *feeling*, and I’m stuck in Cleveland or L.A., and I somehow know that you’re there. So, I end up walking all over the city, searching. Usually, I think that I almost catch a glimpse of you, but you always evade me. Or if I do catch up to the person I think is you, it’s not you, you know?” Tears filled her eyes, and she tried to blink them away.

Spike didn’t quite know how to respond, so he merely stroked her hair. Then, “But you did find me, and I’m alive.”

Her eyes soft with unshed tears, she smiled and traced a short path on his forehead. “I know. When I wake up, I know.”

They lay facing one another for a while with an amicable peace between them. For some reason, Buffy’s profession about her recurring dream had whittled away part of the wall Spike had built between them, and he allowed himself to explore her emerald eyes for greater acceptance. With a new boldness, she met him halfway, not focusing on anything but the blue depths before her.

When Buffy’s eyelids started to droop heavily, Spike could stand it no longer. “Pet, can I ask you a question?”

Her lids made an attempt to rise higher. “Sure.”

“Can you tell me more about that *feeling* you had?”

She was evasive, “What feeling?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Was she going to deny him the truth yet again? “You know, the one that led you to look for me.”

Squirming a bit on her area of the bed, Buffy sighed. “I wish I could tell you. I’ve tried to reason it out, but nothing seems to work. Jonathan says that sometimes. . .”

Spike stiffened. “Jonathan says what?” he interrupted without thinking. His voice contained a mixture of hurt and defensiveness that he’d temporarily stowed away in the back of his mind.

Buffy seemed to retreat a bit at his abrasive reaction, but she trudged ahead, albeit a bit more meekly, “He says that sometimes people have feelings that can’t be explained by reason, by logic. But he also says that people have a choice about how to respond to those feelings.”

Spike was beyond contending with her words, and he said the first thing that came to his mind, “Buffy, is he your therapist?”

The callousness of his disruption normally would have caused Buffy’s temper to flare, but she’d had three years of life changes under her belt, and she forced herself to remain calm and not give in to the temptation to lash back. “No, he’s not. I *did* see someone for counseling for about a year, and *she* worked in the same office he did. That’s how I met him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Spike was distinctly aware that the temporary closeness he’d felt with the woman before him was disintegrating, but before he could remedy the re-opened wound, the door to their room banged open.

Lit by only the dim artificial lights outside, Angel loomed in the doorway with a scowl and crossed arms.

TBC. . . What will Angel have to say about seeing Buffy and Spike in bed together? What will happen with the human boy and woman they’ve “rescued”? Next chapter, the three head into the city and run into someone they know.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates! I've been working two jobs and had no time to write! Plus, these two chapters were critical for setting up the plot for future twists and turns, so they took a bit longer than the initial chapters! Thus, there are two chapters for you guys! Hope you enjoy and haven't given up on me! *hugs*

        Chapter 5

Buffy Summers rarely felt naked.

Well, except for when she was literally naked for regular bathing or occasional skinny-dipping, but she rarely felt emotionally naked.

And now was one of those infrequent moments.

Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who was facing down her ex-lover's glare. She swore that if she could bottle that expression, she could make millions.

She already knew what the label would read, "Bottled glare. For use on unreasonable parents, people who talk on cell phones during the crucial scenes at the movies, dentists who clean your teeth too roughly, and ex- boyfriends who catch you in bed with their relative. Use only as directed. May want to consult a physician before use due to adverse side effect of marring face permanently and rendering smiles useless."

In a totally inappropriate laugh for the situation, a giggle bubbled forth before she could stop it.

Angel frowned harder. "What's so funny, Buffy?"

Buffy eyes fluttered to Spike's for a moment, and she saw that his visage was a blank slate. She wondered for the thousandth time what he was thinking. Her own thoughts flashed to the time Riley had caught them together. His reaction was quite the opposite from when he'd thrown their "relationship" in Riley's face.

She also pondered what kind of relationship he'd developed with Angel after working with him for three years. Was it a good one built on mutual respect and understanding, or was their relationship tainted by past resentments and jealousy? Based on what she had seen so far, she decided on a mix of the two.

She removed her hand from where it had settled on Spike's chest upon Angel's intrusion. "Nothing," she replied softly.

Angel blazed onward, "Well, while you two were busy snuggling, the boy, whom you rescued, unlatched the door and left."

"What?" Buffy sat up from where she'd frozen. The pallet was indeed empty. "Damn it!"

Rumpled clothing or no, she tugged on her shoes and charged out the door with Spike hot on her heels. The three searched the hotel grounds, using their enhanced senses to do a thorough scan. Mary, the woman Angel had found in his closet, followed them like a zombie, probably still in shock from the abuse she'd endured.

After several minutes of finding no trace of the young boy, Buffy gave up and sagged against the side of the building in defeat.

"Buffy," Angel began, using her real name yet again, "there's nothing we can do. He's gone. If he's self-sufficient enough to get out of the room and get this far away without being killed, he's probably capable of surviving out there."

Buffy looked up with tears in her eyes. "But for how long? I mean, he's a little boy."

"I don't know." Angel touched her shoulder gently. "But we can't linger here too long, or vamps will start asking questions." He tilted his head slightly to the left.

Buffy spied three vampires lounging in the shadows, staring at them oddly. Her eyebrows lifted. "Right." Wiping the water away, Buffy fixed her eyes on Spike's blue ones. "I guess we better get ready to go into the city."

Angel went to Mary who was hanging a bit apart from them, staring off into the darkness with her arms around her ribcage like she was lost and cold. She gazed up at Angel with big eyes as he bent to whisper something to her in a voice so low that vampire hearing couldn't pick it up. Then, Angel began dragging her roughly toward Buffy and Spike's room. Buffy could tell he wasn't really trying to hurt her, but he had to put on a nice show for their onlookers.

Buffy turned to Spike. Tears consumed her vision for a third time that day. "It's all my fault."

Spike assumed a position next to her as she walked slowly back toward their room. "If it's anybody's fault, it's mine as much as yours, pet." Buffy waited for him to continue. "And anyway, I tend to agree with Angel. We're stuck in these roles in this environment. Looks like to some extent, we'll have to play by the rules here even if it means doing. . . or not doing. . . some things that make us feel uncomfortable."

"I guess." Buffy was not used to having to play by anyone else's rules, and to some extent, neither were Angel and Spike.

Spike echoed her thoughts in a half-growl, "Hopefully, not for very long."

Buffy glimpsed yellow eyes surrounding them. "Hopefully not."

        * * *

The city was less remarkable than Buffy imagined it would be. For the most part, the streets were well lit by streetlamps and were designed to be fairly similar to most large American cities. On the other hand, she had sort of expected that the streets might be a chaotic mess. . . rather like a city with multiple riots going on at the same time.

The only unusual aspects of the city were the continual darkness, the faint scent of blood that clung like static electricity to the air, the lack of motor vehicles in the streets, and the plethora of vampires that lined the sidewalks. Some were well dressed; others were not. Some wore their game faces; others did not. The well-dressed vamps generally wore their human masks. But even with the apparent differences in class, their expressions were surprisingly similar. The determination in their eyes was almost palpable. Their odd semblance of purpose disconcerted Buffy.

When they passed the first small cluster of vampires, she held her breath and prayed silently that they wouldn't see her soul, shining out like a beacon. Fred had reassured them that only the oldest and more experienced vampires would be able to view or sense the souls beneath their disguises.

What else had she said?

Oh, yes. Fred had informed her that to throw the older vampires off, she, Spike, and Angel would merely have to avoid eye contact with them as much as possible and that they'd be able to sense when they were in the presence of someone who might be dangerous to them.

Buffy didn't sense anything out of the group passing them, but she averted her eyes anyway and shivered almost imperceptibly. She and Spike were in front of Angel and Mary, and she noted that Spike almost protectively moved to the opposite side of her after they passed the vampires.

Annoyance stirred within her, and before she could contain herself, she shot him a look. She would have put up with such old-fashioned shielding behavior from Riley but not Spike. She was especially bothered after his casual behavior toward her earlier. . . as if they hadn't had an intimate talk in the motel room. Her thoughts and feelings weren't resolved, and while she was usually good at pushing aside her feelings where a mission was concerned, she was having trouble now.

Spike returned her glare but maintained his position as the next group approached.

Buffy bit her lip as they continued to meander through the crowd. She was highly tempted to lash back at him, and the feeling frightened her for a reason she couldn't quite put into words. Her irritation with him increased, and she involuntarily crossed her arms.

He bent to her ear when they reached a spot with few vampires nearby. In a low tone, he whispered, "It's the way of things with vamps. With you walking on the outside, they had every right to pull you away from us and claim you."

Buffy felt a pout coming on. "And you thought I couldn't take care of myself?" She knew her volume was a bit loud, but she didn't care.

Angel chose that moment to add his two cents, "Spike did the right thing. We can't afford to draw too much attention to ourselves."

"Right. Like we already aren't drawing too much attention with some human we picked up out of a closet in a motel room and. . ." She waved a hand at their bodies. "Our clothes. Geez."

"What's wrong with our clothes?" Angel asked unknowingly, glancing down at his leather pants, black shirt and leather duster.

Frowning, Spike glanced at his similarly dressed form and then at the coming group of vamps. "I think she's right, mate. The trend seems to involve more color." He forcibly snagged the deep burgundy-colored sleeve of one of the passing vampires who hardly looked surprised and ducked his head toward his chest to avoid Spike's eyes. "Tell me where to get new clothes."

Buffy restrained a laugh. She would never have thought to hear Spike demanding to know where he could find a clothing store. And he was right. The vampires did seem to be shying away from black. . . even if the colors were muted.

The other vampires in their captive's group kept walking, leaving him behind. Wordlessly, he raised his arm and pointed toward a door across the street. Nothing marked the door to indicate it sold clothing, but nothing seemed to be well marked around the city.

Spike nodded and released the vampire. "Thanks," he muttered gruffly, and the vampire kept moving as if nothing had happened.

"So let's get some new clothes," Buffy said brightly. "Mary definitely needs something new." The prospect of new clothes never failed to bring a bounce to her step. And she led the way across the street.

Angel and Spike trailed behind her with Angel tugging a reluctant Mary by the elbow. For some reason, she did not want to follow Buffy.

Buffy shoved the door open with authority, and she noted that it was made of metal, not wood, as it thudded heavily against the wall. Surveying the room with her well-used Slayer instincts, she saw racks and racks of clothing arranged by color. The shop was small with mirrors on the side walls to make it look larger. She thought it was ironic that there would be mirrors on the walls given that vampires cast no reflection, but she guessed that what was important was the shop's display of unexpectedly inoffensive product. A small table in the back seemed to be the hub of purchasing. Buffy glimpsed a small row of dressing rooms through the open doorway adjacent to the table.

No vampires were in sight.

"Huh." Buffy planted her hands on her hips. "No one's around. Strange."

"No rhyme or reason to a shop run by a vampire, pet," Spike informed at her side.

"Well, some vampires," Angel added. "Some don't have a clue when it comes to retail. I wonder why that is." His last sentence was sarcastic and not meant to be a question.

Buffy hadn't heard Angel because she had busily moved on to rummaging through the racks of dark green clothing. She held up a purposefully torn tank top and green denim jeans embroidered with tiny metal rings up and down each leg. "Think these would bring out my eyes?" She batted her emerald eyes playfully.

Neither Spike nor Angel smiled.

"Let's just get something and get out of here," Spike said as Buffy brought an outfit to Mary, holding it up to the bewildered woman's body to see if it might fit.

"Should we get something of quality?" Buffy asked, hurrying to a rack of female clothing that resembled the type worn by the "upper class" vampires they'd seen. "We might have more authority that way."

"Good idea," Angel assented, plunging into the dark blue clothes in search of something that would fit his large stature.

Shrugging, Spike joined them, choosing to look at the colors closest to red. He'd always been partial to red.

Poor Mary hung back with her head bowed. Suddenly, she lifted it with a sharp intake of air. Her companions' heads shot up simultaneously.

There was a new vampire in their midst.

Buffy's eyes widened.

Angel scowled, and Spike smirked.

"Well, well, well. Lookie who wandered into my little shop," Harmony quipped with false honey lacing her tone. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and she flicked her long blonde ponytail over one shoulder. "A whole crew of wannabe vampires."

Spike immediately launched into an explanation, smoothly donning a confidence that reminded Buffy of the days when he had no soul and no chip. "Harm. Haven't seen you lately. You running this little establishment? Very quaint."

Harmony jabbed a finger at him, poking him in the chest. Buffy was surprised at her show of self-assurance. "*You* don't fool me, mister. I know all about your little soul. . . and Angel's obviously." She narrowed her eyes at Buffy. "And you're still hanging out the *her*? Honestly, Spike, I would have thought you'd have better taste."

Moving from in front of Spike, Harmony began circling Buffy, and Buffy felt her muscles tense with the desire to lash out. "You vamped her?" She frowned with faint confusion typical of her high school days. "That doesn't sound like something you guys would do."

Harmony's eyes lit on the cowering form of the only human in the room. "And why have you stolen one of Kooch's humans?"

"How do you know. . .?" Angel began.

Harmony pouted and traced a line over Mary's cheek so that she shuddered. "It's obvious. Any moron could read that she's Kooch's. Just look at the arrangement of the bite marks on her cheek." Then, she whirled on Spike. "You guys are on some kind of covert mission, aren't you?" She nodded at Buffy while keeping her eyes on her ex-lover. "And I bet that you haven't vamped her. I bet it's some kind of elaborate disguise!"

Harmony lunged at Buffy as if doing so would prove her point. Spike's reaction was swift as he flung her back against a fixture of clothing. "Look. You really want to take all three of us on?"

Rubbing her arm where Spike's fingers had been, Harmony glowered up at him from where she was leaning against the clothing. "I *knew* it," she accused, tears welling in her eyes. "You're undercover. I'm not stupid, you know. And I'm sure you know that you won't get away with whatever you're doing. Let me guess, you're here to stop the city from shifting into your dimension. You *definitely* won't have any say in that."

Spike played into her desire to show off her knowledge of the vampire city of which they knew little. "And why not?"

"Because you're dressed like the leading factions and you're obviously not part of them. You *can't* wear black if you're not a member of the inner core. And you can't just cart around a stolen human like it's yours. And everyone who knows you would obviously know you have a soul. And *duh*, everyone knows who Buffy is."

Buffy, Angel, and Spike exchanged knowing looks.

Spike took the reins again, "And you're wearing black because. . .?"

Harmony lifted her chin slightly. "Because I'm someone *important* here unlike you."

With a predatory grin, Spike advanced on her. "And you're going to help us."

Taken aback, Harmony panicked. "What? No, I'm not."

"*Yes,* you are." He gripped her arm again.

She jerked away, her bottom lip quivering. "And why should I? I have it good here. . . better than I ever had it with you. I'm dating someone who cares about me. I have my own shop. I have access to the best hunting grounds and an unlimited account at the drive through blood bank. . . ."

"You'll help us if you want to live," Spike said quietly. "You'll tell us what we need to know."

Tears flowed over Harmony's heavily made-up cheeks. "If you ruin this for me. . . ."

"I could tell everyone about a certain poker game. . . ." Spike remained unsympathetic, and Buffy quelled the empathy she was beginning to feel for Harmony, who was quite obviously still the lost little girl she'd known in high school.

Harmony's eyes grew to give her a naïve appearance. "You *wouldn't*!"

Spike had her. "I *would*."

Buffy gave Angel a confused look, and he shrugged. Neither of them had heard that story, but it likely wasn't something very positive for Harmony.

Before Harmony could respond with anything more than a glare, the door to the shop slammed ajar. Two-dozen vampires dressed in black streamed into the store, sending metal fixtures and clothes flying across the room. Undistracted, the attackers used long knives to slice through cloth and hammers to smash and bend metal.

Harmony attempted to spring forward, but Spike kept a steady hand on her arm. All they could do was watch as the vagrant vampires set fires in the dressing rooms, and within a handful of seconds, the shop was completely destroyed. As flames and smoke threatened to advance, the vampires turned to Harmony and her unwitting companions.

The vampire closest to Harmony stepped toward her, brandishing a stake. Eyes glowing golden to match the yellow bandana above his ridges, he growled, "Consider this a warning from Her Eminence to the one you follow. Stay out of our business, or next time, you'll wind up at the end of something wooden."

        The vampires flowed out of the shop as quickly as they entered. Without the destruction around them, it would have almost been like they had never been present. Although the fire and smoke continued to grow, they were partially stopped by a wall of mounded clothing. Whoever they were, they didn't want Harmony dead.

With a soft sob, Harmony collapsed the ground and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with her cries.

        Spike knelt beside her and touched her back gently, and Buffy felt a seed of jealousy spring to life at the gentleness he was showing his ex- lover. "Who are they?"

        Harmony raised her head with a grim visage. "They're members of the other faction. They want to move the city into the light."

        "And whom do you follow?"

        "Someone who doesn't want *that* to happen." Harmony wiped her tears away and gazed around her ruined store. "My shop," she wailed. "It was all mine to do as I pleased. . .t-the first time I ever owned anything successful. And now it's *ruined!*"

Footsteps of multiple vampires resounded on the pavement outside. Five vampires ran through the door. Their leader was dressed in black, but the other four were in various colors.

And their leader was Michael.

Concern was etched onto his face. "Harmony, are you all right?"

She smiled up at him through her tears, and their exchange caused Spike to rejoin Buffy and Angel. "Y-yeah. It was *her* men again. Why do they keep destroying everything I love?"

Michael went to her immediately and drew her close, smoothing her hair with one hand. Buffy filed that interesting exchange in her mind for later pondering and glanced to see Spike's decidedly neutral face, watching them intently. The jealousy in her heart sprouted an extra vine. "They're trying to get to us. . . to Stephan."

Harmony's sobs came louder. "B-but I worked hard to keep them from doing it this time. I didn't even put a sign up. How did they know where I was?"

"I don't know, baby." Michael noticed Angel, Buffy, Spike, and Mary as if for the first time. He consciously drew back from Harmony. "Well, look who we have here." He smiled, revealing pointed teeth. "Let's see if I remember your names. . . ."

"Liz, Will, and Andy," Buffy interjected quickly.

Harmony stared at her with her mouth open and seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to correct her. Spike shot her a reminder frown, and she directly shut her mouth.

Michael laughed. "Changed your names, I see. They definitely suit you better." Putting his arm around Harmony's shoulders, he hugged her close. "Thank you for making sure my girl stayed safe."

"But they. . . ," Harmony began.

Spike interrupted, "Michael, what do you know about pok. . ."

Harmony rushed to finish her sentence a different way, "Yes, they did. They saved me."

Michael glanced uncertainly between Spike and Harmony, knowing that he missed something. Buffy could tell he knew something was up, and she felt certain that although he was not an old vampire, he had been sired by someone who was. Power rolled off his body. They would have to maintain close watch over him.

As she surveyed Michael, Buffy sensed Spike's eyes on her. She smiled sweetly over her shoulder at him, but his emotions remained invisible to her.

"They deserve a reward," Harmony babbled on, sliding her arm around Michael's waist.

"Right," Michael agreed. "I should get you out of here. How about we all go somewhere a bit safer? Maybe get a bite to eat." He nodded at Mary who was half hiding behind Angel's tall form. "I see you snagged one of Kooch's."

Angel took the cue to drag Mary up to him. "Meal on the go. Kooch shouldn't leave food lying around like that."

Michael chuckled. "Agreed." He swept his hand toward the open door. "Shall we?"

Clearing her throat, Harmony spoke up, "Shouldn't they change colors first?"

For the first time, Michael was patronizing with her, "Harm. *Think* about it. The clothes are ruined. They'll be fine until we get somewhere safe."

Ashamed, Harmony ducked her head at the reprimand.

Buffy was attuned to Spike's muscles tightening next to her. He didn't like that any other male would treat Harmony with any semblance of disrespect, and Buffy wasn't sure what to make of that.

Chapter 6

        Spike's first impression of the vampire leaning over the rail was that he was old. . .not as old as Angel or Spike, but he'd been a member of the undead for a long while.

The vampire was likely turned when he was slightly younger than Michael, but despite his youthful appearance, he was experienced. . . he'd killed. . . he knew the rules of survival.

Experience alone did not make a good leader.

His skin had probably been fair even when he was alive, his build and height were average, and his dark hair was a tousled mop as if he'd tumbled out of bed and forgotten to comb it. He wore black; however, it wasn't leather or tailored. Instead, he wore black jeans and a cotton shirt that was un-tucked and slightly askew.

From a distance, Spike would not have pegged him as someone who took charge. However, judging from the silent entourage in the shadows, the vampire commanded respect.

The vampire kept his attention on the monitors before him as Spike and the others clustered behind him. Although he appeared nonchalant, his voice was deep and energized, "Michael, you've brought visitors."

Michael removed Harmony's hand from his arm and joined the vampire at the rail. "I have. They are new to the city."

"New? They've never been here?" The vampire afforded them a glimpse of dark brown eyes. Spike averted his gaze and hoped the vampire took it as a sign of deference.

"No, they haven't. They're the ones from last night. . . the ones who were with me when the kranooks were after me," Michael explained. "And today, they saved Harmony's life."

Buffy's arm brushed Spike's, and he was forced to work hard to hold back any display of emotion. Very carefully, he leaned the other direction, pretending to be entranced by something on one of the monitors. Truth be told, he couldn't make out a thing on them.

"Ah. I'd heard about them." The vampire leader half-turned, and force radiated from him. His eyes locked on Buffy who Spike could see was bowing her head out of false modesty. "You. What's your name?"

        In an excellent imitation of Tara's shyness, Buffy peeked up briefly as if hiding behind her hair. "Liz," she replied a bit too confidently. So much for her pretense of timidity.

        "Liz. Come here." He gestured for her to come forward. Buffy obediently joined him, moving awkwardly in the too tight green leather pants that Harmony had given her.

Although the vampire didn't touch her, he was attracted to her, and Spike didn't like it. Angel didn't either because he emitted a quiet sound that only Spike recognized as a sign of displeasure. At least, they were united on that point.

As a matter of fact, Spike was quite amazed that he and Angel had tolerated each other so well in the last three years. After Spike had physically recovered enough from his sacrifice in Sunnydale and his subsequent transformation, they had had one scuffle from which Angel had emerged as the victor since Spike no longer had the speed or strength of a vampire.

He couldn't even recall what the fight had been about now. Most likely, it had been about Buffy.

It was always about Buffy.

Spike resumed his attention on the conversation between the vampire leader and Buffy. He thought he might have caught the vampire introducing himself as Stephan.

"And see here," Stephan pointed at one of the monitors. When he pointed, the rest went dark. "That is one of our most popular hunts. It's a series or tournament, you see, kind of like baseball or golf. We send our best hunters into a vampire-constructed forest and let loose one human, preferably one with brains, skill, and strength. Whoever captures the human first wins the round and advances to the next one. With each round, the quality of the vampire hunters and the human prey improves until we reach the final round, which is our championship. The winner walks away with a lifetime supply of blood and a penthouse apartment in a safe part of the city."

Spike squinted at the monitor Stephan had pointed to. From Spike's vantage point, nothing was visible except trees, and inanely, Spike wondered how trees grew in a place with no sunlight.

For a moment, Spike let his jealousy regarding Buffy shine through, interrupting Stephan, "So, it's more like a fox hunt, then?"

Unruffled, Stephan turned briefly and winked at Spike. "Right."

He motioned the others forward. Only Spike boldly advanced. Angel hung back with Mary, and Michael and Harmony seemed to have disappeared.

Stephan continued, "Except the vamps in this tournament are a little bit more ruthless than hunters of old. . . although. . . I really have no idea about the past. Perhaps the humans in a fox hunt played more tricks on one another than I know. Anyway, the vamps will often set traps for one another. They've gotten into some pretty bloody scrapes, and often, there're quite a few dustings along the way."

"Wow," Buffy breathed, successfully holding back her desire to be sarcastic.

"Wow is right, and that is only one of the marvels of this 'world' we vampires have made for ourselves. You'll learn more about this tomorrow when Michelle and I have time to show you what we have to offer. My plan, Liz, Will, and Andy, is to convince you that our city should not be moved into the other dimension."

"Right. Well, we sort of already agree," Buffy said before she could stop herself.

Moving back from the rail, Stephan was bemused. "Still. I want to make sure of that."

Buffy fidgeted, and Spike could tell that she was antsy for information. "What are the kranooks besides something reptilian and very scary?"

        A grin spread across Stephan's face. "Getting straight to your questions. I like that."

        Returning his grin, Buffy stated, "I have a lot of them."

        "Good. Let's walk, shall we?" He started toward a door opposite from where they'd come into the room.

        In silent agreement to let Buffy ask the questions, Spike and Angel followed them. Spike was distinctly aware of the presence of at least eight vampires bringing up the rear. The building, which was magically hidden behind a vampire brothel, was definitely secure.

        "So, you want to know about the kranooks?" Stephan asked, politely keeping a safe distance from Buffy as he led them through a maze of dimly lit but clean smelling hallways that were lined with a multitude of closed doors. Spike could hear noises coming from behind some of them.

        "Right," Buffy said with a bit too much spunk for Spike's taste.

        "Well, in order to explain about that properly, I'll need to explain something else first." Stephan pushed open one of the doors to reveal a small library of books. Stuffed chairs were situated around a small table, which was stacked high with leather-bound volumes that someone had been perusing earlier.

        Going to a dispenser on the left, Stephan poured himself a mug of steaming blood. He raised the glass at Angel, Spike and Buffy. "Blood?" When they all declined, he took a small sip and made a face when he burned his tongue. "I like mine really hot. Sometimes it gets me in trouble."

        Once he had them settled around the small table, including Mary, he launched into his tale, "So, you've probably heard about there being two factions: one for the emergence of the city into the world of humans and one against it. One is obviously headed by me. The other is headed by my twin sister, Stephanie."

        "The Gemela Prophecy!" Angel burst out, sitting forward with interest. Spike and Buffy stared at him as if he had three heads, and Spike decided that the information must have been in the thick mission packet he hadn't bothered to read because he'd been to upset.

        Stephan nodded. "You're up on your prophecies."

        Emboldened, Angel launched onward, "Well, what can I say? I work with an evil l. . ." Buffy and Spike gave him a dirty look, and he switched his words, "library. I'm a. . . librarian at a, uh, . . . demon library."

        Stephan didn't even flinch, "You'd be surprised, but some demons are interested in education."

        "Right," Spike acknowledged. He'd read a book or two in his time despite his attempts to feign disinterest.

        "And the prophecy of the twins coming to power in the vampire world has now, for the record, come to pass. My twin sister, Stephanie, is one leader in Vampire Villa."

        Buffy spoke her thoughts aloud, "And she's the leader of the other faction."

        "She is." Stephan paused to take a sip of blood.

Inwardly, Spike found that he was feeling slightly annoyed at the vampire leader's need to play the dramatic storyteller. On the other hand, Stephan might still have residual feelings for his sister; Spike had had them for his own relatives when he'd been a soulless vampire.

        A little too eagerly, Buffy asked, "So, did you have a falling out with her over the whole issue of bringing the city into the human world?"

Spike fought the urge to nudge her foot with his. She better watch herself, or she would end up giving them away.

        Stephan grinned over the edge of his mug. "Yes. I did. It's an old sibling rivalry, if you will. Even as children, we fought over the minutest things, and on almost any subject, our opinions were opposite. Our temperaments were and are very different. I'm fairly laid back, and Stephanie. . . well, let's just say, she's not."

        Apparently, Angel was as impatient as Spike although he didn't show it outwardly. "So, how did you rise to power in Vampire Villa?"

        Chuckling, Stephan admitted, "It seems that your simplest questions have such complicated answers. You see, despite what may seem apparent to you since you've come to Vampire Villa, most vampires aren't aware of the pervasiveness of the factions in their world. Some may even think the factions don't exist or dismiss their existence as the product of rumors.

"Stephanie and I were among the initial founders of Vampire Villa when the Slayers began to proliferate and eradicate thousands of vampires in the human dimension. Through an ancient text found at the remains of the Watchers Council, we managed to find a way to cut holes in dimensional walls, and after much experimentation, we found a pocket of darkness between dimensions. . . a place where we could build a safe haven for our kind.

        "From the city's inception, Stephanie and I realized that vampires would not take kindly to being 'ruled' by vampires with our strength and power. There would be too much fighting for power. So, we decided to put in place a set of vampires who believed they were in charge. . . vampires who would be respected and followed by other vampires.

        Spike found himself fidgeting. He wanted to do something besides listen to Stephan prattle.

        Stephan didn't stop though, "Each time Stephanie or I discovered a cluster of vampires living in the human dimension, we handpicked the vampire leaders to take a position of authority within the growing city we were forming. With magic, we were able to lead those vampires to believe that they were coming to power through their natural, innate talents. We chose leaders that were experts across multiple areas of art and science. They were and are acquainted with us, but they don't recognize us as having any power over them."

        Stephan paused to drink deeply from his cup, allowing Buffy to ask a question, "So, how did you have any influence over what they did? It seems like it might have led to chaos, having all those different leaders with differing ideas about what was best for the city."

        "Excellent point, my dear. That's why Stephanie and I led from behind the scenes. We wanted to make sure that things ran smoothly and to our liking. We accomplished it mob style. We made sure that we sired enough vamps to fill key positions and to support our endeavors with force if need be. . . all very discretely, of course. The local leaders we hand picked were soon and continue to be merely figureheads. They lead the teams that helped build the structures around the city and make some decisions, but Stephanie's or my influence touches most everything you see within the city limits. Most vampires in the city had, and still have, no awareness of the breadth of our authority. . . if they are even aware of us at all.

        "For example, today's attack on Harmony's shop was no coincidence. Stephanie takes every chance she can to try and get to me. I think it's because she's aware that something big is about to go down. In any case, today's attack will hardly be a blip on the radar. The city news won't report it, or if they do report it, it will be cited as an accident with the wiring or some such nonsense."

        "Where do the kranooks come into play?" Angel injected.

        "Ah. The kranooks. I think a better question to answer first would be how Stephanie and I parted ways. Then, I think your other question will be answered." Stephan sniffed the empty mug and set it aside with a bit of disgruntlement on his face. "About a year after the inception of the city, Stephanie got the idea in her head that she wanted to eventually move the city back to the human dimension. I didn't quite understand it because we had the perfect set up. The sun never shone, the system of leading through figureheads was running smoothly, and we had all the blood we needed. It was like a miniature hell without the fire, brimstone, and endless torture." With that comment, a faraway expression of peace lit Stephan's face.

        "She missed human civilization? The 'happy meals on legs' or something to that effect?" Buffy suggested, ignoring Spike's pointed glance her way. He knew she was referring to a time when he'd helped her stop Angelus from bringing hell to earth. Spike doubted that Angel even knew that part of the reason why he'd aided Buffy.

        Stephan looked startled by this. "Perhaps. . . perhaps she was homesick. I disagreed with her reasoning. But despite that, she began researching a way to magically transfer the entire city to the United States. When I reminded her that the city would be vulnerable to attack by the Slayers, she became obsessed with trying to find a way to protect the city. One avenue she explored was genetics. . . mixed with magic."

        "Hence, the kranooks," Buffy noted with sarcasm.

        "Right. They're not a naturally occurring demon race. They were genetically and magically created."

        "As were most of the demon types on earth," Spike added, breaking his thoughtful silence and eliciting an elbow poke from Buffy and a look of annoyance from Stephan. He suppressed the urge to grin. What could he say? He liked to piss off authority figures.

        "I warned her that the violent temperament she gave the half-human, half-snake creatures would be uncontrollable. She didn't listen, and although the creatures listened to her, they didn't listen to anyone else, including me."

        Spike caught himself before he could mutter something rude about listening to Stephan under his breath.

        "So, being smart, they managed to escape into other dimensions. In our efforts to regain control over them and herd them back for destruction, we discovered a couple of things. One is that the kranooks couldn't survive too far from a source of magic; they need it to survive. So, they tended to gravitate toward pockets of magic in other dimensions. In your dimension, they couldn't travel too far from the edges of the entrances of the vampire city."

        "Even with the magic of the hellmouth and other similar locations?" Buffy asked, doing her best not to look at Stephan too intently.

        "Even with. None of the mystical areas were close enough to the vampire city with the exception of New Orleans," Stephan clarified.

        Buffy frowned slightly as if pondering something. Spike wondered if it had something to do with the recent mysterious disappearance of the Slayer stationed in New Orleans.

        Stephan was still talking, "We managed to recover most of the kranooks, but Stephanie insisted we leave the kranooks at the edges of the vampire city to protect the city. I didn't agree. I wanted to terminate the bizarre experiment before it got more out of hand. Our arguments about Stephanie's plans intensified over several weeks until we stopped talking to one another. Then, one day, a minor incident that's too irrelevant to discuss pushed her over, and she broke from me, taking several of the city leaders with her. Since then, she has continually tried to undermine me. For the most part, no one is aware of the feud with the exception of those I trust the most."

        Buffy chewed on her lower lip. "Why hasn't she sent the kranooks after you?"

        "She using them to guard something I need. . . something I used to have. She believes it is the key to making her plan come to pass."

        "The plan to bring the vampire city among the world of the living," Spike added.

        "Yes." Stephan nodded.

        "There's always a something. What is it?" Spike could tell Buffy was thinking hard, and he wondered if her thoughts were similar to his.

Stephan was waiting for them to sort through the facts, and Spike didn't like it.

        "It's half a dimensional trigger. She only has half. With half, one can open temporary portals between the human dimension and the vampire city. However, the portals aren't stable enough to move whole cities across dimensions. Stephanie needs. . .wants both pieces. As do I."

        "And Michael has one piece," Buffy stated as she remembered that Michael had opened the portal between dimensions.

        "Stephanie and I each have a piece. We use them to cross dimensions to meet our needs. Michael was running an errand for me, and Stephanie found out about it. She sent the kranooks for him, and he barely escaped."

        "And you're telling us all this because?" Spike asked, not able to hide his impatience anymore.

        "Because," Stephan looked hard at each one of them with an air of nonchalance, "I need your help, and. . . I know who all of you are." He paused as he waited for his statement to have an impact.

        They rose as one as if they'd fought together for ages. Spike felt the energy rolling through the three of them. It hummed through his veins, and he made a mental note of it. He was ready for a fight despite the overwhelming odds against them.

Stephan regarded the three thoughtfully and smiled as several vampires emerged from the shadows. One of the vampires plucked a terrified Mary from her seat.

        "Hey," Angel snarled, shifting into vampire face.

        "Don't worry. Your human isn't going anywhere, but then, again, neither are you," Stephan said calmly. "You're well within the midst of our city. Even if you got out of the building, the city works for me. . . well, half of it does anyway. You'd be stopped before you made it past the first block, and no one would be the wiser."

        "How did you know it was us?" Buffy demanded, holding up a stake that she'd managed to conceal quite invisibly on her person.

        "Did *Harmony* tell you?" Spike growled, not for the first time thinking very vile thoughts about his ex and shifting his eyes to search the room for a weapon. He settled on the coffee pot.

        "Harmony didn't tell me anything. I read the prophecies. I knew long before you got here. . . that a Slayer and two vampires with souls. . ."

"Make that *one*. . . *one* vampire with a soul," Angel insisted.

Stephan rolled his eyes, and Spike felt a minute bit of respect for the vampire. "*One* vampire with a soul. I knew who you were as soon as you set foot in the city. No other vampire knows. . . except perhaps Stephanie. Not even Michael has a clue. Harmony is a simpleton. . . sweet but not too bright. She's around because she knows you and because Michael seems to have taken a shine to her. You might ask how I know about you. . . ."

"You read the prophecy," Buffy said, and Spike swore he could see the soul shining out from her eyes. "Big whoop, you can read."

        "And you probably think I want to get rid of you before the prophecy can come to pass. . . before you can decimate the city." Stephan motioned for the vampires behind him. "And you would be wrong. I don't want to kill you. . . . or even to stop the prophecy. . . at least, not yet. You, Buffy, have a history of thwarting prophecy. I'm banking on it. I want to stop my sister. If she brings the city to fruition in the human world, vampires will cease to experience the prosperity they've enjoyed."

        "And we *couldn't* have *that.*" Buffy's words were biting. "There's a hidden agenda in there for you, mister."

        "Of course, I would lose power if the city was brought into the light. But I'm also about bringing the spark of humanity back into the vampire community."

        Spike snorted; Stephan sounded like a very bad campaign ad. "That'll be the day."

        Stephan ignored him. "You haven't seen what I've done with the city. Before you decide. . . well, you really have no choice. . . I want you to see the plans I have. I've made great steps in improving the way our kind lives."

"And what are you planning on having us do?" Buffy asked.

Walking to the door, Stephan swung it open and grinned. "I'll explain after the remainder of the tour."

More revelations next chapter and some insight into what's going on in Buffy's mind regarding Spike and Angel! ;o) Stay tuned!

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