A/N: A nice, long chappie for your weekend. Happy reading! :-)

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

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

"The thing about the Slayer organization is that we're not just coworkers.

We're family."—Andrew Wells

Willow stood morosely amid the ruins that was once Scotland HQ's command center. Much of the loose rubble had been cleared out, leaving an open space surrounded by scorched walls. It would take some time to replace all the state-of-the-art equipment that was destroyed in the attack.

Buffy stepped through the doorway (the door itself having been smashed to smithereens when Spike busted his way in) and approached her friend. "Leah said you wanted to tell me something."

The redhead chewed her bottom lip, eyes fixed on the toes of her shoes. "I figured out why Tucker and his army buddies sent the mystical missile."

"'Cause...they wanted to kill us?" Buffy half-jested, "I mean, they were bound to follow through on their threats sooner or later."

"Yeah, but...they sent it when they did 'cause they thought you were here. You were the target." Willow held her hand out. Nestled in her open palm was what appeared to be a small glass bead.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Shiny. What is it?"

"I-It's like a tracking device," Willow explained, her expression miserable, "When Tucker snatched me and took me to that Initiative-y secret base, he... I-I mean I heard him say how you and me are always around each other. He called me your witchy sidekick." She pouted for a second. "But when he started...started cutting...I just thought he was being all slasher-movie sicko. But he was really planting this on me. In me."

Appalled, Buffy gaped at the harmless-looking bead. "You mean that thing was in your head? How the heck did you get it out?"

"Right when the missile was homing in on this thing's signal, I got this killer migraine. Like, bam." Willow shuddered. "I knew it wasn't a natural headache and that something really bad was gonna happen. That's why most of the castle's still standing; I managed to get a partial shield up. And when the attack was over, I had one of the stronger healer wiccas get the tracker out of me." The witch finally turned her guilty eyes towards her best friend. "I should've known Tucker did something to me. Should've had the healers look me over. This attack's my fault."

Buffy shook her head and gripped Willow's arm. "This is not your fault, Will. If anything, you kept it from being so much worse than it was."

The redhead swallowed. "Seven girls are dead."

"You said it yourself, they were targeting me. If Tucker hadn't been so sure he could pinpoint my location, the army guys probably would've launched a way bigger attack on all the HQ's. Now we know we've gotta step up our security. They won't be able to get in any more sneak attacks." The Slayer hugged her friend. "It's okay, Will. What happened here was awful, but we survived. We would've lost a lot more than seven girls if you hadn't thought fast and put up that shield."

Willow sniffled and stepped back from the comforting embrace. She gazed down at the bead in her hand, muttered a few words, and the tracker vaporized with the barest pfft and a thread of smoke.

In the ensuing weeks, while they worked on repairing the damage to the castle, there were no further attacks from the secret military organization. Probably laying low while they tried to figure out why their surprise bombing didn't give them the results they'd hoped for. Meanwhile, every HQ throughout the world beefed up their security, both technological and mystical. From now on, if so much as a trained pigeon tried to approach, they'd know about it before it was even in range of human sight.

Three weeks after the attack, they received a call from London. Willow, Xander, Buffy, and Spike were all squeezed into the glorified closet that functioned as their temporary command center at the time. Willow brought the caller's image onto one of the computer monitors and everyone was mildly surprised to see Anya's face wink into frame.

"Hey, Anya," Buffy greeted, "Where's Giles?" Xander waved somewhat shyly to his ex over the blonde's shoulder.

Anya waved back. Her hair was a bit longer than it had been back in Sunnydale, a little past her shoulders, and dyed a bright shade of red that she somehow managed to pull off as stylish. "Giles is still working on reprogramming that moody vampire you brought us."

"I think you mean 'rehabilitating,' An," Xander corrected with a fond smile.

The former vengeance demon shrugged. "Whatever. The only thing I care about is he hasn't tried to kill me. Or anybody else," she added as an afterthought. "He hasn't even complained that much about having to drink pigs blood."

"Well, that's good," Willow responded, optimistic, "If he isn't causing any trouble, then maybe Giles is getting through to him."

"Oh, sure!" Anya readily agreed, "That and the heavy shackles. And the Slayers constantly watching over him. With cattle prods."

Spike smirked from his slouched position in one of the office chairs, slightly apart from the rest of the group clustered around the computer.

"Now that I've gotten the obligatory pleasantries out of the way," Anya continued, "We got an urgent call from Andrew in Rome. He says he has a lead on Simone Doffler's whereabouts."

Buffy visibly straightened at this. Simone and her gang of rogue Slayers had been stirring up a lot of trouble since that first hit on an Italian military armory. Reports started coming in: attacks on banks, military bases, and the occasional Hot Topic. More recently, there were also reports of a gang of vicious bandit women roaming the countryside, kicking people out of their homes. But so far, none of the Slayer organization's attempts to locate them had worked out. "Simone? Seriously? Ever since she went rogue, she's been off the grid. How did he find her?"

"Not her," Anya replied, "Her lieutenant, Nisha. Andrew has been monitoring demon activity in Italy's hot spots and this morning he got a ping outside Milan. Seems Nisha's been messing where she shouldn't and got herself snared in a Ragna spider demon's trap."

Now it was Spike's turn to sit straighter. "A Ragna demon? I thought those blighters went extinct 'round the eleventh century."

"They did." Anya grinned at their incredulous looks. "I do my own monitoring of demonic activity, only I focus on my former coworkers, the vengeance demons." For months after Anya chose to become human again, D'Hoffryn had put a price on her head to every demonic hitman. Like the vengeance demons he ruled and the women they granted wishes to, D'Hoffryn didn't handle getting spurned by his favorite girl very well. But once Anya nearly died in the final battle against the First, the powerful Lower Being suddenly had a change of heart and the bounty on her life was called off. Since then, Anya had maintained a tentative communication with the vengeance demons. As long as the Slayers didn't directly attack his girls, D'Hoffryn tolerated the arrangement. "Last week, a scorned woman in Milan wished that her cheating lover would be eaten by a giant spider. Apparently, he had arachnophobia."

"'Had'?" Buffy asked, already guessing the answer.

"Yes. He's dead now. The Ragna ate him up," Anya cheerfully replied.

Xander hesitantly spoke up, "Um, how do we know it didn't eat Nisha up?"

"Ragna demons keep their prey alive for thirty-six hours before feeding," Anya explained, "Something about adrenaline being yummy."

"So, we've still got some time," Spike declared.

Buffy nodded agreement. "Yeah, but not a lot. Plus, there's travel, so if we're gonna go, I say we go ASAP."

"I anticipated that you'd want to be the one to retrieve her," Anya stated, not without a little preening, "I've already booked a flight for you and Spike on the next available flight to Italy."

The petite blonde was surprised. "Thanks. But, uh, how'd you know I'd be taking Spike?"

The former vengeance demon rolled her eyes. "You always take him along. It's like you two are joined at the hip. Not that I blame you. It's handy having your boyfriend close by if you're in need of a good orgasm—"

"Hokay!" Xander reflexively interrupted. He swiveled his chair to face Buffy. "Willow and I can hold down the fort while you two go after the baddies."

Buffy tried—and failed—not to look ambivalent at the thought of leaving the HQ yet again. "Are you sure? Maybe one of us should—"

"They can handle it, luv," Spike interjected, with the unspoken implication that he was not staying behind while she gallivanted off on another dangerous quest by herself.

Buffy looked at him and the corner of her mouth twitched. "You do realize coming along means spending several hours in Andrew's company."

The platinum blonde vampire's eyes widened for a second before he forced an air of indifference. "I'm willin' to take the risk."

"You sure about that?" Buffy couldn't resist wheedling, "Hours and hours of travel time with Andrew? Really?"

Spike's shoulders rose in a nonchalant shrug. "I'm sure the bloke's matured since the last road trip."

Xander's cynical snort could be heard out in the hall.

"Spike?" Andrew's face lit up in delight when he saw the vampire disembark from the plane. He immediately ran up and threw his arms around the startled peroxide blonde. "Oh, mio Dio! It's so great to see you!"

Buffy snickered at Spike's mortified expression. She wasn't at all insulted by Andrew's unintentional snubbing. In fact, the less he talked to her, the better.

Andrew finally released the vampire and stepped back to ogle him. "Love the new look," the nerd complimented, "Black denim really brings out your alabaster skin."

Buffy covered her mouth, shoulders trembling. Spike threw a quick glare her way. "Lost my duster in the attack," he muttered in response.

Andrew's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! You must've been heartbroken. That jacket was like your second skin."

Spike repressed a growl, mostly because the geek was hitting a little close to the mark. He'd worn that duster for thirty years. Few things in his long, nomadic existence stayed with him for any significant length of time. Just Drusilla, the duster, and his Zippo lighter. Now all he had from his old life was the lighter.

He pretended to straighten his black denim jacket. "Time's a wastin', Andrew."

The former Trio member eagerly grabbed up their overnight bags before either of the couple could protest and practically ran for the exit. "I'm parked just outside!"

Andrew's car was a bright red Ferrari. Figures, Spike thought sourly. He squeezed into the backseat, hoping that would reduce the chances of the irritating man-child trying to engage him in conversation. Buffy took the front passenger seat. The second she pulled the door shut, Andrew revved the sports car's engine and peeled out of the car park.

As the miles flew by, Andrew rambled non-stop about anything and everything that the couple could not care less about. Buffy endured, while Spike dozed in the backseat. The vampire was surprised to discover that the continual drone of Andrew's voice was rather soothing, like white noise.

"...unless the crystal in the lightsaber is made of kryptonite, because then, sure, a Jedi could totally kick Superman's ass..."

"...which is why I always thought Vanity Smurf was kind of misunderstood..."

"...But the worst part was that Lee got really fat, and Dualla was probably all 'Come back, Billy,' but he couldn't come back, because he was dead, so now she was stuck with fat Lee, and that was not what she signed on for, believe me..."

"...in her prison cell, reading about how fascists took over England, and the whole story is on toilet paper, but it's not gross like you would think, it's beautiful..."

"...see, the idea is that Helen Keller becomes, like, a secret agent for the government, right? Which makes her Helen Killer, get it? Genius!..."

"...Do you think I should start dressing like Don Draper? Because I think I could totally pull it off..."

"...But why would a Jedi be fighting Superman in the first place? They're on the same side! Duh!..."

"...and suddenly Daniel Craig is my new favorite Bond, and I never thought that could ever—"

"Stop," Buffy's voice broke in an interminable time later.

"Thank god," a half-asleep Spike mumbled under his breath.

But then Buffy twisted in her seat to face Andrew, her expression suddenly excited. "You said Daniel Craig. I love Daniel Craig! He's so..."

"Gritty and real?" Andrew suggested.

Spike lifted his head and opened his eyes, his face a study in horrified confusion. Had he slipped into some twisted alternate dimension while he was napping?

"Um, sure," Buffy humored the kid, "Oh! And that thing where he's running on rooftops and cranes? I've done that, and I was still scared for him!"

"Right! I know!" Andrew happily agreed, "Gritty, real, and vulnerable."

"And those swim trunks," the Slayer leered, "Hello, daddy!"

"Oh, god!" Spike clamped his hands over his ears, "Have some bloody mercy!"

"Hey, chillax, Spike. We're just geek-bonding," Andrew retorted, then he brightened. "Ooh! If you're not a Daniel Craig fan, what do you think about Pierce Brosnan?"

The vampire snorted, "In what? Mrs. Doubtfire?"

Andrew damn near drove them off the road. "Aauuugggh!" he wailed in indignation, "How dare you!"

Spike rolled his eyes at the nerd's dramatics. "Are we there yet?"

Andrew huffed, checked his handheld computer. "According to my readings...Oh, crap! We just passed it!"

This time, he did run them off the road.

Once they managed to dislodge the Ferrari from the ditch, Andrew backtracked until he found a clear spot to park. "We'll have to walk from here," he said, pointing towards the woods.

The three of them tramped through the dense stand of trees, following the path Andrew's GPS indicated. "The lair should be here. We ought to be seeing it any second."

Buffy came to an abrupt halt, mouth open. "Um, is that it?"

Spike's eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "Bloody hell."

Before them was a huge mass of tangled steel pipes, sheets of corrugated tin, and the occasional TV antenna. Buffy and Spike gaped at the impressive structure, but Andrew remained matter-of-fact. "Yep. That's a Ragna's version of a web. And at the top," he pointed, "the snare to trap and suspend her prey."

They probably would have figured that out on their own, since the snare consisted of a big glowing sphere of pink light in which a young woman floated spread-eagle and upside-down.

"Reckon we got ourselves a spot of climbing," Spike mused.

"Delightful," Buffy sighed, "So, let's go get Nisha down."

Thankfully, the Ragna's web was more stable than it looked. It hardly shook as the three of them clambered up its tangled structure. Spike was the first to reach the snare.

"She alive?" Buffy called up to him.

But it was the trapped girl who answered, "Yes, she is. And she's kinda not happy."

"Well, well, well," Andrew drawled once he and Buffy reached Spike's side, "I see we've gotten ourselves into quite a jam."

Nisha's eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna get my foot into quite your ass soon as I'm free, you tiny—"

"Is that slang for 'Thanks, I appreciate the rescue'?" Buffy asked in a fake-innocent tone, "You're welcome."

"Whatever," the girl huffed, "Just get me down. That thing's coming back."

"What thing?"

A distant clicking drew their attention to the base of the structure where a gigantic spider was just starting to make its way towards them.

"Oh," Buffy didn't quite squeak, "That thing."

"Looks like Charlotte's headin' back to the web," Spike observed wryly. Although at the rate the beastie was climbing, it'd be mid-afternoon by the time it reached them.

Buffy slipped into Slayer mode. "Let's get Nisha down before that thing gets up here."

Nisha scoffed, "You losers wouldn't have to get me down if you hadn't created this mess in the first place."

Buffy rounded on the trapped rogue Slayer. "Hey! A little gratitude wouldn't be out of order," she snapped, "If Andrew hadn't been on top of things and monitored the demon situation, you'd be getting eaten by now. It's not our fault you fell into a—a Manga trap, or whatever."

"Please! You seriously believe that?" Nisha rolled her eyes. "Andrew wasn't monitoring. He knew our gang's been raiding in this area and he lured the freaking demon here!"

Spike and Buffy turned matching suspicious glares on the cringing man. Sheepishly, Andrew reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small device. When he pressed the button, there was a whirring sound and the snare popped out of existence like a huge pink bubble. Nisha dropped and landed with a painful grunt in a graceless heap at their feet.

Andrew crossed his arms and sulked like a defensive child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. "So, I'm thinking... Does it really matter how we got Nisha in custody?"

"You turned a dangerous demon loose in a populated area," Buffy grated between her teeth, "and lied to us about it. I think it's salient, yes."

"It's not that heavily populated out here," Andrew's voice took on its signature whiny edge, "I mean, the odds against a local getting snagged were—"

"Not really the point, Andy-boy," Spike growled. If anything, he was even angrier than Buffy, if only because he figured he should've known better than to fully trust the well-meaning, but inept Watcher-in-training.

"And I didn't lie," Andrew insisted, "I said Nisha was in a Ragna trap. I just didn't say where it came from."

"I'm fine, by the way," the largely ignored girl rasped from where she still sprawled.

There was a sudden flash, then a fist cracked Spike across the jaw. He staggered, shook his head, and when he looked up he saw none other than Simone pointing a big gun at Buffy and Andrew.

"Don't even think about it, Blondie," the punk girl sneered, "I'm bettin' my trigger finger's quicker than you are."

Spike gritted his teeth, but stayed put.

Simone kept her eyes on Andrew and Buffy while she called out to her lieutenant, "You okay, Nish?"

"Fine," Nisha groaned and picked herself up, "Bit of a head rush. Been upside down for eighteen hours."

"Sorry we couldn't track you down sooner." Simone grinned at the blonde Slayer. "And you. Not nice, capturing one of my girls, Buff. Luckily, I got a real skilled wiccan who was strong enough to beam me right here to the signal. 'Beaming,' right, Andrew," she turned her sneer on the young man, "That's what you Stargate nerds call it?"

Andrew glowered. "It's Star Trek, hag. Were you not listening to any of my lectures?"

"Look," Buffy interjected, "Slappy-fight's over, Simone. Come back with us before that spider thing gets up here. We can sort out whatever's—"

"Come back?" Simone bellowed a laugh, "What the hell for? So I can play the good little soldier in your army, fighting monsters with pointy sticks?" Her expression hardened, looking all the more severe with her mostly bald head and numerous piercings. She hefted the gun for emphasis. "Why would I wanna be your pawn when I'm already running my own game?"

Some of Buffy's exasperation seeped into her voice, "Come on, Simone. You really think a gun is the way to deal with me?"

"What? This?" The rogue Slayer snorted and shifted her aim skyward. "Please. I'm not here to shoot you. And if I was, I'd use a real gun, not one of these toys. This isn't for you." She abruptly turned and fired at the approaching Ragna demon. "It's for her."

Instead of the expected bang, the gun shot a beam of yellowish light which encased the huge demon in a forcefield.

"Need her calm so I can take her with us." Simone laughed and threw a cheeky wave. "See ya, bitches."

Another flash, a loud pop of displaced air, and Simone, Nisha, and the Ragna were gone.

"Bloody brilliant," Spike growled, "Not only did that mohawked bint get away with our prisoner, but now she's got a bleedin' Ragna demon which you practically giftwrapped for her." He jabbed an accusatory finger at Andrew.

"Hey, we needed to catch one of Simone's gang," Andrew retorted defensively, "I used what I had available. A giant Ragna demon wouldn't have been my first choice, but I had to think fast."

"You should have come to me," Buffy reproached.

"No," Andrew said, his tone lacking the usual whine for once, "I had to do it myself. It was my fault she got away in the first place. I was Simone's Watcher." He lowered his head. "It's bad enough my brother's been attacking you. What if you end up blaming me..."

Buffy's expression softened. "Andrew," she touched his shoulder, "We'd never blame you for Tucker's actions. And losing an insane, gun-loving, punk Slayer isn't going to make us lose faith in you. But lying, even by omission, is."

"Now that Simone's got the Ragna, she's probably gonna use it against people," Spike theorized, "Make it her very own attack demon."

Andrew shook his head. "Ragnas don't live that long. Only a couple of weeks. And since there aren't any male Ragnas for her to procreate with..." He shrugged.

"Guess that's why Charlotte was takin' her sweet time gettin' up here," Spike mused, "She was feelin' her age."

"Well, that's one thing in our favor," Buffy muttered.

"And here's another." Andrew dug his handheld out of his jeans pocket. "I can track the demon. When I was luring her out here I managed to plant a small tracking device on her. Ironic, right?" he flashed a hopeful grin, "Using the Ragna demon is what made you mad, but it's also the thing that will help us find it, so, if you think about it, yay! And also...hmm. You don't seem to be fans of irony, so...yeah..." He quickly focused his attention on the device while the couple glared at him. "It's on an island off the coast."

"Good." Buffy readied for the climb back down. "Let's go."

The ride in the rented motor boat out to the island lacked any conversation, for which Spike was relieved. He was fairly certain that if Andrew spouted one more piece of sci-fi trivia or attempted to justify his idiotic actions, he would snap the boy's neck without a second thought.

The island was beautiful, bathed in the red-gold light of sunset, with a picturesque village whose buildings were likely far older than even Spike was. The only obvious sign that anything was wrong was the total lack of any people. The streets were empty, no other boats were moored at the docks. Even the stray cats and dogs were keeping a low profile. But then, as they were securing the motor boat to the dock, a little girl miraculously showed up and approached them on the pier.

"Excuse me. You're not supposed to go in there," she indicated the village, "No one is supposed to go in there."

Buffy smiled and crouched down to the child's eye level. "You speak English."

"Yes. They taught us in school. I used to live in the village, before the Angry Woman came." The little girl shuddered. She was thinner than she should have been, her plain brown dress hanging loosely from her. The dress sported several tears, though it was clear it had once been well made. A well-off girl who'd fallen on hard times.

Spike crouched down beside Buffy. "Tell us about the Angry Woman, luv," he coaxed in a surprisingly gentle voice.

The child absently toyed with the edge of one of the holes in her dress. "She just arrived one day. She said she was hungry and my grandmother fed her and gave her tea. But then the Angry Woman stood in the village square and told everyone they had to find new homes, because this island was hers now." The little girl blinked back the tears that welled up in her large brown eyes. Her lip trembled. "My grandmother yelled at her and the Angry Woman hurt my grandmother."

"Where did everyone go?" Buffy asked.

"Most fled to the mainland. But my grandmother and I, we have nothing there. So we stayed here, on the docks. We don't go into the village." The child sniffed and wiped her eyes.

Buffy reached out and gently took hold of the girl's hands. "We're going to talk to the Angry Woman," she assured her, "She can't just take your home. Someone needs to explain that to her."

The little girl didn't seem convinced. She remained at the docks while Buffy, Spike, and Andrew entered the village. The farther in they went, the more signs they encountered of the gang's presence. Parts of the town looked like a war zone; the rogue Slayers obviously having fun with the ordinance they stole from various armories.

"Looks like the bint's made herself comfortable here," Spike remarked.

Andrew consulted his handheld, nodded towards a mostly intact building. "Signal's coming from this place. The opera house."

The interior showed the same signs of abuse. Broken furniture, shattered bottles, bullet holes in the walls, and graffiti that proclaimed SLAYERS RULE.

"Can I just point out that I was just trying to do the right thing?" Andrew said as they approached the double doors at the opposite end of the lobby.

Buffy frowned at him. "Seriously? This seems like the time? When we're about to walk in there?"

"We might not come out of this alive," Andrew reasoned, "And I want to make sure I've said everything I need to say to you. And now I have." He reached for the doors, paused. "Wait, no. Also, I know I'm in the minority, but I liked it when you cut your hair. There," he smiled, "Now I've said everything."

Spike couldn't quite suppress a ripple of amusement at the boy's sincerity. He shared a put-upon look with Buffy, then the two of them followed Andrew through the doors.

It was dark inside the opera house. "Can you see anything?" Buffy whispered to the vampire.

Before Spike could respond, light suddenly flared from the overhead chandeliers, revealing over a dozen girls armed with various weapons: hand guns, shot guns, high-power rifles. Most of the gang members were scattered throughout the audience seats, but Simone was lounging in a throne on the stage with her lieutenants to either side of her.

"Nice of you to make it," she drawled, "Some of the girls were getting concerned about you. But I told them nothing would stop the Great and Powerful Buffy from riding up on her great steed. Or, as the case may be, her pathetic lap dogs."

Spike's lip curled in a silent snarl.

Simone grinned. "I knew you couldn't resist following me. Counting on it, really, because here," her sneer widened, "I've got my muscle with me."

Buffy remained outwardly calm as she and her companions approached the raised stage. "Give us back the Ragna demon, Simone."

The mohawked Slayer hopped up from her seat and grabbed a fencing sword from a stack of discarded props. "I don't want to fight you, Buffster."

Buffy crossed her arms and fought to keep her expression neutral, even though she really didn't like the gun-happy lunatic using one of her friends' nicknames for her.

"Don't have anything against you," Simone continued, casually waving he sword about, "Truth is, I admire you. You're just outdated is all. You keep holding us back, telling us we gotta keep a low profile, when we could be running everything!"

"So you think the answer is to take over an island," Buffy retorted drily.

"I'm powerful," Simone declared, "Isn't that what powerful leaders do? Annex things? I've claimed this place as Slayer territory. Our base of operations. From here, we can launch our attacks. We can bring our oppressors to their knees."

A scornful laughed escaped Spike's lips. "Oppressors? Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Soddin' Joan of Arc?"

"Shut your mouth, vamp!" Nisha snapped. Spike sneered at her.

Simone focused her piercing eyes on Buffy. "You want us to live under everybody else's rules. The weaker people. But we're Slayers. We can be the agents of change and fear we were meant to be. It's who we are!"

"It's not who I am," Buffy responded calmly.

"You know I'm right," the rogue Slayer challenged, "And guess what? Andrew's little spider friend can help. Figure out how to breed a few more, we got ourselves a weapon, everyone falls into line." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating a huge cage partially concealed in the backstage shadows. The Ragna's multiple red eyes glowed balefully from between the thick steel bars.

Buffy shook her head in disgust. "You'd kill innocent people."

"It's a war," Simone countered, "No such thing as innocent."

"We'll stop you."

The punk Slayer rolled her eyes. "Look, arachnophobia here is just a Plan B, anyway. We're taking over. We don't need her to do it. You want her back so bad, you can have her." An evil smile stretched across her face. "Just give me Andrew."

Buffy's stoic expression finally cracked. "What?" she exclaimed, "You'd give back the demon for just Andrew?" She quickly whispered an aside, "No offense, Andrew."

"None taken," the young man whispered back.

"Yeah, for Andrew," Simone replied to her earlier question. "I mean, come on! Someone like him was in charge of someone like me? In case you haven't figured it out, I'm not a fan of authority to begin with. And he's kind of a drill sergeant, which, you know, fuck that. I want my payback." She threw a contemptuous glare at the kid. "Also, he's incredibly annoying."

"Tell me about it," Spike snorted, "But you're still not gettin' the little sod."

"What he said," Buffy nodded, "Only less British-y." She placed her hands on her hips. "You're not taking him."

In the next instant, her foot lashed out behind her, kicking away the gang members crowding her. Buffy then leapt to where the stage props lay and grabbed up a fencing sword for herself. Simone laughed as she and the blonde Slayer started to duel. Meanwhile, one of the girls restrained Andrew while several others tried to take on Spike. Despite the fact that he was outnumbered, the master vampire held his own against the less experienced Slayers.

Buffy suddenly jumped straight into the air and grabbed hold of one of the chandeliers with her free hand. Simone smirked as she gazed up at the dangling Slayer. "Does that feel precarious?" she mocked, "It looks precarious. And it looks like you're trapped."

Buffy didn't bother with her usual one-liners. Instead, she swung from the chandelier until she build up enough momentum to launch herself into a graceful somersault. Her sword lashed out and sliced through the chandelier's support line, and she grabbed onto the tall stage curtains and slid safely to the ground.

Simone barely managed to leap away in time to avoid getting smashed under the fallen chandelier, losing her sword in the process. The next thing she knew, Buffy was standing before her with the point of her sword pressed to Simone's neck.

"I've been doing this longer than you," Buffy reminded the girl, "Which means I'm more experienced. So, you're done."

Simone sneered. "And I'm younger than you. Which means I'm faster. So, you're fucked."

An ominous click drew Buffy's attention down to the semi-automatic handgun pointed at her gut.

"This is a real gun," Simone clarified.

Buffy exhaled through her nose and reluctantly threw away the sword. "I'm really not a fan of guns."

"And here I thought we had so much in common, philosophy-wise," Simone drawled sarcastically. "This is still so easy. Just give me the loser. You get the demon, and no one has to get hurt. Well..." she chuckled, "Almost no one."

Andrew was half-dragged over to Simone. She reached over with her free hand and viciously yanked his short hair.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"Buffy," Andrew spoke up, "That demon is what matters. I'll stay, and everyone will be safe. I need to do this. It's simple logic. The needs of the many outweigh the needs—"

"Andrew," Buffy interrupted with an exasperated sigh, "I've been hanging out with Xander for eight years. I've geek-bonded with him, too, and I'm familiar with the Book of Nerd Quotes. I'm not moved." She turned her steely gaze on the rogue Slayer, unintimidated by the weapon pointed at her. "Simone? Keep the demon, don't keep the demon. I don't care. I'll find a way to stop you. But Andrew comes with me. I don't walk away from my people. Because that's who I am."

Simone's features twisted in a parody of sympathy. "That's a shame, 'cause it's my sixteen Slayers to your one. And it looks like your pet vamp went and scampered off when things got too heavy."

"Actually," a new voice broke in, "he just stepped out for a moment to bring in the reinforcements."

The opera house quickly became crowded as the entire Italy squad stormed in. While Buffy, Spike, and Andrew had used the very public and visible docks for their approach, the squad had sneaked in with a small fleet of motor boats on the opposite side. It was a bit rougher landing, plus they had to hoof it to the village, but they arrived just in time to meet up with Spike as he was coming to fetch them.

What they lacked in advanced weaponry, the squad made up for in numbers and discipline. They soon had Simone and her gang surrounded. Spike appeared, using the vampiric speed he rarely utilized, and pressed the muzzle of a gun he snagged in the brawl to Simone's temple. Buffy snatched the handgun from the distracted girl and pointed it at the gang member restraining Andrew. "Give me back my nerd."

Andrew beamed as he was released and trotted to Buffy's side.

"I thought you didn't like guns," Simone spat.

"She doesn't." Spike's thin smile didn't reach his ice-blue eyes. "I'm okay with 'em, however." He pressed the weapon harder into the girl's temple, denting the skin. "Tell your girls to surrender and we'll let 'em live."

The rogue Slayer scoffed. "Or what? You'll shoot me? I don't think you're boss is gonna like that."

Spike didn't so much as twitch. "I'm gonna count down from ten," he stated with absolute calm, "Then I'm going to shoot you. Ten...nine...eight..."

As the vampire steadily counted down, Simone's bravado waned. When Spike reached four, she shouted, "Drop your guns!"

Her gang hesitated the briefest instant, then they surrendered their weapons. Restraints were brought out and secured around the girls' wrists. Soon the entire gang was in the squad's custody.

"There! It's done!" Simone cried, scowling, "You won."

Buffy felt it, a mere second before it happened. She felt her lover's resolve.

"One."

A/N: I know. I'm evil. But I promise not to leave you guys hanging too long before the next update. Cross my heart. ;-)