Title: Come To Play
Author: Starla
Email: starla@buffymail.com
Disclaimer: These Characters belong to Joss Whedon, except Gorlock, Alana, Adrian Townsend, and anyone else you don't recognize.
Distribution: Take it, but let me know. If you have any of my other fics, go ahead.
Author's Notes: It *will* be B/A I promise. I realise this part is a little depressing. Sorry. Season 4 did happen, Fish Boy did date Buffy, Angel went to LA, etc.
Spoilers: I dunno. Anything is possible, be warned.
Summary: 150 years after the Scooby Gang die, they return to Earth to help out the current Slayer and her Slayerettes.

Prologue


A Hundred and Fifty years had passed. Angel could scarcely believe it as he lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips, sculling down the fiery amber liquid.

A hundred and fifty years since his life had shattered.

A hundred and fifty years since everything he held dear in the world was ripped away from him in one foul swoop.

In the year 2001, they had been killed.

All of them.

They had been at the beach, battling Gorlock, a 600 year old vampire who had been a powerful sorcerer before he was turned.

Apparently, he still had the magic touch.

Anya had been the first to go, engulfed in a solid darkness, her life squeezed out of her by the shadow demons.

Wesley had been next, his neck broken by one of Gorlock's more enthusiastic minions.

Oz and Willow had gone together, drowning in the icy ocean waters.

Xander had been skewered by a magical spear, his body bursting into flames as soon as the weapon penetrated his skin.

Giles was crushed underneath a giant boulder, his pained screams lost amongst the sounds of battle.

Cordelia had fought valiantly, but eventually, exhaustion got the better of her and she was drained by a fledgling vampire.

And Buffy...

The hideous demon lord had used hypnosis on her, turning her own crossbow against her.

Angel and Spike had been the only survivors. They had killed Gorlock, working together, turning his magic against him as he had turned Buffy's weapon against her.

And now, they worked together to guard the hellmouth with a new slayer and her innocent young friends.

The Slayer.

Alana Fox was 17 years old, blonde, and feisty. On occasion, she reminded Angel of Buffy.

They were technically a couple.

Spike had encouraged Angel to date again not long after they returned to Sunnydale. So Angel did so, mainly to keep Spike off his back.

He enjoyed Alana's company. She was sweet, and Angel knew it would do him no good to wallow in his depression.

No good for him, and no good for the world.

He didn't love Alana, he doubted he ever would. But for now, like and attraction were enough.

He lifted the bottle to his lips again, taking a swig. He didn't often drink, but tonight, the memories were too much for him. A hundred and Fifty Years, to the day.

A hundred and fifty years....

Adrian Townsend flicked through a musty old book, searching for some clue as to what the hellmouth had in store for them next. Spike had gotten some information from a local informant, who said something big was going down. No details at all.

He frowned in frustration, his eyes falling on a paragraph written in curling, ancient script.

A hundred and fifty years after the fall, the Warriors will be called upon once again to rid the world of darkness.

Adrian pushed a hand through his curly dark hair, annoyed by the message. Who on Earth were the Warriors?

Allies, obviously.

But who, exactly?

He sighed and went back to combing through the books.




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