Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Angel, Spike and Ilyria had just stumbled through the front doors of the hotel and into the lobby leaving a murky trail of blood and blue slime behind them as Wesley and Gunn rose from behind the counter, making their way towards the ragged trio.

Interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone, Wesley returned to the desk surprised at the telephone code flashing on the machine and he wondered who would be calling from England.

Clearing his throat he picked up the phone,

'Angel Investigations. Oh Willow, what a surprise, what I can I do for you? The text you mean? Oh yes, of course I can have it sent over. You're more than welcome. How- well yes, take care then. Bye.'

Placing the phone back on the cradle he perched on the corner of the desk, watching as his co-workers proceeded to unintentionally fling demon entrails throughout the lobby. Brow furrowed and eyes closed, he replayed the tiny sound he had heard during the phone call over in his mind. Could he have heard correctly?

Wesley watched as his boss made his way tiredly down the steps, toweling his hair dry, and thought about how to word this news he had learned.

'Angel, I thought you ought to know. Willow, she called from England.'

'England, really? The last I heard she was in Rio, huh. Well, thanks Wes.'

'No wait that's not all.' Motioning for him to come closer, he added, 'In the background, I heard Buffy.'

Angel's eyes widened in surprise, the two men silently considering each other when a door bang and a swish of leather shook them out of their revelry.

Their heads turned when a deep accented voice spoke, 'Heard Buffy where?'


'The motherland huh?'

'Yeah.' Angel spared a glance for his fellow vampire. It had been two days since they had learned of Buffy's current residence and needless to say, it was no doubt the subject which had occupied every thought of the two champions.

Crushing the remainder of his cigarette, Spike said, 'It got me thinking.' And running a hand through his peroxide blonde hair, added 'You uh, still got that source of yours on her?'

'Well no, actually. Apparently he lost her. I've been thinking about putting another guy on her, but you know, I figured Buffy's more than capable of looking out for herself. If she needed help, she'd ask for it. You know that. She's tough.'

'Oh yeah. Right, course.'

A strained silence descended as the two men exchanged glances.

'I'll go.'

'Arghh Spike.'

'Well why not?! It'll be like that roving agent deal from before. She won't even know I'm there!'

Sighing in exasperation, a voice in his head told him that his grand childe would be more than capable of the task; and with a sigh of defeat, realised that if he were to allocate the task, there was no other whom he would trust more.

'Alright! Alright. But that's the whole point! She. Won't. Know. You're. There.'


Spike walked silently, with stealth, through London's streets. It felt good to back in the home country. It had been a while. Walking past an alleyway he felt the unmistakable twinge a fellow vampires. Checking the stakes strapped to the insides of his wrists he stalked down the alley psyching himself up for a good old fashioned brawl.

But as he drew closer he heard her voice before anything else,

'Instincts guys. Head and heart. There're three of them and five of you. Don't forget, communication is key.'

Quickly drawing back into the shadows, he used his vampire super strength to jump up to a balcony, climbing up onto a rooftop to get a clearer view. Overlooking the fight, he could see; it was her. It was Buffy.


Her girls were fast learners, and she was more than ready to turn in for the night. Strange, for a while she had been reminded of Sunnydale, training the Potentials when there were so few she could count them on one hand. Pretend patrols in the cemeteries with Vi, Kennedy, Annabelle, Rona…and Spike. Sighing, she pushed a golden strand of hair out of her eyes; those thoughts would lead to no where but replaying their last moment together and useless wishes of what she could have done to save him. But tonight it seemed that the reminder and been enough and she shuddered, feeling the familiar tug at her heart whenever she had felt his presence. But he was gone, he had sacrificed himself for her and she loved him for it. And it seemed that that was all she would be able to do.

That same night, returning to her new England home, Buffy found herself pulled back into those memories of Sunnydale as she prepared her shower. She re-played the nights events over in her head, not understanding how the feeling had been so strong. After all, she hadn't worked so hard to suppress the memories and the feelings over those last past months just to let them totally overwhelm her. Especially not in such volatile situations when she was supposed to be working with the potentials. But in that moment, as she mentally berated herself, her mind betrayed her, taunting her with images of the moments that she and Spike had once shared. With a stumbling step backwards, she supported herself against the shower wall only to have her knees give way under her. Sliding down the tiles and drawing her knees to her chest, huddled in the corner of the shower stall, she allowed the emotions she'd buried to wash over her as the water beat down on her and her sobs echoed throughout the bathroom.

Unknown to her, the source of her grief stood watching her home from the protective shadows of the trees. Spike worked hard to pull himself away from under the large oak in the front yard. But he would be able to watch her again, tomorrow.

to be continued...