2675, a few seconds later
"What are you doing here?" Ayledan advances smoothly into our suite. She is donned in pure white, enhancing the deep black depths of her eyes. Her voice is slightly accented as if her first language wasn't the international standard, and I realize she must have been plucked from obscurity by the Council and has likely never been to the learning institute.
Spike decides to play dumb, which he has never been particularly adept at doing. "Ummm. Who are you?" A memory flash of him faking a southern accent in the face of the Initiative soldiers hundreds of years ago enters my head, and I bite my lip to prevent inappropriate laughter.
Ayledan ignores his question and glares at me. "What are you doing here, Miss Summers?"
Spike and I exchange a wary glance. How does she know who I am? I read the message in his eyes. He's telling me that we can't take her alone. . . not with her genetic enhancements. I make a decision. Best to talk to the slayer.
"Looking for you actually," I declare, tilting my head slightly and crossing my arms in response to her fighter's stance.
"I can't believe you'd show yourselves here."
Obviously switching tactics, Spike clears his throat, and Ayledan trains her gaze on him for the first time. "We're here to talk with you about something really important. A demon uprising on Earth." He gestures at her stake. "So, if you could just put that away, we could all have a nice civil conversation."
What Ayledan does next unnerves me, and not much does that anymore. Pocketing the stake, she shrugs her shoulders, betraying her youth. "Okay. I'll bite, William the Bloody." She pivots and re-enters the transport area. "You guys coming?"
Spike and I exchange another bewildered look before Spike warily takes a step to follow her. My senses on high alert, I keep my sights glued to the slayer who almost arrogantly has her back to us. . . an arrogance I don't believe I've ever possessed. Spike's arm brushes mine in a hint of reassurance; I provide him a tense smile in return.
Once the door is in place again, Ayledan says softly, "Mars, Colony One, Archway 536."
* * *
2675, ten minutes later
Ayledan leads the way through the twists and turns of a multitude of narrowing and widening corridors. The further we walk, the fewer living beings pass us going one direction or another and the dimmer the lighting becomes. Her head turning left and right and noting everything that moves around us, Ayledan is virtually acting as if Spike and I are not close on her heels.
Spike snags my hand and laces his fingers with mine so that our wristbands are touching. Between the familiar coolness of his touch and the pressure of his fingers surrounding mine, the butterflies in my stomach calm considerably. Instantly, he is in my head, talking to me. "Pet, do you have any idea how she knew we were here?"
I shake my head, and Spike glares at my movement. I wince, and a second later, he is rubbing my palm with his thumb in apology. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I mentally telegraph, "No. I have no idea. Perhaps we're about to find out. Got a plan?"
"That's mostly your department, love."
"Oh ho, and who thought of the brilliant plan to come to Mars?" I shoot back, digging my fingernails into his flesh until he flinches.
"Well, who bloody well agreed to it?"
"You coerced me!"
"Uh huh. Like Buffy Summers could be coerced into anything." He pushes his fingernail into one of my cuticles, and I almost jerk my hand away at the shot of pain.
"I hate it when you do that!"
"Do what?"
"Call me Buffy Summers like I'm not even here!" We've had this kind of argument many times before. . . usually when one or both of us feels like we don't have control of our situation.
"You never said anything about it before!"
"Well, there you go! It *bothers* me! Got it?"
"Fine! I won't call you bloody *anything* until you tell me what you'd like me to call you, your highness."
"Fine!" I draw a blank on an appropriate nickname in response.
A heartbeat passes. . . if we had a heartbeat.
"Buffy, we still don't have a plan." Spike's always been the one to break the ice. He waits until my eyes are on his.
Knowing the dangerousness of our situation, I attempt to calm myself. "I know. We should really have something in mind. How about. . . "
"Sodding!" Spike's exclamation in my head is magnified by the word actually being spoken aloud. Then, our mental connection is severed.
Spike and I tumble forward into Ayledan who has stopped abruptly. We crash to the ground. Ayledan hops to her feet and brushes herself off, giving us an odd look. I suppose she expected more grace out of famed warriors, Buffy Summers and William the Bloody. If I were alive, I'd be blushing furiously.
As Spike and I recover, Ayledan announces, "We're here. The slayer's hideaway on Mars." Spike and I notice the door that has seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Spike asks what I'm thinking, "So, why did you bring us here? Want to turn us in to the Council? To stake us? What?"
Ayledan's expression reveals a peaceful inner core that I've seen only in older adults and slayers. "If I wanted to turn you in to the Council, I would have simply called them here. They could handle you themselves." I detect the note of dislike in her voice when she speaks of the Council, and I file the information away in my head. "And if I wanted to stake you, I'd have done it as soon as you landed."
"How did you know we were coming?" I query, shifting a glance at Spike who has not removed his eyes from Ayledan. A tinge of jealousy shoots through my abdomen at Spike's obvious remaining interest in slayers.
Ayledan turns from us. "You're about to find out." She leans forward, whispering something in an unknown language. The door evaporates into nothing, and we file silently into the mysterious "hideaway."
The main entrance room is small, but there seems to be a couple of passageways to unknown places branching off the primary room. A lone table is the only furniture in the area, and four individuals are seated around it. They study us eagerly as we enter. My heart tugs a bit with a complex mix of feelings, ranging from nostalgia for Willow, Giles, Xander, and the others to a feeling of isolation and of being an outsider.
Ayledan positions herself to the side and proceeds to introduce Spike and me to the group. "This is Bandel, my Watcher." She notes our worry and assures us, "He's on the good side. . . like Giles, Buffy."
Bandel smiles and waves slightly. He is a middle-aged man with dirty blond hair and slim good looks. His eyes are kind and probably mask a knowledge beyond what I know about the demon world even after all these years. I've been fairly sheltered as demons go. . . by Spike, by my friends.
"Sage."
A petite young woman with mousy brown hair that is drawn up off her neck in loose curls smiles shyly at Spike and me. She is dressed in a light violet skirt that flowed to the floor and a matching top. "Hi, I'm the witch." Her voice betrays her youth, but her aura is full of a power that has been matched only by Willow. Funny the things one notices as a vampire.
Of most interest to me are the two others at the table. . . the unknowns.
"Richard." A tall, gangly young man with fair skin and piercing green eyes lounges against the back of his seat with his legs parted and bent in crooked fashion. The only thing inhuman about his appearance is the long fur-covered tail that swishes in and out and around the legs of his chair. "He's half-Torakal demon."
Spike nods knowingly to my left. Of course, I have no idea what a Torakal demon is.
Richard grins at the uncertainty that must be displayed on my face. "I've the ability to melt things with my touch." I now notice the gloves he's wearing. "Gotta wear the gloves to prevent that from happening when I don't want it to."
"Torakal demons have been around since before the days of vampires, love. They live quite a long time," Spike explains.
Richard's grin grows wider. "Yep. I'm now four hundred fifty- seven."
"Half-Torakal?" I wonder.
"My mom was human. She gave me a nice human name to blend me in."
Ayledan shifts, and we fall silent. "And last but not least, Miros."
Before my mind registers the name, Spike hurls across the room and pins Miros to the wall with his grip around the other vampire's wrists. "What the bloody hell is going on?"
TBC. . . 2675 still. . . notice that the passages are getting longer as we get closer to 3002. . . signifying Buffy's more recent memories being clearer and more detailed. . . Hope you're still enjoying!!! Thanks again for the lovely reviews! :o)
"What are you doing here?" Ayledan advances smoothly into our suite. She is donned in pure white, enhancing the deep black depths of her eyes. Her voice is slightly accented as if her first language wasn't the international standard, and I realize she must have been plucked from obscurity by the Council and has likely never been to the learning institute.
Spike decides to play dumb, which he has never been particularly adept at doing. "Ummm. Who are you?" A memory flash of him faking a southern accent in the face of the Initiative soldiers hundreds of years ago enters my head, and I bite my lip to prevent inappropriate laughter.
Ayledan ignores his question and glares at me. "What are you doing here, Miss Summers?"
Spike and I exchange a wary glance. How does she know who I am? I read the message in his eyes. He's telling me that we can't take her alone. . . not with her genetic enhancements. I make a decision. Best to talk to the slayer.
"Looking for you actually," I declare, tilting my head slightly and crossing my arms in response to her fighter's stance.
"I can't believe you'd show yourselves here."
Obviously switching tactics, Spike clears his throat, and Ayledan trains her gaze on him for the first time. "We're here to talk with you about something really important. A demon uprising on Earth." He gestures at her stake. "So, if you could just put that away, we could all have a nice civil conversation."
What Ayledan does next unnerves me, and not much does that anymore. Pocketing the stake, she shrugs her shoulders, betraying her youth. "Okay. I'll bite, William the Bloody." She pivots and re-enters the transport area. "You guys coming?"
Spike and I exchange another bewildered look before Spike warily takes a step to follow her. My senses on high alert, I keep my sights glued to the slayer who almost arrogantly has her back to us. . . an arrogance I don't believe I've ever possessed. Spike's arm brushes mine in a hint of reassurance; I provide him a tense smile in return.
Once the door is in place again, Ayledan says softly, "Mars, Colony One, Archway 536."
* * *
2675, ten minutes later
Ayledan leads the way through the twists and turns of a multitude of narrowing and widening corridors. The further we walk, the fewer living beings pass us going one direction or another and the dimmer the lighting becomes. Her head turning left and right and noting everything that moves around us, Ayledan is virtually acting as if Spike and I are not close on her heels.
Spike snags my hand and laces his fingers with mine so that our wristbands are touching. Between the familiar coolness of his touch and the pressure of his fingers surrounding mine, the butterflies in my stomach calm considerably. Instantly, he is in my head, talking to me. "Pet, do you have any idea how she knew we were here?"
I shake my head, and Spike glares at my movement. I wince, and a second later, he is rubbing my palm with his thumb in apology. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I mentally telegraph, "No. I have no idea. Perhaps we're about to find out. Got a plan?"
"That's mostly your department, love."
"Oh ho, and who thought of the brilliant plan to come to Mars?" I shoot back, digging my fingernails into his flesh until he flinches.
"Well, who bloody well agreed to it?"
"You coerced me!"
"Uh huh. Like Buffy Summers could be coerced into anything." He pushes his fingernail into one of my cuticles, and I almost jerk my hand away at the shot of pain.
"I hate it when you do that!"
"Do what?"
"Call me Buffy Summers like I'm not even here!" We've had this kind of argument many times before. . . usually when one or both of us feels like we don't have control of our situation.
"You never said anything about it before!"
"Well, there you go! It *bothers* me! Got it?"
"Fine! I won't call you bloody *anything* until you tell me what you'd like me to call you, your highness."
"Fine!" I draw a blank on an appropriate nickname in response.
A heartbeat passes. . . if we had a heartbeat.
"Buffy, we still don't have a plan." Spike's always been the one to break the ice. He waits until my eyes are on his.
Knowing the dangerousness of our situation, I attempt to calm myself. "I know. We should really have something in mind. How about. . . "
"Sodding!" Spike's exclamation in my head is magnified by the word actually being spoken aloud. Then, our mental connection is severed.
Spike and I tumble forward into Ayledan who has stopped abruptly. We crash to the ground. Ayledan hops to her feet and brushes herself off, giving us an odd look. I suppose she expected more grace out of famed warriors, Buffy Summers and William the Bloody. If I were alive, I'd be blushing furiously.
As Spike and I recover, Ayledan announces, "We're here. The slayer's hideaway on Mars." Spike and I notice the door that has seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Spike asks what I'm thinking, "So, why did you bring us here? Want to turn us in to the Council? To stake us? What?"
Ayledan's expression reveals a peaceful inner core that I've seen only in older adults and slayers. "If I wanted to turn you in to the Council, I would have simply called them here. They could handle you themselves." I detect the note of dislike in her voice when she speaks of the Council, and I file the information away in my head. "And if I wanted to stake you, I'd have done it as soon as you landed."
"How did you know we were coming?" I query, shifting a glance at Spike who has not removed his eyes from Ayledan. A tinge of jealousy shoots through my abdomen at Spike's obvious remaining interest in slayers.
Ayledan turns from us. "You're about to find out." She leans forward, whispering something in an unknown language. The door evaporates into nothing, and we file silently into the mysterious "hideaway."
The main entrance room is small, but there seems to be a couple of passageways to unknown places branching off the primary room. A lone table is the only furniture in the area, and four individuals are seated around it. They study us eagerly as we enter. My heart tugs a bit with a complex mix of feelings, ranging from nostalgia for Willow, Giles, Xander, and the others to a feeling of isolation and of being an outsider.
Ayledan positions herself to the side and proceeds to introduce Spike and me to the group. "This is Bandel, my Watcher." She notes our worry and assures us, "He's on the good side. . . like Giles, Buffy."
Bandel smiles and waves slightly. He is a middle-aged man with dirty blond hair and slim good looks. His eyes are kind and probably mask a knowledge beyond what I know about the demon world even after all these years. I've been fairly sheltered as demons go. . . by Spike, by my friends.
"Sage."
A petite young woman with mousy brown hair that is drawn up off her neck in loose curls smiles shyly at Spike and me. She is dressed in a light violet skirt that flowed to the floor and a matching top. "Hi, I'm the witch." Her voice betrays her youth, but her aura is full of a power that has been matched only by Willow. Funny the things one notices as a vampire.
Of most interest to me are the two others at the table. . . the unknowns.
"Richard." A tall, gangly young man with fair skin and piercing green eyes lounges against the back of his seat with his legs parted and bent in crooked fashion. The only thing inhuman about his appearance is the long fur-covered tail that swishes in and out and around the legs of his chair. "He's half-Torakal demon."
Spike nods knowingly to my left. Of course, I have no idea what a Torakal demon is.
Richard grins at the uncertainty that must be displayed on my face. "I've the ability to melt things with my touch." I now notice the gloves he's wearing. "Gotta wear the gloves to prevent that from happening when I don't want it to."
"Torakal demons have been around since before the days of vampires, love. They live quite a long time," Spike explains.
Richard's grin grows wider. "Yep. I'm now four hundred fifty- seven."
"Half-Torakal?" I wonder.
"My mom was human. She gave me a nice human name to blend me in."
Ayledan shifts, and we fall silent. "And last but not least, Miros."
Before my mind registers the name, Spike hurls across the room and pins Miros to the wall with his grip around the other vampire's wrists. "What the bloody hell is going on?"
TBC. . . 2675 still. . . notice that the passages are getting longer as we get closer to 3002. . . signifying Buffy's more recent memories being clearer and more detailed. . . Hope you're still enjoying!!! Thanks again for the lovely reviews! :o)