This is my first BTVS Fanfiction…You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own BTVS.

Summary: Sylvanna Monroe has lived for 160 years becuase she was branded by a true demon, an Old One. When news reaches her of the Initiative, her mentor asks her to go to Sunnydale in his stead to take them down. In Sunnydale, she meets a certain blond vampire... Chaos ensues.

"This is going to get me killed, isn't it?" I glanced over at my fanged companion, who was currently slurping a blood bag like it was a Capri-Sun.

Dorian looked up, licking his lips clean before raising his eyebrows, "Well, that is one way to look at it." He tossed the empty plastic bag to the ground, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and began to steer me to the desk where our weapons lay.

"Fun." I groaned. Dorian chuckled as he began to hand me weapon after weapon; stakes, crossbows, knives, holy water, and two guns.

"Honestly, Vanna, there is no reason that you shouldn't come out of this unscathed…unless you do something extremely stupid, which I'm sure you won't."

I glared, smacking him on the arm, "Thanks for the vote of confidence…" I growled, taking hold of the duffel bag full of weapons.

Dorian followed me as I made my way to the door. "I've known Rupert since he was a boy; I'm the Council's dirty little secret… Rupert asked for my help and currently, I am in no condition to give it." I rolled my eyes; that was the understatement of the century. Dorian had recently gotten into a scuffle with a witch, who was conveniently carrying around a blessed dagger. The man could barely walk with the three inch hole just below his heart. "That's why I'm sending him you." Dorian grabbed my shoulder as I was about to walk out the door, "You can't trust the Slayer."

"Got it." I wanted to get out of here before he got all mushy on me.

"I'm serious, Sylvanna. This is the same little girl that had a thing for Angelus. Apparently something is going on between her and one of the commandos named Riley Finn. She's human and her feelings are going to get people killed." Too late. Dorian pulled me in for a hug; he smelled of peppermint and sugar. He pulled back and just looked at me. Brown shoulder length hair masked the fact that Dorian was missing an ear, a thin pinkish scar crossed his left cheek, (the remnants of his fight with a Slayer in the twenties) trailing all the way down to his sharp jawline and strong neck. He took my face in his hands, kissing my forehead gently, "Be careful."

Dorian was like a father to me; more so than my own father. He'd taken me in after my mother had succumbed to Scarlett Fever and my father left me on the streets of Westminster in 1839, raising me as his own child, never mind the fact that he was a vampire. Dorian had been an exorcist before he'd been turned and offered to begin training me when I turned thirteen. Fighting the Old Ones was what I was good at. The halflings that sometimes escape through the Hellmouth, are a little more tricky; I usually leave them to the Slayer and her band of merry men. I would rather spend my time doing something more interesting things. Like watching Days of Our Lives.

"You worry too much, Dor." I tried to keep my voice light, "See you around." And with that, I took off for Sunnydale without another look back.

Sunnydale was a good sized town, nestled down in southern California right on top of a hellmouth. How convenient. I could get a nice tan and kill a few demons at the same time. I pulled to a stop across from a cute little house with several cars parked in front of it. "Hmm." I sighed, there was no use in putting this off; I'd have to meet the gang sooner or later. I wished 'never' was an option.

I reluctantly crossed the street and jogged over to the porch, hesitating before knocking three times.

The door opened almost immediately and a rather small young woman appeared in the doorway. Blond hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, making her face more angular than it seemed. The woman had a small, athletic body, green eyes, and a hell of a lot of power emanating from her. "Can I help you?" She asked politely.

"I'm looking for Rupert Giles. Dorian Clarke sent me in his place."

She raised her eyebrows, giving me an incredulous look, "You're looking for Giles?"

Did I have to say this twice? "Yes; Rupert Giles." I took a chance, seeing as the woman matched the description I'd come across, "Your Watcher?" I prompted.

She blinked before turning halfway around, still managing to block the doorway, "Giles!" Turning back to me, she asked defensively, "Who are you?"

"Sylvanna Monroe," I could barely see a tall, older looking man with glasses coming around the corner of the room, "A friend of Dorian's."

"Ah, you must be Ms. Monroe." Giles offered me his hand to shake. Complete with the tweed, glasses, and proper British accent, this man was a typical Watcher.

I nodded, shaking his hand, "Vanna," I corrected, "What can I do for you, Mr. Giles?"

Giles gently pushed the woman aside to allow me to enter the house, "You'll have to excuse Buffy; she's a bit on edge. Actually, we all are." Giles led me into a small kitchen with an island in the middle, "Did Dorian tell you anything about our…situation?"

I snorted, "He's big on the cryptic, lately."

"Ah. Buffy? Would you like to explain? You're the only one besides Spike who's gotten a look at them." Giles looked to his Slayer, almost pleading.

Buffy sighed, "They're commando's." She shrugged, "They all wore masks and carried big guns. They were taking demons and vampires..." Buffy shuddered, "I'm sorry, but I don't really know much more than—"

"Telly time!" Came a loud yell from upstairs. Giles and Buffy both winced in unison before the yelling continued, "Passions is on! Timmy's down the bloody well! If you make me miss it, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" Giles called back with a roll of his eyes, "Lick me to death?"

"Don't ask." Buffy warned, sighing.

"I take it that was Spike?" I looked up to the ceiling. Giles nodded, putting his face in his hands before looking back up to me. I turned to Buffy, "You said that 'Spike' saw the commandos?" Buffy nodded. I glanced at the stairs, "May I?"

"Good luck getting anything out of him…" Buffy said, trailing behind me.

I followed the continuous clang of metal against metal, coupled with a string of curses every few seconds. The sound was coming from the bathroom…from a rather angry looking bleach blond vampire chained to the bathtub. I just stared for a moment, unable to wrap my brain around the fact that a clearly starving vampire was chained to the bathtub and had been shouting about a soap opera just moments before. With my eyebrows raised, I spoke, barely able to keep from laughing, "I take it you're Spike?" The vampire in question glowered up at me.

When the vampire's pure blue eyes met mine, a flash of recognition washed over me. I knew him. I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a better read off of him. Replace the bleached blond hair with brown, perch a pair of glasses on his nose, add a bit of a tan, and typical Victorian era men's wear…William Pratt. This was just eerie. I'd only ever met the man once, at one of his mother's parties… My memory of him was distractingly clear because of how kind he'd been in comparison to the other men that were vulgar and mean.

Forcing myself back into the present, I could clearly see that he was starving. Spike's lips were pale pink and chapped to the point that he would be bleeding if he were human, his eyes and cheeks were sunken in to the point that he was almost grey in some places.

"Are you feeding him?" I asked, glancing back to Buffy and Mr. Giles.

"Er—Rations of pig's blood." Giles answered, glaring at the vampire, "In my favorite mug."

"Hmm." I thought for a moment, going over my options. Eventually, I settled on the most reckless, yet probably most effective option for getting information out of the vampire. "Unchain him." I ordered.

"What? Are you insane?" Buffy exclaimed, "He could kill us!"

"I highly doubt that, Slayer."

"Oi!" Spike exclaimed.

I glanced back at him, "No offense," before continuing with the Slayer, "Spike has information; information that he clearly is not going to give us, unless we give him something in return. And honestly, put yourself in his situation; starving and chained to a bathtub by people that would just as soon stake you as they would shake your hand. Wouldn't you do everything you could to get yourself out of it?"

"Yeah, but Spike is…Spike. He's tried to kill us more times than I can count!" Buffy was trying to make her point through shouting, which wasn't helping anyone.

Yeah, I wouldn't put that past you, Blondie. "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." I sighed, turning to her Watcher, who clearly had the brains, "Mr. Giles, you asked for Dorian's help; a vampire's help. I really don't see the problem." From the confused look on Giles' face, I was going to have to go for a low blow… "Look, you trust Dorian, right?"

"Of course!" Giles said defensively.

"Then how can you not trust the person that Dorian chose to send in his place?"

Looking from Buffy to Spike to me and then back to Spike, the Watcher gave a sigh of exasperation and dug the key from his vest pocket. Buffy was quick to protest, "Giles! What are you doing?"

Giles handed me the key and I bent down to crouch so that I could unlock the manacles. I hesitated when I inserted the key into the lock, looking up into Spike's eyes before leaning down to whisper in his ear, "Believe me when I say that I could easily rip your throat out and do my nails at the same time."

"Got it." The vampire said, impatiently jangling the manacles.

I unlocked the chains, slowly taking the key out while keeping eye contact with Spike, "Don't test me, William."

Distracted by my use of his human name, he squinted at me, "Who are you?"

I smirked, getting to my feet and pulling him with me, "I guess you'll just have to stick around to find out." I took my jacket off, holding my wrist out to him, "Have at it." Looking back to Buffy, I said, "As an answer to your earlier question; I am most definitely insane."

"Oh dear lord…" Giles gasped, eyes wide. Buffy glared at me, silently cursing me for my apparent stupidity. But I knew different. Spike wouldn't kill me because he wanted to know what I knew. Anyways, it wouldn't matter if he drained me dry. I would come back. Immortality was one of the many 'benefits' of being branded by an Old One.

Spike took my wrist gently in his hands, glancing back at me. I nodded once. His face morphed into the demon and his teeth sank into my wrist.

R&R please.