Players and Pawns : The Cleansing

by Daniel Jay

Set the summer after Graduation. An outside force attacks the vampires of Sunnydale. Hint(rd1stpg)

The man lay in a state of passive consciousness. Awake but lacking the will to interact with his environment. Such was the life of this being that had lived for nearly three and a half millenniums. It wasn't always like this, though. He was once the ruler of all he saw, and beyond.

That all changed nearly three thousand years ago. The victim of his own pride and arrogance, he was banished from his land. Banished to this new land where he was nearly rendered powerless. The humans no longer stood in a mixture of awe and fear when confronted with the site of him. They no longer trembled at the very mention of his name. He missed that.

He would have it all back, though. Oh yes, he was sure of it. Since he arrived in this new land, he had been steadily preparing. Gathering his forces as discretely as he could. The outside world knew nothing of him, and that was the way he wanted it. When the time came to confront the Slayer and her Watcher, the slaughter would prove to be an easy feat. Blinded sheep against the wrath of a lion.

Only one person in this world worried him, the one person who would be blessed with the ability to destroy him, his counterpart, his adversary.

A smile etched across his pale lips. He felt it. The plane had been changed! The time for preparation was over. It was now a time for action. And soon, the world would tremble at his feet.

1

By all accounts, it was nearly a picture perfect day in Sunnydale. The sun was shinning brightly, the birds were singing, there was a crisp wind in the air. Everything was wonderful... except for the musky feeling in the air.

This had been a busy day for Fire Chief Williams, or Big Willy to his buddies. Six., that was the number of fires that were reported on this July morning. The first, it was an abandoned warehouse, which was set ablaze at the crack of dawn. Numerous others soon followed, so now the Sunnydale Fire Department was being stretched to its limit.

Knock. Knock.

Williams' head moved up from the paperwork on his desk. Through the slightly opened blinds on his door, Williams saw that it was Olson. A hard worker, but still an obnoxious little prick. Olson was the kind of guy who saw himself as the next Fire Chief, and knowing the world, Williams knew it would probably happen.

Williams raised his hand and waved him in. Olson opened the door and walked in with his usual cocky swagger. He sat down in front of the desk with a plop.

Why don't you whip out you're dick why you're at it, Williams thought.

"What do you want Olson? In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a little crisis here," Williams said, continuing to work on his paperwork.

"That's what I've come to talk to you about, sir. There's another one."

Williams put down his pen and began to massage his temple with both his hands. "Where?"

"An old apartment building near City Hall. I'm afraid we had a few civilian casualties."

"Fuck," Williams said harshly. "I knew our luck couldn't last. Goddamn arsonists couldn't stick with abandoned buildings forever."

"There is a bit of good news, sir," Olson said, his voice a little more upbeat.

"Yeah. What's that," Williams asked.

"We got two eyewitnesses on this one."

Williams raised an eyebrow. "What did they say?"

"Two Caucasian males, one with black hair, the other blond. Witnesses saw them pull up to the building in a white van and deliver a briefcase to the front door. As soon as they left, boom."

"License plate?"

"Nope," Olson said flatly.

"So we're looking for two white guys in Sunnydale. Where are we going to find those," Williams said, the sarcasm oozing out of his mouth.

"It's a start, sir. And with backup coming in from all over the county, we should be able to handle whatever they throw at us."

"I suppose. I suppose."

* * * *

At this moment, Buffy Summers felt happier that she had in the past few months. But there was a reason for that. She was dreaming.

Back in familiar surroundings, the Bronze, she danced in her lover's arms, the man who embodied some of the best, and worst, moments of her life. Her sweet, sweet Angel.

Alone on the dance floor, he caressed her gently. Swaying side to side ever so slightly. The music from the band echoed her mood. It was safe, secure, and most of all, confident. Confident that her love for this man would overcome all obstacles.

Overcome the fact that true happiness would cost him his soul. Overcome the fact that he may never die, and her lifespan, by history, was relatively short. And finally, overcome the fact that they would never have a normal life. That it would always be filled with conflict, triumph, and most of all, tragedy.

But like all good things, this too had to end. Slowly the images became more and more distorted. Until eventually, she was awake.

"Buffy."

"Mmmm," Buffy grumbled. "Let me sleep, Dad. It's too early."

"Buffy." The voice sounded more forceful.

Sluggishly, Buffy opened her eyes. Expecting to see her father before her, she did not.

The stranger stood tall beside her bed, faintly illuminated by the light shinning through the blinds. He was dressed in a dark robe, similar to a monks. His head was clean-shaven and looked around Buffy's age.

Raising his right hand, Buffy could see he was holding something, a piece of paper.

"You're needed back in Sunnydale," he said, placing the paper on her nightstand. Once done, he turned and walked from which he came.

Buffy sat up in her bed. "Wait a second," she said with an annoyed tone. "Who the hell are you?"

He stopped walking abruptly and turned around. Looking Buffy dead in the eye, he said, "My purpose is to warn you. I can't say anything more." Finished, he opened the door and closed it quietly behind himself.

Buffy sat in her bed, partially covered in her blankets, with a confused look on her face. Okay. That was weird.

No sooner that she finished her thought, the door opened again. Buffy braced herself, unsure of what to expect. But it was for nothing. Her father, Hank Summers, stood in the doorway, looking extremely chipper.

"You're up early," he said, still smiling. "It's only 9:45. I thought you'd still be sleeping."

Buffy felt baffled. "You didn't just see a bald guy walk out of my room? A little taller than me, looked kind of sad," she added.

Hank now shared his daughter's puzzlement. "No I didn't. Maybe you were dreaming," he said. After all, it was the most logical explanation.

"I don't think so," Buffy said, grabbing the piece of paper. She unfolded it and read it carefully. "Dad, I got to get back to Sunnydale."

* * * *

Willy let out a vicious sneeze.

Fucking smoke.

Since the school burnt down and the Mayor was killed, business had been slow for Willy. Less demons saw Sunnydale as "the place to be", or lost confidence in certain areas of life. Namely, knowing that the Slayer wouldn't kill you if you decided to go out amongst the humans. There was nothing like the death of another leader to lower moral in the vampire ranks. That meant Willy had to explore new areas to maintain an income. Luckily, Willy didn't have to wait long, or even look for that matter.

He remembered the day in great detail. It was around two weeks after the Ascension. The sun was shinning and it had reached 87 degrees Fahrenheit (not abnormal for California). Willy had just resolved to undertake new ventures. That's when the stranger came to see him, Naeem. A big black fellow who said he'd been told Willy could help him out.

"What kind of help?"

"Nothing that a man in your position can't handle, information of the demonic persuasion. And did I mention that you would be well compensated for your time?"

Well compensated was a bit of an understatement. 200 grand for info on Sunnydale, something Willy had in spades. Naeem said he'd be back in a few days, and when he did, Willy was ready. Sewage plans, maps showing every nest, vampire or otherwise, in Sunnydale. Histories of every major player in Sunnydale, even the dead ones! Willy had even impressed himself.

But today he was questioning the validity of his actions. The past two days, Willy had been hearing rumors. Rumors that a group of humans were striking nests outside of Sunnydale. That every kind of demon that went up against them was killed.

At first, Willy dismissed them as just that, rumors. Besides, even if they were true, it didn't really affect him. Those demons in the outskirts rarely came into town. And even if they did, it was even rarer that they came to his establishment.

But now local vampires were being targeted. Listening to the radio, Willy knew of the fires, and the importance of their locations. Every nest that Willy knew of had been destroyed by these unknown arsonists. Willy had a feeling of who it was. The real question was why. The only thing they would gain would be sending a lot of pissed off vampires out of their homes.

The complete lack of business this morning gave Willy ample time to ponder this question. That was of course, until now.

The door to the bar swung open. "It's a scorcher out there." Not that the man seemed to mind, though, his voice was fairly jolly.

Willy's eyes widened. "Naeem. What are you doing here?"

"I was in town, so I decided to visit my favorite bartender. It's really hot out there," he said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"That wardrobe isn't helping," Willy said. Naeem's clothes consisted of a leather jacket, jeans, and a shirt, all black.

Naeem looked himself over. "That's true, but I don't feel comfortable in anything else." He looked over to Willy and smiled. "Come and have a drink with me," he said, motioning to a table. "My treat."

Willy was hesitant. His previous thoughts still crowded his mind. "Sure." He grabbed two glasses. "What do you want?"

"Just a beer."

Willy put the glass under the tap and turned the handle. Naeem made his way to a table and sat down, facing Willy. This didn't sit well with the bartender. He felt as if he was being stalked in the jungle by a prowling tiger.

I'm not that interesting.

With the beers filled, Willy walked around the counter and made his way over to the table. He placed the beers on the table and sat across from Naeem.

Naeem picked up his beer. "Here's to good friends." Willy was silent, not sure what to make of the situation. Naeem sipped the beer slowly, savoring every drop. He placed the beer back on the table. "Why aren't you drinking?"

Willy shrugged. "I'm not thirsty."

"Don't make me waste my money."

Naeem's tone was lined with anger. That scared Willy. Willy looked into Naeem's eyes.

Intense.

Willy picked up his beer and placed the rim of the glass on his lips. Naeem looked on earnestly. Willy tipped the glass back and gulped the beer. Finished, he placed the half-empty glass on the table. The tension subsided.

"That wasn't so hard, was it." Naeem took another sip of his beer. "Now I'm not insulted." Willy looked at Naeem inquisitively. He had come to the decision that this man was quite volatile. "You got to love beer. You know, this is the first beet that I've had in a while."

"Why's that?" Willy asked. Truthfully, he didn't care, but he didn't want to make this guy angry.

"My boss frowns on it. He says I have to keep a clear and focused mind. That's actually the reason I'm here. My boss, that is. He wants to meet you." Willy flinched. Naeem looked over to the door. He shouted, "Hey Galina, bring him in!"

Through the doors came a vision. Willy's ultimate fantasy come to life. The woman's blond hair flowed to a few inches below her shoulders. Her face was flawless, as was the rest of her body.

"That's my girl, Galina," Naeem said proudly.

Galina stepped off to the side of the door. Behind her was a man who struck Willy as a bodybuilder. Dressed in a dark, hooded shroud, he looked at Willy. Willy felt a chill run up his spine.

"Sorry about this, Willy."

"Huh?" Willy turned back to Naeem just as he threw his knife. It landed square in his chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Shit.

Willy lay with his back to the ground, staring at the ceiling. Entering his field of vision was Galina, who looked gleeful. She bent over and pulled the knife out of Willy. He let out a brief grunt as it left his body.

"No loose ends, Willy," Galina said.

Willy looked at her with docile eyes. Galina smiled as she brought the knife down into Willy's heart.

2

Cruising 80 miles per hour down the highway, Buffy Summers could be heard singing, "I I I I I I wannaa beeee, anarchy!"

At least my dad bought a cool car during his mid-life crisis.

It was a cool car indeed, a brand new, 99 mustang, cherry red, standard transmission, and leather interior. But best of all (from Buffy's perspective), a CD player with decent CD's.

The Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Nazareth, Credence Clearwater Revival, all the best bands of the 60's and 70's. The only dark spot was Jefferson Airplane, but it was to be expected. All parents have to own some bad CD's.

Passing another car, Buffy turned down the stereo. Out of her rear view mirror, Buffy could see the driver of the car making an obscene gesture with his middle finger. Even though she knew he couldn't see, she returned the gesture.

Might as well try again.

After pressing speaker on the cellular phone, attached to the midsection of the interior, Buffy dialed Giles' number. Three rings later, the phone was answered.

"Hello?" Though groggy, Buffy could recognize the voice. It was Xander.

"Hey Xander, what are you doing at Giles' so early?"

"The big man is paying me to help him sort out all his books." Xander paused. "I can't believe he fit all his books from the library in here."

"Where is Giles," Buffy interjected.

"Don't know. The place was empty when I got here." Xander yawned. He was dead tired.

"Well find him if you can. I'm coming back to Sunnydale."

"Why?" Xander asked. He sounded more alert than before.

"Some guy showed up in my bedroom and gave me a message. I figure he's a demon like Whistler," she added.

"What did he say?"

"He left a note saying, "Main and Third. Noon." I should be there in time."

"Want me to wait there for you?" Xander asked. Buffy knew that he would rather be in the "field" than the "office", but it was safer there.

"No. Stay there, wait for Giles, and do some research. Maybe there's something special about that spot, or the time for that matter."

"Yeah, and maybe it has something to do with the fires."

Buffy winced. "What fires?"

"Oh yeah," Xander said, realizing. "You don't know about them. A lot of buildings have been burnt to the ground. Mostly abandoned ones."

Abandoned... vampires!

"Start researching now." It wasn't intentional, but Buffy's voice had an urgency to it. "I'll call Willow to go over to help you."

"Hey," Xander said. He had just changed the topic of the conversation. "Have you talked to Willow lately?"

"No. Why?"

"She's been acting very strange these past few days. So has Oz. I think something bad is going on between them."

That's odd, Buffy thought. What could be wrong. And if it was serious enough to warrant Xander's suspicions, why wouldn't Willow call her and talk about it. They told each other everything, didn't they?

"I'm sure she and Oz are fine," Buffy said.

"I guess." Buffy could tell that she didn't sway Xander's opinion at all.

"I'll call her right now. You get cracking."

With that, she hung up the phone, and began dialing Willow Rosenberg's phone number.

* * * *

Unknown to many residents, beneath Sunnydale were many underground dwellings. Sewers and rock formations seemingly carved by the hand of god. To some, these miles of tunnels represent one thing, a home. Through recent events, these burrows became quite crowded. This caused tension in this small community to mount.

"You're fuckin crazy man!" Steve exclaimed. "KoRn is a hell of a lot better than Limp Bizkit!"

"Did you even listen to 'Significant Other'. It kicks ass!" Everett rebutted. "It's not just yelling like 'Follow the Leader'. It has diversity."

"In other words, lots of soft pussy shit."

"Fuck you man." Everett looked over to Vlad. "Who do you like man?"

"I'm a Dave Matthews Band man, myself," Vlad said, from his makeshift bed made out of discarded pieces of clothing.

Steve and Everett looked at each other. "Pussy," they declared in unison.

"Jesus Christ, don't you guys ever shut your traps!" Fran yelled, as she stood up. "For the past two hours I've been sitting here, listening to you dickless wonders argue about nothing!" Fran stopped yelling. She sighed. "I'm surprised you finally got off that Megatron-Galvatron debate."

"Megatron rules," Everett announced.

"Shut up ass licker. Galvatron killed Starscream. He rules."

"Yeah, but Megatron killed Octimus Prime. Starscream was a pussy." Everett crossed his arms around his chest as he embraced a smug smile, declaring himself triumphant.

"Wankers!" Fran screamed in frustration. Walking down the tunnel, she yelled, "I'm going to see what Jimmy and his non-shite eating friends are doing!"

"Sure you don't want to give me a blow job first?" Steve asked Fran loudly, merely to prove her. It worked, and a backward peace sign was her response (British equivalent of the finger).

Steve looked at Everett. "British chicks are sexy."

"Damn rights," Everett agreed.

"Hey." Steve shimmied over to where Everett was sitting. "When are you going to eat?" Steve's eyes glanced to the woman bound further up the tunnel. "I'm getting the craving."

Everett looked at Steve with deadpan eyes. "Nope."

"WHY THE FUCK NOT!?" Steve shrieked at the top of his lungs.

Everett looked cool and composed. He was unfazed by his friend's anger. "I'm not hungry yet. And you know I like my necks fresh when I eat."

"Will you guys shut up," Vlad asked, though slightly muffled by the hat covering his face.

"Shut up you commie bastard," Steve said, still infused with anger. Vlad was silent. Steve turned his attention back to his friend. Looking deep into his eyes, Steve studied Everett's mood. There wasn't a hint of intimidation. "Shit," Steve mumbled to himself. He then got to his feet and made his way down the tunnel, passing the frightened woman. "I'll get my own damn food!"

Everett smiled. He looked over to his Russian friend. The man lay covered by his moth eaten coats, as always. Everett stood up and walked over to the woman. She was awake, but not moving of speaking. An entire roll of duct tape saw to that. Through the darkness, he could see her eyes. They were fear ridden. Jerking back and forth, as they looked for some glimpse of hope. She saw nothing but her captor. The tears began to flow as she saw his face change. She let out a deafening scream. But because of the duct tape, it wasn't heard. A few moments later she was dead.

Meanwhile, further down the tunnel, another's luck reached a dank abyss.

Steve was also smiling. He had just found his prey. A few feet away, a plump rat scurried about. It searched for food, as did its hunter. Thanks to his hyper senses, Steve saw the rat. But he didn't see the two men standing behind him. Nor did he see the blade as it slit his throat.

The pain he was feeling was awesome. With his hands clenching his throat, Steve turned around to see his attackers. Steve saw two men standing in the shadows. Helplessly, Steve watched as the second man stepped forward, blade in hand. The man swung the blade, striking Steve's belly. Covering his throat, Steve fell against the wall of the tunnel. He watched as his intestines emptied onto the concrete floor.

In a last ditch effort, he called for, "Everett." Sadly for him, the words came out in a distorted whisper.

The first man raised his blade, and struck the final blow. Steve's head rolled onto the floor. It tumbled forward until it disappeared into a cloud of ash.

The first man smiled.

The Cleansing had begun.

3

Fuckin picky bastards.

When Everett fell asleep just before dawn, he had a good idea of what would happen the next day. This was not what he pictured.

He figured that he would wake up around noon, kill his capture from the night's hunt, and watch his tape of Conan O'brien reruns (Pimpbot 5000 rules! was a biblical truth for him). Instead he was waken an hour past dawn by the smoke filling the room, was almost killed dragging his meal underground, and worst of all, now had no TV.

To add insult to injury, he now had to dump the remains of the body. Jimmy and his friends didn't want to eat a human that was "empty". And there was no way Everett was going to take the body above ground. His hand was once burnt badly by the sunlight and he vowed it would never happen again.

So, wandering through the sewer looking for a place to dump the woman, the words repeated themselves. Fuckin picky bastards.

Everett walked down the empty, darkened tunnel, dragging the woman low to the ground. He held her by her neck, the place where he sucked the life out of her. Stopping, he let go. Her head hit the ground hard, creating a light splash in the water traveling through the sewer. Though the body was still near the encampment of vampires, Everett didn't care. By the time the woman became rancid, he would be long gone. He had a plan. Once the sun set, he and Steve would find a nice house, kill the inhabitants, and set up camp. Hopefully something with a satellite, that was his only preference. Besides, the vampires that chose to live down here permanently, were pussies or stupid pussies. They wouldn't bitch about their tunnels becoming a graveyard. He need only hide it from his peers.

"Kiss my ass you bastards," Everett mumbled festively to himself.

Finished his business, Everett was about to head back when he heard something. It sounded like a scream, though distant. Curious, Everett made his way down the tunnel.

Twenty meters later, Everett met a sharp 90-degree turn. It was then that he heard another noise, or rather, several of them, repeating incessantly. It was the sound of footsteps, splashing the water with each step. Finally, it ended. It sounded like the person tripped.

Everett stepped towards the edge of the wall and peered behind it to see who, or what, it was. It was humanoid that was for sure. The person (or demon) was on the floor of the tunnel, crawling slowly toward Everett.

"What the fuck?" Everett whispered to himself.

It the darkness, Everett noticed something. An object sticking out of the person's back, possibly the handle of a stake or knife. It was this object that had brought the person to his/her knees.

"Who the fuck are they?"

"They", were silhouettes. Two figures that were rapidly nearing the person. Everett twitched. They were carrying swords.

In a state of fear and fascination, Everett watched the two go to work. The first to reach the person ripped the object out of his/her back. It was a knife. The second then raised his sword and struck the person. Even from the distance, Everett could tell that if the person was a righty, he/she was fucked.

The first struck a second later. His evil nature got the best of Everett sick smile covered his lips as he saw the person raise the stubs where his/her arms once were. Two swipes later, the person no longer had any limbs.

This is it, Everett thought. The first and second raised their swords. A moment later, Everett heard a low scream escape the vampire's mouth as it turned to ash.

Everett turned around and ran frantically away from the silhouettes.

* * * *

It was weird, even his mother said so, but Vlad couldn't sleep without noise. It wasn't ten minutes after Everett and Steve left that Vlad found himself tossing and turning within the clothes that made his bed. Try as he might, Vlad knew that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

Shit, Vlad thought. He tossed the clothes off himself and stood up. He decided to go see Fran. Everett had also gone that way, so he would probably run into him too.

Three minutes later, Vlad reached the rally point. It was a place where four tunnels converged and connected. It was also a place where a group of 15 or so vampires had gathered. At the center was a bowl. A place where the water emptied from the tunnels and traveled down a grate to a lower level. The vampires were spread out along the top of the bowl, making sure they wouldn't become wet. It was standing at the end of the tunnel that Vlad was hit by something.

The force of the collision sent Vlad flying forward. He hit the center of the bowl, into the water. Disoriented, Vlad lifted his face out of the water. A foot before him was the object that hit him.

"Fuck!" Fran was confounded. Standing at the opposite end of the bowl, she saw Vlad as he approached. It was natural that she also saw the mangled, naked body of her friend, Stu, fly towards him. Vlad was now on his hands and knees at the center of the bowl, looking as confused as Alice in Wonderland.

It wasn't Vlad that held Fran's attention, though, it was Stu. They weren't best friends or nothing, but Fran held a lot of respect for Stu. They would occasionally go hunting together. He was strong, polite as a vampire could be, and smart. This in no way resembled what he was now.

His right arm was gone, sliced off at the shoulder. His left arm faired no better. Twisted in so many places that it resembled a pretzel. His right leg was detached at the kneecap, but it was tame in comparison to the left. It looked filleted. All across the leg pieces of meat were gone, exposing the bone. His manhood was gone. Only a bloody patch of meat beneath the skin remained. His face was fine, left totally untouched. But his hair was gone. As the Native's of the America's once did, he was scalped. The damage done to his chest sent fear racing among the crowd. Chiseled in his chest were three letters:

D-I-E.

The scream broke Fran's trance. Her eyes raced around the room, searching. They stopped a few feet from the tunnel where Vlad once walked. She stood and watched the horror unfold.

It had only been three seconds since Vlad's arrival, but two vampires were already dead. The two who killed Steve stepped into the bowl, and struck down those closest to them. Fran watched from across the bowl. She watched two more vampires be decapitated by these men clothed in dark robes. A second later the panic hit.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Jimmy ordered at the top of his lungs.

It was madness. Around him, vampires fled for their lives or were killed. Jimmy watched as these strangers infuriate some vampires. He watched them change their faces and charge the strangers. He then watched them be decapitated or mortally wounded.

Instinct took over. This was his turf, his people. These fuckers think they can waltz in here and start killing my people! He then remembered the gun. His trusty nine-millimeter that he used when he was a common thief in Cleveland. He didn't use it much lately, but he always kept it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

He reached inside and took aim. "GET DOWN!" He pulled the trigger.

The bullets flew across the room. A vampire that just lost his hand was struck in the head. He fell to the ground, loosing all brain activity. The rest of the bullets found their target. They struck the stranger in the chest, one by one.

The stranger stumbled back, Yes! but quickly regained his footing. OH NO!

That was Jimmy's last thought.

The death count for the battle was eight. The remains of the vampire's bodies slid into the water, creating a foul goo that reeked of death.

The survivors escaped into the tunnels. Only a few would live to see the night.

4

The silence was absolute. After running for nearly five minutes, and waiting for an undetermined time, everything was quiet. Nary the scurry of rats, the cascade of water, or the commotion of the surface, nothing. Not even the sound of a heartbeat.

Sometimes being dead has it's advantages, Fran thought.

But if she weren't dead, she wouldn't be in this situation.

It wasn't much, but it was a place to hide. A shallow, though wide, crack in the wall of the tunnel. Maybe caused by an earthquake, or maybe by years of erosion. Chipping away at the surface, one molecule at a time. Whatever the case, Fran was glad it was there.

She was all alone. And for the time being, that was the way she wanted it. Supposively, there was safety in numbers. That wasn't something Fran held in high regard, though. The events of the past hour didn't support it either. So Fran crouched in the rift, her hands gripping a tired, old bat that she found nearby, thinking.

What's that?

Fran's mind raced. She heard something. That was for sure. But was it one of "them", or a vampire? It was moving slowly, possibly 25 feet away.

I should have been more alert! Fran cursed herself.

She processed her options. Running. A viable plan, but to where? The noise was coming from the west side, and she came from the east. She was the only one who came this way. Going back would be dangerous.

15 feet.

She could fight. She possessed the element of surprise, and a weapon. However, what good is a rotten bat against a sword.

Ten feet.

Could he see her? Were her white Nike's protruding out enough to enter his field of view.

Five feet.

Her grip on the bat was iron. Sweat was gathering on her forehead. She would have to fight.

Two feet.

Fran leapt out of the rift with the velocity of a cheetah. She landed squarely on her feet, closed her eyes, and swung the bat. In the back of her mind, she thought a silent prayer (not sure who to).

The result was devastating. The bat, already in a state of decay, shattered instantly. Chips of wood showered the air, landing on Fran and vice versa. The stranger was flattened, landing on his/her back.

Fran flipped the remains of the bat in her hands. Instead of holding it for a swinging motion, she held it as a stake to be drove into the stranger's heart. She held the bat over her head. Her survival depended on this. She brought the bat down in a swift, vigorous motion.

She missed.

"Jesus Christ, Fran! You almost killed me!"

Fran released the bat. Cautiously, she stood up and backed away from the person. Her eyes focused on the mysterious figure lying on the base of the tunnel.

"Crunch?" Fran almost hoped it wasn't him.

"Duh! What the hell are you doing!?" he asked, his voice shrill with anger. His head was tilted upwards to see Fran.

Crunch. A guy who up to a few years ago was called Sid. To his dislike, he was renamed after a few of his buddies watched "The Big Hit". During the movie, they noted some similarities between the character, "Crunch", and Sid. They were both black, bald, and liked to masturbate. Naturally, the name stuck with him.

"Help me out here!" Crunch pleaded. "I feel like Uma Thurman in "Pulp Fiction.""

"Why? Cause you both like to pleasure black men," Fran said snickering. "You know, she's married to Ving Rhames in that movie."

"I get the joke, Fran." He sighed. "Just get this thing out of me."

"Keep your panties on." Fran moved up beside Crunch. He was right, there was a resemblance to Uma Thurman. The bat was in deep. It looked remarkably sturdy, being imbedded in Crunch's right shoulder. Fran's mind flashed back to the cartoon, "The Sword in the Stone"

Time to do this like that little blond kid.

Fran was hesitant. It's an awkward situation pulling a bat out of somebody. She placed her left foot beside Crunch's head. She grazed Crunch's torso with her right foot, searching for a place to put it.

"Watch it!" Fran made eye contact with Crunch. "My stomach is a little tender."

Fran gasped. Crunch's shirt was torn in several places and soaked in dried blood.

Not my most observational day.

Fran's foot settled on the top portion of Crunch's chest. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the bat. Fran looked back into Crunch's eyes. He nodded.

"SHIT!" Crunch screamed in agony.

When the bat left Crunch's body, the sound of the moist flesh tearing turned Fran's stomach (if it was a human, she would have enjoyed it). Fran examined the end of the bat. It was littered with jagged, blood soaked points. Fran noticed minuscule pieces of flesh clinging to them. She groaned in disgust and tossed the bat behind her. The sound echoed throughout the tunnel.

"Mind stepping off me, Fran," Crunch asked.

"Oh, sorry." Fran stepped to the side.

Crunch extended his left arm. Fran grabbed it with both hand and helped him to his feet.

"Damn, that hurts," Crunch said, his voice reflecting the aching pain. He then began to exercise his left arm by rotating it in its socket, while letting the latter slouch downwards.

"What happened?" Fran asked.

"You stabbed me in the shoulder, remember?" Crunch said, continuing his exercise.

"I mean your stomach. It looks like you were slashed or something."

Crunch stopped moving. He looked as if he just remembered that he left the iron on. "Oh, yeah." His tone was serious. "With the whole getting stabbed thing, I forgot why I was coming this way in the first place."

"Why is that?"

"I was trying to hide."

"From the guys with swords?"

Crunch's eyes widened. "Yeah. How did you know that?"

Fran raised her hand. "I was also trying to hide from the sword guys. Two of them attacked us back there. I thought you were one of them, that's why I smashed you upside the head."

Crunch tapped his head with his good arm. "Still kinda hurts."

"I'm not sure if that even would have brought them down."

"Why's that?" Crunch asked, his voice hinting at the fear of the topic.

"I saw Jimmy unload his hand gun on one of those guys. He was fazed for a second before he walked up to Jimmy and chopped him in half."

"Sounds like our boys." Crunch paused for a second. "I was hanging out with Mark and the guys when two of them came out of nowhere and started killing everybody Darth Maul style. This one chick walked up to me and cut my gut twice." He mimicked the action with his arm. "If it wasn't for that brave sonofabitch, Mark, I'd be dead now... like him."

Running her hands through her hair, Fran found several wooden chips in it. She began to brush them out with both hands. "So what way do you want to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't stay here, they'll find us."

"East?"

"That's where I came from. There's nothing but bad news over there. I assume we can't go west because that's where you came from." Crunch nodded. "We can't fight or go to the surface because all our sunproof clothes and weapons were burnt in... the fires. Holy shit," Fran whispered.

"What?"

"Shit! This has all been planned!" Fran yelled, bursting with energy. "They sent us down her like rats with no protection and nowhere to go. They're striking at the outer rims and herding us to the center so... so they can exterminate us." The energy Fran felt was gone. Only the hard reality of the situation remained.

"What the hell are they then!? Can't be stopped by bullets and trying to kill us all!?" Crunch now shared Fran's grim feelings of the situation.

"I don't know. I don't know." For a moment there was silence. Both thinking about the irony of the situation, the hunters were becoming the hunted. "I do know one thing. If we go to the lower levels we're dead. There will be nowhere to run. Staying up here is the only chance of survival. We have to find everybody else and form a plan."

That's it, a plan.

* * * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere underground, a group of several vampires were having a similar discussion.

"That's the dumbest fucking plan I've ever heard!"

"Would you keep your voice down. I don't want to die today," Vlad said, in a hushed tone.

"I'm sorry, but you're fuckin insane." This time, Everett kept his voice down. "I think you've had one too many bruskies, buddy."

"Listen to me, we have to fight while we still can. At this rate, the vampire population of Sunnydale will be zero before nightfall."

Everett forced a smile. He looked around at the seven other vampires forming the circle. Their faces were cold, each taking in the discussion. The two vampires at the opposite ends of the tunnel were silent. Both listened carefully to hear what was being said. But they never forgot their job, lookout duty.

"Can you believe this guy." Everett said loudly. "He wants to lead you on a death march." Everett walked towards Vlad. He grabbed Vlad's arm and pulled it upwards. "May the fact that your hand was hacked off remind you that you owe your life to me." Everett released Vlad's arm. Vlad pulled it back to his side immediately. He was loosing his patience with Everett. "If it wasn't for me, you and all your buddies would have run down the wrong tunnel. You'd all be ash if it wasn't for me," he said loudly, once again. "I say we hide. There are miles of sewer that they'd have to search. But once the sun sets, we go topside, get some weapons, chainsaw for me, and kick some serious ass. Now that's a plan."

Vlad sighed. Idiot's going to get us killed.

"We have an advantage. Last time I counted, there were around 60 vampires in Sunnydale. With this morning's activity, that numbers probably around 40 now. But we still outnumber them. I saw two. Everett, you say you saw two. Mr. Pink and Logan saw two, and Marc saw two." Throughout, Vlad pointed to people as he spoke of them. "So there's at least eight of them. That's 40 to eight. I think the odds may be in our favor."

"Hey, Vlad. Newsflash! We just got our asses kicked. I'm in no mood to go in for a second round." Everett looked around the circle, "I don't know about you fellas, but I'm out of here. Anyone who wants to come along, feel free."

That said, Everett walked away from the group. With each step, his legs produced miniature riptides in the knee-high water. Apparently, others shared his view. Logan, Sherry, and Mr. Pink soon followed Everett. Vlad's crew was now down to seven.

"Well, Vlad, what do we do now?" Marc asked.

"First we find them, then we ambush them," Vlad replied.

"How are we supposed to kill them? We aren't well equipped and these guys are pro's," Gary said. He added, "They aren't fucking around."

"And what if they can't be killed. Bullets didn't hurt them," Ewan said, panicked.

"Nothing is invincible," Vlad said. The words were strong. He believed in them with every fiber of his being. "Bullets don't kill us either, but we die." Vlad walked over to the side of the tunnel. He bent over and picked up an object floating in the water. "When in doubt, ram a stake through its heart."

In this case, it wasn't a stake, but a two by four (a big stick basically).

5

The sun was almost directly overhead Mainstreet when the Mustang came roaring around the corner. Nearly everyone within hearing distance cocked his or her head, trying to see who or what was making all the noise. Those who saw the car could be heard saying, "Crazy driver," or something to that extent.

After turning the corner the Mustang continued down the empty street at a brisk pace. A moment later it abruptly swayed to the right and stopped between parked corners. It then jerked backwards and stopped evenly between the cars.

Like a glove.

Buffy Summers opened the door to the Mustang and stepped out of the car. She immediately placed her hand over her brow to block the sun. "Damn, it's bright," she mumbled to herself. Surveying the sky, she noticed some sparsely placed, black clouds.

Looks like smoke.

The streets weren't a bundle of activity. Except for a few people doing their daily business, the sidewalks were also almost bare. Buffy expected that to change soon. She looked at her watch; 11:51. Noon hour was near. Soon people would be leaving their offices for their one hour of freedom. That didn't sit well with her. She wasn't really sure what to expect in the middle of the afternoon. But one thing was for sure. It would be dangerous. It could have been anything from a giant snake to zombies.

Buffy opened the door to the car. She took off her jacket and threw it to the passengers' side. Not before she took Mr. Pointy out of her jacket, though. A white shirt, nice pair of jeans, and a stake was all the protection she needed. She closed the door and walked to the front of the car. She sat down on the front of the hood and began to finger the stake. Her mind drifted back to an earlier conversation.

"Hey, Will, what are you doing?"

"Umm... nothing. Same old, y'know."

There was something in her voice. She was nervous.

"Anything wrong, Will?"

"Wrong? Me? Nothing... absolutely nothing wrong with me."

If there's one thing Willow isn't good at, it's lying. Sure, her confidence has increased a lot over the past year, but still hasn't mastered the art of lying. Especially when it's big.

Buffy's thought process was interrupted when she noticed a lady walking down the sidewalk giving her an odd look. Buffy was puzzled, and then she realized what she was holding. She hid the stake under her arm and forced a half-smile. The woman walked by, her eyes never wavered.

It must look kinda odd. An eighteen year old girl playing with a long, pointy stick.

Buffy sighed and continued to wait.

* * * *

"There's this girl I know needs some shelter. She don't believe that anyone can help her. She's doing so much harm... doing so much damage. But you don't want to get involved. You tell her she can manage. And you can't change the way she feels, but you could put your arms around her. I'll stand in front of you. I'll take the force of the blow... Protection." The words came out in a whimper but never lost their melody. He dared not raise his voice above a whisper.

These were dangerous times.

The song was comforting to Vlad. A kind of security blanket to keep a sense of hope. Back at the top level of the sewer, hope was a scarce thing. It wasn't a minute before he and the others reached the top when they heard an agonized scream. Kyle made a comment that someone was getting a circumcision with a blowtorch. Vlad had similar ideas. The others decided that they would go scout and Vlad would wait at the meeting point. Of course, he didn't really mind. He was only a few meters away from the ladder that led downwards and he wasn't in a hurry to die. If he ran into the attackers in his present condition (no hand), his chance of living were slim to none. So sitting with his back against the wall, Vlad continued to sing (making up the words he didn't know) and hoping for a positive end to the conflict.

"Daydreaming, Righty?" the man asked as he sat down next to Vlad.

"Jesus, Marc! If I was alive, you would have given me a heart-attack," Vlad said holding his chest. His eyes flared. "Is that my new nickname now? Righty?"

"It's either that or Non-Lefty," Marc said laughing lightly. "Come on, we found our first kill."

Moving as discretely as they could down the tunnel, Marc informed Vlad of the situation. It was Carrie who discovered the target. A man who she described as a "big motherfucker". But he was alone and better yet, unarmed. Vlad wasn't sure what to make of it but the others were ecstatic. They saw it as a sign that their luck was changing. Marc had other ideas.

"The guy's so overconfident after the first fight that he thinks he can take us on his own."

"Maybe, but it doesn't seem right."

"I hear ya, man. But in situations like these you can't over analyze things. You see an opening, you go for it."

The guy has a point, Vlad thought.

The plan was simple enough. They would wait until the guy reached the killzone (an area similar to "the bowl") and then attack. Anton, the sneakiest of the bunch, would come up behind him. Kyle and Ewan would come from the left while Carrie and Gary would come from the right. Marc was left with the most difficult job. Namely, he was the guy who had to run the big-ass stick through the target's heart. It was a job he gladly accepted.

"While I'm shoving this into our friend," Marc held up the two by four, " it'll be your job to look out for people trying to backstab us. The brave soul may just be a decoy designed to draw us out."

Vlad nodded. He understood perfectly what Marc was saying.

Soon after Marc stopped talking completely. He began to walk slower and became more stealth like. Vlad followed suit. They were nearing the killzone.

"Get down," Marc whispered.

The duo stopped and crouched down at the side of the tunnel. Vlad thought that this was the perfect place for an ambush. It was pitch black, and hopefully that would be a problem for the target. The point where the two tunnels met was cramped. It wasn't nearly as big as "the bowl" so they could surround the guy easier.

"He should be hear any minute," Marc said. He added, "Carrie said he was coming this way at a steady pace."

A few minutes later, they saw the shadowy figure round the corner of the adjacent tunnel. Vlad felt his throat tighten. Carrie was right, he was a big motherfucker. The guy was at least 6''9. He looked like he had short black hair, but Vlad couldn't really tell because he was wearing a hood. Despite the initial fear, Vlad now felt confident in their chances. The "overconfident" argument that Marc made was blasted away by the "suicidal bastard" argument.

The guy didn't carry himself like the others did. The intimidation that Vlad felt when confronted with the attackers wasn't here. The guy walked at a slow pace and seemed oblivious to his surroundings. Most of all, his head was slouched. It was almost as if he was sulking.

Vlad clenched his fist. It would only be moments before the attack would begin.

That's when it happened. The guy stopped. He simply stopped walking.

What the hell? Vlad thought.

Vlad felt his entire body tense up. He wasn't the only one by the looks of it. Looking at Marc, Vlad could see that he was biting his bottom lip. His hand was wrapped tightly around the two by four. A little too tightly. If anymore pressure was applied to the sleek, wooden board, Vlad was sure that it would shatter. It didn't and Vlad turned his attention elsewhere. He looked at the guy. He was just standing there, almost trance-like.

The tension was building. Vlad was afraid Marc would snap and make his move early. It never happened. The guy started walking again, picking up where he left off. For a moment, Vlad thought he noticed something peculiar about the stranger. Instead of focusing on them, he pushed them aside to focus on present matters (it was right before he died that Vlad realized the guy smiled for a second).

The guy continued to walk forward, lending himself perfectly to the plan. Behind the guy, Vlad could see Anton following in a covert fashion. A second later the guy entered the killzone and the siege began.

Anton was the first to strike. He leapt onto the guy's back and attempted to subdue him by strangulation. Unfortunately for Anton, the guy easily remedied the situation. The guy reached behind his head and grasped Anton's neck. It snapped instantly. The guy then flipped Anton's limp body over his head and slammed it onto the concrete floor. Vlad distinctly heard two more bones break (he guessed they were his legs). The guy finished the assault by crushing Anton's ribcage with his foot. The individual ribs cracked simultaneously, like dried twigs. Through out this, the guy's face was motionless, showing no emotion.

Damn.

"CHARGE!" Marc bawled at the top of his lungs.

At the sound of the call, the others sprung into action. Kyle and Carrie were the first to reach the target. From each side, they struck in a synchronized effort to bring the guy down. Carrie dealt a savage kick to the guy's kneecap while Kyle struck him just below is ribcage. The guy groaned in agony and fell to his knees. Carrie and Kyle each grabbed an arm and pulled. Gary and Ewan joined the fight by continuing to beat the guy's lower back.

Marc readied himself. He held the two by four like a javelin and positioned is feet for the charge. With his arms spread out like that, Vlad thought this event held an Erie resemblance to the crucifixion.

Marc leapt through the darkness. He held the piece of wood over his shoulder with both hands. Carrie and Kyle held the target steady: the guy's heart. Marc drove the five-foot stake into the heart until it was halfway through the guy's body. A millisecond later a scream like no other left the guy's mouth. Marc released the stake form his grasp and stepped back. The others soon followed.

The guy stood on his knees, looking at the stake that impaled his chest, in a daze. His movements were sluggish. He grabbed the plank with both his hands. A brief grunt escaped his mouth as he snapped the colossal stake in two.

Vlad looked on mesmerized. The guy looked forward, stake in hand, silent. Their eyes met. Vlad wondered if this was what the devil's eyes looked like. As quietly and passively as he once was, the man fell forward.

The others cheered.

"Fucking a!" Carrie screamed.

They gathered before the slain Fein, who lay with the remains of the stake sticking out of his back on top of the vegetable once known as Anton. The group exchanged hi-five's and congratulatory remarks with Vlad looking on. A grim smile etched across his face.

We did it.

Vlad was going to join his friends when the intimidation he once felt returned a thousand fold. The stranger was standing, a big gapping hole in his chest. The others continued celebrating, blissfully unaware of the tragic events unfolding behind them. Vlad's eyes met with that cold stare once again. Only this time the vessels were a luminous green.

Less then thirty seconds later the group was dead and Vlad was on the run.

* * * *

Five, four, three, two, one.

Buffy stood before the Mustang poised to fight. She watched and listened attentively, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. A minute passed and she was left scratching her head. She tapped the lens of her watch.

Maybe it's fast.

* * * *

Vlad's mind was a blank. He was too scared to think. He was being driven completely by instinct. And that instinct said, "Get the hell out of here!" in bright, bold letters. It was a message he took to heart.

If he could think rationally, he would have thought about how his friends died. About how Carrie and Gary were impaled through the stomachs with the remains of the stake. About how their kneecaps were ground to dust by the guy's foot.

Kyle and Marc didn't have it any easier. After Marc was knocked unconscious, the guy wrapped his hands around Kyle's head and squeezed. The sound of Kyle's head fracturing would stick with Vlad forever. Marc... Marc had it the worst. As he lay unconscious, defenseless, the guy took it upon himself to tear off all his limbs.

Although they were not ash, they were already dead. They would lie in the cages of their bodies, incapacitated, until the thirst would become too much. Then, in extreme pain, they would die.

But Vlad didn't think about that. Nor did he think about the sound of the enemy bearing down on him. The heavy but quick steps of the being who wished terrible things upon Vlad (and maybe he'll get the chance to act them out).

Vlad was in mid-stride when he gasped. He stopped abruptly and skidded onto the stained floor. He scrambled to his feet. His eyes were a gaping trough of fear.

Vlad's mind was no longer blank. It was now awash with one thought.

Them.

The familiar silhouettes stood nearly 30 yards away. Two of them, standing side by side, clasping the swords they used to slaughter the undead inhabitants of this town. In the subconscious of his mind, Vlad expected them to charge. To rid him of his head as them had the others. But it didn't happen. That was not their purpose. They simply wanted to block his exit.

Vlad searched frantically for a way around them. His head bobbed and jerked until... he stopped. A cold chill settled over Vlad. There was no way out. Death stood silently before him and could be heard rushing towards him from behind. With his fate seemingly sealed, the fear lessened.

I guess this is it.

"You know you are going to die,"

The voice sent Vlad's mind racing. He's right behind me. The panic returned. What could he do? Maybe if he didn't turn around, he'd go away. No, that won't happen. The same sense of calm that recently left returned (although not as strong). He was on his deathbed; he might as well confront his killer.

Vlad pivoted towards the guy. He tilted his head upwards and looked into the face of evil. But it wasn't evil. There was sympathy in those pale eyes and maybe a bit of wonder.

The guy continued his statement. "why aren't you scared?"

"I am," Vlad blurted out before he realized it. He added, "I'm just controlling my fear."

What the hell I wonder?

The guy stood, seemingly pondering the situation. Then, he spoke again. "I had considered you, but you are flawed."

Vlad wasn't sure what he meant, but then he remembered. My hand. Vlad could sense that his time was near. He decided to ask the most important, and most obvious, question.

"Who are you and why are you doing this? Vlad asked.

"I am Jael," the guy said flatly. "I'm doing this because you are weak. You, vampires, are nothing more than remnants of a forgotten era. You are a pox."

Vlad was scared. Any of the kindness or pity that Jael held for him was gone. He was now an embodiment of hate. Nothing more. Without realizing it, Vlad began to back away.

Jael chuckled lightly. He tilted his head upward and sighed. All Vlad could see of the monster was his body (the rip in his robe was still there, but the wound was gone) and his neck. Jael lowered his head. His green eyes were afire with hatred. He snarled, exposing his fangs.

"It has been a long time since I've eaten anyone alive," he said gruffly.

Vlad started to run. His thoughts were a chaotic jumble.

Oh shit. Going to die. Fuck. Ladder. Escape. No die... NO DIE!

Using his right hand and the stub where the later once was, Vlad made a mad dash up the ladder. He died shortly after.

6

"This sucks!" Mr. Pink declared, and with good reason. He was sitting in sewer water. The most disgusting water of all! The sight alone would have been enough to send most into a violent spasm of vomiting. If that didn't send you to the porcelain god, the smell surely would. Not even "Mr. Clean" could help out in a enclosed space littered with human feces. But vampires aren't most people. Mr. Pink was neck high in the water when he made another stellar observation. "We're wasting our fuckin time!"

"Be quiet!" Sherry scowled. "No one wants to hear you wine."

Mr. Pink scoffed as Sherry turned her attention back to her nails. Mr. Pink looked around. Everybody was in his or her own little worlds. While Sherry was filing, Logan was listening to his walkman. Mr. Pink could see that Logan was mouthing the words to a song, but he couldn't make them out. Everett, their fearless leader, wasn't doing anything. He was standing against the wall, staring into nothingness.

"Why are you sitting anyways?" Sherry asked, her attention never wavering from her nails.

"I'm tired of standing. I've been doing it all day."

"You know you're going to smell like sewage for awhile."

"So are you," Mr. Pink said in an accusing tone.

Sherry stopped filing. "Only my legs. Your whole body is going to smell."

"Yeah, whatever," Mr. Pink said, forfeiting the argument but trying to retain some pride.

Sherry looked at Logan. "What's he doing?"

"Listening to his walkman. Duh!" Mr. Pink added with extra sarcasm.

Sherry brushed it off and asked another question. "What tape?"

"I've been pondering that very same question." Mr. Pink raised his hand above the water and pointed at Logan. "Why don't you ask him?"

Sherry put the file in her pocket and walked over to Logan. He was standing in the middle of the tunnel with his back to Sherry. She thought his stance was peculiar. His hands were behind his back and his chin was tilted upwards. Sherry reached over and tapped him on his shoulder.

His response was surprising to say the least. At the touch of a finger on his shoulder, Logan spun around and decked Sherry. She was sent flying backwards, with water splashing everywhere after the impact. Despite having his face drenched with the water, Mr. Pink burst into hysterics. If it weren't for the water, he surely would have rolled onto his side from the laughter.

Dread filled Logan as Sherry rose out of the water. Though it was an awesome sight. Logan, being a vampire, found the fact that Sherry was furious to be sexy. The beads of water rolling across her body was the clincher. Logan made another discovery looking at her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"What are you looking at?!" Sherry asked as she wrapped her fingers around Logan's throat.

"Nothing," he managed to squeak out.

Sherry looked downward and saw the yellow walkman attached to Logan's pants. She grabbed it and held it up to his face. With a single, brisk movement, the walkman was crushed in Sherry's hand. Logan had a look of shock on his face. Sherry opened up his hand and placed the walkman on his palm. Logan looked at his walkman, then back at Sherry.

"You killed my Oasis tape," Logan said, still shocked. "And my walkman!"

Sherry released her grip from Logan's throat. She turned her attention to Mr. Pink, who was still laughing.

"What are you laughing about?" Sherry asked hoarsely.

"I always laugh whenever I see a girl manhandling a guy," Mr. Pink said snickering.

Sherry growled. Her face now resembled her demonic guise. She walked over to Mr. Pink, knelt down, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him to his feet. Mr. Pink kept laughing lightly, despite himself. Sherry's lips flared. She raised her fist when she heard...

"Sherry!"

Sherry looked to where the voice came from. It was Everett. He stood, not looking at them, but his arm and hand extended towards them. He clenched his fist. Sherry understood.

"Back off," she muttered. She released Mr. Pink and her face returned to its more human form.

"EVERETT!"

The other's heads jerked and looked the oncoming stranger with worried eyes. Everett smiled.

"DANE! You fuckin ho-train! You get your ass over here!" Everett shouted.

Dane jogged quickly, splashing the water around him. He held his arms in the air. Like a runner finishing a marathon. He was holding something in his hand that Logan, Sherry, and Mr. Pink couldn't make out. It was long and sleek. When he got closer they saw it was a shotgun.

"I thought you would be dead by now you asshole," Everett said joyously.

"No such luck, fucknob," Dane said, still approaching.

Dane came before Everett. Both were smiling. Dane laid out the shotgun before Everett with both hands.

"This was all I could get," Dane said, sounding disappointed. He added, sounding angry, "Those fucking rejects raided my stash in the Northend."

Everett grabbed the shotgun. He held it up and looked down the nozzle. "This will do nicely," he said looking it over still. He grabbed the handle with his right hand and slung it over his shoulder. He turned around and faced the group. "Alright people, pack your shit up because we're moving out."

"What? Why?" Sherry asked confused.

"Because if we stay here we'll be killed. We got to get out of this sewer," Everett said.

"So we're going to fight? If we're going to do that we could have just hung around with Vlad," Logan pointed out.

"No. Like I said earlier, fighting is suicide. While we run in for the touchdown, we need some interference, namely Vlad and his lemmings. But weapons are key. That's why I sent Dane to go get his stash before our pow wow," Everett said tapping the shotgun.

"Where are we going?" Sherry asked.

Everett sighed. He walked up to Sherry and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I talked to everybody, and nobody said anything about our favorite bar being torched."

Sherry thought about it for a second. Her face lighted up. "Willy's!"

Everett smiled. "That's right. Our idiots forgot about it so hopefully their idiots forgot about it too." Everett walled past the group. "Let's go people. Time's a wasting."

While he walked, Everett whistled a merry tune. They were on their way.

* * * *

It was exactly 12:08 when Xander burst out of the door to Giles' apartment. He stumbled down the sidewalk, adjusting his shoe with his left hand and pulling an old equipment bag with his right (from Giles' old rugby days). He squinted as he dragged the heavy bag along the grass.

Damn, it's bright.

With his foot reached minimum comfort levels, Xander picked up the pace. He lugged the bag behind himself, with both hands, to the rusted Ford polluting the sidewalk before Giles'.

"Hurry up, Xander!" Willow yelled from the driver's side.

Xander tossed the bag into the back and ran over to the passenger's side. He opened the door, hopped in, and slammed the door. He was careful not to accidentally step into the rusted hole in the floorboard. He wasn't really sure why his dad bought such an old vehicle. And it's not like they did a lot of off-road driving, so the four by four was useless. But then he came back to one of his dad's fundamental principals in life. "If it's cheap, buy it."

"Are you sure you know how to drive standard, Will?" Xander asked.

Willow smiled. "Stupid question, Xander."

She's got you there.

With ease, Willow shifted the stick into first gear. Xander's head cocked back as Willow spun onto the road.

* * * *

He was so scared. Buffy sat in the Mustang crestfallen demeanor. The police had just arrived at the scene of the accident. Buffy watched halfheartedly at the police interviewing witnesses. They were no doubt talking about the "flaming man". The sound of the engine left a low hum in the cabin of the car. Buffy left it on just in case the police decided to ask what she had witnessed and had to leave. She didn't need the hassle. Buffy closed her eyes and thought about the man again. He was just so scared.

In all her years of slaying, Buffy never felt pity for a vampire (with one obvious exception). How could you feel any sympathy for a being that is pure evil? Anger and disgust were the usual reactions, but not pity. This was the first time she saw real human emotion in a vampire.

It was shortly after twelve when Buffy saw the lid to the manhole catapulted into the air. It flew in the sky for a second, spiraling, until it plummeted back to the earth. Unfortunately, some woman's car was in the way of that earth. It crashed into the car's windshield, shattering it. The driver immediately slammed the brakes, but that also caused problems. The two drivers behind her were caught off guard and collided into each other. The car's in the later lane had no problems and came to a halt.

As soon as the noise stopped, Buffy was on her feet and running to the site. The drivers of the surrounding cars were exiting their vehicles when he appeared, a vampire who desperately wanted to be on the surface. When Buffy arrived, he was already smoking. She held the stake, ready to fight. It didn't happen.

The vampire had the look of a frightened animal. He looked around the crowd of people gathering, unsure of what to do. Then he spotted Buffy, and everything changed. He staggered towards her and started screaming. Incoherently to some, but Buffy heard his words.

"THEY'RE MURDERING US DOWN THERE!!!"

"WE NEED HELP!!!"

He was in flames when he wailed that last part. Not that he noticed, though. He was nothing but ash a second later.

The crowd gawked on. They were understandably shocked by what they saw. That was not Buffy. She dashed over to the manhole and peered down.

Those eyes.

When a vampire prepares to feed, its face contorts to the grotesque form of a demon. With that, it's eyes turns yellow. And in the dark, the eyes glow, though dimly. The being that was standing in the sewer had similar eyes. But its eyes glowed brightly. They were a light source all on their own! That was the first thing that Buffy noticed about the creature. The second was that the light from the surface illuminated the bottom portion of it' body. Subsequently, it's hand too.

The sunlight didn't bother it.

It wasn't totally out of the question for a demon to be unharmed by sunlight, so this wasn't totally out of the ordinary. However, combined with the other factors, it caused Buffy to worry.

What's going on down there.

Knock. Knock.

Buffy jumped at the sound. She let out a sigh of relief. It was only Willow. Willow stepped back as Buffy opened the door.

Willow looked over her friend and her face turned to one of worry. "Are you alright, Buffy?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Will," Buffy lied. She then let out a fake yawn. "I'm just a little tired."

Buffy looked at her friend closely. She couldn't tell if Willow had bought it. The truth was that Buffy felt strange ever since she saw the vampire die. Since she saw him burn to death. Now she felt sad, almost depressed. Why she was feeling this way she didn't know. He was a vampire! She shouldn't feel this bad, pleading or not.

Buffy turned her attention to the truck parked behind her. Xander was standing in the back picking up a ratty old equipment bag.

Buffy never took her eyes off the bag. "All the stuff I asked for in there?"

"Yeah," Willow answered.

Buffy's eyes scanned the area behind the truck. She saw an alley a few cars down. She pointed towards it. "Let's go in there. I don't think I can arm up out here." Buffy ran off and Willow followed.

A minute later Buffy was unzipping the bag. Xander and Willow stood before her, watching attentively. Buffy pulled out a belt specially designed for these situations and put it on.

While digging through the bag, Buffy asked a question. "Any word on Giles?"

A memory came rushing to Willow and it showed on her face. "Oh, yeah, umm... he's at a digging expedition outside of LA. He called before we left and said a friend called him this morning because he found some ancient relics. Y'know... Giles stuff. He said he'd be back as soon as he could."

Buffy pulled a sword out of the bag. Xander felt uneasy. "Explain to me why you need that, again."

"The vampire who came onto the street had his hand sliced off. It was pretty cleanly by the looks of it. I figure there's some sword or knife play going on down there," Buffy said. She put the sword into a holster on the belt.

Willow and Xander watched as Buffy prepared. She was driven to go down there. It was far and between when they saw Buffy this passionate. And each time it worried them.

"Why are you going down there?" Willow asked. Partly to start up a conversation and partly cause she really wanted to know. "I mean, it's not like vampires ever did anything for you."

"I can't really say, Will," Buffy answered putting a small bundle of stakes into a small backpack. "I've got this feeling that whatever is down there is a hell of a lot bigger and badder than any vampire. I need to know the who's, what's and why's of this situation. And if they're alright, maybe I'll help them out."

Buffy stood up. She was wearing the belt that housed the sword and the backpack with several important items inside. A few stakes, a cross, and a flashlight. In her hand she held a very familiar knife. She stood looking at it. Marveling at the craftsmanship of the weapon and thinking about the past it represented. She then put the knife in a holster.

"Here," Buffy said tossing a set of keys to Xander. "Take the car back to Giles'." Xander smiled at the possibility of driving the Mustang. "You guy's go look up demons with green eyes who hate vampires. I'm going to find another way underground."

Buffy started down the alley when Willow called out, "Buffy!"

She stopped.

"Be careful."

Buffy smiled. "Aren't I always."

* * * *

Elsewhere, two males, one looking his late teens and the other his early 60's, were having a discussion in a strange dialect.

Standing in the darkened room, the boy yelled with the savagery of a lion. "NO! I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT!"

The elder looked at the boy with compassionate eyes. "Son," he said calmly. "You did your best. We had one opportunity to stop Jael and we failed. He has won."

The boy shook his head. "I won't accept it. The girl... no. An entire world won't die because I misled her."

"It was the best chance we had to help her. I stand by the decision."

"No!" The boy paused. He calmed himself. "It's as if I killed her myself, father. She put her faith in me and I... I killed her."

The elder placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "She was going to die with the rest of them. We merely changed the date."

The boy's eyes filled with rage. "How can you be so passive? It is our duty to be the guardians of these people. To protect them."

The elder sighed. "We can only shape their paths, we cannot change them. Her path was clouded, now it is set."

"It can still be changed, though," the boy said desperately. He closed his eyes. "There is a way."

The elder's eyes became hard and so did his tone. "And you know the consequences of those actions. If you stray down that path I cannot help you."

"I know," the boy said faintly. "But if I don't intervene... the Slayer will die."

"And so may you my son. And so may you."

7

After sitting in the dark for nearly two minutes, Buffy's eyes finally began to adjust. She was no longer surrounded in the infinite blackness. She was now able to make out vague shapes. A good first step nonetheless. She didn't want to depend on the flashlight so this was necessary. Because she was the Slayer, eventually she would be able to see in the darkness. Maybe not as well as a vampire, but she would get by.

A few minutes passed and she blinked her eyes.

It's time to go.

Walking down the tunnel, Buffy heard nothing, nothing but the sound of her feet hitting the concrete floor. She wasn't sure what she was expecting but this wasn't it. She expected to find nothing just as she expected to find an epic battle filled with miraculous sights and sounds. Which was absurd. Though she much preferred the latter. Better to see your enemy, no matter how dangerous, than walk through the darkness unaware.

The sewers weren't a kind place to Buffy. They never had been. Her first confrontation with the vampires of Sunnydale brought her down here on a rescue mission. It was doomed from the beginning. The victim was turned to one of the undead and tried to kill them, her and Xander.

The second time she had no choice. She was the casualty of a prophecy, which stated that she would enter the sewers and die. Both came to pass. But she got better. She rose from her eternal sleep and killed the Master, the vampire who killed her. In the months following, she was troubled by the events.

In time, she got over it.

The next few visits were nothing special. Regular Hellmouth stuff that ended on a positive note. She couldn't help but wonder what direction this trip would take, triumph or tragedy.

A thought popped in her head as she moved down the tunnel. I wish I had some help. The thought came to her quickly and left her just as fast. The only people who fit the bill were Angel and Faith. There was nothing but bad memories on both sides.

What's that?

Buffy walked over to the wall. Splattered across it was a familiar substance. She ran her finger across the wall. The blood was sticky. It had been there for at least a few hours.

Maybe I missed the party.

She walked farther down the tunnel and found a greater amount of blood on the floor. She knelt down and studied it. It was dirty enough without the thin layer of blood coating it. The black substance mixed within it could have easily been dirt than ash.

"The vamp might have gotten away," Buffy mumbled to herself. Somehow she doubted it. The amount of blood covering the walls and floor meant the vampire was seriously injured.

An image came to Buffy of a vampire crawling across the floor. His stomach slit open, glossing the floor with the blood from its body. She shuddered at the thought.

She came to a decision about the guy with green eyes and anyone who associated with him.

"They are seriously messed up in the head!"

* * * *

Deep within the underground, two solders of Jael were currently on the hunt. Or in actuality, they were tracking their pray. Through years of training, they learned the art of sensing beings by way of the plane. A kind of subconscious region where all life forms could be found. Vampires themselves had a particular texture to their energies. It was a dark feeling that made you feel edgy. They felt like death.

This entire region felt dark to Jael's followers. Not that Galina minded, though. The nervousness accompanied by the presence of a vampire made the hunt all the more exciting. She could sense that one or possibly two were nearby. They probably believed that they would be overlooked if they kept their numbers low. There was no chance of that. The Clan had planned for too long to let any of the vermin escape.

The feeling was growing. They were close. Galina could practically smell them. She was never happier than on the hunt. She only wished that she could be with Naeem, so they could share a kill together. That would never happen since Jael forbid it. He said that their emotions clouded their judgment. There was a certain contradiction in that statement since she was alive because of Jael's emotions. Naeem was his first and therefore his favorite. Naeem was his protégé and Jael treated him that way by allowing his mate to join the Clan. By allowing Galina to live.

They were so close now. So close that Galina was intoxicated with the thought of the kill. She was in such a bloodlust that she didn't notice Tobias stop walking. And she never noticed him look up.

* * * *

When the faint scream echoed through the tunnel, Fran came to a realization.

"I'm going to die," Fran said, "again."

"You're just realizing this now?" Crunch asked in a disheartened tone.

"Yeah. As I heard that scream come towards me, the realization of my impending doom came along with it."

"Oooooo," Crunch said chuckling. "Fran can use big words."

"Shove it up your arse," Fran said slightly agitated. "They may be big words to you, but to everyone else who made it past grade three, they aren't that big."

"Sure, high-school girl, sure." Crunch thought about the topic for a second then spoke. "Well, for me, the 'realization of MY impending doom'," Crunch said emphasizing the words. Fran smiled. "came to me when we came down here. There's nothing like walking through water filled with shit and piss to dampen your spirits."

"And now we're sitting in it."

"Which is an ever greater omen!" Crunch said. "Up to our necks in shit."

Fran lifted her arm out of the water and looked at her watch. It was still running despite the piss water (thank god for the Timex Ironman) and read 12:28. Since she chickened out and decided to hide, she and Crunch had run into two other vampires. Graham, a spineless little worm, and Lucia, and strong, reliable woman. It was like looking into a mirror. They were presently out and about looking for the "Darth Maul dudes", as Crunch had so eloquently put it. Minus the lightsabre, horns, and tattoo's, Fran thought it was a pretty good description.

"Know what I'm going to miss. Cats," Fran said.

"Cats?" Crunch asked confused.

"Yeah. I got into it when I was hanging out in China. You boil them, pull off the fur, then eat'em," Fran explained.

"While they're alive?"

"Of course," Fran said. "We're vampires. We can't do anything humane."

"That's true," Crunch said nodding. He continued with the topic. "I'm a simple man. I stick to the basics, namely humans. There's nothing like that look of terror when you drag them into a back alley. It's awesome!"

"What's awesome?" Graham asked walking up the tunnel.

"Killing humans," Crunch responded.

"Always a gay old time," Graham said.

Graham sat down slowly, into the water, beside Fran. Being careful not to splash Fran or himself. She was now sandwiched between the two males and felt annoyed. Whereas Crunch gave her a suitable amount of space, Graham sat right next to her. Shoulder to shoulder.

If he tries some sleazy come-on's, I'm going to break his fuckin neck, Fran thought.

Crunch extended his head outward to see Graham. He asked him a question. "What are you going to miss when you die?"

Graham shook his head. "Nothin, man," he said casually. "I'm more pissed off than anything, man."

The muscles in Fran's jaw tightened. Does he have to say "man" all the time.

Crunch was intrigued. "How so?"

"I'm being taken out in my prime. It sucks, man!" Graham exclaimed. "I've yet to do anything historic. I haven't even killed a Slayer. Hell, man, I haven't even committed a mass slaughter or anything. I'm not sad, I'm pissed!"

"Hey!"

The trio's attention turned to the person standing a few feet away. It was Lucia and she was holding something. With ease, she lifted the object off her shoulder and dropped it into the water. It hit with a heavy splash.

"Look at what I found," Lucia said giddy.

As Fran's eyes settled on the object, a smile slowly grew across her lips. Spreading as slowly and surely as lava from a volcano. The grin was sick and twisted, just like her.

* * * *

Buffy raised her sword just it time. The two swords collided with a metal clang. The attacker was strong. She felt the force of the blow echoed through her arms. Slightly shaken, Buffy stepped back. The attacker followed and swung his sword in a quick overhand arc. Buffy was caught off balance and barely moved out of the way in time.

She steadied herself.

Get it together, Buff. You don't want to end up like sushi.

The entire fight had been Buffy on the defense. The attacker was strong, sneaky, and aggressive. Everything Buffy thought of herself. So sneaky that Buffy never heard his approach. It was blind luck that he stepped of a piece of glass meters before he reached Buffy. She turned around, readied her sword, and the fight began.

The attacker stepped forward and slashed at her side. It was blocked. He rotated his wrists rapidly and struck at her left side. It too was blocked.

Buffy scampered back hastily to catch her breath. The attacker stood still for a moment, studying her as she studied him. He was composed. He didn't look tired and showed no reluctance in fighting a Slayer. Buffy decided to change that. Banter always worked at unnerving others. His silence was certainly unnerving her.

"So," she said in a relaxed fashion, "you new in town?"

The attacker's response was ferocious. He dashed towards her and began the bombardment. He cut at her four times, with each increasing in rate and strength. Buffy was able to hold her own.

"I think someone has watched Highlander too many times," Buffy said. Her tone was patronizing. "You know you want to say it." The attacker was silent. "I'll say it then. There can only be one!"

The attacker's sword made faint whistling sound as it cut through the air. After blocking it, Buffy stumbled back. She regained her footing when the attack began anew.

Buffy was outmatched. She was used to fighting in hand to hand combat. No weapons except the stake in her hand. This man had spent his entire life devoted to the art of the blade. Something had to break.

The moment came when Buffy felt her hand struck by a flood of pain. With the intensity increasing, she wasn't able to protect herself as well. The attacker saw an opening and went for it, slashing the front of her hand. Ripe with pain, Buffy found her grip on the handle lessen. The attacker, realizing this, swung his sword wildly at her. He hit the blade and it went flying out of her hands.

Damnit! Buffy thought cradling her hand. She looked at the attacker. His lips were curled slightly at end points. She staggered backwards and felt the blood roll off her fingers and onto the floor. Got to keep pressure on it, she thought gripping the wound on her hand. Though, the thought was so dismissed in favor of, Got to stay alive.

She let go of the wound and seized the knife from her holster. She extended the enormous knife before herself in a sideways fashion in an effort to hold back the attacker. In a few seconds the handle was covered with blood from her palm. She backed away at a brisk pace and the attacker followed. Stalking his wounded prey and looking for the perfect opportunity to strike.

With her maimed hand, she reached behind her neck and fumbled for the zipper to her backpack. She found the handle and yanked it to the side. The pain washed over her face as she flexed the muscles in her hand. The attacker was alert to her movements and followed her every step down the tunnel. His sword was at a 45-degree angle before his chest.

Yes! She found what she was looking for, a stake. She wrapped her fingers around the stake and felt the pain race across her body. She pushed it away and hoped her blood-soaked hand would do its job.

With frightening speed, she wrenched the stake out of the bag and pitched it at the attacker. He stood motionless in the millisecond in took for the stake to fly across the space to his heart. Buffy thought happy thoughts.

The stake hit the attacker's chest, bounced off, and fell to the ground. Buffy's heart sank with it. What the hell? Damnit. Shit! Buffy rushed back violently, barely keeping on her feet. The attacker followed, his smile was more blatant then ever.

In the back of her mind, Buffy heard something. The sound of water flowing. It wasn't until the floor ran out that she realized what it was, a large shaft for the sewage to travel downwards. The scream never escaped her lips as she tumbled into the darkness.

8

"Rico was a short man. He wants to live with a long haired girl in Costa Rica. He'll rip off fruit stands, and during the getaway she'll drive the Vespa. He's gonna buy a parrot that speaks her language. But all it'll say is what are you doing with him. Let's take off. Take off. Take off! Take off!! Everyone wants to be something. Me I'm stupid."

You got that right, retard, Everett thought. Besides all that singing why don't you wear a bull's-eye around your neck and hold up a big neon sign saying, "I'm an idiot. Kill me now!"

But Everett let Logan continue with his singing because he believed, either way, Logan would be dead before they reached Willy's. The chances of them all making it were slim and Logan wasn't much of a fighter so it was logical that be would die first. At least Mr. Pink can get rowdy when he needs to. They were going to run into one of the attacker's no matter what they did. Everett was sure of that. So there was no need for discretion.

It was all part of the plan he and Dane came up with earlier.

"You round up the weapons and I'll gather our decoys."

"And once we're on the road it's you and me."

"All other be damned. You watch my back and I'll watch yours."

Mama Wagner didn't raise her kids to be stupid, and neither did Dane's mother by the looks of it. As soon as they were on their way, Dane insisted that he hold the shotgun for the time being. A smart move since Everett had no real intention of making sure Dane stayed alive. He would try, but not hard. What he would do is make sure the shotgun stayed safe, along with whoever was holding it.

They were currently trudging through the underbelly of the sewer. And making good time, too. It would be around 15 minutes till they reached Willy's. All they had to do was reach the end of the tunnel, climb up a ladder, walk a few minutes, and they would be there with time to spare.

Sherry was up in front. In her mind she was leading the group, but to Everett and Dane she was an adequate shield. Everett was walking a few feet behind her with Dane immediately following him. To their right was Mr. Pink and Logan, who was kicking into the second verse.

"Let it play out. Buy the rights to endless love. If your friends don't like it, you can tell them from me to fuck off. Fuck off! Fuck off!! Fuck off!!!"

"I hate the censored version of that," Mr. Pink interjected.

"Why? What do they say?" Logan asked.

"Let's take off. It's all off. It's off. It's off," Mr. Pink said. He added, under his breath, "Or something like that."

"Yeah. Censorship sucks. But I understand it, though. Parents would get freaked out if they heard their kid say fuck off, ho."

"Sing something else now. I'm tired with Matthew Good," Mr. Pink said, sounding grumpy.

"Okay," Logan agreed. He thought about it. "O, o, o, o, o. You don't have to go. O, o, o, o..."

Dane held the shotgun against his chest upright. If the trigger accidentally went off, Dane would have found himself with no head. He moved up closer to Everett and stretched out his neck, closer to Everett's ear. He was now within whispering distance.

"You see them?" Dane asked quietly.

"Two of them up ahead," Everett replied. He kept his voice low and his eyes forward. He didn't want any unnecessary attention. "One hiding against the wall on the left and the other's against the right. You got a clear shot?"

"Once you move out of the way the one on the left is mine. Sherry's blocking the other, though."

"She'll move once you start shooting. How many shell's do you have?"

"Five loaded, six in my pockets," Dane answered. "You think she would have seen them by now."

"She's probably spaced out," Everett said. "Dane, if she doesn't move, move her yourself."

A sadistic smile formed on Dane's lips.

Dane slowed his pace. The others continued on, unaware of the plan's being hatched around them.

Alrighty then. It's time to see if they'll earn their keep.

Everett leapt off his feet and to his right. Before he was in the water, Dane had the but of the shotgun against his shoulder. The others stopped walking and looked at Everett.

"What the fuck, man?" Mr. Pink asked.

That's when the shooting started.

Already knowledgeable with weapons, Dane worked like a pro. He aimed gun at the man, with precision, and fired. He loaded the next shell and fired again.

Instinct was good to Sherry. She was heading to the floor while the first shot was still ringing in her ears. Mr. Pink soon followed. But Logan continued standing, puzzled by the whole situation.

Dane fired three more times. The hail of pellets flew over Sherry and showered the area where the other target stood. Dane cocked the gun one more time, and for a moment there was silence.

Logan, surrounded by people (used to be) huddled in the water, was the first to speak. "That was unexpected."

Everett rose from the water cautiously. He was acute to any movement further down the tunnel. He ran his hands through his hair, straining the water from it. "Did you get them?" His eyes didn't shift from the far regions of the tunnel.

"I know I plucked the first fucker," Dane said, loading the shells into the gun. "The other's a fifty-fifty. Could have hit him, but maybe I didn't."

Everett sighed with a stressed sense of relief. He wiped the water from his face. "Well let's go down there and check."

Logan turned to Everett and stared him down. "Are you crazy!" he screamed. "I ain't going down there!"

Everett had disgust and anger written all over his face. "Don't you pussy out on me now, boy. You're going to go down there if I have to rip off your testicles and make you chase them!"

Logan calmed himself. He pointed the way they came. "We can go back the way we came and find another way to Willy's," he offered as a solution.

Everett smiled. He marched over to Logan and slapped him on each cheek. His hands remained there. The others watched with morbid fascination.

"Listen up, bitch," Everett said. He sounded very suave despite the actual words. "I am in no mood to reason with your punk ass. So... I'll give you a choice. Walk over there or it's a shotgun up your ass. Believe me, I can spare a bullet." He paused and chuckled briefly. Logan's face was stone, suppressing the anger he wanted so desperately to release. "Either way you'll make my day."

Everett stepped back. His hand were up in the air and his head was tilted slightly to the side, smile intact. He was very reminiscent of a game show host. Logan swallowed hard. He looked at the others, standing around him, with accusing eyes. They showed little sympathy towards him.

He swallowed his pride and started the march.

* * * *

When Buffy landed, she landed hard. The water exploded beneath her, flying every which way and drenching the wall next to her. The water broke her fall, guaranteeing that she would survive. What it didn't do is guarantee she would fell no pain. A fire hit her as the backpack hit the floor and shot up into her back. The wooden ornaments inside would leave a huge, brown and blue bruise to be seen the next day. The rest of her backside felt a mini-assault all over. The bruises would be less visible.

The water calmed and so did Buffy. She took in slow, deep breaths and faded in and out of consciousness. Her weapons floated around her after being dislodged in the fall. Except for the knife, that is. It remained in her hands, gripped by her limp fingers. Her senses felt soiled. The smell invaded her nostrils and the taste flowed across her lips. The nausea kicked in, but she held down her lunch. No need to add to the smell.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound was coming from above Buffy. Somewhere inside the long shaft that claimed her. She blocked out the sound of the falling water and focused on the sound. It sounded metallic in nature, and it was nearing. Buffy blinked her eyes, trying to remove the water that was blurring her sight. She squinted and saw a figure lowering himself, slowly. She saw Him.

Everything went black. Once awake, she felt his hand clasping her hair. She saw him standing there. He pulled out his blade and placed it against her neck. She knew what was going to happen next.

* * * *

You're going to get it now, Toby. When Jael finds out you walked off the job, you're in for a can of whoop ass.

Galina stormed down the tunnel. She was where Tobias once walked. Not because of her excellent tracking skills, but because she followed the exact same thing he was after. An essence so pure and rich that she didn't know how she missed it in the first place. In all this darkness, in stood out like a beacon. She only hoped that he didn't kill the Slayer before she had her fun.

Galina stopped and sniffed the air. They were close. She stooped down and scanned the floor with her eyes and nose. The sword was there amongst the dirt. She spotted blood.

It was fresh.

Excellent.

* * * *

There was another loud splash. Tobias withdrew his sword and hung it by his side. Buffy's death was postponed indefinitely.

Tobias turned his head to the side. "You could have used the ladder," he said without humor.

Galina stood moderately crouched. She straightened herself. "But that would kill the coolness of my entrance. There's two ways to measure your life: it's coolness and intensity. I plan for both of them to be off the scale." Her eyes fixed on the broken girl floating in the water. "Is that her? The mighty Slayer?" She sounded disappointed.

Tobias tilted her head upwards. "In the flesh."

"You want to mess her up?" Galina asked buoyantly.

"What? No," Tobias said firmly.

"Come on," Galina pleaded. "This is a rare opportunity we have here, a Slayer in our grasp. Don't you want to savor it?"

"I want to stay alive, Galina. When we tell Jael we killed a Slayer, I'm sure he'll forgive us for leaving our sector."

Galina folded her arms across her chest in frustration. She pouted her lips. "Can I at least drain her?"

Tobias let go of Buffy's hair and backed away. "Be my guest."

Success! Galina sprinted over to Buffy with an extra beat in her step. Tobias scouted both ends of the tunnel. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"This is going to be sweet," Galina whispered.

Galina got down on her knees beside Buffy. The water was just below her breasts. Buffy was presently unconscious. Galina noted the knife that seemed to be held by some invisible force in Buffy's fingers. She turned her attention to the hand closest to her, the one that was bleeding.

Galina picked up the limp pound of blood, flesh, and bone. She held the fingers individually and examined them.

Nice nails for a person who scraps all the time.

She ran her fingers gently over the wound. It wasn't deep, but it was long. It ran from left to right, all the way across the top of her hand. The blood flowed through the gap in the flesh at a leisurely pace. A thin layer of diluted blood stretched across most of Buffy's hand. The rest made up a steady stream of drops flowing off the rim and into the polluted water. Galina decided it wasn't going fast enough.

Galina clenched Buffy's hand and squeezed. Buffy awoke instantly. She took in a sharp breath as the blood rolled across the crevices of Galina's palm. She let go and Buffy's breathing stabled. She opened her eyes to see Galina licking the palm of her hand, a look of ecstasy in her eye.

"Awe. The little baby's awake," Galina said in mock sympathy.

Buffy clamped down on the knife. A look of resolve flashed across her face. She lifted the knife from her side and swung it at Galina's neck.

Buffy wasn't in top form and Galina proved it. She intercepted Buffy's wrist without even looking. Galina smiled her sickening smile. A low squeal escaped Buffy as Galina compressed her wrist. Buffy's arm turned to jello and the knife fell from her hand.

"Your blood is so sweet, Slayer," Galina said after licking her own wrist. "Sorry about this." She let go of Buffy's arm and punched her across the jaw. A wave of dizziness hit Buffy, then everything went muddled again.

"You want to hurry up, Galina," Tobias said annoyed.

"Alright!" She added, under her breath, "You bastard."

Galina placed her hand over Buffy's throat. The sensation of the heartbeat heightened Galina's sense of pleasure. It was time to feed.

CRACK!

Galina tried to turn around and see what all the commotion was about, but it was too late. A pain like no other struck the back of her head and sent her reeling onto her side. The pain didn't end till she died.

* * * *

Buffy screamed in terror. But the scream never left her mouth. She was too weak to do anything but lie still and wait for the end.

The face was so hauntingly familiar. She had seen it thousands of times before. Those fangs, the way her brow protruded outward. She had the face of a vampire. Only, her eyes were a light shade of green. Just like the other... What did it mean?

Buffy heard a loud crack and then some rustling in the water. The girl's face turned to one of worry. Though, she never had the chance to do anything about it. The stranger moved behind her and smashed his fist into the back of her skull. The blow was so savage that Buffy cringed.

He didn't stop there. He raised his fist and continuously pummeled her with it, like a machine stuck on auto. He looked so familiar except for one trait. His eyes were green like the girl's.

The darkness called Buffy once again. And when she opened her eyes, nothing would ever be the same.

9

I have arrived. YES!

Everett stood underneath the panel with a sardonic smile plastered across his face.

He made it. Only this thin sheet of metal separated him from his goal. He would survive.

He heard the scattered footsteps, in the shallow water, rapidly approaching. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw Sherry speeding as if the hounds of hell were after her. A short distance behind her he spotted Dane, carrying the weapon that saved their lives.

Sherry kept up her breakneck speed until a few feet before Everett. She put on the brakes and skidded on her heels. She stayed on her feet through a combination of luck and using her arms to balance her equilibrium. Dane used a simplistic approach. He slowed his pace to a trot and then stopped.

"They're not coming," was the first thing Dane blurted out. "I waited by the ladder and heard nothing. They're not coming."

Everett nodded as a little celebration. "Where's Mr. Pink," he asked. More out of curiosity then care for his welfare.

"Dead," Dane said flatly. "I was almost at the top of the ladder when I heard him scream. I looked down and saw him being dragged away by the both of them. It looked like he was coughing up blood," he added. There was more than just a little bit of remorse in his voice. He actually cared.

Everett shrugged. "Oh well. What chya gonna do?" Everett took the gun from Dane. "Alright, get down on your hands and knees."

Dane looked repulsed by the order. "I don't go that way, man!"

"What? NO!" Everett screamed, angered by the accusation. "You need to boost Sherry up!"

"Oh. That I can do."

Dane got down on his hands and knees underneath the panel. Sherry stepped onto his back and placed her hands against it. She had a stupid smile on her face from the misunderstanding. She lifted the plate up an inch and then slid it to the side. The screeching sound of the two metals rubbing together drove Everett crazy.

"No direct sunlight. That's good," Sherry commented on after looking up into the room. She grabbed the rim of the box and pulled herself up.

Back on his feet, Dane wiped his hands against his shirt. "Gross," he said after looking at black stain on his favorite orange shirt.

Everett held the shotgun into the air. Sherry knelt down and received it. Dane was the second to enter the room. He simply jumped, grabbed the sides, and pulled himself in. Everett easily duplicated the process.

Everett brushed his hands against his pants. He was no longer in the sewer, there was no need to be uncivilized. The room was surprisingly bare for a storage room. The only items in it were some empty cardboard boxed pilled in the corner. The door to the room was open and Everett saw that rays of sunlight filled the adjacent hallway and room.

"WE MADE IT! WHOO!" Dane shouted for the heavens to hear. Everett and Sherry looked at him suspiciously. "I'm sorry. I had to say it for it to be real."

Sherry burst out laughing and Everett smiled. "That's true," Everett said. He and Dane slapped hands. "Yes," he said with satisfaction. He senses became aware of something in the air. "Do you guys smell something?"

"I think that's us," Sherry said lightheartedly. "Wandering around in the sewers certainly didn't help our hygiene."

"No, that's not it." There was a touch of fear in Everett's voice. He moved away from the group and over to the boxes.

Please, no.

But Everett's worst fear was realized. After throwing a few boxes over to the side, he saw a sight that set off a whirlwind of fear. He found himself kneeling before the body of Willy. Beneath the blood soaked shirt, Everett saw two puncture wounds. Willy's face was frozen in a look of paralyzing fear and a mixture of surprise. His eyes were still open, and Everett had a good idea of what he saw last.

One thought played out in Everett's mind. They're here.

That's when he heard a sound that was all too familiar. It was the sound of a gun loading.

* * * *

Voices.

A distorted sound.

A few of them. God! I either just had my ass kicked or went out on a cross-state bender.

"We can't trust her!"

"And she can't trust us either. It's a perfect fit."

Buffy opened her eyes and saw two people, one male and one female, in a heated argument. The girl looked around 5'5", had short brown hair, and looked well built. The guy was a bit taller and skinny. If they came to blows, Buffy guessed the girl would win.

Buffy yawned and felt a pain in her chest when she did so. Suddenly, it all came flooding back. The early morning warning, the flaming guy, the fight, and of course, the fall. Buffy cocked her head to the side and gasped.

It was she. The girl who nearly killed Buffy, starring at her with those cold eyes. Only, she looked like she went a few rounds with Mike Tyson on steroids. Her head was sideways in the water, floating as comatose bodies often do. Her skull was bashed in. Regions of her hair were no longer blond, but soaked to the root with her own blood. Her jaw was fractured and sloped downwards. Through the beveled hole of her mouth, Buffy could see that she was missing some teeth. They were replaced by a blackness that slid out her mouth and into the murky waters below. The rest of her face was bruised and beaten, but the damage did not end there. Her throat was torn at and lent her blood to the water. For all intensive purposes, she was dead.

"She's a goddamn mess, isn't she? The other one's floating back there and his neck's broken."

Buffy turned her head back to the duo. They were both looking at her and it was clear that the girl had just spoken.

"We thought you did it at first," the guy said. "That you took out them both and then collapsed from your injuries. But the whole knawing at her throat thing kind of contradicted that. So we looked at the guy's mouth. And sure enough, we found some blood around it."

"Knawing?" Buffy's voice sounded shaky.

"Yeah," the guy said. "He ripped out her throat with his teeth. I'm guessing that he approached the first guy. Snapped his neck. Then, moved onto her and just started wailing on her. I'm not sure how you fit into all this, though."

"I came down here to find out was going on and maybe help... you guys. You're vampires aren't you," Buffy said. More as a statement than question.

"See, I told you she was smart," the girl said to the guy. "By the way, I'm Fran and this is Crunch." Crunch raised his hand and smiled.

"What the hell happened to you?" Buffy asked Crunch.

He figured that she was asking about his shirt that was cloaked in a guise of dried blood. "Nose bleed," he answered. "That and being stabbed repeatedly."

"Figured it was that or too much ketchup on your hamburger." Buffy placed her good hand against the floor in an attempt to get to her feet. "If you guys are vampires, why didn't you kill me?" Buffy struggled to her feet and whimpered in pain when doing so.

Fran raised Buffy to her feet by pulling her arm. "It's us against them, as I told Crunch earlier. Hell, we even patched up your hand."

Buffy, for the first time, noticed that piece of cloth that was wrapped around the painful wound. It would do for now but she could see that it was already soaking through.

"It's my shirt," Crunch said proudly. "Well the back of it. The part that isn't all bloody." Buffy smiled in appreciation. "I put in on while you were doing your Jesus thing."

"My Jesus thing?"

"Yeah, the whole floating on water thing, like you were a life-raft. Jesus walked on water and you lay on it," Crunch elaborated.

"And here I thought you meant being the Son of God. My bad," Buffy said laughing lightly. Buffy noticed that there was less pressure on her back. "Where's my backpack?"

"Oh, Lucia and Graham have it." Fran turned around and pointed at the two standing in the darkness. Graham offered her a wink and the gun. Buffy noticed the bag dangling from Lucia's hand. She also saw a gun hanging from a strap around her neck. It looked like some sort of machine gun. Though, another thing stole her attention. They were supporting somebody. An unconscious somebody. He/she was being held up by they're armpits and hung like a limp dog. "We rounded up all your stakes but had to throw away the cross on principle. Sorry," Fran added.

The words didn't register with Buffy. She was lost in her own mind.

It's him.

He was the last person she saw before she passed out. He was the one who saved her life. Her reaction was mixed. If it weren't for him she'd be dead. She was sure of that fact. But the way he did it. The savagery and anger she saw on his face as he attacked. What was he?

She starred at him in a daze. It was looking directly at his bare head that she came to a realization.

"I know this guy!" Buffy exclaimed. "He's the guy who told me to come here."

"You mean you didn't come here on your own?"

"Fuck!" Fran said rasping. "There are far too many players in this game. First the Daywalkers and now this."

"You know what," Buffy said with attitude, not passive like earlier. "I'm really getting tired of asking questions. So let's start from the beginning with this Daywalkers thing."

"Good idea," Fran said. She pushed away thoughts of the stranger and focused on earlier events. "Me and Crunch were sitting back and contemplating life and death as a vampire."

"I was there, too," Graham volunteered.

"And Graham was there, too. Asshole," Fran muttered. "Anyhow, we were sitting when Lucia came out of nowhere with a hostage. One of the 'sword dudes', or so we thought. I mean, he was wearing the same kind of clothes that the others were wearing but he was carrying a gun. The very same gun that Lucia now holds." Fran pointed in Lucia's direction. "No sword. And the fact that Lucia was able to sneak up on him and beat him unconscious didn't speak well of his fighting skills. When he woke up we began our interrogation." Buffy frowned. Interrogation in vampire talk meant torture. "The dude was resistant. I'll give him that much. But, as they all do, he broke. He told us he was a voluntary servant of the Ecrasmau's, or as he and his peers called them, the Daywalkers. Vampires who can't be hurt by sunlight."

Buffy scoffed in disbelief. It was a split-second later, though, she found herself intrigued by the possibility.

"Listen to me. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. They're a direct contradiction to us. Maybe they're an evolution of us or something. And when something evolves, it perceives what came before it as a threat. That's what this is! An effort to exterminate the vampire population by wiping the vampire capital of the world clean. They used magnificent psychological warfare, too. They sent us to a place with no escape. Plus, they created this image of them being invincible and mysterious. They stayed quiet, which is always scary. Besides being extremely well trained, they wore some sort of body armor."

"Wait a second. Body armor? On their chests?"

"Yeah. Some sort of bullet proof vests."

That's why the stake didn't kill him.

"They were able to use our own fear against us." Fran stopped and cleared her throat. "It's a good thing that little bastard got bored of his post and decided to hunt us down, or we'd still be hiding like a couple of bitches." She briefly chuckled.

"You never answered the most fundamental question of all," Buffy pointed out. "Why should I help you?"

Fran started her speech immediately. "The servant said that this was the first step in some big plan. Big plans usually involve taking over the world or some shit like that. That means they won't stop with us. And you'll need help to fight them if they go after you. If these bodies floating in the water mean anything, it's that they aren't friendly to Slayers. Rumor also has it that you cut off ties with the Council, which means you're short on allies. We're all you got, basically."

Buffy nodded reluctantly. "You make a good argument. Well... let's get out of here." Buffy was moving back to the spot where she landed when she observed something about the body floating in the distance. It was the man who cut her (Tobias to you), floating face down. She could see that gaps of his hair were gone and replaced by a red, burnt flesh. "What happened to him?"

"We were playing with your cross," Crunch said. "As an experiment before we tossed it."

"Fair enough." Buffy knelt down and explored the floor with her hand. "Did your prisoner mention what their numbers are?"

"He didn't know the number of Daywalkers, but he said they're small," Fran said. "The amount of servants worldwide ranges in the hundreds, though."

Buffy sighed. "You two in the back are going to have to take our mystery friend up that ladder somehow. When I'm back on the surface, I'll call a friend who can bring some blankets and his van. Then we'll move you guy's to the mansion on Crawford Street."

"Angelus'?"

Buffy heard the fear in Crunch's voice. "He doesn't stay there anymore so don't worry."

Buffy raised her hand out of the water, holding the blade she almost lost. She rotated it in her hand as a smirk appeared on her face.

Maybe things will turn out.

* * * *

Everett leapt to his feet with one agenda in mind: survival. In the split-second before the firing started, he surveyed the scene. The men with the guns stood just outside the doorway, both had their weapons squarely aimed at the targets. The first target was Sherry. There was no way she was going to be able to raise the shotgun in time. And to worsen her odds she was the closest to the due with nothing to hide behind. Everett knew she wouldn't be walking away from this one.

Dane and Everett were the second targets. The way they were positioned, the man probably thought he could take them both out in one blanket of bullets. Though, Everett saw it from a completely different perspective. Looking directly at Dane's back, Everett came to a decision.

I never liked you, anyway.

The firing began.

Everett heard a bullet whiz by his ear before he ran behind Dane. He felt a splash of blood hit him and then travel downwards, across his forehead. The blood was flowing into his eyes when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherry. The bullets were tearing through her body. Ripping the flesh and scattering the blood against the wall. The way her body shifted violently, with each impact, Everett was reminded of a puppet he had as a child. The way, with a tug of a string, its limb's would flail about suddenly and in unnatural positions.

Another bullet flew by his head. He never felt so afraid in his life, but that only made him angry. He was a vampire! Top of the food chain! Demons came first. Demons ruled this planet when it was still shrouded in darkness. Who do they think they are!?!

I AM A VAMPIRE!!!

They heard the growl like thunder on the horizon. For an instant, they reverted back to their basis instincts. They became afraid. That was all Everett needed.

After gripping its sides, Everett launched the sagging body at the two. No sooner than it left his hands, Everett was bolting to the other body. He heard a few stray bullets ricochet, but never let his eyes waver from the goal. It lay on the floor, loosely clutched by Sherry's dead fingers.

Everett heard a thud. They were on the ground. It was now time to strike.

He reached the body and scooped up the gun. Three shells, that was the number left. He placed the but against his shoulder and rested the neck with his left hand. He saw one on the men lifting his head off the floor. Everett aligned the line of sight and placed his finger on the trigger. The man's dazed look turned to one of horror when he saw those yellow eyes gazing at him. Everett felt giddy.

Everett pulled the trigger and the metallic shower washed away the man's head. It was ripped clean from his body and left a red mesh of flesh and bone dispersed on the floor. Everett felt the pride of a job well done and dashed to the side to spot his next target.

The man had panic written all over him. He fumbled with his gun, trying to aim it from his position on the floor. Everett pumped the gun and fired. He pumped it and fired again. The man cried in agony. He no longer possessed kneecaps.

He continued to scream. "OH GOD! OH SHIT! OH GOD, OH GOD!" Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Everett threw the gun to the ground and hoped over to the doorway. He extended his arms and imbedded his thumbs into the bloody stubs. The man cried out again. Everett never even noticed his hands were burning. The pure joy neutralized the pain.

"OH JESUS!"

"SHUT UP OR I'LL RIP OFF YOUR DICK!"

The man's cries turned to whimpers as Everett dragged him into the room. Everett licked his lips and straddled the man. He cries became blaring when he saw Everett close up. When he saw the fangs.

The growl was low and a second later; Everett buried himself in the man's neck. He chewed more than he sucked. The man's wailing lessened as Everett savored the juices.

That's the stuff.

Everett raised his head. There was one word to describe his mood: euphoric. He licked his lips again. This time, along with his jaw, they were painted red.

Clap. Clap. "Well done." The voice and the clapping were coming from the hallway. The voice was definitely feminine. Clap. The sound was nearing.

The woman stepped casually by the two bodies, being careful not to dirty her sandals in blood. Her entire demeanor was pleasant and unthreatening. It started with her long red hair. She was clothed by a soft, white dress that was plastered with light, pink flowers. It wasn't tight, but it did a good job of accentuating every curve of her body. Everett bit his lip.

"Mr. Wagner I presume," the woman said. Her voice accurately represented her appearance. "Congratulations, you made it. Now it's time for your reward."

Everett didn't notice at first, but she carried a folded piece of black clothing. She walked towards him. His mind became clouded. The dress ran to her mid-thigh, just the right length in his opinion. Not much cleavage, either. And that suited him just fine. Better to leave some things to the imagination.

She let the end of the clothing drop to the floor. It was a robe. She wrapped in around the struck vampire sitting over his kill.

"We don't want you getting burnt."

"No ma'am." Everett stood up. He pulled the hood over his head and let his face revert to its normal state.

She moved to mere inches from his ear. "You're going to get me in the Clan, Mr. Wagner. I can't tell you how happy that makes me." Her voice was hushed and seductive, hinting at the possibilities.

Everett felt a different kind of happy and his face reflected it. "And your name is?"

"Annie."

10

Willow Rosenberg sat on an old wooden chair looking at a book. Looking, not reading. Try as she might, she couldn't get past the first page. It was probably because of the paranoia she felt knowing that vampires were only a few feet away. That combined with the topic of the book, astronauts who go to Mars and come back as demons. Not the best way to pass the time when you're all alone baby sitting four people who would gladly rip out your heart and eat it for breakfast.

This is the last time I volunteer for a job like this.

She actually wouldn't have minded leaving them alone in this huge mansion, but someone had to stick around just in case the mystery guest decided to wake up. He did save Buffy's life, so they owed him that much. That didn't mean that Buffy, or anyone else for that matter, trusted him. After trying desperately to wake him, Buffy decided that it would be best if he was secured for the time being. In other words, chained to the wall.

The vampires said they found him floating in the water, face up, and hadn't moved yet. Buffy suspected that he was a demon of some kind. Not necessarily evil, but still a demon. He certainly possessed the strength of one. Though, they found evidence, which went against that theory. He was alive. He had a pulse. He even breathed. Things those immortal demons did not do.

It was after chaining the stranger to the wall that the pains in Buffy's back flared up. Another certainty was that she needed stitches for her hand. She still wanted to stay but Willow and Oz managed to convince her to go to the hospital, that and her own common sense. She couldn't help anyone when she was bleeding all over herself. Willow decided that she could stay behind while the two were gone. She had a cross and the tranquilizer gun in case anyone became feisty. Buffy agreed but Oz called Xander to come and help her. He was at Giles' looking up information on the Ecrasmau's.

The two then pilled into the rank van (Oz made a comment that it would have to be condemned by the end of the day) and drove off. Leaving Willow alone with five people whom scared the crap out of her. At least until Xander arrived or Oz came back. Giles was still nowhere to be found.

Willow shifted her position. Her shadow was getting in the way of the book. She wished that the lights worked, but since Angel left no one had bothered to pay the electric bill. There was a good side to it, though. It gave her an excuse to flood the room with light from the Atrium. The vamps wouldn't be able to sneak up on her if they wanted to. Maybe she could start a fire. She was sitting beside the fireplace. Nah, it was already hot enough without having to add to it.

The water pipes rustled. The vampire having a shower must have finished. Good thing the water still worked (she wasn't sure if the hot water still ran or if they were just driven to clean the stench of themselves). They, along with the mystery guest, all needed a good cleaning.

The pipes started up again. The next vamp was getting in. Willow tried again to concentrate on the book. A skeleton was attacking Laura in her dream. Willow knew what was going to happen but it was still a good read. It was also going to end well so that brought her some comfort.

Why can't life be more like books? I mean… happy books.

Willow heard a noise and jumped. She dropped the book and went for the gun and cross sitting against the chair. Her hands were around the items when she stopped moving. There was nothing, nothing to be seen and nothing to be heard. She looked at the man lying against the wall with his hands being held in the air.

Nothing. It was probably those pipes acting up. It's common in these old houses. Yeah.

She picked up the book from the floor and placed it on her lap. The cross was another item that she put on her lap. Just to be safe.

She heard the noise again. It was louder this time. She knew exactly what it was and where it was coming from. It was the sound of chains rattling.

Willow picked up the book and put it on the ground, as quietly as she could. She rose to her feet and picked up the gun. It made a scrapping sound as it brushed against the floor. Willow felt her body stiffen up.

No noise. Noise is bad. Especially when some demon might be waking up.

He was moving. Maybe he was just stirring in his sleep. Having a nightmare or something like that. Like Laura. He probably wouldn't wake up. Why would he wake up now? Nothing happened. Just a girl reading a book and a shower being run. But he continued moving. Like a man who was waking up from an eternal sleep.

He opened his eyes. Willow hid the tranquilizer gun behind her back. There was no need to instigate a confrontation. She wasn't sure how he'd react to the cross, so she held the huge wooden article against her chest. Something unexpected happened. He started screaming.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

He tore at the chains like a rabid dog. He used all his weight to pull at the cuffs and hopefully break the binds. The sound of strained wall echoed in the room like an attack on the wall itself. Each yank at the chains sound like punch against the house.

Oh no. Willow hid the cross behind her back, hoping it would calm him down. But it didn't. He continued pulling at shackles and crying out sporadically. He looked more afraid than angry. He was scared. That's when Willow noticed something. He didn't even see her. He never once looked away from irons that held him. All he knew was that he was trapped and didn't like it.

"What the hell's the matter with him?!"

Willow turned around and saw a vampire standing in the hallway that led to the rooms. It was the one who called himself Crunch. He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt that looked baggy on him. He was the right height, but not the right width for Angel's clothes.

Willow placed her index finger against her lips. He responded with a frustrated look. Not that Willow cared. She would rather deal with this without help from the cold-blooded killer. Fran, dressed in similar attire, soon joined him. They stood at the light barrier watching Willow and the barbarous man.

Willow placed the gun and cross on the floor and cautiously approached the man. She had to subdue him somehow. At this rate, he was either going to break his wrists or snap the bolts holding him. She decided to attempt to talk to him first. And if that didn't work, there was always the tranquilizer gun.

"Hey. Mr.," Willow said. "Over here, buddy." She waved her hand. He was responsive. He snapped his head to the side and looked at her. His breathing was rapid and deep. His eyes were wild and passionate, but Willow could have sworn that they showed some intelligence. He rattled his chains in a wave motion. He rattled them again. "You want those off?" He tugged at the chains lightly. "Just give me a minute."

Willow picked up the gun and walked towards what was now a trio. Crunch, Fran, and Lucia were all standing at the arc. Willow handed the gun to Crunch.

"If he tries to attack me or run away, shoot him," Willow ordered as quietly as she could.

Crunch nodded. Lucia looked pissed that she wasn't chosen for the job. Willow ignored her and walked over to the fireplace. The key was lying on top of the mantle. Willow wasn't sure if she was doing what Buffy would do, but her instincts told her she was doing the right thing. He just needed someone to help him.

Willow picked up the key and checked on the man. He looked calmer than before. Maybe he was happy that he was about to be freed. Maybe he just wanted to kill her. Willow breathed deeply and started her approach. She walked unhurried, making sure that she made no sudden movements and wasn't blocking Crunch's shot. The man sat on the floor, eyeing her every movement. His breathing accelerated with every step closer she neared.

"Easy," Willow said. Her voice was as calming as she could get it. She knelt down beside him. He looked at her suspiciously. She raised her hand to his head. He growled, showing his displeasure. "Shhh. It's alright," she whispered. She placed her hand against is forehead. He twitched at her touch but didn't show any hostility. She stroked him moderately. She could see that he was relaxing.

"I-I-I-I-I…" The words stuttered out of his mouth. Willow was surprised. A minute ago he was rabid, now he was speaking. She listened to his words with great interest and curiosity. "I-I… I don't know who I am."

"It's okay. You're safe." Willow continued to pet the once wild beast. "I'll take these cuffs off, okay?" The man nodded sluggishly. She held his hand steady while she put the key into the shackle around his wrist. It wasn't long before they were both off.

Once free, the man's hands fell to his lap. Willow could see that he was in pain. The skin around his wrists was lacerated. There was no blood despite the torn skin. The cuffs didn't tear through enough layers. Another thing caught Willow's eye. A thick scar ran up the base of his palm. She ran her finger over it.

"Hey! Oh." The man held his head. It looked as if he was having a headache. Everyone watched mesmerized. "So many thoughts." He paused. "Tony Blair is the Prime Minister isn't he?"

"Yeah, that's right," Willow told him. She smiled an encouraging smile.

"And…" He breathed sharply. He looked in pain. "The Edmonton Oiler's were a dynasty in the eighties. Then they lost Gretzky and stopped winning." He covered his eyes with his fingers. "So many thoughts, so many thoughts. Oh, god, who am I?" He buried his face within his hands and rocked back and forth. Willow gazed at him in a state of fear and worry. What was happening to him? "Give me a name," he said. "Please, just give me a name."

"A name?"

"Yes, please. I NEED a name," the man pleaded.

Willow snapped her fingers promptly and repeatedly. A name, a name. Oz? No. Crunch? NO! A name.

"I got one!" Willow exclaimed excited. "How about Liam? A good actor who played a good man name Schindler. I would have said that, but it's to long."

"Liam," the man said, as if announcing it to himself. "That's a good name." He sighed. "And what's your name?"

"Willow," she said. "Willow Rosenberg."

"Liam Rosenberg. It has a nice ring to it." He stopped sniffed the air. "What smells?"

"I think that's you," Willow said laughing. She smiled and Liam joined in.

* * * *

The sun was setting on Sunnydale, California. The horizon was painted with colors of orange, red, and everything in between. For vampires, a new day was beginning. For Naeem and the rest of the Clan, the day was over. The Cleansing was over.

It's time for the parasites to run free and multiply. Fuck!

Naeem's heart ran red with hatred. He hated everything about this town. It was a cesspool of unbecoming filth. Even it's beginnings were tainted. Started as payment to the demons of hell that promised a mortal eternity. The bargain was fulfilled but he was destroyed by his weaknesses, by his human traits.

"Emotions are your enemy. If you chose to acknowledge them, prepare for the consequences."

That was one of the very first lessons Jael taught Naeem. That was… nearly three thousand years ago. It was a lesson that Naeem never paid much attention to. His emotions gave him strength. They drove him, compelled him to greater heights than he ever believed possible. They were his allies, not his enemies. Or so he thought.

Naeem held his hands our before him. They were colored by the daylight gushing from the descending sun that was partially hid behind the horizontal landscape. Only a few hours ago they were red. Masked in the blood of a fellow Ecrasmau, Galina, his beloved. Now all he felt was hatred, pity, and sadness.

They're savages! ALL OF THEM! They beat her to death.

Actually, they didn't beat her to death. She was dying when Naeem found her. She lost too much blood to survive. She was in pain and her death was imminent. So Naeem did the only thing he could do. He killed her. And in a way, he killed himself.

They would all die for what they did to her, every last one.

Tobias was the first to die in Naeem's quest for vengeance. He would have lived. As a vampire could, Ecrasmau's could survive the mere braking of bones. Unfortunately for him, he did something that couldn't be forgiven. He neglected his responsibility to the Clan. He allowed his partner to die. Naeem rid Tobias of his head as did of so many of the vampires. And like them, he disappeared into a haze of ash when it was done.

He wouldn't be the last. Despite the casualties, the Clan succeeded in their mission. Sunnydale was virtually rid of the undead. A few escaped, thanks to the Slayer and the strange one. But they didn't matter. They wouldn't dare harm her. The girl would be safe for now. The scales were tipped in the Clan's favor. When they chose to return, Jael's power would become insurmountable. All the walls would come down.

The sun was gone now. Naeem was all alone in the darkness, pondering his options. He could kill them, the Slayer and the strange one. If he did, though, he would surely be punished for it. Jael said that the Slayer was still useful to his plan. The strange one remained a mystery, and that was why Jael forbid an attack against him. His power was great, he had an essence that Jael never felt before. He was an unknown, but he could be made to suit a purpose, for now.

"If you kill a unknown, you run the risk of angering others like him."

The girl, the Slayer, the Watcher, and the strange one, all were under the protection of Jael. At least until they outlived their usefulness.

Naeem was dressed in his civilian clothes. The same clothes he wore earlier in the day. It would be an hour before he had to leave. Before leaving Sunnydale, blood would be spilled. He would have his revenge… one way or the other.

* * * *

"Two broken ribs, huh?"

"That's right," Buffy answered. "The doctor said I'll have to say in here for a few days, so they can monitor me." Buffy held up her hand. It was wrapped in a white bandage that looked a lot more professional than Crunch's shirt. "The painkillers are awesome. It doesn't even hurt anymore." Buffy smiled. It was the happiest Willow saw her in a long time. The painkillers must have been strong. "I feel so good, Will. I feel so refreshed after traipsing around in that sewer all afternoon. As soon as I got here, they gave me a nice, long bath. I would have been nice if it was from a guy, though," Buffy joked. Willow chuckled in response.

"Where's your mom?" Willow asked.

"She's back at the house right now. I think she's mentally preparing for my dad's arrival."

"Your dad's coming in?"

"I have his car, so he kind of has to." Buffy sighed. "I have to come up with a decent excuse for borrowing his car and then braking two ribs while I was in the sewer. I wish there was a manual for these kind of extravagant lies." Buffy pulled herself up in her bed, adjusting her position. "So, where's our mystery man?"

"His name's Liam now," Willow pointed out. "Xander took him to Oz's. They're around the same height so I thought he could raid his closet." Willow stopped. "Plus I don't want him in that mansion when I'm not there. Those vampires are a bad influence on him." Buffy nearly burst out laughing. "What?"

"You. You're acting like he's a little boy or something. He looks our age for Pete's sake."

"That's just it. He looks our age but, in a lot of ways, he's like a little kid." Willow paused. She was gathering her thoughts. "He told me that when he woke up, his mind was blank, completely blank. He didn't even know how to talk. Then, information slowly filled his mind. He started thinking. And, after that, he said a wave hit him. Thousand of tiny, minuscule facts filled his mind. But no knowledge of himself, what he did, or where he was. He's like a child that grew up in the space of five minutes."

"But he didn't, Willow," Buffy said. "Earlier today, he was a man who knew things that were going to happen before they happened. Then he took out two of those "Daywalkers" that I couldn't even beat. I couldn't even beat one and he nearly killed them both. He's not human, Willow."

"We have no proof of that." Buffy was about to go on a tangent, when Willow cut her off. "He isn't hurt by sunlight, he breathes, his heart beats. I also tried some other experiments on him." Buffy looked intrigued. "He picked up a cross and it didn't hurt him. I poured holy water on his hand, no effect. I pricked his finger with a needle, red blood came out. He doesn't even strike me as the violent type. He's human in every way that matters."

"Except for the whole green eyes, superhuman strength, knowing the future, coming out of nowhere, thing."

"If you want to go that way, sure."

"Okay, you've argued me into submission," Buffy said, raising her hands in defeat. "New topic. Where's Oz?"

"I sent him to smuggle you in some food."

"Good thinking, Will," Buffy said cheery. "Hospital food always sucks. I think it's in the manual or something."

"Actually," Willow's tone became serious. Buffy immediately noticed. "I sent him off for two reasons. The second is that I wanted to talk to you. You see," Willow held up her finger, signaling Buffy to wait a second. Buffy sighed in disbelief. Willow walked over to the doorway and closed it. She returned to her seat beside Buffy's bed. "You were right, today. When you asked if something was bothering me."

Buffy's mind flashed back to the cell phone conversation earlier in the day. She had completely forgotten about it during the day's events.

"I just found out about it a few days ago and I've been panicked ever since." Willow paused to catch her breath. Buffy urged her on. " Here it goes."

Willow opened her mouth and spoke the words that Buffy never thought she'd hear. If you were standing outside the room, you would have heard a person exclaim…

"YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!"

"Would you keep it down please!" Willow goaded. "The reason I closed the door is so no one would hear. I thought the drugs would calm you down," Willow added.

"Two trucks of prozac couldn't keep me calm!" Buffy bawled. "When did this happen! I mean," Buffy thought of the way to ask the question. "When did this happen! Why didn't you tell me you and Oz had sex! I told you when I first had sex!"

"You didn't tell me!" Willow refuted. "I found only found out after Angel tried to kill us!" The silence afterward was awkward. Willow decided to move off topic. "I felt kind of guilty about when it happened."

"When did it happen?" Buffy asked.

"It happened during the Ascension," Willow said reluctantly.

"When I was fighting the Mayor!"

"No! It happened when Angel was being poisoned," Willow said quietly.

"Oh, well, god," Buffy said hushed. "You're pregnant, Will. Does Oz know?"

"The only people who know are you, me and, Oz. I'm too scared to tell anyone else. God knows how my dad will react. Or even Xander! I have these nightmares of him going crazy and trying to kill Oz."

"I'm sure he'll be fine with it," Buffy added, "eventually. So… this complicates things, huh?"

"I'll say. I won't be going to school this fall. But Oz will still be going, so that's alright." Willow beamed. "I'm starting a family, Buffy! Oz and me, can you believe it! And we'll be okay. I'll just have to wait a year before a start school and I'm sure my parents will help us out."

"We'll all help you out."

The two girls exchanged a warm hug, unaware of events elsewhere.

* * * *

You're blood's so sweet.

Revenge was sweet, indeed. Naeem stood outside the hospital where the Slayer currently was, holding the body of a man whose death would drive her to tears. Best of all, he would face no retribution for his actions. Jael had mentioned nothing about him and therefore, didn't care if this man lived or died. He may not have been the one Naeem was originally after, but he would suffice. His death would hold Naeem over till they returned. Death was a sweet thing, after all.

He dropped the carcass to the ground. He wished he could be there when the police visited them. The expressions would be priceless. A lone trickle of blood trailed down Naeem's jaw. The job was messy. He tore at his throat to let the blood flow across the man's body. He wanted it to be every mortal's nightmare. A young man brutally murdered in his prime.

It was so, so sweet.

Oz, my dear, welcome to death.

To be continued…