Somewhere On the California Highway, 2002

"Okay, what do you want to listen to?" Andrew asked, shuffling through a thick stack of battered tapes. "I've got Dead Milkmen, Talking Heads, They Might Be Giants..."

"This isn't a road trip, Andrew!" Jonathan snapped. "We aren't on our way to the San Diego Comicon..." he stopped and thought about it for a second. "Although that was fun..."

"Yeah," Andrew smiled. "I was so glad to finally get that bootleg DVD of 'Generation X' TV movie..." he reflected dreamishly.

"The point is, we're on a cross-country flight from the law with a psychotic witch breathing down our necks... Buffy's probably already dead and we're going to be next! We don't have time to be worrying about music!" Jonathan shouted. Then, seeing the hang-dog expression Andrew was currently sporting, he went a bit more softy. "Do you have any Mos Def?"

Andrew nodded. "Mos' definitely."

Jonathan choose to let him slide on that one. They'd been through enough lately.

"Do you know what I really miss about Warren?" Andrew said after several moments of silence. "It wasn't the... things we did together... I know those are just lies. I think I even knew that then," he admitted sadly. "What I miss most is knowing what to do. I never had to worry about the direction I was moving in, because Warren was there. Warren knew." He turned his eyes away from the rapidly passing white lines on the highway to face Jonathan. "Warren always knew"

Jonathan nodded. Warren didn't care about Andrew; he didn't care about anyone other than himself... but there was no way Andrew would ever accept that. Not even after everything that happened.

Not even now.

"I miss that," Andrew said again.

Scotland, Now

As Xander observed the bustle of activity in the Activity Room, a familiar thought passed through his head: "I really wish I'd had those breasts installed. I've always wanted them and I'd use them for everything."

He knew he should be thinking deeper; whatever Buffy was going up against was strong enough to kill a slayer, and if ever the was a concept Xander had trouble with, it was that one. Now she was going to face the new threat head-on with only a few green teenage girls watching her back. He should be wigging for her. He was usually wigged for her with significantly less justification.

But for some reason he just couldn't seem to accept what Buffy was going into. He couldn't even focus on it.

He guessed he just couldn't accept that it was for real.

----

This was definitely for real.

The scene in Falkirk had been horrible beyond what Buffy had been ready for, even with the psychic warning. Even given her status as Senior Slayer, she'd be lying if she said that she had ever in gotten used to the feeling of walking through a room that was carpeted to the shins with what used to be human beings.

It had to a thousand times worse for the girls, many of whom had never even seen a body before.

She had to keep their minds on the mission, she couldn't let them get distracted. "Ofelia," she called.

The young psychic was swimming in the carnage... or drowning, as was more accurate. She had been able to sense it all the way in the Castle... now to stand in the middle of it had to be beyond overwhelming for her.

"Ofelia," Buffy called again, this time more forcefully.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Summers," Ofelia replied with a tone of watery sickness. "It's just so..."

Buffy nodded coldly. "Which is why we have to stop it." She could not let Ofelia or any of these girls think too much about what had happened here. "Right now I need you to focus. Can you see where they went? Are they coming back?"

Ofelia closed her eyes and reached out with her burgeoning Sight. After a painful moment of searching, she announced "They aren't far."

Buffy placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Can you track them?"

Ofelia nodded. She looked like she was about to cry. "I think so."

"Then let's go," Buffy ordered, getting her Scythe into position.

----

"You've got your facts a bit confused, pet," Spike corrected the young Slayer. "He actually based his performance in 'The Hunger' on a mate of mine... who I later ended up killing," he admitted. "He did write 'Scary Monster (and Super Creeps)' about me and Dru, though."

"That's a good song," the girl agreed.

Before Spike could voice his views on the subject, Andrew interrupted. "The video up-link is ready, Spike." In truth, the video up-link had been ready for almost twenty minutes, during which he and Xander had re-enacted scenes from "The Wrath of Kahn," but Andrew felt that Spike didn't need to know that.

Spike nodded "And you're sure Buffy isn't there?"

"Just Xander and Willow and a bunch of girls whose names I can't remember," Andrew confirmed.

"Good," Spike said, steely.

"I think one of them has the same name as one Ryu's moves..." Andrew continued. "...Or was it Akuma?"

Spike buried his head in his hands. "Andrew, I don't care if it's Veruca Salt and a room full of Oomba-Loombas on the other end of the line, so long as it's not Buffy."

"It's not Buffy," Andrew affirmed.

"All right, then," Spike grunted. "Don't see why we have to use this videophone anyway."

"Well, that was my idea," Andrew reluctantly admitted.

"Of course," Spike snorted.

"See, we had this incident where a guy on the phone was pretending to be our contact," Andrew explained, "but it turned out he was actually just some old guy from the town trying to take pictures of the girls in underpants that weren't at all practical and..."

"Fine, whatever," Spike waved his hands and walked through the door into the Communications Room.

For a moment Andrew thought he was in the clear, until Spike popped his head back into the room. "And we will be discussing that little prank you pulled on me last time I saw you."

Andrew shrunk down into himself. "It seemed so funny at the time," he mumbled to no one in particular.

----

"Oh, good," Xander sarcasted, "it's Spike. And who wants to guess which Spike we'll be hearing from today? Will it be the Big Bad, the bargain bin Champion of the People, or (my personal favorite) the extra-crazy degenerate who mumbles to himself?"

"Actually," Spike snipped, "I'm here today as the Answer Man."

"Oh, really?" Xander xandered.

Spike nodded. "I know exactly who it is you lot are about to be banging your head against."

Xander still had his doubts, but Willow broke in. "What can you tell us?"

"He's a drug-dealer," Spike replied gruffly. "Calls himself 'the Sleeper.' Demon enough, but no real powers. Strictly minor league."

"How's he controlling the girls?" Willow asked, her voice rich with obvious concern.

Spike scratched his chin. "His people reproduce in spores, the male shoots them off, the female absorbs them... then she eats him alive while he still busy soaking up the afterglow."

Xander winced, that last part was a little too close to home for him.

Spike shrugged. "Sleeper could never really stand up to strong women, so he started selling his spores to other races as a powerful narcotic."

"Wait," Willow broke in. "You mean he's selling his own..."

Spike looked her dead in the eyes.

Willow gagged.

"Oh, it'll get you higher than Sputnik, that spunk," Spike affirmed. "But it's strictly demons only. No human would ever be able to take more than a hit without exploding from the inside out." He paused meaningfully. "Now, a slayer on the other hand..."

Willow and Xander got where he was going with this. "...Would have just enough demon in her to be able to survive it." Xander supplied.

"If you can call it that," Spike agreed darkly. "They're so addicted they'll do anything to get another hit and so strung out they don't even know what's real anymore."

"So, the question's not whether or not Buffy can bring this guy down..." Willow whispered.

"...But what we do with the survivors," Xander finished.

For a moment, they all just stood there and let the true horror of the implications set in. Then Xander broke the silence.

"Spike..." he paused. "Is it true that Angel fought a dragon?"

Spike's face contorted with rage. "Do you people realize that in the time it took him to find a way up there I had single-handedly taken out a whole horde of Goonthrobs!"

"I'm sorry, I..." Xander began, awkwardly.

"Those bastards are built out of solid rock and they bleed acid, but I demolished every last one of them!" Spike continued.

"Well, that is impressive, but..."

"And you want to talk about Angel," Spike spat. "You better watch yourself, mate, or you're going to turn me back to the old me!"

Xander could help but add "Didn't you already turn back into the old you like ten times already?"

Spike stared several hundred daggers into Xander. "Just don't let the Slayer know it was me that called you," he growled and severed the connection.

Xander looked around the War Room. "Okay, people, you heard the monster. Let's raise Buffy on the channels and let her know what she's going into."

----

"We've got a situation."

Sleeper stared at the mystical projection in front of him with understandable apprehension. "What kind of situation?"

"Buffy's on her way," his ally replied.

Sleeper got a bit rattley. "Are you positive?"

His ally nodded. "We bugged her commlines pretty well... no one some much as uses the bidet in that castle without sirens and warning buzzers going off on my end."

The slayers he had managed to ensnare had all been hurt, confused; several of them had accidentally killed family members when their powers first manifested themselves... this was another situation entirely. "There's no way I can control her and my girls can't stand up to a fully empowered slayer."

His ally smiled, a considerable trick without any skin on his face. "It's just like a well-played game of Yu-Gi-Oh... you have to know when to make a sacrifice." He pointed to the weapon he and his woman had given Sleeper the last time they met. "Or a Trojan Horse."

Sleeper looked down at the young girls collapsed around his feet and smiled. "Understood."