A/N: Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Those who do…. YAHF, cross with Samurai Deeper Kyo. Only the plot and demon trees are mine. I know Aokigahara wasn't like this in SDK canon - but the bunny that bit for this story says it should have been!

Strange white plank houses, windows covered with glass instead of silk. Streetlights burning without a flicker of flame, atop massive pillars of metal. Dark gray not-quite-stone coating the road, more level and resilient than Tokaido-cho ever had been.

This is not my world, Yukimura Saemonnosuke Sanada decided, absently touching his hairpin and smoothing his peacock-patterned kimono. Had he been trading places with Anayama again? No; his loyal kagemusha had died before that last, bitter battle. But it doesn't look like Hell either.

Which was rather where he'd expected to end up, after losing to Ieyasu at Osaka. Spectacularly losing, to be sure. But dead was dead, and dying had been intensely painful, and he really hadn't expected to end up in Heaven.

Or rather, he'd very much hoped he wouldn't. Praying along with buddhas and saints forever, not a sword, sake jug, or woman to be seen, sounded awfully boring.

So. Apparently not Hell, given the absence of gaping pits of flame, endless sheets of ice, or demons torturing hapless souls. And far too interesting to be Heaven. In fact, if you ignored the strange mini-mansions and the lighted road….

Screams, monsters, blood, and an idiot dressed in armor left over from the Onin War, running with a sword. Just like a good day with Kyo.

Speaking of swords, he could use one. "Hello," Yukimura smiled, skipping up inside the idiot's maai. "I wonder if you'd mind-"

"Youkai!"

"Well, really!" Duck. "It's been a while since-" sidestep "-anyone called me that-" pirouette away from the slash, sleeves swirling "-but then, Kyo's not here to be obvious-"

"Die!"

Duck, yank, toss - with a twist, so the edge never struck the ground. No reason to mistreat the blade simply because it was unlucky enough to be in a moron's keeping.

Crack. Clatter.

Hmm. Blade was fine, but the idiot had broken a few ribs. At least he'd be easy enough to put out of his misery, groaning on the ground, eyes rolled back-

:No! You can't he's just a kid in a costume-!:

Faint. Like a scream in a typhoon. But definitely a young lady's voice.

And from the way he'd had to pivot during that throw - this body wasn't a he at all.

Bemused, Yukimura glanced down at the opening of his kimono.

Ah. Yes. No more generously endowed than bounty huntress Yuya Shiina had been, but definitely a she.

:There's nothing wrong with my bust!:

"Of course not," Yukimura said matter-of-factly, claiming sword and sheath and skipping away before the groaning samurai could react. "Yuya was in a very dangerous line of work. She certainly didn't overflow her robes like some I knew-" Izumo no Okuni came vigorously to mind, deadly threads and all, before he shoved the image back "-but she was lean and limber and lovely as a new sword. And if Kyo wouldn't have carved my heart out if I so much as looked at her wrong, I definitely would have been interested." He chuckled, thrusting the sheathed blade under their obi. "Wherever he is now, he must be laughing his head off."

:This isn't funny! People are going to die. My friends-: The voice slipped back, lost.

In the shadow of an oak, Yukimura watched as an insubstantial redhead and a soldier with an odd black weapon - some kind of gun? - argued, searched inexpertly for his current form's true owner, then retreated in the face of various monsters.

Buffy? Odd name.

He could have gone to them. But the tug in his hair… wasn't something he wanted to involve children in. Not if he could help it.

Unobserved, Yukimura took the cherry-wood hairpin from long black hair, and laid it on his palm.

It shifted, pointing southeast.

What does that mean?

"You got in and out once with Kyoshiro," Demon Eyes Kyo had told him once, as they chased the Twelve through the deadly Sea of Trees. "Don't know how many other times you've wandered into here besides that, given you found Sasuke, and I don't care. This time, even a Sanada's demon luck is going to run out. Once you've walked on Aokigahara's earth, drunk its water, bled on its roots… it never lets you go."

"That could be inconvenient," Yukimura had acknowledged. "You're not bothering the others-"

"Okuni can take her chances. Sasuke grew up here. He knows what to do. Yuya and Benitora are my servants. They go where I go - and I go where I want." The crimson-eyed samurai thrust a broken cherry branch at him. "Take it."

"And do what?" Yukimura wondered.

"Hell should I know? Carve one of your stupid girly hairpins out of it, or something. Aokigahara won't let you leave it. It'll kill you first." A fanged, bloodthirsty grin. "But if you take it with you…."

So he had. And it'd seemed to bring him luck, until the last battle. He really couldn't complain. Just because Aokigahara had stayed its hand, didn't mean the rest of the world would follow the demon-forest's lead.

Aokigahara wants something.

He didn't know how he knew. He just knew.

"I apologize," Yukimura said quietly, hoping the soul buried inside his would hear. "The Sanada clan's honor frowns on my bringing your body into peril… but I'm a bit low on options. I rather think not seeing what Aokigahara wants would be more dangerous. To everything within ten days' run." He sighed. "At least I can keep your friends out of it."

Drawing on a lifetime's stealth and skill, he slipped into the night.

Pirates pillaging downtown jewelry stores. Mini-Godzillas torching City Hall. Packs of werewolves savaging red-eyed wan kuei, who were in turn being ambushed by lycanthropic ravens, foxes, snakes, and who knew what else.

Leaning back in a chair by the radio with a glass of red wine, Ethan Rayne grinned. Ah, chaos. Janus would be pleased….

He sat up straight, feeling a warning tingle from the ward-spell on his more esoteric mystical components. But who could have gotten into the shop unnoticed?

"Ah. So this is what you want."

The Slayer's voice. And not. Ethan tensed. If she had any shred of memory, she'd be deadly dangerous.

Then again, she'd picked out a kimono for a sixteenth-century Japanese noblewoman. How dangerous could she be?

On yet another hand… what was a noblewoman doing with a katana? Not to mention his stash of highly illegal dragonseye acorns.

"I've seen these before." One knee on the floor, the dark-haired woman let a few acorns fall through her fingers into the rough burlap sack. "I didn't know they grew outside Aokigahara."

"They don't," Ethan said bluntly. "And they're rather valuable, so if you would-"

The eyes that looked at him were the pure, deep blue of twilight, glinting with single points of demon crimson.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ethan breathed. And he'd thought warnings about not storing more than a half-dozen acorns together, so the forest's spirit would fade, were just a seller's gimmick to drum up repeat business. "Aokigahara's creatures can't leave the forest!"

"There are ways." The Slayer-who-wasn't stood fluidly. "These come with me. And you might want to, as well."

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" Ethan said archly.

"You were afraid before I even looked at you," she said with a chilling smile. "Which means you're really afraid of Buffy. And I know at least one of her friends, despite this enchantment, remembers who she really is."

Meaning as soon as whomever it was calmed down enough to find the Watcher, Ripper would be breathing down his neck. Which could be fun. Or bloody. Or, knowing dear, tweedy Rupert, both. "And what's in it for me, if I do let you walk off with my very valuable supplies?"

Her smile warmed. "Why, aren't you curious what it wants?"

Ethan paused. Aokigahara. The Sea of Trees. The haunt of demons; even caught and contained in the heart of Japan's surging industrialization, it remained one of the greatest sources of wild power the world had ever known.

One of the greatest sources of chaotic power. A few of those acorns had been critical to set up this spell in the first place; bending minds, inviting possession. Influence that should end with the spell itself, giving him a built-in failsafe. Why not? "Ethan Rayne."

"Yukimura Sanada," came the graceful bow. "Shall we?" A mischievous wink. "And on the way, you can tell me everything about this world. Starting with, what year is it?"

1997, Yukimura thought, stalking down Sunnydale's streets with Ethan trailing noisily behind. So long….

The Sanada clan hadn't had much use for the new religion the Jesuits had brought to Japan, but they'd gone to great lengths to gain any other knowledge the outsiders brought. Know your enemies, after all. And by their reckoning, the battle of Osaka had happened in 1614.

Over three centuries. Daunting. But after having faced down the mythical and near-immortal Mibu, not nearly as paralyzing as Ethan had obviously expected. Whatever year it was, whose ever body he was in, he was alive. And while there was life-

What is that?

Bodies moving with malice, but without life. Individual malice, not the more usual one will of a zombie puppet-master he'd encountered in his travels. Interesting.

We could still avoid them.

But the hairpin's tug was faint and chancy as it was, and there was a prickle at his neck that spoke of time running short. Straight through it was. "Heads up," Yukimura said cheerfully. "We're about to have company."

"What sort of-"

"'Ello, Slayer."

Yukimura knew Kyo wasn't behind them. Besides, no one called Kyo "Slayer" instead of "Thousand-Slayer". So he kept his gaze on the bleached blond undead leader, letting his other senses track the remaining undead and costumed creatures. "I take it he's not talking to you?"

Ethan snorted. "Do I look like a vampire slayer to you?"

"And you're not either, tonight," the blond said gleefully, motioning his followers forward. "Just a little lost memory, from the losing side."

Yukimura let them surge in. "It's true I lost at Osaka. But-"

He moved, sheath striking those that still breathed, blade taking those who didn't.

"-You're not Ieyasu Tokugawa."

Dust lacing the air, bodies groaning on the ground, Yukimura stood behind the blond, blade just below his enemy's chin. He let a breath pass. "Your quarrel is with Buffy, not me. And it seems a shame for you to die just from ignorance." He sheathed his blade, and stepped back. "We're following the trail of a demon forest. Want to come?"

"What?" exploded from both conscious men.

"He's a vampire!" Ethan protested.

"You just killed my blokes!" was the blond's shocked contribution.

"You didn't like them anyway," Yukimura pointed out cheerfully, "or you wouldn't have sent them against me. Well?" Not waiting for an answer, he snagged Ethan's sleeve and kept walking.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

"I've had many names," Yukimura mused. "Gojiro; that one's handy. Yukimura Sanada, that's my favorite. One or two others. And you?"

"Spike," came the surprised answer. "Sanada, who lost to Tokugawa at Osaka…."

"Going to ask a scholar about me?" Yukimura inquired, breaking into a trot as the hairpin pulled harder. "I wonder what that bastard Ieyasu let them write down?"

"You knew Ieyasu?" Underneath the bluster, Spike sounded cautiously interested.

"Depends. Does burning down his palace count?" Yukimura sighed at the wonderful memory. "If only I'd had some fireworks…."

Dru said tonight would be interesting, Spike mused, half-dragging the mage inside Sunnydale's darkest magic shop. Sanada, and the Tokugawa who started the bloody Shogunate. Know I've heard something, somewhere.

Though he didn't remember anything about an ancient Japanese girl faster than the Slayer and with enough staying power to half-kill a normal man just trying to keep up. Damn, he was glad that Yukimura seemed to be an honorable bird. Not that he wouldn't kill honorable birds; they usually died faster than the ones canny enough to cheat. Then again….

"Broke his blade at Osaka, never broke his oath," Dru had sing-songed. "Red eyes behind him, forest roots in his soul… keep him smiling, or he'll smile while he cuts my Spikey to pieces."

There'd been more, the usual bewildering seer babble, but he'd made enough sense of it to stomp on his impulse to rip the Slayer's throat out. Dru had Seen something she liked. And he'd do anything for his dark princess.

Besides. If Dru smiled that much Seeing it, the future would be bloody enough to rack up even more points for his demon-world rep than bagging a third Slayer. Demon forest, eh?

Yukimura was following that hairpin through the shelves like a bizarre wooden compass, hauling out packets of seeds, soil, and a few odder things from the refrigerated section that had the shopkeeper looking more and more nervous. Given the wrinkled little man hadn't turned a hair when Spike walked into his shop, and knew bloody well the difference between the quick and the undead, that was saying something.

When Yukimura headed for a green-gold silk scarf on one of the higher shelves, the man finally broke. "You can't take that!"

Yukimura blinked, innocent as a kitten. "It is for sale, isn't it?"

The shopkeeper glared at the wood in a dainty hand. "Phoenix cherry wood. That's not legal off Mt. Fuji, much less outside Japan!"

"I don't know about Japan," Yukimura said casually, "but this left Mt. Fuji over three centuries ago." Quick fingers snatched the scarf. "The total?"

"Not for sale," the shopkeeper said darkly. "One or two of those I'd sell you, but you've cleaned out every bit of stock from Aokigahara-"

"From the Sea of Blue Flame to the Land of the Fire Lotus," Yukimura said levelly. "I wonder how many died to bring you that… stock."

"That's my suppliers' problem. Get that much of the forest together outside wards, you're playing with fire. And no one burns down my town while I'm in it-"

Which was more than enough time for Spike to grab the prune by his collar and bring him to convenient biting height. "Sorry about this, mate. Dru loves your tea. But she'll cope."

The man's eyes bugged. "You can't let him do this, Slayer!" he bleated.

"I'd prefer it if he didn't," Yukimura allowed. "But one who deals in bits of the forest should know its law. The strong live. The weak perish."

The shopkeeper turned gray. Spike smirked, and leaned in-

"Don't kill him," Ethan said quickly. "I think I know what it's after. And we don't need a vengeful spirit mucking up the works."

Well, damn. He'd have to snack later.

Leaving with their take, Yukimura fell in beside him for a moment. "You may wish to rethink your tactics, Spike-san."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Don't mistake me for someone who gives a damn, you fancy spirit bint. I'm a demon. I kill who I want, when I want."

"Some of my best friends have been demons," Yukimura shrugged. "They never killed without a reason. Even if the reason was just a good fight." Twilight eyes met his. "I hate people with no respect for life."

Which both did and didn't sound like the Slayer. He was a demon. A Big Bad, slayer of Slayers. He was not going to shiver.

"Besides!" Yukimura said brightly. "He was old and weak. And human. Where's the challenge?"

Hmph. Point. "You're human," Spike pointed out.

"Some of my enemies doubted that." The possessed Slayer glanced at Ethan. "You think you know what the forest wants?"

The mage eyed the hairpin. "It's not heading out of town? I would have thought-" Another turn, and they were walking into the weeds of a vacant lot, away from the main streets, near one of Sunnydale's lesser-known cemeteries.

"Never mind, this will do." The mage frowned. "We need to pace out a circle. A large one. Where's north… ah, yes." He draped the scarf around Yukimura's neck, counted out some seeds into a small hand, and put everything but one paper-wrapped packet in the middle of the chosen plot. "He was right about you playing with fire, you know. I'll tell you what to do, but I am not invoking this."

"And what am I invoking?" Yukimura inquired, rattling seeds together as Ethan unwrapped what looked like nut-brown Jell-O. "Acorn jelly?"

"Come off it. You can't make jam out of acorns," Spike said in disbelief.

"Dragonseye acorn jelly," Ethan stated, ignoring him. "Flesh of the forest's flesh, shared as communion. Silk of oak moths to clothe you; seeds to root in the past and reach into the future. Aokigahara wants to talk to you."

"What, it couldn't just call collect?" Spike said sardonically. Maybe he could eat the Slayer yet.

"You might want to step back," Ethan said dryly. "From what I've heard, the forest tends to think undead are a nice aged meat."

…Then again, discretion, better part of valor, and all. Some of Dru's happiest moments were when he was bleeding.

"Five directions," the mage said professionally. "Start in the east. Matsu no tachikaze, I think it's called."

"Oh yes," Yukimura murmured, planting a dark, needle-sharp flake of pine seed. "I remember those."

"You'll have to tell me about that… phoenix cherry, south. Night-strangler willow, west. Heart's-blood cedar, north."

Four elements, four directions, Spike thought. Standard prep for a lot of classical sorcerous work. Not that he messed with magic himself, much, but Angelus hadn't been the only creature interested in Dru. Lots of would-be all-powerful mages wanted their very own Seer. He'd learned to recognize most standard mystical setups in self-defense. But Rayne said five, which means they're pulling in Void, or Spirit….

Without prompting, Yukimura walked to the center, and planted an acorn.

Silence.

Ethan frowned. "Would have sworn that would do it-"

"You've never been to Aokigahara." The sword flashed back starlight. "Every inch was watered in blood."

The cut was quick and clean; shallow, slicing along the outside edge of the left forearm, to bleed freely with minimal damage. Drop by drop, crimson fell to disturbed earth.

Two green seed-leaves broke the surface, soaking in blood like sunlight. Rustled. Expanded, the first true leaves of an oak sprouting in their wake-

Silk whipped around the girl like a gust of storm, and she was gone.

Ethan stumbled, shaking his head as if struck. "Damn!"

"Spell broke?" Spike inquired, sidling closer.

"Ripper must have just found my shop," the mage agreed, rubbing at what promised to be the mother of all headaches.

"Bit too late for the Slayer," Spike smirked, taking a bold stride closer. Mages were always easiest as prey in the wake of a backlash-

"We should run," Ethan said flatly.

"Hmm?" Earth was trembling at each cardinal point, leaves becoming sprouts becoming saplings, even as the oak in the center thickened and grew.

"Aokigahara. The Sea of Trees. The demon forest." The mage's eyes jumped from one tree to the next. "I don't know what the others are capable of, but matsu no tachikaze means wind-of-blades pine."

"And?" Damn it, he was hungry, and he hadn't gotten Dru her Slayer pick-me-up. He was going to have a good gulp of mage if it was the last thing he did tonight-

Pine needles rustled, and the sapling curled branches like a catapult.

"Run," Ethan repeated, and sped off like greased lightning.

Whip-crack!

The worst of it, Spike reflected later, as Dru gigglingly plucked emerald-black needles out of his shoulders, ribs, and backside, wasn't losing a footrace to a mage. It wasn't even losing a chance at feeding Dru a nice, tender Slayer. No; the worst was, if he'd dodged half a hair slower, he'd have been dusted. By a blasted pine tree.

Flame-thrower, that's what we need. Maybe a bit of napalm. "Dalton!"

"Sir?" the bookish minion eeped.

"We need to look stuff up," Spike said thoughtfully. "A place called Aokigahara… and a bint called Yukimura Sanada."

Smack.

"Ow!"

"That's just the warm-up." Buffy cracked her knuckles as the black-haired samurai touched a split lip. "Take over my body? Get real!"

"It wasn't exactly my fault," Yukimura protested. "Good right you have there… Buffy-san. Think of your friends. What might Aokigahara have done to them, if we hadn't gone to handle it alone?"

Buffy hesitated, half-memories of trackless forest, pits of skulls, and swarms of monsters flickering through her mind. Memories that weren't hers at all. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure." Yukimura moved to guard her back, twilight eyes thoughtful. "I know what it looks like."

The Sea of Blue Flame. Buffy eyed the mossy ground, the massive oak branches interweaving a hundred feet up. But something doesn't feel real. "This is a Slayer dream."

:It is a dream. But not yours.: Wind in the trees, stirring leaf and branch into a susurrus of voices. :Sanada. The demon clan has not conquered Tokugawa. Your oath lies unfulfilled.:

"Death tends to do that," Yukimura observed.

:You are not dead. At the moment.:

"Ghost in my head doesn't exactly qualify as living," Buffy pointed out. "Look. You're big scary trees with a killer rep, and I bet if Giles were here he'd be all ooo and ah and dear-lording it. But I've had a really bad night, so just cut the cryptic and make with some answers." She crossed her arms, and glared at bark. "He said you wanted something."

:A Slayer with courage. Interesting.:

"That word again," Yukimura mused. "What's a-"

:See.:

Memory and emotion roared through her. Learning the way of the sword, and deception, and power. Leading Sanada and all of Toyotomi at Segikahara, to see Tokugawa crush them. Retreat, regroup; rebuild the Sanada Ten with the help of a cat-eyed demon-child from the darkest forest. Learning of Demon Eyes Kyo's quest for his body, and joining to throw the balance of power from Tokugawa to Toyotomi….

"Oh," she heard Yukimura say, as if from a long way off. "So that's a Slayer."

Buffy blinked, bringing woods and young samurai into focus. "Thanks," she got out. "For not letting Spike kill that guy."

"I should be thanking you." Yukimura inclined his head, serious for once. "Someone who chooses to attack me may deserve to die, but that boy did not choose." He studied her. "All you've faced, with so little training… Aokigahara is right. You have great courage."

Buffy bristled. "Giles does a great job!"

Yukimura raised a dark brow.

"He does what he can," Buffy admitted. "I can't just drop school and Slay full-time. Mom would totally freak."

"And the appearance of normality is one of your weapons," Yukimura nodded. "Still. Much could be improved." He glanced at the trees. "But I somehow doubt that's why we're here."

:The Slayer is not our creature, Yukimura Sanada. You are.:

:You have breathed our mists. Survived our law. Fed us with your blood, and others'. You are ours.:

:We hold you to your oaths.:

"And what do you get out of that?" Buffy asked sharply.

Silence.

"Ethan said the acorns were rare and expensive," Yukimura mused.

"Yeah, so-" Buffy's breath caught, recalling the forest Yukimura had known; endless miles of trees, and demons, and death. "Oh." She let out a low whistle. "How much of you is left?"

Anger, cold and deep and inexorable as glacial ice. :We are contained. Confined. Harvested.:

:Those of our offspring who survive, are watched. They cannot aid.:

:But you are outside our boundaries. Away from those who would warn.:

:Spread us. Root us deep, here where magic rises and blood spills like rain. Birth a new home for our spirit. And we will lend our power to your oaths.:

:Lead your clan. Conquer!:

"My clan is dead," Yukimura noted.

:As were you.: Branches creaked, almost a chuckle. :A Slayer's body will serve you well. All it needs is the blood of the forest-:

Buffy tensed, ready. "I don't think so."

Yukimura drew his blade, and offered her a knife, hilt-first. "Any ideas how to kill a forest?"

"Fire's good. Outside of that, make like a weed-whacker."

:Why would you deny us? The weak feed the strong. It is the law.:

"The Slayer fights monsters for everybody who can't," Buffy fired back. "So take your law and shove it!"

:Our law. Is all that matters.:

The world was on fire, burning her soul to ashes….

Yukimura wrapped his arms around her, teeth clenched against the flames. "I can't lead my clan if you destroy it!"

The fires dimmed slightly. :She is not of Sanada.:

"She has fought in my cause, and defended me with her own body," Yukimura argued. "She is of Sanada. And you will not harm her!"

Flames flickered, and faded. :You are the one who fought,: the forest muttered sulkily.

Yukimura ignored it. "Are you all right?"

"Peachy," Buffy croaked. "Nothing like being crispy-fried to brighten up your day." She lowered her voice. "There's got to be a way out of here."

:There is not.:

:We hold you in our dream.:

:Yield.:

"And show weakness?" Yukimura tsked. "I'm one of yours, remember? I know better."

The weak die, Buffy recalled. The strong- "You want an alliance, right? A deal. You get out, we get-"

Yukimura covered her mouth. "What terms do you offer a willing ally of Sanada?"

:Willing?: the forest creaked skeptically.

Yeah, what they said. Buffy almost bit his hand. But Yukimura, if that faded rush of memories was right, had out-thought and out-sneakied smarter guys than the Master of Sunnydale. And the forest-

The forest was old, and angry, and not even as human as the vamps she'd met. It hungered.

It scared her down to her bones.

It scared Yukimura, too; she could feel that. Only he could push past fear into pure exhilaration, like riding a lightning bolt out of the sky.

How does he do that?

:We have the strength to alter a body, not form a new one. Yet. We require you, Yukimura - and you require a home for your spirit.:

Oh, hell no-

Trust me, blue eyes pleaded. "Kyo managed in Kyoshiro," Yukimura observed. "Though it would be far more useful if we could coexist, and switch voluntarily, instead of one soul constantly trying to crush the other. But I haven't yet heard anything to benefit her."

Buffy swallowed, but lifted her chin. "Right. Somebody else in my head? I don't think so. What's in it for me?"

:To be our child would benefit you. The Slayer, for all her power, is only human. Those with our blood, are not.:

Yukimura went very still. "You mean to make us Mibu." He shook his head. "I saw how they died."

:We were before they came. We continue after they perished. They took the gifts of our strength, and grew proud. They forgot what they owed us, and toyed with powers beyond ours. Their fate was not our doing.:

"You just didn't stop it," Buffy shot back.

:Not all of Mibu perished.:

"Kyo," Yukimura nodded.

:He lives.:

Now it was Buffy's turn to raise an eyebrow, as Yukimura gaped. "But - 1614 - not possible…."

:The strong,: the forest laughed, :live.:

"Say yes," Yukimura breathed, stunned.

"Say what?" Buffy sputtered.

"It's Kyo!" Yukimura grabbed her shoulders, grinning like Christmas and Easter and free ice cream sundaes all wrapped up into one. "We've got to fight him!"

Buffy stared, images of a crimson-eyed nightmare of a man laughing as he cut through an army dancing through her head. "Are you insane?"

"Well… maybe just a little." Yukimura sparkled at her. "But it's Kyo! You've never fought Kyo. It's so much fun!"

"Fun," Buffy said numbly. "Almost getting killed is fun?"

:She wouldn't know.: The forest sounded like it pitied her. :The Slayer is forbidden from killing humans.:

Yukimura blanched. "You're defenseless?"

"Hey! I kill monsters just fine," Buffy objected.

The samurai looked sober. "But if a human came for your life…."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Nobody's going to try to kill me."

"Yes, they will," Yukimura said plainly. "Because you're strong. And someone will always want to prove they're stronger." He smiled, and brushed back her hair. "I think we can help each other."

:Done.:

"Hey, wait-" two voices protested.

:Yukimura is ours. The Slayer is in our power,: the forest said, almost kindly. :We do not need permission.:

Her blood burned, and the world went dark.

Tight. Constricting.

Her hands were shielding her face. A breath at a time, Buffy turned them, digging her fingernails into the slick silkiness holding her. It shredded like steel cotton candy, winning her fractions of freedom. Scratch, and scratch-

A tougher layer tore, and the scent of dry soil hit her nose.

Out. Have to get out!

:Wait.:

Yukimura's voice in her head. Not good. Wait, hell! We're buried alive!

:Where is the ground cooler?:

Huh?

:We're buried. It confuses your senses. People trapped in cave-ins sometimes dig down. If someone doesn't rescue them….:

Oh. Oh, so not good.

:But it's autumn. The earth should be warmer than the air. So which way feels cooler?:

Fingers trembling, Buffy felt the confines of her prison for coolness and a taste of air, and started digging. This had better be up….

Light, filtering through the layers above them. Air.

Buffy clawed her way out into a misty dawn, gasping under the spreading branches of a young oak. "Son of a bitch!"

The strong, whispered through the leaves, survive.

Glaring at gray-brown bark, Buffy made a gesture that would have had her mother ground her for a month.

:You'll like Kyo,: Yukimura predicted, amused. :You have a lot in common.:

"Too bad I'm stuck with you," Buffy grumbled.

A wistful sigh. :Is it so bad, truly?:

Buffy hesitated. She'd been possessed, kidnapped by trees, and buried alive. Exactly what part of last night had not been seriously of the ungood?

On the other hand…. Between Catherine Madison's witchcraft, the Primal zookeeper, Angel's gypsy curse, and poor, reluctantly-murderous Ampata the mummy, Buffy figured she'd had a solid Black Magic Invocations 101. There were Powers out there that were about as safe for humans to mess with as a critical mass of plutonium. Whatever Ethan had called up to pull off last night's mess had to have been ranked up there with them. And Aokigahara was another. Just being alive was lucky.

On top of that, Spike had lost an awful lot of minions last night. Which might give her a chance to get ahead of the curve on new fledglings rising. Cool.

Feeling a little better, she dusted off her hands-

That didn't feel right.

Slaying was murder on nails, so Buffy kept hers shorter than she ever had in L.A. Still, tearing through earth like that should have at least chipped something.

They looked fine.

She flipped her hands around to be sure, frowning at the odd calluses on palms and fingers. That looks like-

:What you get from proper sword training,: Yukimura agreed. :Is the sword still real?:

Buffy loosened the blade in its sheath. "Yeah. Doesn't look like anything special…."

:No Muramasa, to be sure. But it's proper steel. It should serve us well; at least, for anything steel will injure.:

So Yukimura had run into almost as many things as she had that it wouldn't. "Too bad it won't fit up my sleeve at school," Buffy quipped. School. Giles. Willow. Xander-

:Xander was a soldier for the night, and I doubt he was unskilled. Willow was a ghost, and unlikely to have been harmed by any creature we saw,: Yukimura reminded her. :They're your friends. Trust them to be strong enough to survive without you for a time.: A pause. :And there are ways to hide a sword.:

"I'll feel better when I see them. And maybe Giles will know what to do about-" Swinging around to glare at the oak, Buffy froze.

There was the hole she'd crawled out of, morning sunlight reaching into the darkness just enough to catch a bit of brown from a half-buried bag of acorns… and a green-gold shimmer from a torn cocoon.

And though some of the hair she'd tossed was still blonde, the rest was glossy, raven black.

"Easy," Yukimura breathed, taking hold of the frightened soul in… well, her head. I'll have to get used to that. "Easy." A hand snared blowing locks. "Hmm. If tigers had manes, they might be striped this way. It's very pretty."

:You - my body - give it back!:

Good, there was fight in her. "Of course," Yukimura murmured, and retreated-

Or tried to. He'd barely relinquished control before her eyes jerked back to that silk fragment caught in soil, and they were swamped in a wave of-

Nightmare made real, digging out as a vampire and the hunger, and knowing what she might do if they didn't break the dream's power-

She-Mantis almost eating Xander, had eaten Dr. Gregory, and while she'd fought for Xander, losing the biology teacher had hurt, a shadow of the way the thought of losing Giles hurt, and-

The Slayer isn't a monster, she fights them, god, no-

Yukimura took a deliberate breath. "The Mibu weren't cannibals."

A shiver. But it felt like Buffy was listening.

"I grant you Kyo liked blood, but I never met anyone raised in the forest who didn't," Yukimura went on. "We're probably like him. Or Sasuke Sarutobi." I miss Sasuke. The cat-eyed little ninja had saved his life too many times to count. More, he'd been a friend.

Would he be again, if the forest kept its word?

Sanada to rise again. Gods, I want it… but I'm not the only one involved.

:So. No eating people?:

"No." He felt a familiar internal grumble. "Though I think you could do with breakfast. Shall I walk home?"

:Shouldn't we-?:

"Burn the forest down?" Yukimura supplied, staring down the pine when it creaked at them. "Sasuke always threatened to do that." A shrug. "Do you want to?"

Now all the trees were rustling. Yukimura kept his main focus on the oak. Dragonseye oaks were the will of the forest, Kyo had said; the force that set compasses spinning astray, and twisted minds into wandering ever deeper into bloodthirsty woods.

:…I don't know.:

"Then we'll leave, so you can decide at leisure." He bowed to the oak. "You might want to make yourselves difficult to find. Unless you've already disposed of Ethan and Spike, they might be back. And I guarantee they'll bring fire."

Rustling slowed, amused. The sense of the forest seemed to turn thoughtful, even as the mist thickened.

Retreating out onto a Sunnydale sidewalk, Yukimura glanced back. Faint mist now shrouded all the trees, and that fog itself seemed to slide eyes away. "I doubt our two friends will have any luck finding those trees. Unless they want to be found."

:Spike's a vampire,: Buffy pointed out. :He kills people. Why do you want him alive?:

Ah, she'd noticed. Because he is an intelligent enemy, Yukimura replied silently. He hadn't run into any of Sunnydale's ordinary citizens yet, but they should be up and about soon, and Buffy didn't need a reputation for talking to herself. Minions are so much fodder for your blade. They can only kill you if you get sloppy, or they get lucky. True enemies keep you sharp; keep you focused. And if you arrange circumstances to work in your favor, they can be valuable assets - for if an enemy is willing to risk much to strike you down, you can lead them through another foe's forces.

Long, thoughtful silence. :That's….:

Tactical? he preened. Inspired?

:…Sneaky. Very sneaky.:

Almost as good. Thank you. He raised a brow. Ready to face the world? She was as brave as Yuya, he could feel it, but the night had been a bit much for anyone.

:You're… sure I'm not a monster.:

Very sure, Yukimura affirmed. Shall we go home?

The Slayer reached forward; he did not resist.

"Yeah," Buffy breathed. "Let's go home."

"Good thing it's Saturday, and Mom's out of town until this afternoon," Buffy muttered, squeezing a few last drops of water out of parti-colored hair. Black and gold. She was wearing a top and pants to go with, sure, but this was just weird. Or, typical Hellmouth. Take your pick. "I look like a badger."

:A tigress,: Yukimura contradicted, amused. :Ever disguised, yet the most fearsome creature in the forest.:

Now why couldn't Angel come out with lines like that? "There's still no sake in the house."

:Aww….:

Shoes on, and never mind Yukimura's flinch at the thought of wearing shoes inside a house. She'd already had to toss one vampire out through her living room window, and running barefoot over broken glass? No thank you.

Leftovers in the oven for breakfast, and - yeah. Guess I can't put it off anymore. Bracing herself, Buffy dialed Willow.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Buffy said warmly. "Did Giles de-ghostify you okay?"

"Buffy?" the redhead almost yelped. "Oh my god, we were so worried, we couldn't find you - hang on, I'll call Xander, we'll be right over!" Crash.

"Okay," Buffy said to the dial tone. "It'll take Xander a few minutes to slow down the Willow-babble before they get anywhere, so…." She dialed Giles' number.

"Yes?" The Watcher sounded harried, as if he hadn't slept well. Or at all.

Oh man, he must have been worried all night. "I'm sorry," Buffy blurted. "The spell did funny things to my head and I got lost, and it took a while to get back, but I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"Buffy?" A breath of pure relief. "Much better now, yes. What happened? Willow said you went as a Japanese noblewoman, and she didn't quite believe me when I told her that so long as you weren't a twelve-robed court noble, any samurai lady would have had some weapons training."

"We got luckier than that," Buffy stated. "Anayama Kosuke was the kagemusha for a clan's lord. Once she got hold of a sword, I was good. She freaked out at the horseless steel wagons, but she figured they had to be some kind of demon magic and decided the best thing was to just get out of town. By the time the spell broke I was in the middle of the woods, and… just seemed like a better idea to wait for daylight." Happy now? I'm lying to Giles.

:Not much. Trust me.:

Famous last words. But Giles was making relieved noises over the phone, going on about Ethan having vanished, and smashing a bust of Janus, and how Angel and Xander had managed to round up most of the affected children….

"Most?" Buffy asked, dreading the answer.

A sigh. "There was nothing you could have done," Giles said plainly. "Given the creatures Willow reported roaming the streets, we're fortunate the casualties were as few as they are… Buffy?"

This was why she hated crying. She didn't just look awful, she sounded awful.

"It wasn't your fault," Giles said quietly. "The Slayer can't be everywhere. Or anticipate every potential peril. One girl in all the world… you try, Buffy. It's all anyone can do."

:Alone, yes,: Yukimura conceded. :But as part of Sanada - we can do more, Buffy. I swear it.:

"W-Willow and Xander are coming over," Buffy managed, scrubbing at tears. "I should - I should make sure there's enough snacks, bye…." She hung up, and sobbed.

:It hurts, losing those we swore to protect.:

"I didn't swear anything! One Slayer died, the cosmic bingo called me - I didn't ask for any of this!"

A long silence.

:I did not ask to be Nobushige Saemon-no-suke Toyotomi. I did not ask to be a genius on the battlefield; a dragon, wakened by screams and the stench of blood. I did not ask to be the last leader left capable of destroying Tokugawa power.

:But I was. And I am.:

"You had help!"

:I did. From my clan, and my friends. You have found friends, which was wise; but you do not - yet - have a clan to back you.: A quick warmth, like a friendly hand cupping her cheek. :Be my ally in truth, Buffy. Share your strength with Sanada, and we will do the same for you. Why should we not? If Sanada rises again, we will draw notice of a most unfriendly sort… and if our fate is linked with Aokigahara, that sort will have demons among them.:

"So why does helping you mean lying to them?" Buffy said bitterly.

:Ieyasu won,: Yukimura pointed out. :Which means he oversaw what history wrote of our battles. What do you think your friends would learn of Yukimura Sanada, did they see him in your scholar's books?:

"We can tell them it's wrong!"

:The way that written about Angelus was wrong?:

"Cheap shot," Buffy muttered. But he had a point. Given the Gypsy curse, Angel was kind of possessing himself; and anything that brought up Angel tended to make for a very unhappy Xander. Put that together with Willow's understandable wiggens over the whole Hyena mess - no way would the truth go over well.

:And it shouldn't,: Yukimura admitted. :Like it or not, choice in it or not, I am possessing you.: A chuckle. :It isn't exactly the act of a gentleman.:

Nice try. She'd been distracted by experts. "You don't want them stopping Aokigahara." Buffy shook her head. "Conquering for Sanada means that much to you?"

:Looks like, doesn't it?:

Uh-huh. Distracting again. "You wanted to cry, too." Buffy clenched her fists. "Just tell me."

:…I promised someone. A long time ago. That I would grow strong. That I would be a warrior, and protect Sanada. I would protect Sanada's children.: Grief weighed on her like stone. :It seems I failed.:

And now he might have a second chance. God, what she wouldn't give for a second chance to save Jesse. "All right."

:All right?:

"Slayers die. Every last one of them. I died; I just got lucky. Once. We've got to try something different." Buffy took a deep breath. "Teach me how to keep people alive."

Acceptance, and pride. :First, you must learn to win.:

"Buffy, I-I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Willow managed, fingers sweating on the quarterstaff. Between the creek chuckling bright beside them and the pretty grove of young trees a little uphill from the quietest cemetery in Sunnydale, this looked like a great spot for after-school picnics. And the cooler Buffy had brought promised just that.

The polished wood in her hands promised something else.

"I mean, you know me. I'm Computer-Willow. Research girl. Not - not Xena, or even Gabrielle."

"Yeah, but if something were trying to munch Xander? You'd hit it," Buffy said confidently, twirling another staff borrowed from Giles' array of weaponry. "And you can almost always find a big stick when you need one. Or a lamp, or a broom…."

A broom versus Spike the Bloody. Or a hyena-possessed Xander. Or - well, anything really. Willow gulped, feeling the world try to skate out from under her.

"Hey. Okay, easy." Buffy lowered her staff, not even breathing hard. "You want to know why I really want to do this? Last week scared me. Here Giles said Halloween was supposed to be the big Slayer holiday, and, well - not so much. I was okay, but I couldn't help you guys. And I was scared to death." She paused. "But you did just fine."

"I... guess we did?" If running around as a ghost half the night was fine.

"Kimono wasn't for a princess, by the way." Buffy looked down at the staff in her hands. "It was for a kagemusha. Her whole life was about protecting her lord and her clan. Backing him up, when he had other places he had to be. Thing is? She didn't have to be as badass as her lord. Just badass enough."

Willow chewed on her lip, fingering heavy wood. "Like... just hitting a bad guy with a broom?"

"Exactly like. You don't have to go out and Slay stuff. But if you can thump it when it tries to jump you, I can take the bad guys down while they're still sputtering about puny little humans. I'm not saying you have to like it," Buffy said wistfully. "Though that would be cool. But you guys have been kidnapped, and almost eaten, and - well, Giles is always saying I have to learn my limitations. And according to the physics books, it's technically impossible to be in two places at the same time." Buffy smiled. "And if the staff doesn't work out for you, we'll just keep going through Giles' stuff until we find what does."

"Um. Okay…?"

"Great! We start-" wood whistled "-like this!"

What have I gotten myself into?

At least Buffy started off easy on her. And Willow knew it was easy; she'd seen Buffy and Giles go at it, dust flying, bruises rising, and the occasional innocent piece of furniture paying the price. This was way less intense. Though no less serious; swing, block, parry, and Buffy would stop to point out what she needed to fix. Over and over, to the point that when Buffy finally parried her all the way into the shallows of the creek for a few more strikes-

"Careful, it's slippery, but you need to see what treacherous ground is like before something corners you someplace bad…."

-Willow was actually happy to have cold water doused over her. Sparring with Buffy was hard. And seeing that ultra-cool parti-colored hairstyle go limp in a splash was - well, fun.

"Yes! Exactly!" Buffy cheered. "Use what's around you to distract your opponent… Wills?"

Droplets were glittering on her hands with more than water. "Huh? Oh, sorry… I was looking up Sunnydale history, to see if there might be any more trapped bad guys like the Master around. Did you know Sunnydale was founded by gold miners? And - well, look."

Buffy held her fingers, turning her hand to catch golden glints of sun. "Oh." Blue-green eyes lit. "Oh, yeah…."

Willow swallowed, feeling a little funny. "It's probably iron pyrite, there's lots of that around-"

"No," Buffy said confidently, with a strange, quiet excitement. "No, I've seen placer gold before."

Willow's eyes widened. "You have?"

"Sixteenth century," Buffy said, sounding more herself. "Japanese museum… stuff." Lunging, she hugged Willow, wet shirt and all. "You? You are great!"

"Erk?" And why was her heart beating faster, and her hands kind of tingly?

Still close, Buffy dropped her a wink, and surreptitiously scooped up a handful of water. "Somebody needs to cool down," she murmured.

Willow added up fighting girls, wet shirts, and a marked absence of a certain person who should have been here by now, and whirled with hands full of cold creek. "Xander!"

The salivating boy didn't stand a chance.

"Panning for gold," Joyce muttered as she headed down the hall toward bed. "Well, better playing around like that than at a club."

"Playing around," Buffy muttered, eyeing her small bag of glittering flecks. "I wish."

Yukimura sighed privately. Even more than the Scoobies' easy acceptance of the "new hairstyle", Joyce's obliviousness was a two-edged sword. Her indifference to her daughter's changed appearance made the opening steps of their plan easier, to be sure - but it cut deep. Even when his father had sent him away as a hostage to the Uesugi clan, he'd known the man cared. :The flakes are good quality. There's potential for a productive mine, or at least good panning.:

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that a samurai knows about gold mines," Buffy said wryly. "Don't you think it's a little convenient, finding this right by the forest?"

:The forest might have been looking for gold-laced earth,: Yukimura answered honestly. :There were many mines on the edge of Aokigahara. And samurai or not, I was lord of Sanada. Without mines, how would we have paid our warriors, our townsmen, our crafters? Bravery and skill may win battles, but it's not enough to win wars. You need resources. Food, salt, steel; the silks and fine arts to make clear your status to others, so they will choose to ally with you. Or at least, choose not to ally against you.: He dropped her a mental wink. :I love your hearing.:

"Comes with the Slayer package," Buffy shrugged, adding the katana and hairpin to her usual preparations for a night on patrol. "Sometimes I wish I could have skipped it."

:And this… faint sense of beings, and certain objects?:

Buffy tensed. "Thought I was imagining it." She shook her head. "I don't know. Giles says the Slayer's supposed to be able to sense vampires, and other uglies. I never really have. Most of the time, I end up finding them with my keen fashion sense."

:Whatever works,: Yukimura agreed. And hesitated. :Kyo was born of Mibu. And when Muramasa demonstrated the true Mizuchi, he told Kyo to feel with all six senses.:

If she were any more taut, she would have snapped like a cut bowstring. But Buffy deliberately relaxed her muscles, and swallowed. "I don't know. I just… don't know." Her voice dropped. "I feel like I don't know anything anymore."

Which was why she was avoiding Angel, Yukimura knew. Her sense of smell was better since Halloween - and it told them clear as dawn that a tang of blood and green laced through her scent like lightning. If the vampire smelled that… well, the results might not be pretty. :Welcome to the life of a clan lord. You know enough to realize how much you don't know, and you have to carry on anyway.:

"Well, I know one thing." Buffy tucked the flakes into her pocket. "We've got to make things right with that guy at Bell, Book, and Taper."

:It's the honorable thing to do,: Yukimura agreed. :But recall what stock he carries. Be careful?:

"Hey, it's me," Buffy grinned, heading out the window. "I'll be just as careful as you would."

:Now I know how Saizo felt, watching over me as chief of the Sanada Ten,: Yukimura said dryly. :I'm awful at being careful.:

Giggling quietly, Buffy ran down the shadowed streets.

A quick lone patrol and a few stakings later, she was outside the shop. Buffy swallowed hard. This is so not going to be fun.

:Technically, I am the one who wronged him,: Yukimura admitted. :So I should make amends.:

The Slayer slumped with relief. Yeah, but I thought you didn't want people knowing you didn't go poof when Ethan's spell did?

:Well… do you mind if I pretend to be you?:

Buffy stifled a snort of laughter, and gave him a thumbs-up. Go for it.

Yukimura stretched, reacquainting himself with the feel of flesh and bone. Oh, the night felt good.…

Something tingled, just at the edge of perception. Like lightning, and longing, and a breath of flowers on the slope of Hell. It was almost… familiar.

:Inside the shop?: Buffy wondered.

"Interesting," Yukimura murmured. And smiled in pure mischief. "Shall we indulge our curiosity?"

:You sure you're a dragon? I think you're a cat.:

"Dragons are far more curious," Yukimura informed her with a grin, "because they have a better chance of surviving the consequences."

Her chuckle warming him, Yukimura pushed through the door.

Gods damn it, I need more chains.

Tom slammed the door to his mystically-secure storeroom, shutting away the sight of a chained steel chest shivering with anger on the floor. If it weren't for the near guarantee of two interested and very wealthy buyers vying for that particular item, he'd never have gone near the cursed thing.

Of course, whichever buyer won out, the other would be unhappy. But the two separate hosts of snakes in suits had their own deal, and both had more class than to take out private disappointments on good suppliers. Easier for each side to just add little incentives to the pot along with cash; as his L.A. contact had the other day, a little lagniappe to deal with unpleasant customers in an even more unpleasant fashion. Though that piece of spelled paper wouldn't help a bit with his current acquisition. The steel might be alive enough to have a soul - or so history said - but it didn't have blood to be controlled.

But a profit was a profit, and for all its fearsome reputation, the artifact could be chained. Long enough to sell it, at least. At which point it would no longer be his problem. Though it might be the Slayer's….

The Slayer, who was standing right inside his front door.

Hell.

"Evening," she nodded, parti-colored hair brushing over her simple white top. "We didn't meet under very good circumstances. I was possessed, you were almost eaten… could we start over?"

Tom snorted. "Like you think I'd let a deadbeat start over-"

The Slayer set down a small plastic bag on his counter, knotted at the corner to hold a grape-sized shimmer of gold flecks.

"…That's not nearly enough to cover it."

"Water-panned, by a virgin, with the river's spirit correctly propitiated," the Slayer said bluntly. "That's far more valuable for your customers than the mere weight of metal."

Huh. And word on the street had it that the current Slayer was stupid. California blonde born and bred, after all; how bright could she be? Her Watcher probably told her what to say. Can't hurt to humor her a little. "It's a start," Tom said grudgingly. "Maybe we can come to an arrangement."

In fact, it might not hurt to humor her at all. Not him, at least. Especially if- "We can draw up terms for repayment," Tom went on, trying not to sound too eager as he reached into a drawer for one particular piece of apparently blank paper. He jotted down a rough estimate of the items taken, and pushed it across the counter. "Sign here." Oh yes. The L.A. firm would pay him a hefty finder's fee for this. Dead Slayers were easy; kill all you wanted, another would be Called. Fates worse than death, though….

She wasn't in front of the counter.

"Don't move." Her voice was even, as steel kissed the pulse of his throat. "What's spelled into the paper?"

"Nothing!" The hell? L.A. did good work; nothing human should be able to detect the curse. Not even a Slayer.

The pressure increased. "Then why don't you sign first?"

Tom froze. Slayers didn't kill humans. But this Slayer didn't seem to care. Yet if he backed down now, his shop was history; one thing to let William the Bloody rob the joint, but a teenage girl?

If all else fails, his contact had said, bleed on the paper.

He swiped the sheet at his neck.

As the Slayer leapt away and bloodstained paper squirmed under his skin, Tom had one moment of I should have sold straight to the Mayor-

Pain.

:Okay, general rule of slaying?: Buffy quipped as Yukimura backed up. :Writhing bodies on the floor, bad.:

Wide-eyed, Yukimura nodded. What's happening? How can we help him?

:This is where I grab Giles and point him at the books,: Buffy admitted. :But we are not giving that guy mouth-to-mouth.:

Bone cracked as the body convulsed. Flesh shredded, serpentine jaws gaping in a high-pitched screech.

:Oh, no way.:

A waterwyrm? Yukimura felt chill, recalling Shinrei of the Five Stars, and the Mibu power that would eat out a heart.

Looked more like a xenomorph to her. Which was impossible, they were just movies-

Then again, so were vampires. :Smash it!:

Another, stronger screech; blood froze in her veins. She felt Yukimura trying to move, and getting exactly nowhere.

Like the overwhelming aura of fury around the darkest Mibu creations, the samurai forced through the chill, staring as the alien-demon gobbled the corpse with impossible speed, growing and expanding with every heartbeat. Sucking in the very heat of our life. I can't - I'm trying-

:Not human. My job!: Buffy surged forward.

F-feels like I froze solid….

A frozen Slayer was a dead Slayer. Seizing her sword-hilt, she moved.

When in doubt, decapitate.

The blood-red creature's neck flowed back together, a web-work of black runes dripping orange blood. It bared crystalline fangs as her katana hissed and melted away. "Masters sent me for sword," came the inhuman hiss. "Steel can't harm!" Contemptuously, the now man-sized demon swiped a claw-full of orange blood from its neck, and threw-

She almost dodged.

Oh god it burns….

Left arm limp and smoking, Buffy dodged the snap of inner jaws, grabbed one taloned arm and twisted behind it-

Tail!

Impact slashed a bloody gash down her ribs, almost sent her into the wall. But whatever the thing was, it hadn't counted on Slayer strength. She kept her grip on the furnace-hot carapace, almost tearing its right arm free of its socket. Orange blood spurted.

:I think we're going to need a haircut,: Yukimura quipped as she ducked, a fine mist of acid catching the edges of her hair.

A clawed foot hit her unwounded side, breaking something as it slammed her across the shop into a glass case of straw dolls and jet monster-carvings.

Get up, Buffy told herself through the haze of glass and pain, the freezing fear as the demon hissed closer. Get up, or you're dead!

:N-not samurai, not Mibu,: Yukimura managed, fighting the ice in their souls beside her. :How can it do this?:

It's a demon. They don't play fair. And if it weren't for the white heat of the Slayer inside, she would be frozen. Easy prey. Just the way demons liked.

Get up!

Stinging drool drizzled onto her brow, slipped nettle-prickles down her cheek. Claws cut red lines down her screaming left arm. Chill raced toward her heart, struck that flicker of angry heat-

The world went white.

I can't see.

I'm dead if I can't see.

She didn't feel dead. More like… the down-blast of air before a summer storm. The first wisp of crimson on a rosebud. The odd, heady rush of strength, after Xander had pulled her back from death.

Something's changed. Something's new.

The world crashed back in, pain and acid-tainted air and a demon flinging its long head back, shrieking, black runes flaring on its neck. "Sword. Feed later. Must get… sword!"

Dark as a scab, it raced into the back of the shop.

:Stay still,: Yukimura advised, as locks screeched and snapped a room away. :Breathe… gods, how do we kill that thing?:

Thought I'd try violence. Buffy gritted her teeth and shifted in the shards of plate glass, all too aware of how easy it would be to slice an artery. Steel won't kill it, acid for blood eats metal, stake probably wouldn't hold up much longer….

Glittering fragments cascaded to the floor, and her eyes narrowed.

:Here it comes!:

She ducked and rolled, shoulder screaming, as a long steel chest sailed through the air ahead of the creature. Bounced back up, leading with a punch to crystalline teeth as the chest smashed open behind her.

Crack.

Inner jaws hanging through its outer teeth, the demon gurgled and slashed at her.

Hands gripping glass, she slashed back. Whole talons, weak arm, tail-

Too fast!

Yukimura seized her perceptions, and the world slowed. :Sekireigan. It won't last long!:

Buffy slid under the tail blade, razor edge parting floating strands of hair. Slashed the bladed end off, twirling away from the slow spray of acid. Cut into what passed for its spine, inches deep; glass melting and blunting, but not nearly as fast as steel.

:Pity it doesn't have eyes.:

And how. Buffy drove the last smoking shard into its hip joint. Feeling time trickle away, she sprinted for more glass-

Tripped over shattered steel, and fell in an agonizing tangle.

:The chest moved!:

Or something in the chest had moved… forget it, push off the floor to her knees, stand. Try to stand.

Limping after her, the demon hissed a laugh, left talons snatching up something long and black. "Masters would want the little spirit… but they ordered steel. You lose!" Black flashed down-

Still on one knee, her hands slapped together.

:Blade-catch!:

Black steel rang, drinking blood from every cut and gash in her skin. Familiar black, angry and wild as a thunderstorm.

"Shibien," Buffy breathed with Yukimura, reaching out to the soul of that familiar, cursed blade. "Shibien!"

The demon strained against her and the Muramasa blade, screeching. "Kill spirit! Kill!"

:Sasuke Sarutobi's blade?: Yukimura said dryly. :I don't think so.:

"Been a while," Buffy gasped, feeling acid-etched muscles tremble, threatening to give way. "Don't suppose you've got a charge left?"

Her hands slipped. The demon lunged-

Shibien rang.

Sparks kissed her hair as Buffy rolled clear, fountained from black steel to arc over the demon like trapped thunderbolts.

Which, of course, was exactly what they were.

Charred talons crumbled, dropping Shibien to the floor. The demon swayed.

Gritting her teeth, Buffy seized the banana-shaped head in both hands, and twisted.

"Usually I'd say something cool about now," the Slayer panted, gathering up Shibien's sheath as the demon's body went limp. "Can't think of anything."

:Blood loss,: Yukimura observed. :And shock. We need help.:

"First things first." Buffy crouched by the black blade. Kneeling might have been more polite, but if she went down, she had a bad feeling she might not get up again. "I'm not Sasuke. I'm not asking you to work with me, or even like me - though I'd like that, honest. But Yukimura-san is here, and I'm an ally of Sanada. And if you let me take you with us, Shibien, I promise we'll find Sasuke."

Black steel ceased trembling. Lay still, innocent as a Muramasa blade could.

Which, granted, wasn't much.

"Thanks," Buffy breathed, and sheathed Shibien. Turned-

The demon's body was gone.

Something breached her maai, and she whirled.

Shibien's sheath smashed a pigeon-sized spider of blood out of mid-air. It rained down as acid across the floor, dead, but there was another and another-

A crossbow bolt shot one down, and an obsidian dagger sliced through the third.

"Hr'gei'grah demons have an unpleasant form of limited abiogenesis," Giles said in the doorway, out of breath. "Each dead drone melts into three infective blood-spiders. Unscrupulous and shortsighted greater demons sometimes trap them in cursed items as a sort of gag gift, or to deliver an unmistakable message. Though either practice is rather frowned on, given every one in a thousand spiders throws a queen instead of a drone, and then any sane being has to set off an unplanned mystical explosion…." Behind glass, his eyes widened. "Good lord, Buffy!"

"I'd say it looks worse than it is, but I think I'd be lying," Buffy managed, wobbling as Giles wrapped his coat around her. "How'd you-?"

"I meant to speak with the shopkeeper," the Watcher replied. "Though I believe some of my questions have been answered. Let's get you out of here."

"No!" Buffy exploded. No, not after all this. I can't….

:I agree,: Yukimura stated. :But he's right as well; we're about to fall over.: He reached forward. "I'll sit in the car, if you loot the place."

"Er, what?"

"He attacked me when I was trying to make amends, Giles," Yukimura stated. "He meant for that demon to use me as its host. What else has he got in here? You're the mystical expert. Strip the place of anything that might be of use to us. Cash included."

Buffy nudged him. :The plan, remember?:

Yukimura nodded. "And don't forget the tea."

Bringing in the last load from his overworked car, Rupert Giles heard his shower shut off. He set his packages down and braced for the confrontation to come, mentally counting his blessings that while Buffy might casually toss bloody clothes in the wash, she drew the line at leaving acid-soaked clothing for her mother to stumble over. Far better to have this discussion here, on his territory, than in the library with potential innocent onlookers. He hoped.

A Muramasa.

The bloodthirsty blade of legend rested quietly on one of his small tables. Not stirring, inciting bloodlust, or dragging his unwilling hand toward it to kill. It was… unnerving.

Almost as unnerving as what Buffy had reported of the fight before he arrived. A Hr'gei'grah drone demon, hidden within paper and mystically bound to seek out the very blade Buffy had claimed. Somewhere out there was a being of great power who was very unhappy indeed.

Great power, and a taste for both cruelty and overkill, Giles thought uneasily. Given the shopkeeper's invoices point toward business dealing with L.A., and the number listed under "Lawyer"….

He was very, very glad they'd torched the shop before they left. For safety's sake, to incinerate any remaining traces of the demon - but it would also render any traces of Buffy mystically unusable. Historically, Wolfram and Hart had better sense than to meddle directly with a Hellmouth. Still, there was always a first time.

Tell the Council we got lucky and burned the building down with the drone in it, and let them put pressure where they can, Giles decided. We'll have to hide certain things when the representative visits, but if they somehow got word there had been a Hr'gei'grah here and we didn't inform them - I've no desire to deal with any of the various hair-trigger mercenaries the Council might send to burn things down and investigate. Likely in that order.

"So, did the demon rip off the movies, or what?"

And here was the more immediate problem. "I believe Scott and his associates stumbled across an old Watcher's training guide, and toned the creature down a bit to give their protagonists a fighting chance," Giles stated, turning.

Oh my.

Cherry wood glowed in wet black and gold, just a little brighter than ambient light could account for. Stray droplets of water dampened the white and blue Aikido outfit he'd kept here for just such emergencies; the loose fit of sleeves and hakama allowed for far easier bandaging than the usual California skintight gear, and "martial arts practice" could cover a multitude of odd injuries. Not to mention, given what he suspected - well, at least she looked comfortable wearing it.

Though comfortable certainly didn't account for the odd clutch at his heart. The Slayer always had a sense of presence, more than ordinary humans, but this… this was a pull he could feel in his bones. Moth to flame. Desert-dried traveler to water. Exhausted student-Watcher to the gleam of the perfect blade.

Deliberately, Giles hardened his will against that pull, and gestured her over to his table and still-open first aid kit. "Let me see that arm again."

"What, you didn't smear enough junk on it last time?" But blue-green eyes crinkled in a wry smile, as she let him push back her left sleeve. "Pretty ugly, huh?"

"If you weren't the Slayer, you wouldn't have an arm," Giles said bluntly, lifting the edge of the wrappings just enough to view healing raw muscle. "Hr'gei'grah demons have killed very few Slayers, historically; but only because those who summon them usually use them only against other demons. Sending one to deal with a human - cluster bomb on an anthill comes to mind."

"Somebody wanted Shibien in a bad way," Buffy noted. "Any way we can make it look like he was lost in the fire?"

More evidence, did he need any, of how much things had changed since Halloween. "There are odd trace elements in the steel of a Muramasa that make it very hard to duplicate," Giles informed her. "They also make it hard to locate, mystically or otherwise. Indeed, one reason they're sought by creatures who may have far more lethal magic at their command is their effect of acting as a natural shield against scrying. Normally, a Muramasa can only be found by chance, or following rumors… or the trail of dead bodies…." Right. Not helping. "If I mention to certain persons that it seemed a wild-eyed mercenary had spirited… him… out of town, heading for the Mexican border…."

Buffy gave him a thumbs-up. "Good plan." Her smile turned thoughtful. "So what's wrong? Demon dead, good guys alive - I'm guessing that shopkeeper was not one of the good guys - seems like a good night."

This won't be easy. "Buffy… would you sit down?"

"Good idea," she admitted, sinking into one of his more comfortable chairs. "I keep thinking I've got it handled - okay, I hurt like three rounds with the Master, but I'm walking - and then all the little blood cells that aren't there anymore yell at me, and everything goes kind of fuzzy at the edges."

"Rest and fluids," Giles advised, sitting down across from her. "Buffy… historically, on rare occasions, a Slayer or her Watcher have been turned by vampires, or infected by other creatures. A Slayer's senses are usually sufficient to identify the danger, but a Watcher is not so fortunate. We have to rely on other means." Don't hesitate. You may not get a second chance. "Ethan's spell broke, so I didn't think to check until after you called on All Saint's; and when I did, you were still acting as yourself. Still Slaying. Still protecting Willow and Xander. Still the girl I knew - though there were moments when someone quite different seemed to speak through you." Giles paused. "Did you know Anayama Kosuke is mentioned in my texts?"

"She is?" Buffy said in a very small voice.

"Onime no Kyo's death-feud with the Mibu made a rather bloody entry in certain secret annals," Giles said dryly. "It's not every century an entire clan of kami - very powerful kami, unlike any others the world has ever seen - perishes from the earth." He leaned back. "I have my suspicions of what happened. And why you might have kept silent. But from what I have found, all of Kyo's companions were honorable… if somewhat lethal to any less than innocent bystanders."

Buffy swallowed. "You tracked me to the shop?"

Giles smiled ruefully. "No. I went through the receipts Ethan left behind. He'd acquired some of his components from Bell, Book, and Taper; enough to warn me the owner was less than safe for anyone. You were there before?"

"On Halloween," Buffy admitted. "Only - not exactly me." She glanced down-

And with a subtle shift of posture, someone else entirely looked up. "Good evening, Giles-san." The parti-colored head inclined. "I am Yukimura Saemonnosuke Sanada, and I did not think history would speak kindly of me."

Oh, dear lord.

Yukimura eyed him. Waited. Raised a dark brow, and poked him.

"I say!"

"Buffy was wondering if we'd broken you," Yukimura said innocently. "I have other names, if that one is unfamiliar-"

"The Dragon of Blue Sky," Giles stated, dazed. "I have read of the greatest general of the demon clan, yes." A voiceless laugh. "Odd that Sanada should earn that name, when they were entirely human."

"Not all of us," Yukimura corrected. "One of my Ten, Sasuke Sarutobi, was a creation of Mibu. Though we only learned that much later." The samurai nodded at the Muramasa. "Shibien is his. Believe me, I'm not usually casual around those of Muramasa's forging."

"Is his?" Giles asked pointedly.

"Was. Will be, if certain promises are kept." A sigh. "This is difficult. In part, because neither I nor Buffy knows quite what she has become. You called the Mibu kami?"

"So history claims," Giles agreed. "Supernatural powers, neither human nor demon. Though closer to human than most, from what I can determine. Some say there are humans with their blood even today."

"Do they?" Yukimura chuckled. "Kyo and Yuya must have been busy."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

"After Kyo was born, the Mibu had no more children," Yukimura informed him. "It's part of why he was considered a curse on the clan. Though Muramasa said it was simply time for the Mibu to fade, and humans to take back their own destiny." A frown. "Yet I'm told Kyo lives, and we - I think we are very like what the Mibu once were. Which makes no sense."

"It might," Giles interrupted, hours of research and what he'd now heard combining into a coherent whole. "Mystical energies tend to ebb and swell in cycles. Many creatures, even demons, died or fled our dimension between the fourteenth and nineteenth century. In the past fifty years, though, things have been more active, magically speaking."

"Refugia," Yukimura said thoughtfully. Glanced up at the Watcher's frown. "It's a word Buffy learned in Biology, before the She-Mantis killed her teacher. If the environment changes, a species may be forced to retreat into the very fringes of its range, hoping to survive until conditions improve. Like the gingko trees at Chinese temples. And now we plant them everywhere."

"Quite," Giles agreed, after a moment to shake off the image of Mibu planted like sidewalk trees. Too many midnight to six research sessions. You're not as young as you used to be. "So long as one Mibu lived, the mystical force they are part of could survive as well, even if it had to sleep to preserve itself." He hesitated. "I don't suppose you know what that force might be?"

Yukimura let out a slow breath. "I am wary of telling you. But Buffy believes you will not act rashly. And she wants very much for me to trust you." A slight shrug. "According to what we met, the heart of Mibu power comes from Aokigahara."

Giles frowned. "It sounds vaguely familiar. What is it, exactly?"

Eyes alight with mischief, Yukimura grinned.

"Demon forest… trees that needle you, strangle you, suck out your blood, set you on fire…." Spike raised a brow at the printout of an old Japanese painting that Dalton had found, a body writhing in burning cherry blossoms. "Not to mention, play Twister with your head so you can't find your way in or out."

"A playground, with swings and bones and blood," Drusilla sang happily. "All for us." She pouted. "But it looks to the Slayer first. Change that, Spike? Please?"

"Anything for you, love. But it's going to take some planning." In-bloody-deed. Word on the demon side of the street had it that a whole secret bureau of the Japanese government was devoted to containing Aokigahara. Given the miko and spell-casting Buddhist priests they had on call, that was some serious mystical firepower. "And Yukimura?"

Dalton quivered. "I couldn't find a girl Yukimura, but there was a Yukimura Sanada who was killed by Tokugawa forces in 1614."

"Cross-dresser?" Spike exclaimed, flipping through Dalton's printout.

"That's what some of the books say," the scholarly vampire agreed. "There's one story about Yukimura fighting his way up through the final round of a ronin tournament dressed like a girl. Just so he could get close enough to try to kill Ieyasu."

Spike looked up. "And then he burned the bugger's palace down?"

"You… didn't read that part yet…."

"Didn't have to. He told me, on Halloween." Spike smirked. "First blush, I'd say this is our bloke."

"Uh-oh," Dalton gulped.

"We've had a Slayer in town longer than you've been undead, and now you worry?" Spike said archly.

Dalton started to speak, stopped, shook his head, and pointed to the printout. "Page eight."

Brow lifted, Spike flipped through paper and read. Blinked, and read again. "With a fishing pole?" He whistled. "Damn, why couldn't someone have turned this man… what?"

Lucius had wandered in, plastic cooler in his arms and a confused look on his face. "It was left behind the Bronze."

To Spike, was on the envelope taped to the cooler. Spike plucked it loose, sniffed it for any obvious tampering - Lucius should have done that already, but you could never tell with minions - and opened it.

Spike,

Sorry I had to take out your friend's tea supplier. The guy tried to pull a Hr'gei'grah demon on me, and it backfired. Eww.

Don't worry, it's dead, and so are the three little scuttlers it melted into. Just giving you a heads-up in case someone wants you to sign a suspicious piece of paper. Secret government types invoking a Yautja demon to wipe out a nest or just dropping a bomb on Sunnydale does neither of us any good.

Uesugi Kenshin said, "I make war with swords, not salt." I think that goes for tea, too. With luck, there's enough of whatever kind your friend likes to last until you can find another shop.

The note wasn't signed. It didn't have to be. Warily, Spike opened the cooler.

Tea it was.

"Samurai sends us an apple of gold, all wrapped in pretty spider-webs." Drusilla swayed to his side, trailing fingers down his arm. "You'd burn them if I asked, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, Pet," Spike said lightly, trying to fit this together with what he knew of the Slayer. It didn't quite scan.

"Some of my best friends have been demons."

"Love," he said gently, looking into those pretty, mad blue eyes. "Is Yukimura still hanging about?"

"Tangled with the trees… is it time for tea?" Drusilla blinked at him, slow and wan.

"Why not." Picking one of her favorites, Spike headed for their teapot, thinking. What on earth is the Slayer up to?

Not that it could matter, not while he was working toward Dru's cure. But after….

He'd killed two Slayers. Best to take his time and do his homework on this one, to make sure good things came in threes.

Notes and info:

Kagemusha - "shadow warrior", body double.

Maai - distance needed to strike. In SDK, great samurai create it by using their ki, and also use it to sense the presence of opponents. Only an "innocent infant", or another great samurai, should be able to breach maai unnoticed. Yukimura Sanada is one of the few who's ever done that to Demon Eyes Kyo.

The fishing pole - A gang of assassins once attacked Yukimura while he was unarmed. Or so they thought.