(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the graphic novels.)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

"Once upon a time...I did something good."—Buffy Summers

Giles once told Buffy that saving the world meant keeping the status quo. But apocalypses came because the world was trying to change. Nature abhorred stagnation, so change was an inevitable part of life. That either meant chaos, and the morons chaos inevitably employed, or it meant moving forward to something better. And Buffy did that. She found a way to share her power with girls all over the world. Not just strength, but purpose. Meaning. Connection. But it was up to them to decide how they were going to use it.

Buffy stared at the main video screen in command central, watching security footage obtained from a military armory in Italy. The slightly grainy video depicted half a dozen young women ripping through weapons crates like greedy kids on Christmas. Sprawled on the floor were a couple of unconscious men in guard uniforms. At least Buffy hoped they were only unconscious.

The leader of this smash-and-grab paused to leer at the camera, one hand raised with forefinger and pinky extended in a "hail Satan." Her other hand gripped an automatic weapon, and she was wearing a bandoleer loaded with hand grenades. Her hair, what little she hadn't shaved off, was dyed a garish pink, and numerous piercings adorned her face.

"Her name's Simone Doffler," Xander's voice announced from behind Buffy's shoulder, "Came up with the Chicago squad 'til Rona shipped her over to Andrew in Italy. Thought a less urban environment might soften her 'rough edges.'"

Spike entered the room in time to hear that last part, carrying two steaming coffee mugs. He let out a derisive snort, "Sounds like passin' the buck to me."

Buffy absently took the mug Spike handed her and took a sip of hot coffee. "Those other girls Andrew's as well?" she asked.

"One of them," Xander replied, "The others we haven't I.D.'ed. I've contacted the squads and no one's run off. If they're Slayers, they're not ours."

"Guns," Buffy muttered darkly. Slayers never used guns. It was more than just tradition; bystanders tended to get hurt, or worse, when firearms came into play. Blades were just as effective against demons, and easier to control. As Spike once quipped, "You never hear about a drive-by skewering on the telly."

Xander's expression was uncharacteristically grim. "This is bad for us, Buffy. Andrew's wiccans wiped the guards' memories, but anybody finds out a Slayer's packing boom-sticks—forget about what she's planning to use them for—and your Twilight bunch is gonna go ape-feces."

"Yeah, the good folk who think we're not human," Buffy sighed, "They're gonna love it when we start acting like we are." She stared down at the coffee mug cradled in her hands. She wished Willow was there to offer sisterly comfort, but after their unpleasant encounter with Sephrilian, the redhead flew straight to São Paulo for some much-needed quality time with Tara. She probably wouldn't be back for at least a week.

Spike, seated in an office chair beside her, took a drink from his own mug. He licked the reddish droplets that clung to his lips. "So we find the bint," he stated with certainty, "She peeps that little mohawk out, we'll play whack-a-mole. Before she starts something."

Buffy didn't share his confidence. "Don't give her so much credit, Spike. I started this. I made her what she is."

"You made her a Slayer," Spike argued, "That's all. This slag was gun-happy to begin with."

"Spike's right," Xander nodded, "Simone's got a rap sheet as long as my arm. And that was before she was Called. We did everything we could to help her out, but she just didn't wanna be saved. She made her choice, Buffy."

The blonde sighed, "Doesn't matter. Those army guys are gonna use her as their prime example of why Slayers should be wiped out." Buffy rubbed her eyes, set her empty coffee mug down on a nearby table, and stood. "So," she exhaled, willfully changing the subject, "any other pressing items?"

Xander grinned, his remaining eye twinkled. "Well, I was saving this for your birthday," he began in a coy tone, "But...we did locate a vamp nest."

Buffy visibly brightened at this. "Oh, goody! It's been ages. Do I need a squad?"

"I'd bring a date." Xander glanced at Spike.

The vampire walked over and linked his arm with Buffy's. "Back to the basics, then, luv?"

"You know it," she grinned, and for a moment her earlier anxiety was pushed aside.

The three of them exited the ops room and strolled down the hallway towards one of the castle's larger chambers which was set aside as a rec room. "I'm thinkin' we'll head out in the morning," Buffy suggested.

Loud music blasted out when Xander opened the door. "Probably not too early," the former carpenter recommended. He, Buffy, and Spike stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the rec room. It looked like just about every Slayer was there, all wearing their flashiest clothes and dancing to the upbeat songs blaring from the huge stereo system set up in the corner.

Buffy was surprised to see Dawn lounging amongst the dancers. Probably teleported in by the wiccas. Some of the girls were standing on her folded legs or on her shoulders. A couple of them were comfortably seated in her outstretched hand. In Dawn's other hand was a beer keg with its top peeled back to create a crude drinking cup.

"Is my little sister getting drunk down there?" Buffy asked, smiling in spite of her stern tone.

Spike draped an arm around her shoulders. "Relax, luv. D'you know how much a chit her size would have to drink to get remotely shitfaced?"

"Besides," Xander added with a shrug, "she's of legal age in Scotland. And also...'little'?"

Buffy watched her sister talking and laughing with the two girls sitting in her hand. "She seems happier, like a weight's been lifted."

Spike feigned ignorance. "Really? Guess I didn't notice."

Buffy wasn't fooled. She knew something had happened between Spike and Dawn recently, but she didn't pry.

"This was a good call, Xan. The party," she rested her forearms on the bannister as she watched the Slayers unwind, "They needed it."

"You gonna join 'em?" her friend asked, "Get on the dance floor?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "I don't know..."

"Come on, show them how it was done back in the day," Xander wheedled.

She snorted, "Which day was that?"

Xander gazed upward in thought. "I think it was a Thursday. You wore blue." His expression sobered. "Seriously, Buff, you need to take a break from the whole leadership thing. Have fun for a change."

Spike took her by the arm. "C'mon, pet," he tugged her towards the stairs, "Let's show these posers how it's done."

"Spike," she groaned, "Come on, I don't..." Despite her protests, Buffy offered little resistance as he dragged her down the stairs and onto the dance floor.

Spike held her close as he began to move them to the music's beat. He threw himself into the dance with the same abandon as he did with fighting. Feral, graceful, completely unselfconscious. Buffy couldn't help but respond, and soon she was dancing with the carefree joy she used to have when partying at The Bronze, back in Sunnydale. For a moment Spike was taken back to the first time he ever saw her; arms held up, hips swaying, face alight with a brilliant smile. Only this time the vampire was able to do what he'd wanted from the start.

Buffy squeaked in surprise when Spike abruptly scooped her up in his arms and practically ran for the hall leading to their room. "I thought you wanted us to have some fun," she laughed.

Spike's answering grin could only be described as sultry. "Oh, we're definitely havin' fun, Slayer. Just as soon as I get us alone."

Buffy's giggles were cut off by the slamming of their bedroom door.

She was still smiling early the next morning as she vaulted across the rooftops of the little Scottish town where the vamp nest had been spotted. With a graceful leap, she somersaulted down from the last building and landed feet-first with an easy flex of her knees. A moment later, Spike hurtled down after her. Unfortunately, the spot of ground he landed on wasn't quite as solid. Thick mud splashed up from the impact of his boots and spattered all over his jeans and the lower half of his duster. "Bollocks!"

Buffy laughed at his thunderous scowl. "Careful, honey. Scotland's slippery, y'know." She reached up to wipe a splotch of mud from his cheek. "You okay?"

Spike hmphed, "Will be as soon as we start the dustin'. Where the hell's this nest?"

The Slayer pointed towards the cemetery a short distance away. "Scouts said they're holed up in one of the older crypts."

Buffy readied her Scythe while Spike unsheathed a short sword from his belt and gripped a stake in his other hand. The couple made their way through the seemingly deserted rows of graves, ready for anything. It was far too early for mourners to visit; the horizon barely glowed from the dawn's approach. Spike and Buffy could have waited until daylight to take out the nest, but they were eager for a good fight. It had been too long since they'd done something as simple as patrol together, and it put them in kind of a nostalgic mood.

Spike felt the tension through the link; Buffy's Slayer sense had picked up the presence of vampires. They were close. They rounded a tall memorial and there they vamps were, heading into an ancient crypt to sleep away the day. The creatures hissed the second they noticed the couple and launched themselves at the intruders.

Spike beheaded a female vampire in a hideous pink tracksuit, turned and staked an oncoming bald vamp.

Buffy took out three vampires in quick succession with her Scythe. A fourth turned tail and ran, but Buffy threw the Scythe like a spear and impaled the retreating vampire. Now that she didn't have her weapon, the largest member of the nest—and apparently the leader—lunged for her.

"Need a little help, luv?" Spike asked as he dusted his last opponent.

"Think I can't handle this guy myself?" Buffy challenged. She dodged a kick from the heavily muscled vamp and punched his square jaw, which only seemed to piss him off.

Spike casually leaned against a tombstone, resting the flat of his short sword on his shoulder. "Oh, I know you can handle him. Just thought I'd offer. I hear that's what thoughtful blokes do for their ladies," he smirked.

Buffy flashed him a wry grin. "Aren't you the sweetest thing ever?"

The vampire roared in a thick Scottish accent, "The sweetest thing will be your bloo—"

"Please! We were talking," Buffy scolded. She punctuated her statement with a swift uppercut.

Spike chuckled and dug out a pack of smokes from his coat pocket. As he lit up a cigarette, the Scottish vamp grabbed hold of Buffy and flung her onto an above-ground sarcophagus. "Now, girl, you will feel the wrath of—"

The Slayer rolled her eyes at the creature's dramatics. "God! Nobody cares about your wrath!"

Buffy kicked out with both feet. Her boots connected with the vampire's chest with enough force to send him flying straight up and into the path of the rising sun's first rays. The vamp instantly burst into flames. Within seconds, he was only dust which floated away on the breeze.

Spike blew out a plume of smoke and sauntered over to Buffy as she was bending down to retrieve the Scythe. "Well," he remarked, "that was a bit of alright."

Buffy smiled. "Yeah. Nothing like a good rough-and-tumble."

They walked hand-in-hand back to where they'd parked the car they had taken from the castle's motor pool. They chatted while Spike drove, but as the distance to the castle lessened, Buffy became more silent. The weight of responsibility, worry, and guilt that had been momentarily forgotten once again bore down on her slender shoulders.

Spike sighed in frustration. He wanted to find some way to snap Buffy out of her grim mood, but he'd gotten pretty good at reading her since the Claim and he knew this was one of the times when she needed to work everything out in her head before she was ready to confide on the things that were bothering her. The best thing Spike could do for her right now was bite his tongue and wait.

Buffy felt his frustration and concern, of course. It was hard not to let it add to her sense of guilt, but if she did that it would only upset him, which would make her feel worse, and so on in a vicious cycle of depression that would drag them both down. Funny how knowing someone else's emotional health was at stake was a great motivator for not feeling too sorry for yourself. Buffy smiled a little at the thought and leaned over to rest her head on Spike's shoulder. She felt him relax slightly at this trusting gesture. He withdrew his left hand from the steering wheel and slipped his arm around Buffy's shoulders. And that was how they spent the rest of the drive home.

Buffy and Xander stood on the parapet, watching Spike lead the Slayers-in-training through their evening drills.

"So, how'd the de-nesting go this morning?" her friend asked.

"Fine," Buffy muttered.

Xander quirked an eyebrow. "So, you wanna tell me what's got you down in the dumps, then?"

She hesitated, then finally gave in and voiced the thought that had been gnawing at her for some time, "Are we doing any good? We've been fighting more demons, but...but it just seems like there's more demons to fight! And, what, is that because of us? Because of me?" She turned to her closest friend, let him see the deep-seated worry in her eyes. "Did I screw up the balance by activating all these Slayers? Did I just make things worse?"

Buffy was surprised to see a peaceful smile appear on Xander's face. "Buffy, turn around."

She obeyed and looked out on the practice field yet again. Girls sparring with each other, laughing and encouraging, while Spike strode among them, shouting instructions or offering quiet advice. The fiery red-orange glow of sunset washed over them all, giving the scene an even more beautifully fierce appearance.

"I live with a bunch of Slayers," Xander stated in a sincere voice Buffy never heard him use before, "Dozens of girls who are so filled up with purpose, with confidence they didn't have before. The walls are vibrating with it." He laughed, "I can't sleep, the place is so charged!"

Buffy glanced at him sidelong, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You really need to ask Renee out already."

"Stop changing the subject to true things," her friend admonished. "Maybe now we're only cleaning up messes, but we're just getting started. What you've created here is a lot more than just monster fighters. It's...you know, a, uh..." he fumbled for the right word.

"Connection," Buffy murmured. "Why can't I feel it?"

Xander rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe you don't get to. Maybe the leader, the girl who brings it all together, is the one that has to give that up."

"Yeah." Buffy gazed down on what she'd created and finally, hopefully, smiled. "Yay me."