Saviors Trilogy 12 The Games That We Play

by shred01

Part two of the Saviors Trilogy. Buffy and gang move to Europe to pick up new slayers. But their trip takes an unscheduled surprise when their dead love ones comes to visit. Set after season 7. Read and Review.

Saviors Trilogy 1.2 Games That We Play

ENGLAND

The train rattled along its track at a fast pace. Trees, buildings, homes, people whipped by in a blur, colors and shapes smudging together to form one big shapeless and colorful object. Noises, sounds from outside couldn't been heard, muffled by the train's thick glass. All was heard was the rattling of the carriages as the steel wheels sped along the steel tracks and the roaring of engines underneath.

Giles took of his glasses and started cleaning them, gazing out of the window and out to the images that whipped by. The last images and sceneries of London left his line of sight and before he knew it, his eyes took in the sights of Brighton. He slipped his glasses back on and let a smile to appear on his lips. It had been a long time since he came to Brighton.

He turned to the person sitting beside him. He leaned over and nudged her knee, jostling her awake. Kennedy muttered something under her breath and her eyelids fluttered a little but she soon fell back into her sleep.

Giles chuckled softly before leaning back into his seat. It didn't matter whether she woke up or not, he just wanted to inform her that they had thirty minutes left before their stop. He probably let her sleep for another twenty minutes. The girl must be real tired. During the time he had spent with her in England, he found out that the more tired the dark haired slayer was, the more things she could sleep through. He sometimes envied her so-called skill to sleep through anything. He wished he could do the same. Sleep through the next ten years and wake up having missed all the things that he had to go through and the things he had to take care off.

But for the moment, he didn't have that luxury. He had to slug it out, going into it head-first, hoping that whatever he had to face next wouldn't be as heart wrenching and mind blowing as the last one he had just faced a week ago.

Kennedy mumbled Willow's name as she slouched down further in her seat. Her head went lower and rested lightly on Giles' shoulder. She shifted slightly before growing still, her chest rising in a steady rhythm as the train's movements lulled her to sleep once again. Giles moved in his seat, making sure that his sharp shoulder blade wouldn't jab into her temple. Once he was comfortable and was sure she was just as same, he returned his attention to the window beside him.

The scenery hasn't changed but he didn't mind. As long as the scenery could distract his thoughts, he didn't really mind if he was watching grass grow.

The strident ring of his cell phone interrupted his scenery-watching and jerked Kennedy awake. He threw an apologetic glance to the dazed slayer as he fished the annoying phone from the pocket of his jacket. He flipped it opened and answered it.

"Mr. Giles, Ross here. Just thought I check in with you." Giles' expression immediately darkened as soon as the voice at the other end floated through the speaker of the cell phone.

"Hello, Ross, nice of you to do so."

"My pleasure. Just so you know a car would be waiting for you when you arrive. It'll take you to the hotel."

It was another way of saying that he couldn't escape.

"Thank you, Ross," Giles said, trying to be as polite as possible even though irritation was creeping through his nerves. He didn't like feeling that he didn't have any control over the situation at hand and with Ross' gravely voice seeping into his brain; he was being reminded every minute that he had no control.

"Right then. I'll see you soon, Mr. Giles. Don't be late." That was Ross trying to say not to try to escape them as politely as humanly possible. The phone clicked dead in Giles' ear and he put it away. He caught Kennedy looking at him questioningly. She was sitting up straight, all sleep was gone from her eyes and she looked alert even though her hair was sticking in all direction and her clothes were rumpled.

"It was them giving us one last warning before we reached there," Giles told her with a grim smile.

The dark haired slayer shook her head in frustration. "I can't believe they still don't trust us. We saved the world for goodness sake."

"With something that Wolfram & Hart gave us," he reminded her. The all too familiar tension was starting to snake its way through his shoulder, knotting up the muscles there.

"But it worked, didn't it?" Kennedy said indignantly. "What does it matter whether it came from the bad guys or not?"

Trust me, it is one question I haven't gotten any answer to, his brain responded. "Guess it matters to them," he replied instead.

Kennedy slammed back into her seat and let out an angry cry. "Stupid English men!"

Despite the situation, Giles laughed at her obvious distress. "Yes," he agreed, turning back to the window. "Stupid English men indeed."

And it included him as well, that's for sure.

Half an hour later, Giles and Kennedy was speeding down the streets of Brighton in a black Mercedes hired by Ross. A stony driver greeted them when they climbed down from the train. No questions were asked and nothing was said as Giles and Kennedy got into the car.

The whole ride was filled with silence and Giles guessed that the driver was ordered to keep his mouth shut and not to say anything to the passengers and that infuriated his irritation even further. They were obviously treating them like criminals and Giles wouldn't be surprise if they were ordered to be stripped-searched before they met Ross.

The hotel they were taken to was not very far away. Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of a posh five-star hotel. Kennedy shot him a look – well, would you look at that – before getting out of car. Giles eyed the brown, stone building warily as he followed Kennedy into the lobby.

They didn't have to speak to the receptionist because as soon as they entered the plush carpeted lobby, two men in black suits approached them and told them that they would bring the two up to the room where Ross was. Giles and Kennedy followed without saying anything, knowing that it was best that they keep silent.

The room was on the thirteenth floor. The wide doors of the elevators slide open, revealing a large hallway, its floors covered with dark blue carpet and lined with walls covered with matching strip wallpaper. The doors on both side of the aisle looked like it was made of expensive wood with gold numbers hanging just above the peephole.

The black suited men led the two to the end of the hallway and rapped on the door marked 1309. The door swung open a second later, exposing a large room. The person that opened the door – he, too, was donned in a black suit but, unlike the other two, he had a small ear piece stuffed into his right ear – ushered the four of them in.

The large room was brightly lit by two huge windows overlooking Brighton's city center. The carpet here was off white in color but the wallpapers were the same as the one in the hallway. A living room – complete with a beige couch and matching chairs, a 42 inch plasma television and a low, glass coffee table – stood in front of them. There were two doors on either side of the room, which Giles presumed led to the bedroom, and a nicely furnished kitchen off to their left.

The whole place looked more like an apartment than an actual hotel room.

The two men that led Giles and Kennedy to the room moved aside and let them venture further. It was then when Giles saw a tall man sitting on the couch. He was about twenty years younger than Giles but much older than Kennedy. He had a hawked nose, thin lips and his brown hair was slicked back, revealing a high forehead.

Ross Bishop immediately stood up when he saw them entering. He approached them with his hand outstretched and a smile that didn't quite match his eyes. "Mr. Giles! Finally you're here. I'm glad you could make it." He shook Giles' hand.

Giles' face was grim when he dropped Bishop's hand. "But this never was an invite, now was it?"

Ross laughed but didn't reply. He gaze dropped to Kennedy and gave her a once over. His humor vanished as he looked back at Giles. "I see you brought a friend."

Giles just shrugged. "You didn't say I couldn't."

"Very well. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if she gave us some privacy when we talk?"

Kennedy looked questioningly at Giles who nodded slightly. "Sure, no problem," Kennedy told Ross.

"Good." He looked at one of the men in black and gestured towards Kennedy. The one who opened the door came up to her and led her to the room on the left. "Please, Mr. Giles, have a seat." He gestured towards the chair and Giles sat down. Ross returned back to his seat on the couch.

There were a few folders on the coffee table in front of him and Ross started going through one of them. "So…she's a slayer." It wasn't a question. More like a clarifying sentence.

"Yes, she is," Giles replied. "She fought beside me in Sunnydale."

Ross looked at him and smiled – a smile that was close to a sneer. "So she's more than a friend then. She's protection."

Giles let the comment slide. He crossed his legs at the knees and went straight to the point, "Why am I here?"

Ross held up the folder he was looking through. "I've got some reports on our test subjects."

Giles perked up.

Ross clearly enjoyed Giles' interest as he continued, "My people have been monitoring your subjects and based on their reports, they seem to be doing quite well. They are responding quite positively to the test."

Giles frowned at the word 'subjects'. "They are not subjects. They are my –"

"If they were, you wouldn't have put them through this torture," Ross cut him off. "Now, everything is going well but there's one slight problem. This report is only one of your subjects. There's no news on the other two yet."

"Why not?" Giles demanded. "I thought you said this would happen simultaneously."

"Well, I was wrong. But not to worry, Mr. Giles. My people say that it would take two or three days tops before the other two receives our test."

"What about the side effects? Any signs of them?"

Ross looked down at the papers inside the cream colored folder, his gray eyes darting from side to side as he scanned through the report. "There are no sign of side effects or negative feedback as of yet." He looked up and caught Giles' gaze. "And if we do encounter some problems with the test or the subjects, we'll make sure it would be resolved. You don't have to worry so much about it."

"What about after the test is done?"

"Your subjects would still be safe."

Giles waited for him to continue. He knew there was a 'but' buried somewhere in that sentence.

"However, I can't be sure that your subjects would come out of this test unharmed."

"You said you would be sure," Giles ground out. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "You told me this was safe."

"My words were based on theories, Mr. Giles. This test has not been use before. This is the first time we are using it so we are not sure what would happened."

"How would they be harmed?"

Ross shrugged. "Amnesia, migraines or maybe hemorrhage. It can be anything really. We are playing with people's minds here, Mr. Giles. The risks here are always high."

"Don't talk to me about risks," Giles snapped, getting to his feet and started pacing. "You were the one that came to me with this…this test."

"But you agreed to it."

"Because I didn't have a choice!" Giles retorted, jabbing a finger towards Ross' direction. Anger was clearly evident in his tone but Giles didn't care. Let Ross know he was angry. Maybe that way Ross would know not to take him too lightly. "The Council might as well put a gun to my head with the way they pressured me to agree to this ridiculous test."

"Now, Mr. Giles, we are doing this in view of the Council's safety as well as the School's."

"The School is mine! The Council has no part in it," Giles spat, his anger rising.

Ross tossed the folder onto the table and leaned back against the couch. He laced his fingers together and placed them on his lap. "Rupert, I think you should calm down."

Something in Bishop's tone made Giles stop pacing. He realized that this was the first time that he addressed Giles by his first name. He looked over at the tall man and almost wanted to wipe the smug look from his face with a punch. The way the twit was looking at him was infuriating.

Instead Giles clenched his fists, not letting his anger to take control. This was the kind of thing that the Council was looking for. One small outburst or bad behavior and the vultures at the Council would swoop down and tear you apart.

It was one thing to show your temper but something else entirely if you act on it.

"Mr. Giles, do I need to remind you that without the Council your school wouldn't have been built," Ross continued. "Without the Council's funding you wouldn't have the facilitators and teachers to make this school happen."

"And may I remind you, Mr. Bishop," Giles said through gritted teeth. "That's how far the Council is involved. They are not to make any decisions regarding the school without my consent."

Ross raised up his hands, shoulder high, palms up. "Of course, of course. I hear you loud and clear."

"Good and make sure the Council does as well." Giles straightened and folded his arms across his chest. "Now are we done?"

Ross stood up. "Yes, we're done. This room is for you and your... friend to spend the night in. I'm guessing you'll be leaving first thing in the morning?"

"Unless there's nothing else."

Ross started gathering up all the folders. "No, I doubt there's anything else. I'll call you if there is." He looked up at one of the men in black at the front door and barked for his briefcase. The man didn't hesitate to fetch the black, leather briefcase and present it to Ross. He opened the case with a flourish and started tossing in the folders. "I hope you have a pleasant stay here –" He snapped it shut. "– And I'll have a car ready for you in the morning." He picked the case up and looked at Giles. "You sure you don't want to spend a couple of days here. Brighton is a really nice place. There's lot to see. Surely don't want you to come down here for just for the meeting."

Giles regarded Ross and wondered if there was any hidden meaning in his words. The smile on his lips was genuine and suggested otherwise but the glint in his eyes betrayed his smile. "I'll think about it," he said instead, not wanting Ross to know that he was suspicious of him. He's already hard to read and if Ross had the slightest clue that Giles was wary towards him, Ross might build up more walls around him and it would be impossible for Giles to get through.

"Very well. Have a good night, Mr. Giles." Bishop gave Giles a sharp nod and headed towards the front door. A few seconds later, Bishop was gone, taking the men in black with him. Giles sighed, taking off his glasses. He pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose as he sank back down into the couch. His anger started to drain from his body, leaving behind exhaustion.

"I'm guessing I can come out now."

Giles jumped a little, startled. He forgot that Kennedy was in the room, waiting for the meeting to be done. "Yes, yes of course. I'm sorry. Please come out."

Kennedy strolled into the living room, a scowled masking her sharp features. "What was that all about?"

Giles blinked at her. A fuzzy image of the young woman before him stared back. He squinted, "I'm sorry?"

"The walls aren't actually sound proof, you know. And if you wanted me not to hear anything, you could have closed the damn door instead of leaving it wide open."

Giles chuckled. He slipped on his glasses. "Yes, you're quite right."

Kennedy folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently on the plush carpet. "So what's this I hear that the test isn't happening well? Is –

"She's fine. All of them are. Things are just going slower than we planned. I don't think there is anything to be worried about. Ross would tell us if there's a need to worry."

Kennedy cocked her head. "Are you sure? Are you sure the Council won't screw us over?"

"I hardly think they have the resources to do that. If they are messing around with the test and are giving us wrong information, I'll know. I have them under surveillance."

"You do?"

Giles nodded. His body felt limp and his eyes were craving for sleep. It had been a long day. "I don't trust the Council. I don't think I ever will."

"Well…that's good, I guess." She walked over to the couch and flopped down, slouching. "So what now?"

"Now, sleep. There's nothing we can do at the moment. I would probably go into town later. You can catch a train back if you like."

Kennedy shrugged. "I could stay. There's a lot to this country I haven't seen yet. It would be good for my American eyes."

Giles cracked a smile. He was glad that he decided to take Kennedy along. He had planned to go into Brighton alone but Kennedy literally begged him to take her and seeing how she was one of the few who knew about the test, he changed his mind and brought her along. They were never close back in Sunnydale but circumstances brought them closer than he would have imagined. It was only then when he realized how much he missed the company he had in Sunnydale especially with Buffy and the others away at Italy.

He grunted and willed his body to get up. "Well, I'll see you later tonight then. I'm going to get some much needed rest. I suggest you do the same."

Kennedy gave him a smile. "Nah, I got my sleep on the train. I'll be fine.

"Alright, as you wish."

"'Night."

He nodded his good night and trudged into the room on the opposite end of the living room. He threw the door open and went in, shutting it behind. He and Kennedy didn't bring a change of clothes so he just shrugged off his jacket, dumping it on the back of a wooden chair, kicked off his footwear and crawled onto the big queen-sized bed.

The bed was soft, comfortable and lush in every possible way. Giles' tired body sank into the thick covers, enveloping him in cottony heaven. He closed his eyes and let the luxurious feeling take over him, pulling him deeper into comfort and calmness. His body may feel relaxed but his mind was still racing with thoughts and snippets of details of his meeting with Bishop.

As his mind went over the details of the meeting, guilt began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. He knew from the moment he agreed to this that he would regret it but this was something he had no control over. The Council was pretty adamant about going through with the test and when the Council set their minds on something, it was nearly impossible to change it.

And then there was the School, the Slayer School. He wanted a smooth run of things over there and he knew that if he didn't agree with the Council's plans, it was a sure thing that he would get the Heads at the Council interfering with his job at the School. He wanted to do everything in his power to get full control of the School and not have any of the Council Heads to mess with his operations.

Going with this sick test was him doing business. It was nothing personal. Hopefully, they would be able to understand that once it's over.

He heard Kennedy moving around outside, his mind being distracted just a little. He welcomed the distraction as much as he welcomed the coziness the bed provided him. Giles sighed, sure that he wouldn't get any sleep even though he was craving for some. His mind was too preoccupied to get some uninterrupted, peaceful sleep.

So he climbed out of the bed, put his socks and shoes on and grabbed his jacket. He left the room and headed into the living room. Kennedy had her feet up with a bar of chocolate in her hand. The television was on without the sound.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked when he came into the living room. She waved her chocolate at him. "Hungry?"

"Actually I am but I don't think chocolate is going to cut it. How about we go out and get something to eat?"

"Sure. It's not like I have better things to do. But I was hoping to clean out the mini bar before we leave." She tossed the half eaten chocolate bar on the table and stood. She switched the television off and put on her jacket.

"Of course. We can do that once we come back."

"So, Mr. Giles, in the meantime what do you have in mind in put in our hungry stomachs? Fish and Chips? Steak and Potatoes."

Giles chuckled as they both headed towards the front door. "I'll leave that up to you to figure it out."

He shut the door behind them, locking it. As they headed down towards the lobby and out of the hotel, Giles couldn't help but survey his surroundings. There weren't many suspicious characters milling around as they stood just outside the hotel waiting to hail a cab. But that just showed how careful they were being.

Many years of experience allowed Giles to spot at least five of Bishop's men; the middle aged man sitting on the bench across the street, reading a newspaper; the short, stocky man, leaning against a lamppost, smoking; the tall, redheaded woman talking rapidly into her cell and the pair talking to once another just a few feet away from him and Kennedy.

The dark haired slayer was oblivious to Bishop's plants and Giles pretended he was as well. He didn't want to be caught knowing that Bishop was spying on him. It would make his task all the more difficult.

And besides, having the element of surprise on his side was always a good thing. He had always taught his slayer this and now it was about time to practice what he preached.

Europe, Italy

night

They came out from nowhere and there were about five of them. Like shadows of the night, they trailed after her, unseen and unheard. One by one they came out from the inky darkness and surrounded her. At first, Alessandra thought they were just a bunch of boys trying to get a good time with her but the way they came menacingly towards her said otherwise. She couldn't see their faces as the dark of night masked their features so she couldn't tell how old these boys were.

She dropped to a fighting stance automatically, running all the movements she learnt in self defense class through her head. She waited for them to launch the first attack instead of her going after them. They did so without hesitation.

The first stranger in front of her rushed her. She waited till he was almost on top of her before grabbing his shirt with both hands and with the help of his momentum, flipped him over her head and onto the solid ground. He grunted as he landed on his back. Alessandra gave him a sharp jab into face, knocking him out, but not before noticing his disfigured face. His forehead was low and protruding and his eyes were sunken into his face. The pupils were a bright, yellow color, almost gold.

Alessandra stumbled back in surprise. Who are these guys? Before she could do anything else, she heard the pounding of footsteps behind her. She whirled around just in time to see another of the stranger running at her. The man crashed into her, sprawling her to the ground. He straddled her and grinned, bearing very sharp teeth – too sharp for a human. Alessandra struggled under his weight, hoping to throw him off but he was too strong for her. He pinned her arms above her head and leaned close.

"You're very pretty," the man said in Italian with a leer. His bad breath hit her face, making her gag. His breath smelled like a dead rat had been living in his mouth of a few days. Alessandra scrunched up her face in disgust and looked away. What was more unappealing than his breath was his face. His face was also disfigured like her first attacker.

"Thank you," Alessandra growled. "But I can't say the same for you." Her attacker blinked, surprised that this girl would dare talk back to him. She used this moment of confusion to throw her attacker. Letting out a cry, she shoved the man off her body with all her might. She didn't manage to throw him far but at least he was off her.

Alessandra sucked in all the air that was squeezed out of her when the man sat on her. She flipped onto her feet and aimed a roundhouse kick to Mr. Ugly, who was already climbing to his feet. His head snapped back upon impact and he went down for the count. He was probably not dead but he would be unconscious for a little while and that's enough time for Alessandra to take out the rest without him breathing down her neck.

Alessandra whirled around, her senses on high alert. The remaining four formed a rough circle around her with her in the middle. From the looks of it, it didn't seem like she was able to come out of this alive. These men were stronger and faster than your average men and though they didn't fight as well as she could, their strength certainly gave them an advantage. It wouldn't be long when they get smart and decided to attack all at once, overpowering her with their numbers.

Alessandra closed her eyes, said a silent prayer before throwing herself towards the two men in front of her. Behind the two men was the exit she needed. If she could bring the two down, she was home free. She only got two steps forward when something grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Alessandra glanced over her shoulder and blinked in surprise when she saw that it was a someone that halted her and not a something.

The blond girl flashed a smile. "I'll take care of this. You've done enough." American? What is she doing here helping me? The girl let go of her hand and rushed the two that Alessandra was intending to go after. The American girl was good – very good. She was as fast as her attackers and probably as strong – maybe stronger. Alessandra had never seen anyone in her self defense class fight as well as the blond girl did. Even her instructor wasn't that good.

Alessandra was truly amazed.

Sounds of fighting came from behind and Alessandra spun round. She almost forgot about the other remaining attackers. The sight before her surprised her more than the appearance of the American girl did. A tall, dark haired man and a red headed woman – just slightly older than Alessandra – were taking out the remaining three thugs with short, thick, sharp wooden sticks in their hands. They weren't as powerful as the first girl was but Alessandra could clearly see that they were winning. They knew how to take the guys down.

Something past by in a flash. The blond American was racing towards her friend, providing her help. Alessandra glanced over her shoulder and noticed that the two men the blond was fighting earlier were gone. Alessandra turned back and watched at the girl take on the remaining three with ease. The two friends stood back, letting the petite girl to take over.

The blond drew out a similar wooden stick from the back of her waistband and with one fluid motion plunged it into the chest of the three ugly men – one after the other. A second later, the three burst into dust. The wind scattered it into the night air before it could hit the ground. Alessandra stood wide-eyed at what she just saw. No traces of the five men were left and that chilled Alessandra to the bone. Who were these people? Were they the good guys or the bad guys?

The blond American pocketed her wooden stick, exchanged a few words with her two friends and then approached her. The girl gathered up her loose hair into a ponytail and flashed Alessandra another smile. Alessandra took a step back, easing inconspicuously into a fighting stance.

"Hi!" the American said cheerily.

Alessandra raised her chin and glared at her. Her heart was thundering against her chest, almost bursting through her rib cage. "Who are you?"

The girl's grin grew wider. "Oh good. You can speak English."

LATER

apartment

Xander watched the new found slayer as she took in what Buffy said about her being a slayer. Her forehead was furrowed in a deep frown and she chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. She hasn't spoken a word since they brought her back to the apartment and that surprised him. He thought a girl like Alessandra would be shooting a million questions towards him and the others.

A cooling mug of coffee stood in front of the Italian, untouched. The sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt were pushed up to her elbows. Her fingers lightly traced the rimmed of the mug and her bright blue eyes were directed into the contents of the cup, as if the answers to her unasked questions were floating in that bitter, dark liquid and all she had to do was to stare hard enough and she would be able to retrieve the solutions.

Willow, Buffy, Dawn and Andrew were seated at the dining table. They, too, were observing the newcomer carefully. Andrew took a sip of his coke and leaned forward. He had let his hair grown and he was sporting a bit of stubble. He said he was trying out a new look but Xander knew better than that. Andrew had expressed his interest in becoming a Watcher some time in the future and he guessed that the look was part of his request in becoming one. Andrew stroked his chin and pursed his lips contemplatively.

If he didn't know better, Xander would have guessed that Andrew was trying to be a Watcher already.

"You do understand what Miss Summers had just said?" Andrew asked, a tinge of British accent in his voice. Xander caught Dawn biting her lip to keep herself from bursting out in laugher. "Alessandra?"

Alessandra looked up at him, startled. "What?"

"Do you understand what I just said?" Buffy asked quickly before Andrew could say another word.

Alessandra nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do. I guess. It's…it's just a lot to take in."

"Understandable. But you look like you're taking it in quite well." Buffy paused. "You are, right?"

The Italian nodded again. She took a stray lock of short, brown hair and looped it around her ear. "I guess I've heard worse." She continued when she caught Buffy's puzzled look. "My dad died in a car accident."

Buffy touched her arm. "I'm sorry."

Alessandra shrugged. "Not your fault. I'm over it anyway. It happened when I was ten."

"Well, my mom died a few years ago so if you want to talk…"

"No, that's ok. I've talked to a lot of counselors about it so I'm all talked out."

Xander mirrored Buffy's smile. He was starting to like this girl.

"So, Alessandra," Xander started, shifting in his seat slightly. His butt wasn't exactly accustomed to the new seats just yet. "You got any questions for us? Anything you're not clear about?"

"No. Not right now. Give me a day and I'll get back to you." She smiled at him, her green eyes glinting with humor despite the situation.

"Ok, fair enough. Now let me ask you a question. How the hell do you know how to speak English like an American?"

Alessandra laughed. "I grew up in America. I only moved back here a year ago. My mom's from Italy. My dad's American."

"Well, that certainly made our job much more easier. You don't know how tough it is to communicate with people who don't have a clue on how to speak English."

"Yeah, I totally understand."

There was silence as everyone drifted off in their own worlds. Xander shifted in his seat again, wondering what to say or do next. "So."

"So," Willow echoed.

"So…" Andrew said with his British accent.

"So, now that we establish the fact that everyone can say the word 'so'," Xander said, getting to his feet. "How about we turn in for the night? It's been a long day – and night – and I think a long, eight hour sleep is in order. You can stay here with us if you want. We got a couch now."

Alessandra smiled. "Sure. Thanks."

"Good. We'll talk more in the morning. I'm sure you'll have more question by then," Buffy said. She and Willow stood up and started collecting the mugs on the table.

Dawn started towards the living room. "I'll help you set up the couch."

As Dawn went into the living room with Alessandra and Andrew in tow, Xander stayed with Buffy and Willow in the kitchen. The two girls went to the sink and started washing the dishes that were left there. Xander came up to them and leaned against the counter.

"Alessandra seems nice."

"Yeah. I like her," Willow replied. "She's much nicer than the last one we met. What was her name?"

"Felice," Buffy filled in.

"Yes, that's right. It was Felice. She was snobby."

Xander shrugged. "Well, we can be sure that she would hit it off with all the snobby English Watchers there."

"Speaking of Watchers, did you see the way Andrew was acting just now? What's with the accent?"

"He's been doing that all week. Looks like he's dead certain to be a Watcher."

"At least it gives him something to do. He's been pretty bored ever since we came here. It keeps him busy."

Xander folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. He didn't really care what Andrew did with his time really as long as Andrew stayed out of his way. Now that things around here was getting pretty strange, the last thing Xander wants is to deal with another strange thing in the form of Andrew.

Speaking of strange things…

"Err, guys I'll be right back ok?" He didn't wait for them to answer as he pushed himself off the counter and exited the kitchen. He saw her duck into the bathroom and he followed closely behind. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and kept his back to the door.

"What the hell were you thinking coming into the kitchen like that?" Xander hissed as loudly as he dared to go.

She was seated on the edge of the bathtub. She waved him off. "Don't worry. I told you, no one can see me."

"Well, I'm not going to take that risk just yet until I'm very, very sure."

"Whatever."

They two of them got into a staring match. The bathroom was dark and the moonlight that streamed into the small window high up on the wall was the only source of light that they had. The moonlight spilled into the cramp room, falling on her honey blond hair and on her shoulders. The soft light lit her up the way angels do.

Was that what she was now? An angel? If she was, then why was she here? Why wasn't she in heaven doing what angels do – helping people and playing the harp to baby Jesus? Maybe she is helping people. Could it be she's here because she is helping him? But in what? He didn't recall being depress or being in any distress.

So why was she here?

"You're quiet."

"Tired," Xander replied. He eyes started to roam around the bathroom. He couldn't look at her anymore.

"Xander…"

"I should be heading to bed now," he cut her off. "Long day and all that." He turned his back towards her and twisted the doorknob, the lock clicking open.

"Xander!" Something in her voice made him pause but he didn't turn around. He stood there waiting for her to continue. "Don't shut me out – please. I need you to talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," Xander growled. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Tell me how your day went, what did you eat, how was patrolling just now – anything! I don't care. I just need you to talk to me."

Xander sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the door frame. So that was why she was here. She just wanted to counsel him. What was she thinking? He didn't need counseling. The only person who needed that was Buffy. She was the one talking to herself not him. And while she was at it, she might as well counsel Andrew as well.

The cool, grainy surface of the door frame scratched his skin as he shifted. He jaw clenched as he kept his anger from bubbling over the surface. His grip on the doorknob tightened. He glanced over his shoulder. "I think you should leave. I don't want to see you anymore. Unless you're here to kill me or to save me from another apocalypse, I don't want you here."

"I don't believe you. You miss me and you want to see me – that's why you cry over my photo every night –"

Xander whirled around and came up to her in one long stride. "In case you didn't notice, I haven't been crying over her in over a week. You're not her. She's dead – she has been ever since Sunnydale collapsed. You're just some thing masquerading as her. So this is the last time I'm telling you. Leave me alone!"

Xander gave her one last, long stare before stalking towards the door. He yanked it open and stormed out – almost bumping into Alessandra. Xander pulled on the brakes at the last possible moment. Alessandra's eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh hi. Sorry I didn't see you there."

"No, I should be apologizing. I didn't know you were using the bathroom." She cocked her head at him. "Are you ok?"

Xander swept his hand over his face, hoping to sweep away his angry expression as well. "Yeah I'm fine. Just tired."

Alessandra grinned. "I know what you mean. My limps feel like jelly. I'm so glad you guys let me stay here. I don't think I'll be able to make it home in this state."

Xander forced himself to smile. "A good night sleep will do you just fine." He step-sided her and started down the hall towards his room.

"Xander."

He stopped and looked at her. "Yeah?"

She gave him a soft smile, her blue eyes filling with gratitude. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alessandra."

KITCHEN

"You're strangely quiet today. What's up?"

Buffy shook her head. "Nothing – just, you know, washing the dishes. That's not much you can say when you're washing the dishes."

"True. You heard from Antonio lately?"

Buffy shook her head again. "No and I'm getting pretty worried."

"Have you tried calling him?"

"I did but I always get his machine. He hasn't returned any of my messages."

"Maybe he still needs more time."

"I know," Buffy sighed. "I just wish he would call and tell me he needs time. It scares me not knowing what he's up to."

Willow narrowed her green eyes at her, a playful smile on her lips. "You care a lot for this boy don't you?"

Buffy felt her cheeks flush a deep red. "Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe."

"I take that as a yes then," Willow smirked.

Buffy felt another pair of eyes burning holes into her back. Instead of replying, she set the dish she was washing into the dryer and dried her hands. "You mind finishing up here?"

"What? Did I say something wrong? Buffy?"

Her room was dark when Buffy entered it and she left it that way. She whirled around and glared at him. "What were you doing?" she demanded as soon as he entered the room. "I thought I told you to never eavesdrop on my conversation."

He raised his hands in surrender. "But I just came in – I didn't hear anything, I swear." But his smirk clearly told her that he was lying.

"Liar."

He folded his arms across his chest. "So what do you want me to say? Oh Buffy's in love." Then he started singing. "Buffy and Antonio sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

"I'm not in love with him!"

"But you like him," he pointed out.

Buffy opened her mouth to retort but stop short when Dawn entered the room.

"Hey, Buff, have you seen the extra blankets?" her little sister asked as she proceeded to her cupboard. "Oh and you mind switching on the lights?"

Buffy did as she was asked, pointedly ignoring him. "I think they are on the top shelve."

Dawn spotted the spare blankets of the top shelve and made her way out of Buffy's room. "Thanks Buff. Goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Buffy shut the door to her bedroom and sighed. "Please leave."

"I'm ok with it, love," he said instead.

"Well, I'm not," she snapped.

"Buffy…"

She turned around and looked at him. "Look, things have been pretty tough for me and I don't want to be thinking about…things."

"What things?"

"Argh! Please, don't make it harder than it already is," Buffy groaned. She headed towards her bed and sat down. He joined her. The bed didn't even dip when he sat down. It was as if he wasn't even there.

"I'm ok with it," he repeated softly. "You don't have to worry about me."

"It's just complicated. I don't even know what game I'm playing anymore and with him entering the picture – it's just going to complicated things."

"You'll be ok. You don't have to rush it."

"Yeah, you're right. I just switched the oven on, there's still time for me to bake right?"

"What?"

Buffy looked at him and laughed at his confused expression. "It's nothing. I was just babbling."

"And here I thought I would get use to that by now," he chuckled.

The two of them fell silent. Buffy looked away when he stare got too intense for her to handle.

There were too many things that she needed to sort out before she went on to analyze her feelings for Antonio – or if there are any feelings for him at all. And then there was feelings for him that she needed to deal with. She was still not over the fact that he was gone and even though he was clearly sitting beside her in her room, enjoying a comfortable silence they rarely have together in the past, she still felt alone, lost and certainly out of the game as far as dating is concern.

"It's late," she said.

"Yeah – yeah it is."

"It's going to be a long day tomorrow. I need to call Giles about Alessandra and let him know we got her. She's the last slayer we had to pick up here."

"Alright then," he said, standing up. "I'll let you get your rest."

"Would you…would you stay here?"

He looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"I don't feel like being along tonight so would you mind staying here?"

He looked at her hard and Buffy felt like she was about to melt into a gooey puddle right there and then. "Yeah, sure," he finally said. "I guess I can do that."

He looked around her room before catching sight of the single sofa that was pushed against the wall near the window. He went over to it and sat down. He smiled at her.

"I'll stay."

NEXT DAY

morning

Xander woke up to the chatter of conversations out in the kitchen. He winced when the sunlight that flooded his room hit his eyes. He blinked a couple of times to get his eyes adjusted to the bright light before he threw the covers off. He stumbled out of bed and into the living room.

The aroma of pancakes, bacon and eggs hit him like a ton of bricks as soon as he stepped into the living. The sound of voices came from the same direction that the aroma of breakfast came from.

He ventured into the kitchen, his hunger propelling him more than anything else. As soon as he entered, he was greeted by the sight of Andrew in an apron, holding a spatula and of Alessandra at the stove scrambling some eggs.

"Xander!" Andrew greeted, lifting his spatula in acknowledgement. "Breakfast?"

Alessandra turned away from the stove for a moment to give him a smile. She must have noticed his apprehensive look as her smile turned into a more assuring one – I cooked, not him.

"Yeah, sure – why not."

"Great! Grab a seat and let Chef Wells serve you."

Xander pulled out a chair and sat down, making himself comfortable. Andrew set a clean plate down in front of him and piling food onto it. "So how did he drag you into this?" Xander asked Alessandra as he reached for the bottle of maple syrup.

Alessandra took the frying pan containing the cooked eggs away from the stove and came over to him. She started unloading the eggs onto his plate as she answered, "It was my idea. I dragged him to do this."

"Really? What's the occasion?" he asked as he poured himself a glass of orange juice form the carton.

"No special occasion. I just thought I make breakfast as a payback for what you guys have done for me."

"You could have just bought us breakfast instead, you know. Stuff us with some jelly donuts and some Starbucks coffee and you're payback is paid off."

"Nah, it's ok. I prefer to cook," she replied, giving him a wink. She set the frying pan away before taking a seat beside him. She helped herself to a huge helping of pancakes, soaking it in with syrup and dumped a heap of bacon.

"I see you're a big eater," Xander observed as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Got it from my dad. He was a head chef at this hotel in America. He taught me all I know." She nodded towards his plate. "Is it any good?"

"Good? This is probably the best breakfast I've ever eaten," Xander exclaimed around a mouthful of pancakes.

Alessandra blushed. "Glad you like it."

"You should teach Buffy and Willow to cook like this. I don't think they know how to cook a decent meal."

She laughed, her eyes crinkling up in amusement. "I'm sure they are not that bad."

"Oh but they are that bad. This one time, Buffy wanted to try out to make pizza for dinner. But what came out from that over was this small round black disc. I have no idea what happened to the tomatoes and the cheese. It was just this black thing."

Alessandra burst out laughing. "You're kidding."

He took a bite of his bacon. "Nope. I wish I were. Willow tried her hand at cooking as well."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say that I was glad the house didn't burn down."

"That bad?" she asked in surprise.

"That bad," he confirmed.

"Wow. I seriously need to teach them how to cook."

He lifted his glass of orange juice. "Hear, hear."

They ate silently as Andrew started cleaning up in the back. Xander took a second helping of pancakes and began to chow down. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Really good. That couch is awesome. It's much more comfortable than my bed at home."

"You told you mom where you were?"

"Yeah, I called her last night and told her I'm staying over at a friend's house. She said she's fine with it."

"Are you going to tell your mom about…you know…?"

Alessandra scrunched her brows together. "I don't know. Am I allowed too?"

"Yeah you are. I mean it's not wise to tell the whole world that you're the slayer because, you know, having a cult after you is certainly not good – but it's probably a good idea to tell your mom about it. You need all the support you can get. I remember the two years Buffy didn't tell her mom that she was a slayer. It was really tough for her and us seeing how we had to lie for her every time her mom got a little bit suspicious. Certainly ease a lot of burden for her when she finally told her mom."

"Well, you definitely convinced me," she said with a smile.

"That's what I'm here to do." He returned her smile.

"So what do I tell her? I can't exactly go up to her and say "Hey mom! Guess what? I just found out that I'm a slayer and demons and vampires do really exists. It's that awesome?""

"Ok now you're just abusing sarcasm," he said, jabbing his fork at her.

She merely shrugged in response.

"I could help you fill you mother in. we'll go together and break the news as gently as possible. We'll make sure she doesn't need a psychiatrist once we are done."

She shook her head. "No, it's ok. I think I can manage."

"Ok, but if you need any assistance, you know where to find us." He drowned the last gulp of orange juice and cleaned up his plate. "Ok, that is officially the best breakfast I've had in a long time." He leaned forward, grabbed her hand and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. "Grazie Signora."

"Siete benvenuti," she replied with a smile. The two of them held each other's smile for a moment longer before Alessandra tore her gaze away. "So, what happens now?

Xander cleared his throat, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "Err…well, there's this slayer school in England where slayers like you have to go to. They will teach you about your duty as a slayer and about demons and how you fight. But I guess you got that down seeing how you kick those vamps asses last night."

Alessandra shrugged. "It was just self defense. Now that friend of yours? Buffy was it? She could fight. She was like some superwoman or something. She was awesome."

"Yeah, Buffy's good. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her that's for sure. But you'll fight just like her in that school."

"But not as well," she pointed out, her eyes gleaming with awe.

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Just not as well."

"So on top of telling my mom that I'm a slayer, I also have to tell her…

"That you have to go to England as well," Xander finished for her.

"You mind accompanying me when I talk to my mom."

"Of course. You got my presence there."

"Thank you so much," Alessandra said, giving him a quick hug. When she pulled back, she placed a peck on his cheek, surprising him. Xander blinked at her when she sat back down. Then he was thrown back to the earlier moment where he kissed her hand. The two of them stared into each others eyes with a wide, grin spreading across both their faces.

The girl was beautiful, no doubt about that and Xander would be a fool to say that he wasn't attracted to her. She wasn't as beautiful as Tessa but there was something about her personality that made him feel comfortable around her, that made her shine more that Tessa did when she was alive. It was something Xander that liked about her and he certainly wouldn't mind to bask in her shininess all the time.

Alessandra shifted her gaze and eyed something off his shoulder. Her blue eyes widen in shock before screaming on top of her voice and leaping off her chair. Xander followed suite. He jumped to his feet and instinctively grabbed his fork, raising it high before him like a weapon. He whirled around and gasped at what Alessandra saw.

She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, a smirk stretching across her face.

Dawn crept towards the telephone that was placed on the living room coffee table as quietly as she possibly could. No one was around – Xander, Alessandra and Andrew were in the kitchen busy with breakfast and Willow was in her room, probably still asleep.

Goodness knows where Buffy was.

As soon as she reached the telephone set, she snatched the handset from its cradle and started dialing a number she knew by hard. Someone on the other end of the line picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" a female said. The voice sounded unfamiliar, certainly someone Dawn didn't recognize. "Rupert Giles' office. How may I help you?"

"Err…Hi! Can I speak to Mr. Giles please?"

"I'm sorry but he's not in at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"Do you know when he would be back?"

"No, he didn't say. Can I take a message?" the woman repeated.

"Do you know where he went?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't. Can I take a message?"

Dawn groaned inwardly. She didn't think she would be getting any more information on Giles' whereabouts out of her. "Just tell him that Dawn called. It's nothing important really."

"Dawn called, it's nothing important," the woman echoed. "Anything else?"

"No, I think that's it. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Have a nice day." The phone went dead in Dawn's ear. She set the phone down and frowned. She wondered where Giles was. Though it wasn't unusual for him to be away from his office, he did tell her to call him at this time so it was weird that he wouldn't be around during the time he said he would be around.

The telephone beside her started to ring, making her jump. She grabbed the handset and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Dawn? Giles here."

Dawn let go a long breath that she didn't realize that she was holding. "Oh hey! I called earlier but your secretary told me you weren't around."

"Yes, I'm in Brighton right now with Kennedy. There was an important meeting we had to attend." There was a bite in his voice that Dawn noticed and she wondered whether everything was fine.

"How did it go?"

Giles sighed, causing a gust of air to rush through the phone's speaker. "Ross Bishop, the man we went to meet, gave us some information on the test."

Dawn froze at the word 'test'. She gave one quick look around the apartment. Making sure that she was alone and that no one was listening to her call, she sat down beside the coffee table, drawing her knees towards her chest. She pressed the handset even closer to her ear.

"What did he say?" she asked, her voice lowered to a whisper.

"Is Andrew with you?" he said instead.

"No, he's in the kitchen with Xander and a new slayer."

"A new slayer? Is she the last one?"

"Yup. Her name is Alessandra and we got her last night. She was fighting off some vamps."

"Ahh I see."

"So about the test? What information did you get from this Bishop guy?" Dawn prodded, anxious to get back on the topic.

"How's Xander?"

Dawn frowned at the question. It was certainly something she didn't expect him to say. "He's fine."

"And Willow?"

"The same. Why do you ask?"

"Just asking. Kennedy wanted to know."

"Giles!" Dawn hissed, her impatience getting the better of her. "Tell me the information you got!"

"Right sorry. It was a long night and I didn't get enough sleep."

Dawn immediately felt guilty for yelling at him. She could hardly imagine the things he is going through. It was unfair for her to demand from Giles like that. "No, I should be sorry. I was just anxious about what you found out."

"Well, the information is not really good. It seems that the test is taking longer than we expected. You all probably have to be in Italy longer than plan."

"How long do we have to stay here?"

"Not sure. Ross said that he would keep in touch if he gets any news on the test."

"So is there anything you want us to do? Andrew is getting pretty bored here."

Giles chuckled. "I could imagine. No, there's nothing I want you to do at the moment. Just sit tight and let me know if anything out of ordinary happens."

"Will do," she assured him.

"Oh and Dawn?"

"I know. I won't tell anyone you called."

KITCHEN

"You can see her?" Xander asked Alessandra in shock.

The new slayer looked at him, her scared expression shifting to a puzzled one. "What?"

"What? What happened?" Andrew demanded as he came up beside them with a dripping wet frying pan in his hand.

Then she spoke up, "She can't see me."

Xander looked back to the person standing in front of them. Before he could say anything to her, Alessandra grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

"Please get it away. I hate bugs," Alessandra said, her voice shaking slightly.

Bugs? What bugs? There are bugs now? A movement behind her caught his eye and he finally realized how the topic of bugs came up. Crawling on the wall just behind her was a big, black bug that looked a lot like a cockroach but not quite. The body of the bug looked like it was polished and it shone under the light of the kitchen. Two long feelers jutted out from its head, waving from side to side as it inched its way along the wall.

It wasn't exactly a nice sight but at that moment Xander thought it was the beautiful thing he had ever seen. Well, second beautiful thing he had ever seen – after the person standing in front of it of course.

"Eww! That's disgusting!" Andrew exclaimed.

"Hand me the bug spray. It's in the top cupboard," Xander told Alessandra. She detached herself from his side and went to the back of the kitchen to get the insecticide. Xander kept his eyes warily on her instead on the bug.

A moment later, Alessandra returned with a tall green aerosol in her hands. She handed him the spray and Xander went forward. He twisted the cap off and aimed the small opening at the bug. She moved aside, giving him way to approach the bug.

He squeezed the trigger and a jet of unpleasant smelling liquid came spraying out. The insecticide hit the bug and it dropped to the floor, landing on its back, almost immediately. The bug went berserk. It started to wiggle and squirm as it tried to get onto its legs. Xander sprayed it again for good measure.

"It's dead," Xander announced. The bug was long from dead but it was a matter of time before it would grow still.

"Thank goodness!" Alessandra said with a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry I freaked out like that. Bugs really scare me a lot." Alessandra let out a nervous laugh which brought a grin to Xander's face.

"Huh. A slayer who is afraid of bugs – that's a first." Alessandra turned away, blushing just a bit. Xander went up to her and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Let's clean up and I'll drive you to your place." He glanced over his shoulder and caught her looking at him weirdly. Her eye brows were raised and her head was cocked to one side. He quickly dropped his hand from Alessandra's shoulder.

"Erm Andrew? You mind helping us clean up the place and not look at the bug like that. The thing is dead."

Andrew looked up from where he was standing. He was about a foot away from the dying bug; his frying pan was poised threateningly in front of him. "It's not dead. It's still wriggling around like some maniac. What if it manages to get onto its legs? I'm just here to make sure that it doesn't."

Xander shook his head in amusement. "Whatever makes you happy." He started gathering up the dished and passed a few to Alessandra. Alessandra took them and headed towards the sink to wash up.

She left her spot near the bug, came up to the table and sat down across from Xander. She eyed the food on the table. "So she cooked for you. That's nice." She looked up at him with a frown. "When was the last time I cooked for you? Can you remember?"

Xander cleared his throat, grabbed the remaining empty plates and hurried towards the sink. "Hey, how about you pack up the leftovers and I'll wash up?"

Alessandra blinked at him in confusion. "That's ok. I'm fine here."

Xander gently took a plate out of her hands and nudged her towards the dining table. "No, I insist."

Alessandra shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Washing the dishes makes me happy." He faced his back towards Alessandra and her and started scrubbing down the dishes.

"She's nice," Xander heard her say. "She does what you ask – that's nice. I sure didn't do what you asked. Must be a nice change. No wonder you like her."

Xander glanced over his shoulder and shot her a look. He hoped that besides having the power of making him the only one to see her, she also had the power to read minds. Go away! Now!

Apparently she couldn't – or she just ignored him. "You know, I never understood Italian people," she continued. "What's with their fascination with food?"

"Hey Alessandra!"

The young slayer jumped at his sudden outburst. She looked at him, her eyes widen in surprise. "What?

"How about we leave for Andrew to clean up and just head over to you place right now?" Xander asked. He snatched a dish towel off the counter and dried his hands.

"Right now? But I'm not ready yet. I haven't prepared what to say."

Xander waved the dish towel at her. "I'm sure you'll do fine. I'll drive really slowly so that you have enough time to think of something in the car."

Alessandra crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him – looked at him really hard. Her blue eyes bore into his brown ones, searching. "Are you ok? You're all jittery. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" Xander tossed the dish towel aside. "So I'll get the car ready." He brushed past Alessandra but she wasn't done yet.

Alessandra grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She touched his cheek, tilting his head towards her direction. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice was soft and gentle, a tone Xander had never heard her use before. Her eyes were filled with concern and there was soft expression on her face. "You can tell me."

Xander's gaze stayed on Alessandra for a brief moment before flickering towards her. She was eyeing them curiously, expectantly, waiting for his answer. He looked back at Alessandra. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xander finally answered.

"After last night?" Alessandra smirked. "Try me."

He wished he could – he wished he could just tell her everything that has been happening to him for the past week. But would she believe him? Would she help him go through this or would she run screaming?

And he didn't know whether he was allowed to tell Alessandra about his situation. Would he get strike by lightening if he does? Would she turn into some big, ugly monster and eat him alive if he does?

Xander's gaze once again returned to her, wondering if he could find some of the answers from her. He did find something alright but not answers he was looking for. She was on her feet, her expression hardening. Something in her eyes made him realize that she might not like the idea of him telling Alessandra about his little situation.

This was probably the first time Xander got an expression other than smiles and sympathies. Whenever he saw her, she also had that cute smile on her face that he loved and her face was always filled with concern and sympathy and other therapist related emotions.

This was the first time he saw her angry.

"This is between you and me, Xander," she warned. "Don't drag that little slayer into this. It's not her business."

Of course it wasn't. But he would do anything to get her away from him. "I –"

"I mean it, Xander," she cut him off before he could go any further. "You tell her…"

Or you'll what? Xander dared her silently.

"Xander?" Alessandra prodded.

He looked at the slayer before him. Her concern for him was touching and he was more than willing to tell her all about his little "I-see-dead-people" situation. But then again, it wasn't exactly her business. They just only met and he hardly knew this girl. Even if he did just enjoy a delectable meal with her and enjoyed her company more than the others in the house, it didn't seem fair to dump his problems on her. She already had enough on her plate to deal with as it is.

Instead he smiled. "Let's get going. We don't want to catch your Mom at the wrong time." He threw one last look towards her – there! You happy? – and walked out of the kitchen. As he walked into the living room towards the coffee table where his car keys were, he mentally kicked himself for not telling Alessandra something or at least feed her some lie. It was better than just walking away and ignoring her concern completely. Now, he was sure to have Alessandra watching him more carefully than before, trying to get a clue as to what's going on with him.

Xander caught Dawn sitting beside the coffee table, staring into space. He nodded his good morning to her before grabbing his keys of the table. He saw that she was holding the telephone. "Did you forget the number?" he asked her.

Dawn looked up at him. "Huh?"

He nodded towards the phone in her hands. "Did you want to call someone but forget the number or is sitting there with a phone in your hand a new Italian thing that you picked up?"

Dawn shook her head and laughed. "No, I thought of calling Giles but I don't know what to say to him. So I'm just thinking of something to say to him."

"Tell him about the new slayer," he suggested. "And asked him whether he has anymore for us to get."

Dawn brightened at the idea he offered. "That's a good idea. Thanks."

"Anytime. Listen, I'm going to take Alessandra down to her place to spill the slayer beans to her Mom. So if anyone asks, that's where I'll be."

"Ok, sure. Have fun."

Xander gestured towards the telephone. "Tell Giles I said hi."

Alessandra was already waiting at the door with her coat on. He tried to avoid her gaze as he strode out of door. He didn't think he could handle anymore of her concern looks.

It's going to be a long drive.

What am I doing here? This is ridiculous and stupid and foolish and something a girl like Cordelia would do. This is…her thoughts trailed off as her mind searched desperately for more adjectives. Great! Now, she ran out of words. Was her vocabulary always this limited? She should start reading more.

It was barely ten o'clock in the morning and Buffy was standing in front of Antonio's door, fidgeting and mentally kicking herself for thinking of this idea in the first place. In one hand she held a brown paper bag with bagels and donuts of all kinds and in the other she held two Styrofoam cups of strong Italian coffee in a make shift cardboard tray. I'm a vampire slayer for goodness sake. I kill demons and monsters and otherworldly things twice my size and knocking on the door of some Italian guy is freaking me out?

She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. She leaned forward and used her right elbow to press the doorbell. The front door was made up of thick wood so she couldn't exactly hear the chimes of the doorbell. Whether or not there were chimes she didn't know. She pressed the doorbell again for good measure.

Buffy took a step back and waited. She had to wait for a full five minutes before the door swung open. A disheveled Antonio stood before her, a scowl on his handsome face. His dark hair was much curlier than usual and his eyes were clouded with sleep. He looked like he hasn't been shaving for a few days and – oh! He was half naked. He only had a pair of light blue boxers on and his perfectly sculpted torso was bare for Buffy to see and to appreciate.

Antonio squinted at her. "Signora Summers?"

Buffy gave him her brightest smile. "Hi!" She lifted the breakfast she brought with her for him to see. "I thought I come by with breakfast. You hungry?"

His eyes were still narrowed into slits as he studied her. "Why are you here?"

Her cheeks were starting to ache from smiling this bright. "I haven't heard from you in weeks so I'm here to see whether you're ok. And I brought breakfast!"

Antonio looked at her like she was some kind of a nutcase. She didn't blame him as she felt like one. Finally he moved aside and jerked his head, gesturing for her to come in. "You can put the food in the kitchen," he said as she entered his house.

"Great! I bought bagels and donuts," Buffy said as she headed towards the kitchen with Antonio trudging behind. "I'm not sure what kind of breakfast you like – are you the donut-bagel-eating kinda guy or a bacon-and-eggs-eating kinda guy or a cereal-eating kinda guy?" As soon as she entered the kitchen, she set the breakfast down and started taking them out from their paper bags. She grabbed a plate from one of the cupboards and started piling it with the assortments of donuts and bagels.

"So if you don't like the donuts and the bagels," she continued, "I'll just take them home with me and give them to Xander. You can have the coffee. It's Italian so I assume you won't hate it." She stopped her babbling when she realized that he wasn't listening. He was leaning against the doorframe, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

Antonio looked up at her and gave her a wan smile. "Grazie molto, Signora Summers. I'll help myself to it later. If you don't mind, I need to get back to my sleep."

"No can do. I'm not leaving until I'm sure you're alright."

"I'm alright."

"Well, you sure don't look alright. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? You look like crap and I'm being polite here."

"Please leave," he said. There was a slight edge to his tone that took Buffy by surprise.

Buffy took a step forward. "Look, Antonio, I'm leaving Italy pretty soon and I don't want to leave things unsettled between us. I'll sleep easier if I know that you're alright."

"I'm alright," he repeated.

"You're not alright!" Buffy insisted. Another step forward and she was a few feet away from Antonio. Well she would be if he didn't straightened and moved a step back. "Look, I'm sorry for being so harsh but I'm just worried about you. I'm here if you want to talk."

"I do not want to talk and I certainly don't want you here!" Antonio suddenly burst out, his eyes flashing with anger.

Buffy blinked at him in surprise. "What do you mean you don't want me here?"

"Someone I love died and you're responsible for it. Honestly, do you think I would want a murderer in my house?" he spat.

All comfort and sympathy left her body and all was left was disbelief and surprise. "What –?"

"She wouldn't have killed herself if you didn't tell her that she was a slayer. She wouldn't have gone out and…" he trailed off, his voice cracking a little. "I'm sorry but you should leave."

"Antonio, I…I can't believe me you're blaming me for her death. It was my job to tell her she was a slayer. She was better off knowing who she was and what her destiny was then wondering what is happening to her. She wouldn't be able to handle it if she didn't know. I was doing her a favor." She was yelling now but she couldn't help it – and she didn't care either. She couldn't believe Antonio had the cheek to blame his girlfriend's death on her.

"Well, you didn't do me any favors."

"This isn't about you!" Buffy shot back. "This is about Tessa's life. It was never about you so don't act like I've ruined your life.

"Tessa was my life! Don't you understand that? Without her I'm nothing. She was everything to me. I may not be in love with her but I needed her – just like she needed me. She was doing fine without knowing she was the slayer. We were doing fine. Without her…" Antonio broke eye contact with her as he looked down at his bare feet.

At that moment, all anger in Buffy vanished and she felt sorry for him. She knew what he was going through and why he took out his anger at her. She had been there before with Angel.

And with Spike.

She came up to him and took his hands into hers. She said softly, "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. If I had a slightest clue that this would happen, I wouldn't have told her. But you got to understand, she deserved to know who she was, what she could do, the difference she could make." Buffy touched Antonio's chin and tilted his head so he was looking at her. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his lips quivered slightly. "I know this is difficult for you to accept but she's in a better place now. I'm sure she's happy."

"But I'm not," he whispered. "I don't think I can go on any longer. I feel like I can't breathe."

"Yes, you can." She cracked a smile. "If you couldn't, you wouldn't be standing here talking to me right now."

Antonio didn't think what she said was funny. Instead, he pulled his hands away and turned away from her. "I think you should leave." He started walking towards the front door. "Thank you for breakfast. I'll see you soon." He opened the door and looked at her. He didn't look like the sad boyfriend he looked earlier anymore. Now he looked cold, unyielding.

Buffy didn't think she was going to get any further with him so she made her way towards the Antonio. "If you need anything," she started as she came up to the front door.

"I will," he said curtly. He ushered her out. "Arrivederci, Signora Summers." The door slammed shut before Buffy could say anything else.

Buffy turned and started walking down the steps away from the house. "I cannot believe he blames me for her death," she said.

"Bloody prick," he muttered in agreement.

"I can't blame him though. He had been through a lot."

He scoffed. "So? That doesn't mean he has the right to blame you."

Buffy sighed. "I know. I just wish there was something I could do to help him get over this."

"Just give him time," he said. "Time will heal all wounds and what not."

Buffy looked at him. "Will it really? Will time really heal him?"

He looked back at her, his blue eyes growing sad. "It didn't for me but maybe it doesn't work on everybody. I was a vampire. Maybe it works differently for vampires." Buffy looked away as he continued. "But you do know it's not your fault that his girlfriend died. You were just doing what you were asked to do."

"That's what I told him."

"The only person at fault here is Willow."

Buffy turned back to him in surprise. "What? Willow? What did she do?"

"She was the one who did the spell, didn't she?"

"Yeah but –"

"If she didn't do the spell," he continued, gently cutting her off. "Tessa wouldn't be a slayer and you and the others wouldn't have to go around the world collecting slayers. She wouldn't have died if Willow didn't do the spell."

"That's ridiculous!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying what I think."

"Well, that's the most stupid thing I've ever heard. Tessa's death was no one's fault. It happened because she couldn't take it, not because Willow did the spell."

He shrugged again. "I'm just saying."

"Well don't! I had enough of hearing what you think." Buffy increased her paced and stalked away from him. The last thing she needed was for him to plant more doubts in her head.

SCOOBY'S APARTMENT

Willow poured herself another cup of steaming coffee and took a sip. The hot liquid stung her tongue but she didn't pay much attention to it as her attention was already attracted elsewhere.

One of the headlines in the morning's newspaper which she had spread out on the dining table earlier caught her eye as she left the counter where the coffee pot was and walked towards the dining table.

The headline was similar to the ones she had seen the last couple of days and Willow was starting to get worried. She didn't think much of it at first but now that the newspapers are saying that whatever is happening is a cause for a concern, Willow couldn't help but to be concern also.

It seems that there have been a rise in teenage girls being murdered around Europe and there was also a rise in teenage girls committing suicide. Authorities aren't able to explain the dramatic rise in statistics and the country of each dead girl is certainly getting worried about it.

And Willow was too.

If memory served, she remembered reading about similar stories in the newspaper when she and the others first came to Italy. She never gave it much thought, thinking that they came to Italy at the time where there was a peak in crimes. But now, she wasn't quite sure.

She flipped through the newspaper, scanning each article to see if there any more news on the deaths of these teenage girls but there were none. The article that caught her eye just said that another girl was found dead in her bedroom – apparently she committing suicide by overdosing herself with her mother's sleeping pills.

And the suicide happened in Italy.

Willow set the newspaper aside and drained her coffee. Maybe she should do some research, see if there is any information on the web that could give her a clue as to what was causing this rise in deaths among teenage girls. She'll tell Buffy and Xander and see what they thought about this. Maybe this was demon related. Maybe there was a demon going around terrorizing girls and killing them. Anything was possible.

Willow set her mug down and stood up. It was then when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She turned, puzzled. Of course there wasn't anyone behind her. She was the only one in the apartment. Andrew and Dawn were out grocery shopping, Buffy was at Antonio's and Xander was at Alessandra's place with the Italian girl. So she should be alone.

Unless…

Willow muttered a spell under her breath. The spell would allow her to see things that couldn't be seen to the naked eye, like a ghost or an invisible person. Once the spell was done, she looked around the kitchen. No one. She went out into the living room. No one. She searched every room. Also no one.

She was alone in the apartment as she was suppose to be but that feeling was still there. Like someone was watching her from afar – someone who didn't want to be seen by her. She went to the front door and opened it. Maybe someone was out in the hallway, trying to take a peek at the single lonely woman in the empty apartment. She scanned the hallway but there wasn't anyone in sight.

Willow sighed and close the door, locking it behind her. She trotted back to the kitchen, trying her best to ignore the feeling. As soon as she entered the kitchen, the niggling feeling was gone as quickly as it came. She paused and waited in the middle of the kitchen to see whether the feeling would come back again. It didn't and that sent a wave of relief through Willow.

Somehow she didn't quite believe that the feeling she got was something natural, that is was caused by something natural. There was an unnatural vibe written all over it and Willow wasn't about to forget about this little incident.

Whatever it was, it was certainly playing a game with her.

"Mom, there's something I have to tell you," Alessandra began. "It might sound out of this world or even insane but hear me out first before you say anything. Something happened last night and, well, it seems that I'm a vampire slayer. There are many other girls – slayers – like me around the world and there's this place in England where they train us to be better slayers." She paused and glanced at Xander worriedly. "Ok, was this better than the first one?"

Xander took his eyes off the road for a second to regard the slayer sitting beside him. "Seeing how the first one was "Hey, Mom. Guess what? I'm a slayer and we have to move to England right now."? Yeah, the second one is better."

Alessandra groaned and slouched further down into her seat. "Man, I suck at this. I wonder whether this was what my Mom had to go through when she had to break the news about my father's death to me. I hate bad news."

"Nobody like bad news, whether it's giving them or receiving them. But don't worry so much about it. You'll do fine."

"I hope so." She fell silent as she stared out of the side window. A minute later, she turned towards him. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about that eye patch of yours but I didn't really know exactly when to ask you so is it ok if I ask you now?"

Xander smiled at Alessandra's nervousness. "Yeah sure. The questions were sure to come sooner or later so fire away."

"Right. So…erm…what's up with the pirate-y eye patch?"

"It's a funny story actually. We were in this vineyard – Buffy, Willow and I and a few other potential slayers – and there was this huge fight with a priest. And he poked out my eye in the heat of the battle." He laughed uncomfortably. "I guess it's not a funny story after all."

From a quick glance at the rearview mirror, Xander caught Alessandra looking at him in horror. Her jaw hung slightly open and her eyes were as wide as saucers. "You're kidding me," Alessandra said.

"Unfortunately…no."

"Wow," she whispered as she stared at the road in front of her. "I guess that's the life of a slayer."

"No, that's the life of a slayer's friend. Slayers tend to suffer the worst."

"Well, I should imagine seeing how we are the ones that go out every night fighting for our lives."

Nice job, Xander! Great way to be motivational! Xander shook his head and shot Alessandra an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I should be telling you what a joy is it to be a slayer and not how short of a lifespan they have."

Alessandra waved off his apology. "Nah, it's ok. I need to hear the truth if I'm ever going to prepare myself for this. Painting a pretty picture isn't going to help me keep my life."

"But not all slayers have short lives," Xander continued trying to put some cheer back into the conversation. "Look at Buffy. She survived seven years on the Hellmouth, been through more apocalypse than any other slayers before her and she made it out alive."

"That's true," Alessandra said with a smile.

He frowned, "But then again, Buffy did die twice and got shot – among other things."

"Oh."

Xander winced. "And sometimes I wished Caleb had ripped my tongue out instead of poking my eye."

Alessandra giggled. "Don't beat yourself up. I need this. I've been fed with so many pretty pictures that it's about time someone gave me a dose of reality."

Xander threw her a smile. "I'm glad you didn't throw yourself out of the window. You know, with this kind of attitude, you are going to be a hell of a slayer."

Alessandra cocked her head at him. "You think?"

"Absolutely."

Alessandra smiled before turning back to the window. The two of them rode in silence. Xander turned the car around a bend and entered a neighborhood. They were about a block away from her place.

"I'm scared," Alessandra said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Xander looked at her for a moment. She was biting her lower lip and her eyes were filled with fear that was unmistakable. "You'll be fine. Just take things slow. Don't rush whatever you're going to say to your Mom. Besides, I'm here so if you ever run screaming, I'll just pick up where you left off."

Alessandra shook her heard. "No, it's not about that. That I can handle. Is this that I'm scared about. This slayer thing, my future – it's starting to freak me out."

"Understandable."

Alessandra shifted in her seat, her back against the door. "I'm just afraid that I would not be cut out for this, you know. What if I'm not slayer material? What if I'm not the right person to be this person who kills monsters and demons and averts apocalypse? I don't think I have the strength and power to do this. Maybe that's why Buffy survived this long – because she was slayer material."

Xander slowed the car and pulled it to a stop in front of a single story house. It was plain and normal looking with a trimmed yard out front with a few flowers dotting along a brown, wooden face. He turned off the engine and looked straight at Alessandra.

"There's this girl," he started saying, "She's a popular cheerleader who likes shopping, dates every guy in her high school and goes into a fit whenever she breaks a nail. Now, do you think she's slayer material?"

Alessandra looked at him weirdly. "No, I don't think so," she replied slowly, unsure.

"Well, Buffy was that person before she became a slayer. She was person who only cared about when the next sale was going to be and who had the hots for her. And then she was called as a slayer and she didn't know what to do, just like you. But she didn't give up. She trained hard, worked hard, fought hard. That's how she became the person she is today."

Xander looked deeply into her eyes, making sure she listened to every word that was going to come out from his mouth. "You would only know your true character, your true self, when you're fighting for your life. When you have that stake in your hand and trying your very best to keep the people you love safe. That's when you will know how strong you are – how powerful you are.

"It might not seem like it now but you are slayer material."

Alessandra stared at him for a moment before cracking a smile. "You know, you sound awfully like my therapist."

"I must be right then." Xander returned her smile, feeling himself blushed. He then felt himself going into one of those moments he had told himself to try to avoid. Those stare-at-each-other-like-there's-nobody-else-in-the-world moments.

Xander cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked away. He looked out of his window and spotted a middle aged lady coming out of the house. She was tall, elegant and looked like an older version of Alessandra. Her hair was also as short as her daughter but was a lighter shade of brown.

She was dressed like she was about to do some gardening with a pair of rubber gloves in one hand and some gardening tools in the other. She bounded down the stone steps of the porch and strolled towards the mailbox that stood at the front down. She set down the gloves and the tools and started going through the mail. She didn't seem to notice them.

"So… looks like we are telling your Mom when she gets her bills. No better time than that," he remarked with a laugh. He glanced towards Alessandra and noticed that she wasn't looking out of the window like he expected. Instead, she was staring straight ahead, chewing on her lower lip.

Xander leaned forward and switched the radio on. "Just let me know when you're ready."

LONDON, ENGLAND

night

It was only when the clock struck one when Giles was finally able to put his pen down. He dropped the pen on his table and flexed his fingers. His hand hurt from all that writing and his eyes burnt from the lack of sleep and they felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets anytime soon. He slipped his glasses off and tossed it beside his pen. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

It had been a long day of writing reports, talking to unreasonable and annoying co-Watchers and settling paperwork for the new school. He didn't leave the office at all since he came in at six in the morning – only leaving for occasional toilet breaks and to get some snacks to get his body going.

The soft glow from the table lamp provided the necessary light but other than that his office was dark. The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of his wall clock. The drone of the ticking clock and the dark office gave Giles the right environment for a little nap. Giles propped his legs up on the table and crossed them at the ankles. He settled deeper into his chair and closed his eyes. He needed sleep badly.

Giles' ears pricked up when he heard the sound of the door of the office creak open. He cracked his eyes open and saw a tall, lanky man entering the office. Giles stifled a groan. Not a minute has passed and already his nap was disturbed.

"Mr. Giles, fancy you being here at this hour," Ross Bishop said with a smirk. He was dressed in a stylish dark suit and carried a familiar, light folder in his hand. He shut the door close and came towards Giles' desk.

Giles laced his fingers and rested them on his abdomen. He didn't bother to take his legs away from the table. He just looked at Ross guardedly, trying his best to look undeterred. "Ross."

"No sleep tonight?"

"Sadly, no. It's one of those nights."

"I'm sure. Did you manage to put out the reports? The deadline is today." He checked his watch, a very expensive, gold and diamond studded watch. It gleamed under the glow of the desk lamp. "Well, the deadline was yesterday seeing how we have just entered a new day." He chuckled. He placed his hands behind his back with folder in hand and surveyed Giles office. "I've liked what you have done with the place. But a bit empty don't you think?" He looked at Giles and raised his eyes brows curiously. Ross looked like he really wanted Giles opinion on his choice of decoration.

Instead, Giles ignored his question and asked a question of his own. "What brings you here, Ross? It's been a long day for me and I planned on squeezing in some sleep if possible. You are not making it possible for me to do so."

"Right, of course. Forgive me for intruding." Ross presented the folder he held. "I've got some information here that I thought you might be interested in." He took a step forward and placed the folder on the desk.

Giles reached for the folder and for his glasses. He slipped the glasses on and flipped through file. As he scanned through the report presented to him, Ross started wandering around his office, picking, touching and poking at Giles knickknacks.

"You will find in the report," Ross said as he picked up a photo frame with a photo of Buffy, Willow and Xander in it, "that one of the subjects has started to make some progress."

There was the word 'subjects' again. Giles didn't like that Ross was treating this as a game. In Giles's mind, it was miles from a game. "And that's all it says," Giles remarked, his voice tinged with annoyance. He expected more news than this. Ross could have just given him this news over a cup of coffee tomorrow morning or when Giles sees him in the halls. The information that Giles had gotten didn't exactly warrant Ross to come all the way to his office in the middle of the night saying that he had information that he "might be interested in".

Giles looked at Ross, who was now thumbing through a book on ancient occults. "I expected more than this, Ross."

Ross looked up from the tome. "I'm sorry if your subjects aren't responding as well as we thought they would, Mr. Giles. I'm just here to present the information and that is all. If you don't like the information given to you then it's none of my business." He replaced the book back in its place in the bookshelf and made his way towards the door. "If there's nothing else, I'll be making my leave."

"Just one minute."

Ross paused at the door, his back facing Giles. He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Since I'm not liking the information given to me, I want this test to be terminated."

Ross turned and looked at him in surprise. "I beg your pardon."

Giles took his legs off his desk and leaned forward. He tossed the file on the table in disgust. "You heard me – terminate this test. I'm not getting the results I want and I don't want anything to go wrong before it's too late."

Ross stared hard at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter. "You can't be serious, old man."

"I am. Get whoever's in charge on the phone and tell them that by the time the sun rise, I want the test stopped."

Humor vanished from Ross's face as he came towards the desk. "I don't think you understand what you're requesting. It's not possible to terminate the test – especially when we have come so far. Dire consequences will follow, Mr. Giles. I'm sure you understand that."

"I'm having a hard time believing in your words, Ross. You told me that I will see results – good results – in a couple of days. But so far, all I see is something completely far from results and a man in an overpriced suit!"

Ross stopped at the edge of the table, placed his palms on it and leaned forward. He was so close to Giles that the former Watcher could see the large amount of gel in his hair and smell his strong, expensive cologne. "Mr. Giles, the games that we play are of dangerous ones and this is no exception. When I say that there will be results, you will see results. So I strongly advise you that you do not ask me to terminate this test as I believe you wouldn't want to suffer the consequences. And when I say you don't want to suffer the consequences, you wouldn't want to suffer the consequences. Be patient, Mr. Giles."

Ross straightened and adjusted his suit. He flashed Giles an oily smile. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Mr. Giles." He turned on his heels and made his exit, the door clicking shut behind him.

Giles got to him feet, picked up the folder and threw it into the rubbish bin near the door. He started pacing the length of his office, trying to work some of the anger off. He was always amazed on how Ross could easily tick him off. Even though Giles had more power in his finger than Ross had in his whole body, that man sure knew how to get under Giles' skin by just saying the right words.

Giles ran his hand through his thinning, gray hair, his frustration moving away from Ross and more towards his helplessness. He knew he was taking a big risk when he ordered Ross to get the test terminated and he certainly knew he would face dire consequences, as Ross put it, if the test was indeed terminated. But he was taking a big risk anyway by going through with the test. He wouldn't be making any difference if he stopped this test.

So should he let the test to continue and wait with baited breath for the outcome or should he still try his best to stop it? Ross seemed pretty adamant about not having the test to be terminated. Was there a reason why? Or did he just not want to go through the trouble?

But whatever it is, Giles wasn't going to get anywhere. Right now, all he could do was sit back and wait for information to come through Ross while doing some unimportant paperwork in between.

Giles finally wandered back to his chair and flopped down, giving in to his tired bone's protest. He switched off the lamp on his desk and sat in the dark in silence, letting his thoughts to fill his mind and cloud it for a moment.

He had been entertaining the thought of coming clean and telling the different parties involved about this test but he didn't think Ross would be as thrilled. He could picture Ross laughing at how ridiculous that idea was and then subtly threatening him.

The ticking of the wall clock started to make him feel drowsy. He let his head to droop back against the chair and his eyes started to drift close. His mind started to empty as his thoughts wandered away and sleep started to take over him. Only one last thought lingered in his mind before he finally succumbed to sleep.

Oh what dangerous games we play.

After he had accompanied Alessandra to tell her mother about the whole slayer deal, Xander decided to go into town to get himself some late lunch. He had only been into the town a few times for grocery shopping and getting the necessary furniture for their apartment but he never got the chance to try any of the food that was being sold in the shops there.

Once he had bought a sandwich from a bakery, he got back into his car and drove to the nearby park. It was a beautiful day out and he didn't want to be cooped up in some diner eating his lunch. So twenty minutes later, Xander found himself sitting on one of the benches in the park, taking big bites out of his turkey sandwich.

The park was crowded with people, mostly teenagers. The bench he sat on was overlooking a playground where a handful of kids were playing tag with one another. The kids were no more than 10 years old. They ran around, trying to catch each other or to get away. Xander watched them intently. For some reason, the children reminded him a lot of him and his friends. Wasn't this what they were doing for the past seven year in Sunnydale? They were either chasing after a demon or running away from one. In a way, they were playing some twisted, adult version game of tag.

Huh. He never thought of it that way. So were they now playing a game of hide and seek? They are seeking for slayers hidden all over Europe.

Xander grinned when the catcher was finally able to catch one of the kids. The two tumbled to the ground, giggling and wrestling. Somewhere nearby, he heard a parent shouting at them, probably asking the two to stop wrestling.

Xander took a sip from his canned drink and finished off his sandwich. He crushed the wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the garbage bin just behind the bench. He sat back and continued watching the children. He wondered what kind of children he and Anya would have had if he did married her and she didn't die. Will they have a girl or a boy? How many would they have? Would their kids be like the ones that can't sit still and is always bouncing around the house? Would they even have kids in the first place? Anya never seemed like the person who loved kids and they never really talked about having some if they do get to that point.

Guess all he has to do was wonder.

The air to his right moved and Xander cried out in alarm when she plopped down beside him on the bench. "Well, speak of the devil," he muttered.

She didn't appear to him at all throughout the whole afternoon and he was surprise. He wasn't worried as he was the one who told her to leave him alone but he didn't exactly think she would listen to him. When she didn't appear to him ever since he left the house, he thought maybe, just maybe, she finally listened to him.

She looked at him in curiously. "You were speaking about me?" Then she frowned. "I'm a devil?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just a figure of speech."

"Oh ok." She cocked her head at him, a pleased smile on her beautiful face. "So you were thinking about me then?"

"Now why would I do that when you're haunting me every waking moment?"

"I'm not haunting you," she said, her smile changing into a scowl. "I'm not a ghost."

Xander snorted. "Of course not. You're just a figment of my imagination. You're probably some sick game some sick demon is playing on me."

"No, I'm not."

"No? Then why are you here?" Xander bit off. "What's this game are you playing? Because I'm not liked spook-the-Xander."

"I'm not playing any game with you, Xander, so relax."

Xander scoffed at her. "Relax? That word doesn't exist in my dictionary anymore." He turned away from her, the sight of her causing frustration in him to mount.

"So are you going to ignore me now?"

"Will that make you go away?"

"Hardly," she said with a teasing smile.

Xander go to his feet abruptly. He clenched his fists and pinned them to his side. He whirled around and glared at her. "Ok, let me ask you this and I want you to be very honest with me. Understand?"

"Loud and clear."

"Ok. Good. Right." He turned away for a moment, grasping for the right words to say. He momentarily caught sight of the children at the playground. The kids were now sitting in a circle, all worn out from all that running. A short, heavyset boy was standing in the middle of the circle doing some sort of a dance. The other kids around him was laughing and cheering him on. The dancing boy didn't have a clue that he was making a fool out of himself and that the other kids were laughing at him. All the boy cared about was the attention that he was getting.

"Xander?"

Her voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him out of his trance. He turned to face her. She looked at him expectantly. Her head was cocked slightly to her right and her expression was that of concern.

"What is it that you want to ask me?" she queried.

Are you really her? Will you be staying with me forever? Why did you even leave me in the first place?

Deep down Xander knew the answers to all those questions but somehow he needed to hear them out loud and from her. It was as if he would gain some kind of peace if he heard the answer from someone other than his brain. Part of him wanted so badly to move on, to accept the things that had happened to him but another part just didn't want to let go.

Letting go just meant making the situation all too real.

But then again hearing the answers to the questions that swarmed in his head would make the situation all too real as well. Was that what he really wanted? Would he really find that peace that he was looking for? Every time he looked at her, he was always reminded about what he had lost, what it could have been between the two of them. If her presence didn't give him peace, what made him think that believing in her words would?

Xander studied her as he contemplated asking her the three questions that had been plaguing his mind ever since she showed up. She was exceptionally beautiful today. It was amazing how great she looked as the late afternoon sun bounced off her head and shoulders. Her face was open and her eyes were huge as if she really wanted to hear what he had to say. He had rarely seen her looking like this before and he didn't want to ruin the moment. He loved her too much to wipe away that expression on that face and cause some other kind of expression to replace it.

Instead Xander sighed, shook his head at her and said, "Never mind. Forget it."

"No, Xander, tell me. I want to know what's on your mind."

He sat back down on the bench. As quickly as the frustration came, it left, leaving him hollow and empty. "A lot has been on my mind."

"And lately?"

He looked at her, wondering what she was trying to get at. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if she knew more than she was letting on. "Lately? Still a lot."

She smiled teasingly at him. "Come on, Xander. I saw the way you were looking at her. You like her."

He blinked. "Her? There's a 'her' now?"

"Yeah, you know." She leaned towards him as if to nudge his shoulder with her but not quite. "Her – the 'her' called Alessandra."

"Oh! Her. And here I thought you were referring to my other invisible friend, Mary."

"So are you going to ask her out?"

"Now, wait just a darn minute! What's going now here? Why are you asking me whether I'm going to ask Alessandra out? Aren't you suppose to be all green eyed and jealous?"

"Why would I be?"

Then a thought struck. Maybe she was here because she was helping him to move on. Instead of reminding him of all the things that could and might have been, maybe she was here to help him accept what had happened, to deal, to let go.

Was that why she was asking about Alessandra? Was that why she wasn't going all green eyed and jealous – because she was helping him to move on?

There was only one way to find out.

He shifted in his seat, letting his arm drape over the bench. "Do you think I should ask her out?"

SCOOBY'S APARTMENT

Willow's room

night

"No!" Willow screamed as soon as she saw the gun being pointed towards Tessa. Then she started running. She pumped her legs as hard as she could. The ground beneath her got swallowed up as she sped down towards the Italian slayer. She heard pounding footsteps behind her and she glanced over her should for a second to see who it was. Xander followed closely behind, his face filled with urgency and shock.

She turned back towards Tessa and almost stumbled when the slayer smiled at her. That was a bad sign. Why would she smile at her? Then Willow knew why. Tessa pulled the trigger and a loud bang echoed through the night. The shot nearly paralyzed Willow with panic. She's dead! She's dead!

Willow skidded to a halt and fell to her knees beside Tessa. Blood was pouring out of the wound and Tessa was gasping in pain. Willow pressed both of her hands on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. She looked at Tessa who was staring at her intently. She wasn't gasping anymore. Instead, she was glaring at her, her eyes filled with hatred.

"Murderer!" Tessa yelled.

Willow blinked in confusion. "What? Oh! No, no! I'm didn't shoot you. It was an accident. Nobody shot you on purpose."

But Tessa didn't seem to be listening as she screamed, "Murderer!"

She's in shock.

Someone came up behind her and Willow turned around. She sighed in relief when she saw that is was Xander. "Xander, quick! Call the ambulance!"

He didn't move as he stood towering beside her. He had a blank expression on his face and his eyes were like steel, cold and hard.

"Xander? What's going on?"

Xander raised his right arm and Willow gaped at him in surprise when she saw what he was holding. He pointed Tessa's gun levelly at her chest. Momentarily forgetting about the bleeding slayer, Willow uncertainly got to her feet, her eyes not leaving the gun. "Xander, what are you doing."

"Murderer," he growled.

"Xander, you saw what happened. I didn't kill her."

"Your hands are soaked with her blood, bitch!"

Willow flinched as if she had been slapped. She looked down at her hand and realized that they were indeed soaked with Tessa's blood. The red fluid dripped off her fingers and hit the ground with a sickening wet sound. "I didn't kill her," Willow whispered. She looked at Xander, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I didn't kill her."

"You will pay for what you have done," Xander said, his voice filled with scorn.

Then he shot her.

Willow jolted awake, her breath coming out in short, ragged, gasp. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked around at her surroundings. I'm in my room. I'm safe – she lifted her tank top and touched her abdomen – and I'm not shot.

It's all a dream.

Willow buried her head in her clammy hands and took a deep breath to calm herself. Though she knew deep down that what she just experience was all a dream, she couldn't stop herself from trembling. She stayed in this position for a few minutes before throwing back the covers and climbing out of her bed.

Shakily, she made her way to the bathroom which was directly across from her room. She pushed the door opened, flicked on the light and went towards the sink. She grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet just above the sink and filled it to the brim with water. She gulped in down. She put back the glass where it belong and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The person reflected back didn't resemble at her all. Her skin was as pale as paste and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her green eyes were void of that spark she had and her red hair hung limp around her shoulders. The person looked spent and looked like she hasn't been sleeping in days. It was strange seeing herself like this because she didn't exactly feel tired and she had been taking her usual eight hour rest every night.

The dream must have affected me more than I realized.

Willow looked away from the mirror and turned on the faucet. She cupped her hands under the stream of water that gushed out and splashed a good amount of it on her face. She did it again for good measure. She pulled the towel next to her off the rack and dabbed her face dry. She tossed it into the laundry basket and gazed at her reflection again. She looked better.

Just a bit.

As she was about to turn around to leave the bathroom, the same prickly, someone-may-be-watching-me feeling from this morning came back again. Goosebumps started to rise on her skin and her hairs on her arm stood on ends. Her heart started to race as she stood rooted to the ground, holding her breath. She stared intently at the mirror, waiting for something to happen. As she waited, her mind went over the dozen or so spells that she knew by hard in case she needed to use it. She picked out a few and got ready to let it fall from her lips when needed.

For the next few minutes, Willow stood in the bathroom, hardly moving, hardly breathing. Whoever enters would probably be puzzled as to why she was standing immobile in the bathroom in the middle of the night but she didn't let that worry her too much. All she wanted to do was to get to the bottom of this – whatever this was.

The door burst opened causing Willow to cry out in alarm. "Estar ardiendo!" she yelled, raising her hand towards the door. A blast of fire shot out of her palm and headed straight of the door.

Andrew yelped in surprise and fright before ducking. The ball of fire hit the door, shattering it. Once the dust settled, a gaping hole in the middle of the door was left. Andrew looked at the door and then looked at her, his eyes wide with terror. All color was drained from his face.

"Andrew?"

"That could have been me," he said shakily.

"Oh Andrew! I am so sorry. I thought you were some demon. Are you hurt?" Willow took a step towards him, arms outstretched, face etched with concern.

Andrew straightened hastily and pressed himself against the wall. He looked mightily spooked. "Er…I don't think you should touch me with flame-y hands."

Willow looked at her hands and realized that her fingers were still on fire. The blue flame leaped from her fingers in anticipation, waiting for her command to destroy. The fire was mystical so it wouldn't burn her. But it would burn the person on the receiving end – and that person nearly was Andrew.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." She muttered the spell that extinguishes the fire under her breath and gave Andrew an apologetic smile. "You sure you're ok? And did I tell you how sorry I am?"

Andrew flashed a nervous smile at her but didn't move from the wall. "That's ok. I'm sure I look like a demon with bed hair. And I'm not hurt, just a bit shaken up."

"I'm just glad you got good reflexes."

Andrew looked proud. "It's the Watcher training."

"So…I take it you want to use the bathroom?"

"That's why I'm here – to pee…and nothing else."

"Ok. Well, I'll let you pee then." Willow went towards the door and gingerly pushed it open. "Xander's gonna kill me for this."

"Not if you have fire coming out from your hands," Andrew said with another nervous laugh.

Willow gave me a sheepish smile. "Once again, I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Andrew's gaze went to the door and back to Willow. "Do you mind getting a towel or something to cover the hole? I don't want anybody seeing me while I…er…pee."

The slight hesitation in his voice told Willow that he didn't exactly come in here to pee. Willow bit back a grin and gestured towards the cabinet below the sink. "There's a towel in there that you could use."

Andrew brightened. "Great! Thanks!"

"Ok, well, I'm going to let you…pee now."

"Good night!" he called after her as she moved away from the bathroom.

All remaining sleep that was left in her was gone when she entered her room. She turned on the light and let her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness before moving further into the room. She stopped when she noticed that there was someone else in the room. The stranger's back was facing Willow as the person gazed out of the window and into the inky blackness outside. There was something familiar about the way the newcomer stood and the way the honey blond hair fell past her shoulders.

Willow peered at her. "Buffy –" No, wait, that can't be Buffy. She's too tall. That's –

The visitor turned and Willow's heart leapt into her throat. Her green eyes widen in shock as the person standing before her gave her a small smile. Willow stumbled back. This is not right.

"Hello, Willow," she said.

The words hit Willow like a ton of bricks. It had been so long since Willow heard her voice, she nearly forgotten how it sounded. It sounded so much sweeter than she first remembered. And the way the words wrapped around Willow like a comforting blanket sent Willow spiraling back to the time where she was surrounded by her presence every single minute.

The time when she was very much alive.

Willow swallowed the lump that was already forming in her throat and opened her mouth to say something, to scream, to utter a spell to get that thing to disappear. But all she could manage was to open her mouth and snapped it shut like some fish out of the water.

After a couple of tries, she was able to utter, "Baby?"

"It's me," she assured Willow.

Then her knees gave way and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

END