A/N: This continues on from the last chapter. Basically the same day. Just to sort out confusion that may arise from that. Thank you for your time. Oh yeah, and the spell is what I made up. Total rubbish the lot of it, so please don't complain if it doesn't make sense. Sorry about the wait.

Disclaimer: Blah blah not mine yadda yadda Joss's blah blah don't take the few things I own yadda yadda don't sue.

Dedication: My sibling, Stormz, who gave me the Latin references. Confused? Read on.

********************************************************************************

The vampire Zachary paced angrily around the abandoned warehouse, eventually stalking over to the table that the hooded person sat cross-legged on. Apart from their low, chanting voice, the place was completely silent. All the other vampires had gone out as soon as darkness fell.

"This had better work, Ambulo Mortuus." Zachary growled, halting in front of them. "If you fail..."

Ambulo Mortuus finished the chanting and began to light each of the twelve large black candles forming the ring around where they were seated. "Don't doubt me, Zachary, my powers extend to regions you cannot dream of. All that I worry about is if your vampires can follow their orders."

When all the candles were lit, Ambulo Mortuus crushed the sprig of foxglove in its long white hand and let the powder fall into the glass beaker in front of them. Zachary found himself unwillingly fascinated by the process of the spell as the spectre-like being added liberal amounts of belladonna. The mixture fizzed violently before changing to a black coloured, bubbling mixture.

Then Ambulo Mortuus began the incantation, speaking in a hissing ancient language that Zachary didn't understand. Purely from the tone he could tell that this was harmful, malicious black magick- just what was needed. One of those pale hands brought out a small square of black plastic-like material, the sort of thing you might find on a punch bag. It held it above the bubbling potion, and carried on chanting for a short moment before dropping it in.

The liquid sparked and swirled, turning dark red in the process. Trendrils of black and mauve smoke began to wisp off of it. Zachary's amber eyes were riveted as each of the flames flickered a sickly green. Suddenly, clarity dawned on him and he finally understood what Ambulo Mortuus was saying.

"May ill-fortune and pain come upon her and those she holds dear," Ambulo Mortuus was chanting. "May she become weak and sorrowful, may she be struck down."

Ambulo Mortuus cupped those hands around the glass beaker and lifted it above the green flame of the largest candle, the candle directly in front of where it sat. The flames turned the darkest black possible as Ambulo Mortuus shouted the last words to complete the hex.

"So mote it be!"

The flames were immediately and simultaneously doused.
********************************************************************************

Keisha twisted the crucifix in her hand nervously. "So, how exactly do we kill vampires?"

Gracia patiently launched into explanation for the fifth time. "Just drive a wooden stake through their heart. But they don't like crucifixes, holy water, sunlight, stuff like that. So if you just show them the cross, they'll be driven back. OK?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"That's alright." Gracia smiled and glanced at Luke, who was walking on her other side. "Do you understand?"

Luke looked up from the large bottle of holy water he was carrying, obviously coming out of a trance of fairly deep thought. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

Gracia was about to say something in reply when they all heard a noise as somebody tall stepped in front of them. Gracia and Luke tensed themselves for battle, when suddenly Keisha exclaimed, "Angel! Don't do that!"

Gracia blinked and looked closer, then lowered the stake in her hand. "Heck, watch out! You should know not to creep up on people when they're on patrol."

Angel winced slightly at the definate worry that had appeared in her voice, then hoped that they hadn't seen that. "Sorry Gracey."

"Yeah," Luke joked, although there wasn't as much humor in his voice as usual. "You could end up impaled on the wrong end of a stake."

Gracia bit her tongue to keep it from speaking until the urge to do so passed. Angel broke the somewhat awkward silence.

"You going to the graveyard?"

She looked at him for a moment then smiled. "Yeah. The twins are showing me where it is. I think there could be some 'new arrivals' tonight and we're gonna welcome them in true Sunnydale style."

The graveyard wasn't really that far, and the two-minute walk to it passed in relative silence. Gracia's Slayer senses were working overtime, listening out for any possible movement or noise. Luke and Angel were equally as alert, but all Keisha could think about (no matter how hard she tried to ignore it) was how she was standing next to Angel. They worked their way through the network of headstones to just about the middle of the place when a noise from the group's left made them turn. Gracia drew the stake out from her jacket again and paced slowly closer. She disappeared into the shadows for a second before a guy flew into view, striking his head hard on a marble gravemarker as he landed.

He was dark-haired, gold-eyed and complete with a vampiric mask. He rose giddily, shook his head to clear his swimming view, and suddenly realised that he was facing two powerless sixteen-year-olds. If he could just make them abandon their weapons and ward off the approaching Slayer, he'd have a free meal.

He wasn't counting on the yet-unseen guy behind him. Angel swung his clenched fist at the back of the enemy's head, and he was thrown by sheer force over the headstone and into another. He yelled out, "Back-up!" just before Gracia staked him and he crumbled to dust.

All around them, figures started to move. As they came into the moonlight, the four saw their vampiric faces, saw their fighting stances, saw their fierce expressions. Gracia and Angel both backed up closer to Keisha and Luke. Luke swore softly as he realised just how hopelessly outnumbered they were. About a hundred to one. Not good.

The vampires had encircled them unnoticed, and now began to close in on them. The quartet formed a circle, facing outwards, ready to fight. There was a moment's lull, silence once again reigning.

Then the vampires charged in, and the Slayer, the souled vampire, and the twins all ran outwards to meet them.

Chaos was the order for the next ten minutes. Vampires staggered back from the crucifix and holy water, only to find themselves, to quote Luke, 'impaled on the wrong end of a stake', weilded by either the Slayer or her brother.

Keisha found herself knocked down from behind and banged her head against the ground. As she rose slightly, her unsteady gaze was drawn to somebody standing in the shadows smoking. She peered at them confusedly and they stared back. Then they nodded slightly to indicate that she should look behind her. She obeyed and found a fang-bearing guy about to bite. With a startled scream, she shoved the crucifix so close to his face that it began to burn immediately. After a shocked second, he staggered upright and back, clutching the wound, and straight onto a stake. When Keisha looked back, the person had gone.

Eventually, only eleven were left, with a severely burnt twelfth. They exchanged a glance, then ran as fast as they could. Gracia flopped down against a headstone, exhausted. After a moment, she looked up at Angel (who had his back to the three teenagers) with raised eyebrows.

"You OK?"

Angel was sure to remove all traces of his vampire face before he turned. "Sure. Keisha? Luke?"

"Yeah, we're good." Luke replied. He held out the now empty glass bottle of holy water towards Gracia. "You want this back?"

"Nah. You can keep it." Gracia smiled wryly. "Consider it a souvenir."

And all the while they were still being watched.

********************************************************************************

When Gracia slipped into the dark kitchen via the back door, she silently congratulated herself for entering unnoticed. From the living room came muffled sounds of the television playing and a conversation between her parents. This room only had the sound of Scrappy's dreaming snuffles from the corner to break the quiet. Success.

The light flipped on as she shut the door gently.

Damn.

Brianna was standing there in her scruffy pyjamas, an eyebrow arched at her elder sister.

Double damn.

"You're late back," she said softly. "Did Mum and Dad even know you were going out? I thought they said you were writing some essay and couldn't be disturbed."

"Of course they knew," Gracia lied. She moved towards the table and sat casually on it, striving to act as normal as possible. "You really have to get over that issue of trying to get me permanently grounded."

Brianna shot her a suspicious glare before crossing the kitchen to a worktop, standing on tiptoe to open a high cupboard and pull out a glass. Gracia watched indifferently as she walked over to the sink and filled it from the cold tap. She turned slowly, carefully, and frowned at Gracia.

"What?"

Gracia shrugged. "Nothing."

Brianna started over to sit at the table, glass in right hand. When she was about halfway across, she began to say something when suddenly she shrieked.

Gracia let out a startled yell as Brianna's foot seem to collide with something and she tripped. The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion. The glass slipped from Brianna's grasp a fraction before she landed, smashed on the tiles and water ran across them. Brianna landed heavily on her right forearm.

The Slayer instincts finally kicked in as she leapt off the table and rushed over to the girl, avoiding the fragment of shattered glass as she helped her to sit up safely. Strangely, she was not crying or holding a pained expression. Gracia was puzzled by her wide-eyed silence until she looked at her sister's right wrist as Brianna raised it.

A large piece of jagged, curved glass was embedded into the skin and blood was beginning to trickle down her arm. Brianna stared at it as though fasinated by the injury, whereas Gracia yelled again in shock.

"Mum! Dad!" she screamed, hurriedly running to grab a tea towel off of the worktop. "Come quick! Mum! Dad!"

Her parents rushed in, and their reactions to what had happened where similar to Gracia's. Scrappy awoke and started barking at the commotion.

"Call an ambulance, Mark," Mrs. McCormack said, joining her daughters on the floor. "What happened, Gracia?"

"She was carrying a glass and she tripped. It smashed and some got in her wrist."

Their mother took Brianna's arm and studied it, taking the tea towel from Gracia and using it to bind the limb further down the arm, in the hopes of slowing the bloodflow. "Brianna, honey, does it hurt?"

Brianna shook her head. "No." She looked up into their scared, worried faces confusedly. "What's the matter? That must mean that it's not in too deep, right? Just make sure Scrappy doesn't come close enough to cut himself on the glass."

"Brianna, if there's no pain, that's bad." Gracia said. "You might have cut a vein or something. But we'll get you to the hospital and it'll be OK."

Their father came in at that point, running a hand through his light hair agitatedly. "They say they'll be here in five minutes or so. Don't take out the glass yet or it might bleed worse."

Mrs. McCormack and Gracia both stood up and helped Brianna to her feet carefully as Mr. McCormack removed Scrappy to the living room.

"Come on honey," Mrs. McCormack soothed. "It'll be fine."

Her pale face told Gracia that she wasn't so sure.