Revelations are important if changes are to be successful

"You went after one Demon without me and sent two Vampires, one of them unstable, after another, who was really a human being and an innocent. And said Vampires were also protecting the woman that the Demon-man was after. Have I got this right?"

Okay, Willow thought, maybe she was wrong about the pride.

Giles whipped off his glasses, refusing to let Buffy make him feel ashamed, as if he'd done anything wrong. "Now, listen to me; you could have been anywhere in town and there was no time to go on a search mission. That young woman was terrified and she needed to be protected. I trusted my instincts and put my faith in Angel and Spike. Perhaps you should try it some time."

Buffy leaned back her head, feeling as if she'd been slapped in the face. "You could've been killed. You could've gotten Willow killed. Your excuses don't make it okay. I'm the Slayer here, not you."

Giles stepped over to her, officially pissed off now. "Yes, you are the Slayer, and I am your Watcher, not the other way around. I am also an adult and fully capable of taking care of myself and others. I had the choice between bringing Willow with me into a potentially dangerous situation, or sending her home, in the dark, after midnight. On her own. I stand by my decision."

But Buffy wasn't done. "Well, your decision was wrong. She has walked herself home for months and nothing happened, but bringing her with you to look for a Demon, that was just irresponsible." She gave as good as she got.

"Except you're wrong, Buffy, something happened. A Demon happened. And while it wasn't after her, she was in the vicinity and got involved. Where were you?"

"That's enough!" Willow cried out, looking at the two people locked in a heated stare, only inches apart. "Both of you, stop it! Yelling at each other isn't going to solve anything. We have a Demon to find. Buffy, Giles did what he did out of concern and protection, not to step on your toes. Giles, Buffy is upset because she was left out and we were all put in danger. Now, why don't you put your differences aside so we can get to the bottom of this?"

They both continued to glare at each other until the fog lifted and they realized that the redhead was right. Suddenly, they looked slightly ashamed and embarrassed. Xander, who'd been watching silently in the background, once more reminded himself never to get on his best friend's bad side.

Willow could be scary when she wanted to be.

He, too, was upset at being left out, but knew better than to speak those thoughts out loud. Besides, when it came right down to it, did he really want to be in danger? Maybe it had been better that he wasn't there, fumbling over his feet and words, and constantly needing protection.

The other three ignored his suddenly sullen disposition as they apologized to each other and got on with their plan. They would head to O'Hannigans again tonight and hope to get lucky, while Angel and Spike would stay with Nancy, for when Ronnie returned after sunset.

With the plans fully formed, the kids went off to class and Giles went back to work - Council work, as he was currently in the middle of translating a few prophecies he'd uncovered recently.

He had no idea, yet, that they were all about to come true.

Meanwhile, across town, Spike and Angel were unable to sleep, though for different reasons. Angel didn't have a bed, too kind to take his back from his Grandchilde. Spike, however, who was sitting on said bed, was keeping himself awake to avoid the nightmares.

Even if it meant dealing with the three haunting images.

Seeing Drusilla turn to dust, right in front of his eyes, blood, screams and cries on a dark street, beetles crawling under his skin; right now he would take all three of them simultaneously, over his dreams.

They were getting worse.

"It's really hitting you now, isn't it?" Angel asked, having correctly guessed Spike's mood.

The blond lifted his head. "Yeah, guess it is. Have to admit, didn't think it'd be like this."

Angel frowned. "How could you? It's not like I ever talked to you about it. I spent the first two years after the curse denying it had even happened. By the time I accepted it, I had left you all. One appearance in the forties doesn't count, especially since you thought I was still Angelus."

Spike shook his head. "Don't bloody well take on all the guilt, Gramps, not saying it was your fault. Just... didn't realize, is all. Didn't get it to sit here, moping. Was supposed to make a difference, and it has, but not in the way I thought."

Angel leaned forward; something about what Spike had said stirred something inside him. "You said you didn't get it for this. What does that mean? What happened to you?"

The blond sighed and leaned back against the wall, curling his legs up beneath him on the bed. "It's a long story, Peaches, you sure you're up for it?"

Angel nodded. "I'm sure, Spike. Something like this just doesn't happen and I know you; you were never as cruel as me, so I doubt this was a curse. So tell me, what happened?"

"Well," Spike said, beginning his tale. "As most stories go, it all started with a girl."

Joelle stood by the sink, hands deep in the soapy water as she tried to remove the stains of tonight's meal. Her mother had had one of her fits and was sleeping in her bedroom.

At least it gave her a few hours of peace.

She looked out beyond the kitchen window, where children were playing on the streets and teenagers were in huddles, whispers and gossip flying between them.

What she wouldn't give to be normal.

At fourteen, she had experienced more than her share of heartache and pain, and she knew it wasn't even close to over yet. She wondered, briefly, if her mother would even let her go when she turned eighteen.

Or if she was stuck in this prison until the day she died.

Then again, as she had often thought, she may not make it another four years.

It was the more than likely result.

She wanted to be one of those girls who hummed under their breath while they washed dishes. Who smiled at their mother, standing beside them, helping. Waved to their father as he walked up the walkway, coming home from a long day at work.

Normal. It was such a small thing to want for.

And yet so difficult to get.

Her eyes stung and she breathed deeply, knowing that her mother would have a fit if she caught her crying. Though she was usually out for two hours, Joelle wasn't taking any chances. She had learned that the hard way in the past.

As she scrubbed a particularly difficult bit of caked-on food from a plate, her eyes stared out at the setting sun in the distance. As far as she was concerned, it was the most beautiful sight in the world, and not only for the obvious reasons. For her, it meant the coming of night and the only true peace she had from Pamela.

Her mother slept like the dead and it gave Joelle the peace she so sought. The sunset brought with it the shadows that she had begun to call home; the ones she felt so safe wrapped within.

Others were frightened of the dark; she thrived in it.

The worst abuse she'd ever been subject to had been in the daylight hours, so it really came as no surprise. She looked at the darkening sky and let a rare and soft smile grace her lips.

Only minutes left and she would be on her way to safety.

Her mother would awaken in a few hours, take Joelle to the basement and they would say their nightly prayers. Then, Pamela would watch Reverend Thomas on TV for another hour, swallow a sleeping pill and be out until morning came.

And Joelle would taste freedom for one more night.

Only, what the girl didn't know, was that tonight wouldn't be like any other night.

And no other future night ever would be.

She was about to get her wish; she was about to be free.

But it would come at a terrible price.

"I mean, he just... didn't even seem to care," Zoe said, stirring her drink with the straw. "He just sat there, watching with wide eyes, as my father screamed at me. If he really loved me, shouldn't he protect me? Shouldn't he want to protect me?"

Anya lifted a hand up over her mouth to cover her yawn; she really wanted to roll her eyes. "Sounds like a real dirt-bag. Don't you just wish something bad would happen to him?"

"And there's the winning sentence we've been looking for," Buffy said, as she and the others walked over to the table. She turned to Nancy. "Is this the woman you were talking to the other night?"

"Yes, that's her."

Anya turned to the small group and felt a slight shiver go down her spine. Her Demon senses were tingling. The Slayer. And if she wasn't mistaken, two very powerful and very soulful Vampires.

"Crap," was her response, as she slumped down in her seat and turned away from Zoe.

"That's one way to put it," Buffy said, smiling cockily at the brunette Demon.

"What do you want? I'm trying to do my job here." Anya said, hardness in her voice.

"Yes, and that's exactly why we're here; your job." When the Demon frowned in a lack of understanding, Buffy rolled her eyes. "You turned this woman's ex into a huge, killer Demon who keeps coming after her. Are you dense or something?"

"Buffy," Giles warned, stepping forward to take over. It wouldn't do to offend the Demon when they wanted something from her. "Anyanka," he spoke, having finally found a reference to her earlier in the day. "My name is Rupert Giles and I have a proposition for you."

Anya smiled saucily and jumped off the stool, walking over to him. "Sorry, but you're a little too... human, for my liking," she smirked, as she walked around him, looking him up and down.

The three teenagers blushed and looked away, while Angel tried and Spike failed to hide a grin.

"That is not... Anyanka, will you quit! I am being very serious; that poor woman is in tremendous danger and you put her there. Now, I suggest you undo it, or you will be very sorry." Ripper said, surprising the children.

But not the Vampires.

Anya simply raised a brow and crossed her arms. "Sorry? What, are you gonna sick the Slayer on me?" She grinned, leaning her body sideways to look at Buffy who stood behind him. "I'm not as penetrable as a Vamp, buddy, so good luck with that."

Giles smiled and signaled Angel and Spike without anyone else realizing. "Are you saying you refuse my very generous deal?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm just bored now. Yes, old man, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Before she knew what had happened, Angel came up behind her and held down her arms, while Spike grabbed her amulet and ripped it from around her neck. They came to stand between her and Giles as they handed the necklace to the Watcher.

"Give it back!" She growled, going into her own form of game face.

Giles swung it back and forth in his hand. "Undo the wish or I break it. I am a Watcher... I read. I know what will happen to you if someone destroys your power center."

"Don't you dare. If you break it, it won't undo it. I can promise you that, vile man."

The Watcher smiled. "Yes, I am very much aware that it only undoes your last wish and that your meeting with Nancy was days ago, but as I see it, it is a win-win situation. You either undo it yourself, or the world gets itself one less Vengeance Demon wreaking havoc. What is it going to be, Anyanka?"

She stared at him, realizing how much she hated it when men weren't afraid of her; and of these only one was. The male teenager hiding behind the Slayer and the redhead.

Pathetic.

Anya rolled her eyes and muttered profanities under her breath. "Fine, you bastard fiend, I'll undo the damn wish. Now give me back my amulet." She said, reaching out a hand, palm up.

Spike shook his head with a small smile, while Giles answered. "Not so fast, Anyanka. I need proof that Ronnie is back to normal. So here's what's going to happen."

Angel couldn't help but agree with Spike, as the two Vampires glared at the recently returned to human form Ronnie. The way he looked at his ex girlfriend made them remember their own pasts as soulless evil beings and they knew that there was one mistake with what they'd done.

Allowing Ronnie to be human again.

When Anyanka disappeared in a smoke of petulance, the Vampires walked the two humans home, while Giles and Buffy took Willow and Xander back to the library for a small celebration.

Spike and Angel growled under their breaths, engaged in a secret conversation about what to do with this most recent turn of events. When they'd come up with a satisfactory plan, Angel was surprised by the lack of interference from his soul.

And he remembered when this had happened in the past.

He wondered if it meant that he should not feel guilty for all the bad he did. After all, humans were allowed to make mistakes, to slip up, without it haunting their entire existence. He'd have to think on it more later, when he was back at the apartment.

For now, they had a job to do.

Nancy lived closest to O'Hannigans, and once they were sure she was inside her home, the Vampires surrounded Ronnie and made it very clear that he would do exactly as they asked. Buffy had let Nancy in on the secret to surviving in a town full of Vampires, but Ronnie had still been a Sluggoth and had no idea how to escape them.

Not when they made him pack a bag in his apartment, not when they basically walked him to the train station, and definitely not when they locked him in an empty cargo cart and threatened what would happen if he ever set foot back in Cleveland.

Or anywhere near his ex.

A job well done, the Vampires decided to borrow a page from the teenagers' book and go celebrate.

Twenty minutes later found them seated in a booth in a small Demon bar in town, each sipping on a glass of whiskey and adorned with small, secret smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

Angel hadn't felt this calm and carefree in a long time.

"How do you do it?" He asked his companion, after the waiter had dropped by with a refill.

Spike looked up and raised a brow. "Do what, mate?"

Angel sighed and leaned back in his seat. "A hundred years, Spike. That's how long it took me to truly feel the way I'm feeling right now and yet for you... It hasn't even been three. I'm not angry or jealous or anything, I just feel like I need to know."

It was Spike's turn to sigh. "Not sure, Gramps. Might be that I was never as bad a Vamp as you, even when I tried to be. Or that I kept some humanity on purpose, so I could care for Dru. And maybe it's the simple fact that you and I are not identical, regardless of what humans tell themselves."

"Or maybe that you fought for your soul. That you wanted it, even when you didn't have it." Angel said, in a neutral tone.

Spike shrugged. "Maybe that's it. Maybe not. Think it's one of those things that'll stay a mystery, Liam."

"I gotta ask this, it's been annoying me for over a hundred years." Spike smirked and waited. "What's with the nicknames? And not just for me... I think Dru is the only one I've ever heard you call by her name, even if it was only sometimes."

Spike appeared to be thinking about it before answering. "Another one with multiple possibilities. Maybe I enjoy annoying people," he grinned before continuing. "Or maybe I feel that their nicknames fit them better than their given ones. Don't tell me you want me calling you Angelus? But that's still who you are, and you know it."

Angel frowned and thought for a while. "What the hell does Peaches mean?"

Spike laughed and shook his head. "That one stays a mystery to you. But getting on with it, then. Sometimes I use titles as a way of showing respect, like calling your girl Slayer instead of her real name. It was the same with the other girls I've come across. Same goes for the Watcher, though I rarely respect any of those."

"I get that," Angel nodded in reply. "Okay, here's one for you; Darla. You never called her by her name, but not a nickname, either."

Spike raised a scarred brow. "You sure about that, Gramps?"

Angel's own brows furrowed and he thought about it. "What? You're saying that calling my Sire that old bitch is not your way of insulting her?" He said sarcastically.

"Just my way of showing affection," he grinned and took a gulp of the whiskey. "What about you? Always so bloody respectful and shite. Should loosen up once in a while, old man." He grinned, enjoying the spark of annoyance in the other Vampire's eyes.

And then a spark of interest. "Maybe you're right. I mean, having you around these last few days has been a different thing for me. Not necessarily bad, though. I'm not complimenting you, Spike, so stop smirking. It's just... I'm beginning to think that there's more to having a soul than just..."

"Brooding?" He finished for him and readily accepted the glare thrown his way.

"I don't brood. Much."

"Whatever you say, Gramps. Now it's my turn to ask a question; what the bloody hell did you think you would accomplish all these years of hiding in alleys and staying clear of humanity? Besides the obvious, of course."

Angel shook his head, lowering his eyes to his drink. "I'm guessing the obvious means trying to keep them safe from me?" He asked, continuing when Spike nodded. "Honestly, I'm not sure what the answer to that is. It seemed right at the time."

"Think about it, really. Why did it take being showed a young Slayer for you to man up, Liam?"

And Angel did what Spike asked; he thought about it. He thought about his years of solitude. He thought of meeting Whistler and traveling to Los Angeles. And he thought of sitting in the car with darkened windows, staring across the street at the girl on the steps, sucking on a lollipop.

It wasn't until he'd gone to Cleveland and started interacting with Buffy that he began to tell himself that he had fallen in love with her heart, that very day. But he knew that wasn't true; she had been a selfish, vain child at the time and shouldn't have grabbed the attention of someone like him.

And truthfully, she hadn't. The entire way back to the sewers where Whistler was waiting, he had thought long and hard about what was being asked of him. And only when stomping through the sludge and filth, feet away from the smelly Demon, had he come to a decision.

And it hadn't had anything to do with the young Slayer.

Whistler had been right; he wanted a purpose. He had just been too much of a coward to go looking for it, until it came to him in the form of a badly dressed Balance Demon and a fifteen-year-old, newly Chosen Slayer.

On the other side of the table Spike nodded, guessing where his Grandsire's thoughts had wandered, and knew he had done his job. His question wasn't meant out of curiosity, but with the knowledge that Angel needed to make a few realizations before he continued the way he was going.

All he needed to do now, was ensure that Angel truly considered the reasons for his so-called feelings for Buffy Summers. Spike didn't doubt the possibility that those feelings might be real, but that didn't mean that the both of them didn't deserve to find out for sure.

Some girls liked the mystery and that may be the same in this case.

Better to know now than later, when things could truly go wrong.

For everyone involved.

The clock struck nine and Pamela Savidge pressed the power button on the TV and rose from her chair; it was time for bed.

"Joelle, darling, we are turning in now. Have you finished your chores?"

The girl stepped inside the kitchen from her room and met her mother halfway. "Yes, mother, I did it all while you were praising the Lord with the Reverend," as every night, she finished in her head.

"Very good, time to say goodnight, then," Pamela replied, turning her daughter around and walking with her to her bedroom. "I will see you in the morning, sharp and early, for our before-school prayers. May the Lord bless you in your dreams, my dear," she said, waiting for Joelle to close her door.

"May the Lord bless you as well, mother," she replied, soon after hearing the click of the door.

Followed by Pamela shutting the padlock down and locking her daughter in.

Joelle turned to face her room, staring at the bars on the windows and sighing. As free as she always felt in this space, at this time of the day, it wasn't anything compared to what others had.

Perhaps not even compared to prison cellmates.

But it was enough for her.

She turned on the lamp by her bed and grabbed the book she was currently in the middle of reading, sitting cross-legged on the madras. Nine was far too early for bedtime, when she had to get up at seven, but she let her mother believe that she was falling asleep at the same time as her, more out of fear than protection or respect.

But she was just never tired until midnight came.

She saw the irony in feeling safest when the veil between two realities was at its thinnest. When the monsters were supposed to come out and prey on the innocent.

Living with a monster made fearing the make-believe ones a moot point.

Joelle flipped open the book to the page where she'd last left off and began to read, quickly getting lost in the story. She had never been one for sappy romance novels, instead choosing to lose herself in the excitement and thrill of a good mystery, supernatural or not.

At the moment she was reading Dreamcatcher by Stephen King.

So lost in the words on the page, it took her a while to realize that there was a noise coming from outside of her room. She let the book fall to the bed, lifting her head to listen; it seemed to be originating from beyond her locked door.

The kitchen.

But her mother was never awake at this hour, not with the strength of the sleeping pill she swallowed each night. Who else could it be?

She heard the squeak of shoes on the wooden floor and realized that the sound was moving closer and closer to where she was. Sure that it could only be Pamela, she waited to hear the key turn in the lock that indicated that she was coming in, all the while curious and afraid of why this was happening.

But that sound never came. Instead, the door suddenly burst into the room, removed from its hinges with one, powerful kick to its middle. And in the doorway, glowing in the shadows of the night, stood a mysterious figure dressed in a black robe.

With an x carved over each eye.

Joelle screamed and jumped off the bed, pushing herself into a corner of the room, just beside the small bed table. Only the lamp to her left was on, but she could see the stranger clearly. Along with what he was holding in one of his hands.

She knew that even if her screams could wake up her practically comatose mother, it would do no good; no one could save her now.

And then the stranger fell to the ground, face first, a sword sticking out of his back. Another body took up the doorway now and Joelle wasn't sure if she should feel safe now, or even more scared.

This one was decidedly human, or so he appeared, and was slowly walking towards her, hands raised and palms out. She realized that he was deliberately trying not to scare her and chose to put her limited trust in the hands of the one who had saved her from a curved knife through the heart.

She stopped cowering into the wall and tried to relax her strained limbs, attempting to show him that not only was she okay, but that she wasn't fearing him with as much intensity as a few seconds ago.

And then he spoke.

"Ms. Savidge," he said, kneeling just a few feet away from her. "There is no need to be afraid, not of me. I came as soon as I knew you were in danger. This is going to sound strange and, perhaps, frightening, but I need you to come with me. It's not safe for you here anymore."

She ignored the fact that it had never been safe for her in this house and nodded, prepared to do anything to leave. This was what she had been wishing for, for so many years. Even if he turned out to be less than what he seemed, anything would be better than here. Right?

"Okay," she said, surprising him with her easy acceptance.

"Alright, then," he replied, not willing to question her, should she change her mind. "My car is waiting out front, please. There is no telling how many more of these that may be on their way," he finished, gesturing to the dead stranger on the floor.

Joelle rose from the floor and calmly stepped to the closet, pulling out the bag she had packed years ago when she was trying to get up the courage to run away. The man didn't ask her anything, though she could see the curiosity in his eyes.

"All set?" He asked and she nodded. "Let's go, then."

When Joelle passed the threshold of the bedroom, she noticed the open door to the room where her mother slept. With one fleeting look at the stranger, she peered inside and swallowed deeply.

It looked like Pamela Savidge had gotten what she deserved.

Without a second look, Joelle turned back around and walked, head held high, towards the front door. Once again, the man did not question her reaction and she was glad. She wasn't sure how to tell the story right now or if she would ever truly want to.

If this really was a fresh start, then she would become another person.

Someone who didn't have years of abuse written on her mental and emotional piece of baggage.

But as her and the stranger got into a simple, small car, she couldn't help herself from asking a question. "Who or what was that?" Her curiosity told her that knowing who saved her from her mother was important.

"They are called Harbingers, or Bringers. Whether they're human or not, no one knows, but deadly they certainly are," he answered, not once trying to spare her the whole truth.

She was very grateful for that.

As the engine turned on and they pulled away from the curb, she asked another question. "Where are we going?" She turned to him, staring.

His mouth twitched up in a half-smile as he changed gears. "Somewhere safe."

Realizing he wouldn't answer, she switched subject. "And who are you."

"I am the one that rescued you, correct?" He waited for her grateful nod. "Although, if you need it, you can call me Wes."

They turned the corner of the street and were gone.

Never to return.