A/N: This is another one of those little itty bitty timeline switches I was talking about before. Godric doesn't die in Dallas, as he does in the show. He's already dead. Sad, I know. =/

Chapter Six

(Eric)

I awoke earlier than usual the next evening. I looked over at the clock hanging on my bare wall. It was only a little past six. I got up and walked over to my computer that was sitting in the corner of my room. Buffy gave me two nights to find this Reverend Newlin. Sophie-Anne had given me three to hand over Buffy.

To be honest, after my conversation with Sophie-Anne last night, I had every intention of handing Buffy over. But after my little rendezvous with Buffy last night…I didn't know anymore.

It wasn't Buffy's threats that had gotten to me, per se, even though that silver cross hurt like a bitch. No, it was her story. It takes a lot to die for someone…honor, loyalty, courage and nobility. All traits that I respected.

My reputation among my many acquaintances perceives me as a cold-hearted, arrogant, smug bastard. However, it's not all true. I can show humanity, occasionally. Not often and certainly not to everyone, but it has been known to happen.

Once I was online, I went straight to the Fellowship of the Sun's web-page, figuring it was probably the best place to start. A few clicks here and there and not only did I have my starting grounds, but I also had a plan forming.

I turned the computer off and got dressed quickly. My death-like sleep had only mostly healed the silver cross burn. I still had a giant red scar-like mold pressed into my chest. I attributed it to her Slayer strength.

I chose a black pull-over hoodie to go with my jeans. I didn't exactly feel up to flashing the new skin addition around town. Just because I was about to show Buffy some humanity…that didn't mean that I wanted to show it to everyone. I still had my cold-hearted reputation to uphold for everyone else.

I walked out into the hallway and down to Buffy's room. I knocked several times but there was no answer. Just as I was walking down the stairs, she walked through the front door. I stopped in the middle of the stairs as soon as I saw her.

For the first time, I actually noticed her beauty at not only face value, but emotional value. Her long blonde hair was pulled back with just a little bit of fringe falling down around her face. She was wearing a short black leather jacket with a deep red blouse underneath and dark tight jeans that fit perfectly around her hips. She wore tall black boots that laced up the front and she had her jeans tucked into them.

Her facial features were sad and sullen, much as they had been last night. I could actually physically see the pain that she was in.

She stopped as soon as she saw me. We stood in an uncomfortable awkward silence, both of us too stubborn to be the first one to speak.

That's the smug bastard I was talking about.

After another few minutes though, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm an arrogant, cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch. I know that. A thousand plus-years of living and that's what I have to show for it. Am I proud of it? Yeah, okay, maybe a little. I wouldn't have gotten this far in my life, or my un-life, without being that way. You had every right to question my trust because honestly, as of last night, as of the end of my conversation with Sophie-Anne, I was planning on handing you over."

"And now?" she asked quietly. Her arms were folded and she stared down at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"Now…I'm not. You have my word."

She seemed skeptical and rightfully so.

"Why should I believe you now?" she questioned.

"It wasn't your actions or your violence that changed my mind, but on that topic, I still have the silver cross mark imprinted on my chest. It was your story. I've been where you have. Well, not exactly where you have. I've been on the other side. In the late 1970's, my maker, Godric, and I were in New York City. We had just been feeding in Times Square and were walking back to where we were sleeping when a young woman appeared out of nowhere. She told us that she knew what we were and she had seen us feeding earlier. She pulled out a small revolver and aimed it. I took one step forward…my intentions were actually good. I only meant to glamour her, but just as I went to step forward, she pulled the trigger. Godric jumped in front of me…my only guess is that he was acting on instinct."

"Bullets don't kill vamps." she deadpanned.

"Wooden ones do. She hit him right square in the heart. He exploded. My world died. He died for me. Just like you died for your sister. That is the exact definition of honor. Courage. Nobility. Loyalty. Those are all things that I can not only value in a person, but respect."

She was quiet for a minute, like she was trying to figure something out. Finally, after several more minutes, she spoke.

"Not to press on bad memories, but do you happen to recall the exact year?"

"1977. Why?" I asked, momentarily confused.

Buffy's face drew into a small, nearly invisible smile.

"Don't worry. That Slayer didn't last long after she killed your maker. The vampire I briefly mentioned last night when I…well, Spike. He killed her."

"I'm not the first vampire you've associated with in a non-Slayer capacity? I'm hurt." I mocked. I smiled briefly to let her know that I was joking.

"Not the first and surely not the last. Aren't you supposed to be finding me a Reverend to pummel? Okay, that sounds so wrong. Forgive me, P-T-B." she rambled.

"Done and done. But first things first…I've formed a small plan and I'm certain that there's parts of it that you're not going to like but you must adhere to them. And trust me. You have to trust me. No matter what."

"You've found him already?"

"The internet. Lovely invention, sweetheart."

She was quiet and contemplative for a moment before she answered.

"Okay, what's the plan?"