Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or any of her friends, nor do I own Xena and
Gabrielle. This story takes place after season six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Willow has returned to Sunnydale after leaving town immediately following the
events of the season six finale. Massive season six spoilers here,
people...you've been warned.
This story follows the same timeline as my previous Buffy/Xena crossover, "Xena:
Warrior Bacchae." In that fic, Xena and Gabrielle never defeated the god
Bacchus in season two's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." They remained bacchaes,
or vampires, and have lived over two thousand years. Yet another warning--I've
taken a major liberty with the character Buffy Summers. If you don't like
change, you might not like this bit of fiction. Please let me know if you'd
like me to continue this one. See my website for more fiction:
http://suddenshift.topcities.com
* * *
The Summers's house looked a little different than she remembered it. It was
still recognizable, being the spot where she'd briefly lived. She couldn't see
the window of the bedroom she'd shared with Tara from the front yard, but the
memory of that day still pierced her heart and made her wince with grief.
Willow Rosenberg paused on the narrow walkway leading up to the front porch.
After taking several deep breaths, she was able to look at the house with a more
focused gaze. The siding desperately needed to be replaced, and hung in tatters
in several places. Shattered glass marred the window looking into the living
room. A small hole had been stuffed with a rag and left unattended. The yard
itself was a shambles. Willow doubted it had been mowed in months.
Frowning, Willow stepped up onto the rickety porch. The wood trembled weakly
under her feet, nearly rotted out. When she reached the front door she paused
again. Her hand was poised to knock, but her mind spun with the things she'd
have to say when the door was opened to admit her. Would Buffy even listen to
her explanation? She had to believe that her best friend would understand why
she'd had to leave. Determined, Willow rapped her knuckles firmly on the door.
After several minutes passed with no answer and no hint of movement inside the
house, Willow turned the doorknob only to find it locked. Confused, she crossed
the porch to peer inside the left-hand window. It looked into the living room.
Shading her eyes with one hand, she pressed her face close to the glass.
Amazingly, the room inside appeared to be empty. Not simply empty of people,
but completely devoid of furniture.
"Nobody's home," a gruff voice said behind her, forcing her to whip around in
surprise.
An elderly woman peered up at her from the porch stairs. Glancing over Willow's
suit jacket and skirt, she nodded shortly as though to give her approval.
Something she saw had garnered her trust, for her features smoothed and she
spoke normally.
"They moved out two years ago," she informed Willow. "After the accident. My
son Willy's been taking care of the place as he can, but there's a lot of work
to be done in this neighborhood. Nobody's staying around anymore. What was
your name, dear?"
"Um, it's Willow. Do you know where they went? The people who used to live
here, I mean?"
The old woman shrugged her shoulders, clearly unconcerned. "Where did everybody
else go?" she asked. "Away from here, at any rate. The only people still
living in Sunnydale are the ones who can't leave...or won't."
The dark tone her voice took as she finished speaking made Willow frown. "I
thought things seemed quiet," she admitted. "But what would make everyone leave
their homes like this?"
The woman looked at her as though she were crazy. "You aren't from around here,
are you?" she asked. When Willow began sputtering a reply, she interrupted,
"It's getting close to sunset. That's what I came over here to tell you. A
little girl like you shouldn't be out on her own after dark."
Willow smiled in spite of herself. She'd celebrated her thirtieth birthday
almost two years earlier, and hadn't felt like a "little girl" in several more.
She'd also lived in Sunnydale for the majority of her life, and been friends
with the Slayer for six years. Wandering about in the dark wasn't exactly a
frightening prospect for her.
"I'll be careful," she promised. Glancing toward the house once more, she
asked, "Are you sure you don't know where the Summers family went?"
Shaking her head, the old woman muttered, "The little gal didn't tell anybody
she was leaving. Nobody takes the time to explain, they just get out while they
can."
She left Willow with more questions than answers. The "little gal" the woman
spoke of had to be Dawn. But she made it sound as though Dawn had been on her
own. Where was Buffy? Willow felt another stab of guilt at her prolonged
absence. If she'd been more careful to keep in contact with her friends, she
wouldn't have lost track of them.
As she made her way back toward her car, she told herself not to dwell in such
negative thoughts. They wouldn't help her solve the main problem at hand. She
decided to head downtown and see how things were shaping up in that area. She
hadn't passed that part of town on her way in.
The sky was dark by the time she'd gone as far as she could. Slamming on the
brakes, Willow quickly pulled over to the curb and parked. She couldn't believe
her eyes. She sat behind the wheel and stared through the windshield of her car
in disbelief. Downtown Sunnydale was a war zone. She hadn't even been able to
drive very far into it before being forced to stop and park. The street was
completely blocked by the blackened hulks of burned vehicles.
The reason for the mass exodus from Sunnydale was becoming clearer, although she
still had no idea who had caused so much damage. Whoever it was, they
kept a low profile. Willow hadn't seen any sort of otherworldly nasty since
arriving.
Opening her door, she eased out of the car. Willow heard the crunch of glass
and glanced down at her feet. She definitely did not wear appropriate shoes for
this. Shutting the car door firmly behind her, she took several steps down the
street. There had to be some hint of what was going on here.
The streets were deserted. Most of the destruction had occurred some time ago.
Although some of the fires were still burning, there wasn't much left.
Buildings on either side of the street were gutted or razed, many of them still
smoldering. As she walked, Willow searched signs of Sunnydale residents.
She stopped a short distance away, feeling numb. Its stucco façade was
blackened by smoke, but she could still make out the two words that named the
building before her. Inside was a dark void. The last time she'd seen the
Magic Shop it was in nearly as poor of shape. But at that time, she had been
the cause of the damage.
Willow shivered in spite of herself. She knew coming back here would bring up
some painful memories. Of course, she had no idea that some of those memories
would be staring her in the face. What had happened here?
A slight rustling to her right made her twist around warily. A young man stood
behind her. He watched her fearfully, and appeared as though he might take off
at the first hint of a threat.
"Don't worry," she assured him, "I'm just trying to find my friends."
Willow knew she didn't actually come across as being very dangerous, so it was
no surprise when the man visibly relaxed at her words. She noticed he was
wearing an old Sunnydale University sweatshirt.
"What happened here?" she asked.
The man glanced around himself. The beginnings of a smile curved his lips.
Willow frowned at his outright amusement. As he turned to face her fully, his
features shifted subtly. She found herself staring into gleaming yellow eyes.
"You should not be out on your own, Red," the vampire said.
Willow silently cursed her stupidity. She'd been in the regular world for too
long. There'd been a time when she wouldn't have fallen for his act so easily.
"This territory belongs to the Warrior Princess," he said. "Any humans who
enter are considered part of the menu."
Taking a step back, Willow wondered if she had a shot at reaching her car before
he caught her. He made no move as she continued to inch away, which actually
made her even more apprehensive. He was confident that he'd be able to grab
her.
"Warrior Princess," she murmured. "Do I know that title?"
He grinned at her. "Doesn't matter," he answered. "You'll meet her soon
enough. But not until I'm finished with you."
"So do all of you vamps use the same tired threats?" a new voice wondered.
"Because I would think that after a few centuries a body could come up with some
new schtick--you know, keep things fresh for the victims."
Willow turned toward the voice gratefully, fully expecting to find Buffy
standing nearby. Instead, she faced a slender, brown haired girl wrapped up in
a peacoat and wearing a woolen cap. For an instant she had no idea who it
was…her features had matured so dramatically. The soft lines of her face had
sharpened, and grown taut. The eyes staring back at her held none of the
youthful vulnerability that she remembered.
"Dawn," Willow said, surprised.
The woman didn't spare her a glance. Her attention was devoted to the vampire.
Clutching a stake in her gloved fist, she moved toward him purposefully. Willow
stepped in her path, alarmed. Dawn shifted direction smoothly, taking a broad
arc around her.
The vampire made an unpleasant sound of annoyance. "You stupid people never
learn," he sneered. "This town belongs to Xena. You can't take it back from
her, not without the Slayer."
"Less talking, more fighting," Dawn muttered, breaking into a sprint.
They met each other head on, Dawn easily blocking the vampire's first swing with
one arm then using the other to jab a quick punch straight into his face. He
reared back in surprise, and she twisted to send a sharp kick across his knee.
When the vampire fell, she darted forward for the kill. She jabbed the stake
deep into his chest, then stepped back to watch him burst into a cloud of dust.
Willow stood frozen in amazement. She'd never seen Dawn act so decisively, so
professionally, so…much like Buffy. When they stood alone in the street, she
took a deep breath and started, "Dawn…"
The young woman whipped around to face her. Dawn's expression was not
welcoming. "Why did you come back here?" she demanded. "You want to get
yourself killed?"
"I--I didn't know..." Willow stammered. "I went to your house, but your neighbor
said--"
"You didn't know," Dawn hissed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Of course you
didn't. How could you, when we haven't heard a thing from you in--"
She cut herself short and stared past Willow. "Great," she muttered.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Willow was shocked to see several more
vampires walking toward them. They weren't in much of a hurry. Likely they
were as cocky as their dead friend had been.
"Come on," Dawn ordered, reaching forward to grab her by the elbow.
Just then there was a loud crash in the opposite direction. A white van fitted
with a large snow plow pushed its way through a snag of wrecked cars and
screeched to a halt beside them. The side door slid open, revealing a very
familiar white-blonde head of hair. The man looked up at them then. His blue
eyes widened at the sight of Willow.
"Look who's made a reappearance," he commented slyly.
"Get in," Dawn said, giving Willow a shove.
Willow turned to glance toward the vampires, who had picked up their pace. "But
my car..." she began.
Dawn grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her none too gently. "It's toast,"
she said. "Get your ass in the van, now!"
The younger woman jumped in just behind her, and the vehicle took off before she
had a chance to close the door. Finally, it slammed shut firmly. The van
whipped around and headed back the way it had come, tires squealing in protest.
Willow took a look at the driver and nearly squealed herself.
"Xander," she cried, shuffling forward.
"Just sit still," Dawn commanded, poking her. "Let him drive."
Willow had reached her breaking point after this display. "That's enough of
that," she snapped. "What the hell is going on here, anyway?"
Dawn scowled at her. She angrily pulled the hat from her head and brushed her
long hair away from her face. Willow noticed then that she had an ugly scar
running along her jaw. "Like you even care," Dawn answered. "You show up after
ten years of silence. What did you expect, a party? Well, I'm sorry if none of
us are really in the festive kind of mood."
Willow glanced at Spike, but the vampire wouldn't meet her eyes. Looking back
toward Dawn, she asked, "Where is Buffy?"
The other woman winced visibly. "Buffy's dead!" she shouted. Lurching up to
her feet, she shoved her way through the collection of weapons and supplies
littering the back of the van and dropped into the passenger seat.
Willow sat back on her heels, stunned. "But, how...?"
Spike leaned over to whisper, "She's not dead, exactly." The pain on his face
mirrored the strong sensation rolling around her middle.
"She may as well be," Dawn muttered resolutely, hearing him. "This wouldn't be
news to you, if you hadn't abandoned her."
"All right, little bit, you've made your point," Spike cautioned.
Willow frowned at him. "What happened to you?" she asked. The emotion, the
display of empathy…something was off.
"Oh, right," he replied. "In all the excitement before you skipped town, you
missed that tidbit of information as well."
"Spike got the Angel whammy," Xander said, speaking for the first time. He
hunched over the steering wheel and kept a firm eye on the road ahead.
"Your soul was returned?" Willow asked.
"Give the lady a cigar," Xander mumbled. He tapped the wheel impatiently.
"This is cutting into our patrol time," he said.
"Well, we can't really take her with us," Dawn said. "She'll only slow us down.
We'll head out as soon as she's stashed."
"Hey, sitting right here," Willow reminded them. "And since when have I ever
slowed the group down?"
Dawn turned toward her with a glare. "Try the past decade," she retorted.
"Don't worry, you can spend the night at headquarters and head back to your new
life in the morning. We won't expect you to hang around or anything."
"That's not fair and you know it," Willow began.
Spike reached out to touch her arm, and she cringed away from him. His wounded
expression was a surreal sight. This would take some getting used to, she
thought. Offering him a wan smile by way of apology, she looked forward and
through the windshield to see where they were going.
* * *
The modest hotel was one of the few buildings in the area that was not burned to
cinders. It hadn't survived its occupation without some alterations, however.
The windows on the fourth floor were boarded shut to keep out any wayward rays
of sunlight. Below this topmost floor were two levels made uninhabitable by the
garbage rotting in the halls and rooms. The hotel's human guests hadn't exactly
checked out before the building fell into the hands of its new management.
Those who did not meet the criteria necessary for membership were left where
they fell...in pieces.
The Honeymoon Suite offered the largest collection of rooms in the building. It
seemed an appropriate base of command, considering the couple that had taken up
residence inside. The broad double doors opened up into a large living room
decorated in shades of white, gray, and red. A wide window had overlooked the
outdoor swimming pool before it was nailed shut with two by fours. Now dusky
red curtains only emphasized the starkness of the unfinished wood. There'd been
no electricity in the building for more than a year, but it certainly wasn't a
necessity for any of the vampires living inside.
On the left side of the living room, beside the fully stocked wet bar, the door
to the master bedroom gaped open. Inside, a dark haired woman carefully
examined the edge of a long blade, looking for irregularities in the steel. She
sat at the foot of the king sized bed, leaning against one of four posts
supporting the heavy brocade canopy overhead. Behind her, a woman dozed lightly
under the blankets.
"Are you going to sleep all night?" Xena asked, giving her sword a few practice
swings. "We never go out anymore."
The rumpled pile of cloth shifted slightly as the woman rolled over. "Five more
minutes," a sleepy voice mumbled.
Xena grunted, then rose to her feet. "You were never this lazy when you were
alive," she mused.
A low chuckle preceded the appearance of a sleep-tousled head of blonde hair as
the vampire tossed back the blankets and sat up. "You didn't know me when I was
alive," the woman corrected her. "I may have been an annoying do-gooder, but I
never skipped out on my beauty sleep."
Xena grinned slyly, staring at her partner appreciatively. "That is apparent,"
she agreed, crawling onto the bed.
The woman frowned when the Warrior Princess came to rest at her side. Her blue
eyes twinkled mischievously before her head quickly darted toward her. The
blonde twisted away before Xena's lips could capture her own.
"Don't," she said, getting out of the bed. "I told you it wasn't like that
between us."
Xena glowered. Her sword was still clenched in her hand, but the blonde didn't
seem fazed by the veiled threat. "I gave you immortality," she growled. She
reeled back in surprise when the blonde started laughing.
"You sound like some pathetic guy at the end of a date," her partner taunted.
She mimicked Xena's husky drawl, saying, "'I bought you dinner...you owe me!' The
truth is, I gave you this city. And it's only the beginning for us. So don't
tell me I still owe you, because that's a load of crap and you know it."
Xena's jaw tightened angrily. "I could have taken this city on my own," she
hissed.
The blonde laughed again, making her dark-haired companion scowl furiously. "I
was the Slayer," she said. "I would have bounced your ass out of town so fast
you wouldn't have known what hit you. You need me, Xena. If you really want to
take on a bigger piece of the pie, you need me."
At the determined expression on the smaller woman's face, Xena finally shrugged.
"Well, a girl's got to try," she said. Putting her hands up, she added, "No
more funny business."
Just then a young vampire scurried into the room. He turned immediately to Xena
and bowed ridiculously. "Warrior Princess," he said as he stood straight.
Glancing toward the blonde standing beside the bed, he added, "And Slayer."
Buffy grinned at this comment. "I still have clout in this town," she murmured,
earning a dark glance from Xena. "What's the what…Tommy, is it?"
The vampire, wearing a ragged AC/DC t-shirt and black jeans, nodded vigorously
at her question. "Yes," he replied. He had his game face on, and Buffy
wondered where the excitement was. "Eric's dead," Tommy blurted, cringing.
He obviously thought this news would bring some punishment, but to be honest,
Buffy had no recollection of anyone named Eric. "One of ours?" she asked.
Xena sighed and eased out of bed. "Yes, darling," she sneered. "You ate him
just last week." She walked toward Tommy, her sword in hand. "Am I to assume
that our old friends are involved with this?" she asked.
Tommy eyed the weapon with trepidation and nodded weakly. "It was the girl," he
murmured. "And another. One we haven't seen before. She was dressed up…out of
place. But they knew her."
Buffy stepped forward. "What did she look like?"
Xena glanced toward the blonde, her eyebrow raised in question. "Someone you
know?"
"Maybe," Buffy responded. "I had a dream...did she have red hair?"
Relieved to be able to provide more information, Tommy nodded again. Buffy
continued forward, her eyes regarding him kindly. As she passed Xena, she ran
her fingers down the dark-haired woman's brawny arm, making her gasp. When they
came to rest on the hilt of her sword, they coaxed the weapon from the other
woman's grasp and curled around it. Tommy seemed a bit dazed by the vague
groping, and Xena's reaction to Buffy's touch. He didn't even glance down at
the sword in her hand.
"I told you what I wanted the next time Dawn made an appearance," Buffy crooned,
lightly touching his face with her free hand. "But I don't see my gift
anywhere."
"The others were there, too," Tommy said. His voice was hushed and frightened.
He knew he'd be punished after all. "They escaped too quickly after killing
Eric."
Buffy nodded in understanding, still stroking the protuberances on his face with
gentle fingers. "That's too bad," she said. "But you can still do something
for me."
A gleam of hope leapt into his yellow eyes. "What?" he asked.
Jerking her hand up, Buffy ran the edge of Xena's blade harshly across the
vampire's middle. He merely whimpered at first, shocked by the fiery sensation.
But when Buffy stepped back and he was able to look down at himself, he began
to howl in fury and pain. He pressed his hands against his gut, trying
desperately to hold in the slippery coils of intestines that pushed out of the
gaping wound.
"Vampire blood strengthens the blade," Buffy replied. Turning toward Xena, she
handed her partner the gore-covered sword.
Xena stared at the blood on her weapon, her tongue flicking out to moisten her
lips hungrily. "You make me so proud," she announced. "Are you going to finish
it for him?"
Glancing at Tommy again, Buffy shrugged. "No," she answered, then walked past
him to leave the room.
Xena grinned at the injured vampire, who squeaked helplessly in response. "You
know, I'm feeling so good right now, I think I'll help you out myself," she
said. "You'd heal eventually, but do you really want to go through so much
pain?"
Tommy didn't reply. His eyes had turned glassy, and seemed unable to focus on
her. He was having difficulty remaining on his feet.
"No," Xena answered for him. Twisting the sword in her grasp, she swung her arm
in a wide arc. The blade caught the vampire at the neck, decapitating him. He
burst into a cloud of brown dust immediately after, showering cream-colored
carpeting with the dry filth.
"Hmm," Xena mused, staring down at the floor. "I'll have to find somebody to
clean that up."
End Part One
Gabrielle. This story takes place after season six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Willow has returned to Sunnydale after leaving town immediately following the
events of the season six finale. Massive season six spoilers here,
people...you've been warned.
This story follows the same timeline as my previous Buffy/Xena crossover, "Xena:
Warrior Bacchae." In that fic, Xena and Gabrielle never defeated the god
Bacchus in season two's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." They remained bacchaes,
or vampires, and have lived over two thousand years. Yet another warning--I've
taken a major liberty with the character Buffy Summers. If you don't like
change, you might not like this bit of fiction. Please let me know if you'd
like me to continue this one. See my website for more fiction:
http://suddenshift.topcities.com
* * *
The Summers's house looked a little different than she remembered it. It was
still recognizable, being the spot where she'd briefly lived. She couldn't see
the window of the bedroom she'd shared with Tara from the front yard, but the
memory of that day still pierced her heart and made her wince with grief.
Willow Rosenberg paused on the narrow walkway leading up to the front porch.
After taking several deep breaths, she was able to look at the house with a more
focused gaze. The siding desperately needed to be replaced, and hung in tatters
in several places. Shattered glass marred the window looking into the living
room. A small hole had been stuffed with a rag and left unattended. The yard
itself was a shambles. Willow doubted it had been mowed in months.
Frowning, Willow stepped up onto the rickety porch. The wood trembled weakly
under her feet, nearly rotted out. When she reached the front door she paused
again. Her hand was poised to knock, but her mind spun with the things she'd
have to say when the door was opened to admit her. Would Buffy even listen to
her explanation? She had to believe that her best friend would understand why
she'd had to leave. Determined, Willow rapped her knuckles firmly on the door.
After several minutes passed with no answer and no hint of movement inside the
house, Willow turned the doorknob only to find it locked. Confused, she crossed
the porch to peer inside the left-hand window. It looked into the living room.
Shading her eyes with one hand, she pressed her face close to the glass.
Amazingly, the room inside appeared to be empty. Not simply empty of people,
but completely devoid of furniture.
"Nobody's home," a gruff voice said behind her, forcing her to whip around in
surprise.
An elderly woman peered up at her from the porch stairs. Glancing over Willow's
suit jacket and skirt, she nodded shortly as though to give her approval.
Something she saw had garnered her trust, for her features smoothed and she
spoke normally.
"They moved out two years ago," she informed Willow. "After the accident. My
son Willy's been taking care of the place as he can, but there's a lot of work
to be done in this neighborhood. Nobody's staying around anymore. What was
your name, dear?"
"Um, it's Willow. Do you know where they went? The people who used to live
here, I mean?"
The old woman shrugged her shoulders, clearly unconcerned. "Where did everybody
else go?" she asked. "Away from here, at any rate. The only people still
living in Sunnydale are the ones who can't leave...or won't."
The dark tone her voice took as she finished speaking made Willow frown. "I
thought things seemed quiet," she admitted. "But what would make everyone leave
their homes like this?"
The woman looked at her as though she were crazy. "You aren't from around here,
are you?" she asked. When Willow began sputtering a reply, she interrupted,
"It's getting close to sunset. That's what I came over here to tell you. A
little girl like you shouldn't be out on her own after dark."
Willow smiled in spite of herself. She'd celebrated her thirtieth birthday
almost two years earlier, and hadn't felt like a "little girl" in several more.
She'd also lived in Sunnydale for the majority of her life, and been friends
with the Slayer for six years. Wandering about in the dark wasn't exactly a
frightening prospect for her.
"I'll be careful," she promised. Glancing toward the house once more, she
asked, "Are you sure you don't know where the Summers family went?"
Shaking her head, the old woman muttered, "The little gal didn't tell anybody
she was leaving. Nobody takes the time to explain, they just get out while they
can."
She left Willow with more questions than answers. The "little gal" the woman
spoke of had to be Dawn. But she made it sound as though Dawn had been on her
own. Where was Buffy? Willow felt another stab of guilt at her prolonged
absence. If she'd been more careful to keep in contact with her friends, she
wouldn't have lost track of them.
As she made her way back toward her car, she told herself not to dwell in such
negative thoughts. They wouldn't help her solve the main problem at hand. She
decided to head downtown and see how things were shaping up in that area. She
hadn't passed that part of town on her way in.
The sky was dark by the time she'd gone as far as she could. Slamming on the
brakes, Willow quickly pulled over to the curb and parked. She couldn't believe
her eyes. She sat behind the wheel and stared through the windshield of her car
in disbelief. Downtown Sunnydale was a war zone. She hadn't even been able to
drive very far into it before being forced to stop and park. The street was
completely blocked by the blackened hulks of burned vehicles.
The reason for the mass exodus from Sunnydale was becoming clearer, although she
still had no idea who had caused so much damage. Whoever it was, they
kept a low profile. Willow hadn't seen any sort of otherworldly nasty since
arriving.
Opening her door, she eased out of the car. Willow heard the crunch of glass
and glanced down at her feet. She definitely did not wear appropriate shoes for
this. Shutting the car door firmly behind her, she took several steps down the
street. There had to be some hint of what was going on here.
The streets were deserted. Most of the destruction had occurred some time ago.
Although some of the fires were still burning, there wasn't much left.
Buildings on either side of the street were gutted or razed, many of them still
smoldering. As she walked, Willow searched signs of Sunnydale residents.
She stopped a short distance away, feeling numb. Its stucco façade was
blackened by smoke, but she could still make out the two words that named the
building before her. Inside was a dark void. The last time she'd seen the
Magic Shop it was in nearly as poor of shape. But at that time, she had been
the cause of the damage.
Willow shivered in spite of herself. She knew coming back here would bring up
some painful memories. Of course, she had no idea that some of those memories
would be staring her in the face. What had happened here?
A slight rustling to her right made her twist around warily. A young man stood
behind her. He watched her fearfully, and appeared as though he might take off
at the first hint of a threat.
"Don't worry," she assured him, "I'm just trying to find my friends."
Willow knew she didn't actually come across as being very dangerous, so it was
no surprise when the man visibly relaxed at her words. She noticed he was
wearing an old Sunnydale University sweatshirt.
"What happened here?" she asked.
The man glanced around himself. The beginnings of a smile curved his lips.
Willow frowned at his outright amusement. As he turned to face her fully, his
features shifted subtly. She found herself staring into gleaming yellow eyes.
"You should not be out on your own, Red," the vampire said.
Willow silently cursed her stupidity. She'd been in the regular world for too
long. There'd been a time when she wouldn't have fallen for his act so easily.
"This territory belongs to the Warrior Princess," he said. "Any humans who
enter are considered part of the menu."
Taking a step back, Willow wondered if she had a shot at reaching her car before
he caught her. He made no move as she continued to inch away, which actually
made her even more apprehensive. He was confident that he'd be able to grab
her.
"Warrior Princess," she murmured. "Do I know that title?"
He grinned at her. "Doesn't matter," he answered. "You'll meet her soon
enough. But not until I'm finished with you."
"So do all of you vamps use the same tired threats?" a new voice wondered.
"Because I would think that after a few centuries a body could come up with some
new schtick--you know, keep things fresh for the victims."
Willow turned toward the voice gratefully, fully expecting to find Buffy
standing nearby. Instead, she faced a slender, brown haired girl wrapped up in
a peacoat and wearing a woolen cap. For an instant she had no idea who it
was…her features had matured so dramatically. The soft lines of her face had
sharpened, and grown taut. The eyes staring back at her held none of the
youthful vulnerability that she remembered.
"Dawn," Willow said, surprised.
The woman didn't spare her a glance. Her attention was devoted to the vampire.
Clutching a stake in her gloved fist, she moved toward him purposefully. Willow
stepped in her path, alarmed. Dawn shifted direction smoothly, taking a broad
arc around her.
The vampire made an unpleasant sound of annoyance. "You stupid people never
learn," he sneered. "This town belongs to Xena. You can't take it back from
her, not without the Slayer."
"Less talking, more fighting," Dawn muttered, breaking into a sprint.
They met each other head on, Dawn easily blocking the vampire's first swing with
one arm then using the other to jab a quick punch straight into his face. He
reared back in surprise, and she twisted to send a sharp kick across his knee.
When the vampire fell, she darted forward for the kill. She jabbed the stake
deep into his chest, then stepped back to watch him burst into a cloud of dust.
Willow stood frozen in amazement. She'd never seen Dawn act so decisively, so
professionally, so…much like Buffy. When they stood alone in the street, she
took a deep breath and started, "Dawn…"
The young woman whipped around to face her. Dawn's expression was not
welcoming. "Why did you come back here?" she demanded. "You want to get
yourself killed?"
"I--I didn't know..." Willow stammered. "I went to your house, but your neighbor
said--"
"You didn't know," Dawn hissed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Of course you
didn't. How could you, when we haven't heard a thing from you in--"
She cut herself short and stared past Willow. "Great," she muttered.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Willow was shocked to see several more
vampires walking toward them. They weren't in much of a hurry. Likely they
were as cocky as their dead friend had been.
"Come on," Dawn ordered, reaching forward to grab her by the elbow.
Just then there was a loud crash in the opposite direction. A white van fitted
with a large snow plow pushed its way through a snag of wrecked cars and
screeched to a halt beside them. The side door slid open, revealing a very
familiar white-blonde head of hair. The man looked up at them then. His blue
eyes widened at the sight of Willow.
"Look who's made a reappearance," he commented slyly.
"Get in," Dawn said, giving Willow a shove.
Willow turned to glance toward the vampires, who had picked up their pace. "But
my car..." she began.
Dawn grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her none too gently. "It's toast,"
she said. "Get your ass in the van, now!"
The younger woman jumped in just behind her, and the vehicle took off before she
had a chance to close the door. Finally, it slammed shut firmly. The van
whipped around and headed back the way it had come, tires squealing in protest.
Willow took a look at the driver and nearly squealed herself.
"Xander," she cried, shuffling forward.
"Just sit still," Dawn commanded, poking her. "Let him drive."
Willow had reached her breaking point after this display. "That's enough of
that," she snapped. "What the hell is going on here, anyway?"
Dawn scowled at her. She angrily pulled the hat from her head and brushed her
long hair away from her face. Willow noticed then that she had an ugly scar
running along her jaw. "Like you even care," Dawn answered. "You show up after
ten years of silence. What did you expect, a party? Well, I'm sorry if none of
us are really in the festive kind of mood."
Willow glanced at Spike, but the vampire wouldn't meet her eyes. Looking back
toward Dawn, she asked, "Where is Buffy?"
The other woman winced visibly. "Buffy's dead!" she shouted. Lurching up to
her feet, she shoved her way through the collection of weapons and supplies
littering the back of the van and dropped into the passenger seat.
Willow sat back on her heels, stunned. "But, how...?"
Spike leaned over to whisper, "She's not dead, exactly." The pain on his face
mirrored the strong sensation rolling around her middle.
"She may as well be," Dawn muttered resolutely, hearing him. "This wouldn't be
news to you, if you hadn't abandoned her."
"All right, little bit, you've made your point," Spike cautioned.
Willow frowned at him. "What happened to you?" she asked. The emotion, the
display of empathy…something was off.
"Oh, right," he replied. "In all the excitement before you skipped town, you
missed that tidbit of information as well."
"Spike got the Angel whammy," Xander said, speaking for the first time. He
hunched over the steering wheel and kept a firm eye on the road ahead.
"Your soul was returned?" Willow asked.
"Give the lady a cigar," Xander mumbled. He tapped the wheel impatiently.
"This is cutting into our patrol time," he said.
"Well, we can't really take her with us," Dawn said. "She'll only slow us down.
We'll head out as soon as she's stashed."
"Hey, sitting right here," Willow reminded them. "And since when have I ever
slowed the group down?"
Dawn turned toward her with a glare. "Try the past decade," she retorted.
"Don't worry, you can spend the night at headquarters and head back to your new
life in the morning. We won't expect you to hang around or anything."
"That's not fair and you know it," Willow began.
Spike reached out to touch her arm, and she cringed away from him. His wounded
expression was a surreal sight. This would take some getting used to, she
thought. Offering him a wan smile by way of apology, she looked forward and
through the windshield to see where they were going.
* * *
The modest hotel was one of the few buildings in the area that was not burned to
cinders. It hadn't survived its occupation without some alterations, however.
The windows on the fourth floor were boarded shut to keep out any wayward rays
of sunlight. Below this topmost floor were two levels made uninhabitable by the
garbage rotting in the halls and rooms. The hotel's human guests hadn't exactly
checked out before the building fell into the hands of its new management.
Those who did not meet the criteria necessary for membership were left where
they fell...in pieces.
The Honeymoon Suite offered the largest collection of rooms in the building. It
seemed an appropriate base of command, considering the couple that had taken up
residence inside. The broad double doors opened up into a large living room
decorated in shades of white, gray, and red. A wide window had overlooked the
outdoor swimming pool before it was nailed shut with two by fours. Now dusky
red curtains only emphasized the starkness of the unfinished wood. There'd been
no electricity in the building for more than a year, but it certainly wasn't a
necessity for any of the vampires living inside.
On the left side of the living room, beside the fully stocked wet bar, the door
to the master bedroom gaped open. Inside, a dark haired woman carefully
examined the edge of a long blade, looking for irregularities in the steel. She
sat at the foot of the king sized bed, leaning against one of four posts
supporting the heavy brocade canopy overhead. Behind her, a woman dozed lightly
under the blankets.
"Are you going to sleep all night?" Xena asked, giving her sword a few practice
swings. "We never go out anymore."
The rumpled pile of cloth shifted slightly as the woman rolled over. "Five more
minutes," a sleepy voice mumbled.
Xena grunted, then rose to her feet. "You were never this lazy when you were
alive," she mused.
A low chuckle preceded the appearance of a sleep-tousled head of blonde hair as
the vampire tossed back the blankets and sat up. "You didn't know me when I was
alive," the woman corrected her. "I may have been an annoying do-gooder, but I
never skipped out on my beauty sleep."
Xena grinned slyly, staring at her partner appreciatively. "That is apparent,"
she agreed, crawling onto the bed.
The woman frowned when the Warrior Princess came to rest at her side. Her blue
eyes twinkled mischievously before her head quickly darted toward her. The
blonde twisted away before Xena's lips could capture her own.
"Don't," she said, getting out of the bed. "I told you it wasn't like that
between us."
Xena glowered. Her sword was still clenched in her hand, but the blonde didn't
seem fazed by the veiled threat. "I gave you immortality," she growled. She
reeled back in surprise when the blonde started laughing.
"You sound like some pathetic guy at the end of a date," her partner taunted.
She mimicked Xena's husky drawl, saying, "'I bought you dinner...you owe me!' The
truth is, I gave you this city. And it's only the beginning for us. So don't
tell me I still owe you, because that's a load of crap and you know it."
Xena's jaw tightened angrily. "I could have taken this city on my own," she
hissed.
The blonde laughed again, making her dark-haired companion scowl furiously. "I
was the Slayer," she said. "I would have bounced your ass out of town so fast
you wouldn't have known what hit you. You need me, Xena. If you really want to
take on a bigger piece of the pie, you need me."
At the determined expression on the smaller woman's face, Xena finally shrugged.
"Well, a girl's got to try," she said. Putting her hands up, she added, "No
more funny business."
Just then a young vampire scurried into the room. He turned immediately to Xena
and bowed ridiculously. "Warrior Princess," he said as he stood straight.
Glancing toward the blonde standing beside the bed, he added, "And Slayer."
Buffy grinned at this comment. "I still have clout in this town," she murmured,
earning a dark glance from Xena. "What's the what…Tommy, is it?"
The vampire, wearing a ragged AC/DC t-shirt and black jeans, nodded vigorously
at her question. "Yes," he replied. He had his game face on, and Buffy
wondered where the excitement was. "Eric's dead," Tommy blurted, cringing.
He obviously thought this news would bring some punishment, but to be honest,
Buffy had no recollection of anyone named Eric. "One of ours?" she asked.
Xena sighed and eased out of bed. "Yes, darling," she sneered. "You ate him
just last week." She walked toward Tommy, her sword in hand. "Am I to assume
that our old friends are involved with this?" she asked.
Tommy eyed the weapon with trepidation and nodded weakly. "It was the girl," he
murmured. "And another. One we haven't seen before. She was dressed up…out of
place. But they knew her."
Buffy stepped forward. "What did she look like?"
Xena glanced toward the blonde, her eyebrow raised in question. "Someone you
know?"
"Maybe," Buffy responded. "I had a dream...did she have red hair?"
Relieved to be able to provide more information, Tommy nodded again. Buffy
continued forward, her eyes regarding him kindly. As she passed Xena, she ran
her fingers down the dark-haired woman's brawny arm, making her gasp. When they
came to rest on the hilt of her sword, they coaxed the weapon from the other
woman's grasp and curled around it. Tommy seemed a bit dazed by the vague
groping, and Xena's reaction to Buffy's touch. He didn't even glance down at
the sword in her hand.
"I told you what I wanted the next time Dawn made an appearance," Buffy crooned,
lightly touching his face with her free hand. "But I don't see my gift
anywhere."
"The others were there, too," Tommy said. His voice was hushed and frightened.
He knew he'd be punished after all. "They escaped too quickly after killing
Eric."
Buffy nodded in understanding, still stroking the protuberances on his face with
gentle fingers. "That's too bad," she said. "But you can still do something
for me."
A gleam of hope leapt into his yellow eyes. "What?" he asked.
Jerking her hand up, Buffy ran the edge of Xena's blade harshly across the
vampire's middle. He merely whimpered at first, shocked by the fiery sensation.
But when Buffy stepped back and he was able to look down at himself, he began
to howl in fury and pain. He pressed his hands against his gut, trying
desperately to hold in the slippery coils of intestines that pushed out of the
gaping wound.
"Vampire blood strengthens the blade," Buffy replied. Turning toward Xena, she
handed her partner the gore-covered sword.
Xena stared at the blood on her weapon, her tongue flicking out to moisten her
lips hungrily. "You make me so proud," she announced. "Are you going to finish
it for him?"
Glancing at Tommy again, Buffy shrugged. "No," she answered, then walked past
him to leave the room.
Xena grinned at the injured vampire, who squeaked helplessly in response. "You
know, I'm feeling so good right now, I think I'll help you out myself," she
said. "You'd heal eventually, but do you really want to go through so much
pain?"
Tommy didn't reply. His eyes had turned glassy, and seemed unable to focus on
her. He was having difficulty remaining on his feet.
"No," Xena answered for him. Twisting the sword in her grasp, she swung her arm
in a wide arc. The blade caught the vampire at the neck, decapitating him. He
burst into a cloud of brown dust immediately after, showering cream-colored
carpeting with the dry filth.
"Hmm," Xena mused, staring down at the floor. "I'll have to find somebody to
clean that up."
End Part One