It All Ends Sometimes...

Disclaimer: Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine, and I'm just playing with them. And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment. And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended...my materials for research aren't the greatest so I'm making some of it up as I go, same as Joss does...

 "...in other news, thirteen more bodies were found last night, and for the first time in nearly a week, no one has been reported missing..."

Buffy Summers stared at the television, the hand holding the remote falling bonelessly to the sofa; a dull, muted thud the only sound it made. The drone of the announcer became deafening in her ears, her mind running amok with the news reports, her heart aching in her chest. A single crystalline tear spilled over the rim of her eye and raced madly down her creamy cheek, barely pausing before leaping from her face to drop wetly onto her knee.

 "...police are asking people to stay in their homes after dark until the perpetrators of these crimes are captured..."

For the first time in five days, the Slayer began to weep.

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Dawn Summers watched from the shadows at the top of the stairs, tears streaming down her own flushed cheeks. Finally seeing her sister crumble like she did drove the final nail into the mental coffin she'd placed Willow's memory in. If the Slayer was admitting defeat, then the battle was lost. For the last five days Buffy patrolled the streets and graveyards, searched the sewers, and canvassed the haunts of Sunnydale's night breed. In this case, no news was the worst news. No body produced, no story came forth, and the creatures of the night were scared shitless. Even though she hadn't said anything to her directly, Dawn had heard Buffy talking to Xander and Anya, relating how even Willy had been unable to tell her anything. However, in Willy's case, it wasn't for lack of trying. Every time he'd opened his mouth to answer Buffy's questions his eyes rolled in his head and blood started to pour from his nose. Obviously, someone didn't want him talking to the Slayer about Willow's disappearance.

Then it got worse.

The first night after Willow disappeared three people disappeared from Sunnydale. Not unusual in and of itself, but it had been a while since so many had disappeared at once. The next night however was more ominous. Three more people disappeared, and the SPD found four bodies. Buffy's sources indicated all four experienced exsanguination...completely drained of blood. The third night was a slaughter. Seven bodies found; drained, and yet three more people vanished into thin air. Buffy suspected that they were being turned and then feeding on the victims that were found, but her endless patrolling had turned up nothing. The fourth night the police began doubling their patrols...ten dead, and again, three missing. Even more unusual, all of the missing victims were female, and all had ties to the occult or were openly practicing Wiccans.

Now tonight, finally, the pattern broke with the largest massacre since the killing started. Thirteen lives snuffed out, but strangely no one vanished. "Why stop at just taking twelve...." She wondered, her nose running from all the crying. She heard soft footsteps behind her and she turned, smiling up at the honey-blonde haired woman that dropped to kneel beside her. Tara Maclay looked like hell. Her eyes were puffy, swollen from nearly incessant crying, her voice hoarse from screaming in fury and pain at the Fates for her missing lover. Tara briefly met Dawn's eyes before looking away. "It's Willow." She intoned, her voice dull and lifeless. She looked into Dawn's eyes, the pain pouring from her in waves. "She's behind all of that." She turned her head to look downstairs at Buffy, who was still on the sofa, still sobbing silently into her arms.

Dawn reached for Tara and hugged her, pulling Tara closer to lay her head on Dawn's shoulder; Dawn's chin rested on the older woman's head. Dawn stroked her hair, running down the lengthy tresses and down her back, giving comfort. "You said it's Willow...how do you know?"

Tara wiped her nose and eyes, sniffling. "The numbers." She replied. Tara pulled back, brushing her hair back behind her ear to see Dawn better. "Well, the numbers and the types of people that are missing." She sniffed again, her eyes moving about the upstairs area, sweeping the hall and ceiling as though looking for a different answer. "All of the missing people have been females, all either involved in the occult or Wicca." She paused, taking a breath and then letting it out noisily. "Also, they disappeared in threes, with the number of dead increasing each night by three." Tara stopped, looking down the stairs where she could see Buffy standing, wiping her eyes and turning to come up the stairs. "So, I think it's her. If she were ok, we'd have heard from her by now." She gestured helplessly in the air. "But with all this happening? No, I think it's her and she's been...been--" She began to cry again, softly.

Behind them, Buffy came up the stairs, her feet leaden and movements slow, weighted with the burden of loss and grief. She plopped down next to her sister and Tara, giving them both a wan and totally fake smile. "Tara--" She hesitated. "What do you think she's up to? How do we stop her?"

Tara composed herself and thought about the Slayers questions. "I think I might have a clue what she's doing. Remember when the Vamp Willow came here as a result of Cordelia's wish?" She asked. Buffy nodded, a quizzical look on her delicate features as she gestured for Tara to continue. "Well, she and I talked about that afterwards. 'What would a vamp do if it was also a powerful witch?'" She mused. "We did research into spells that would benefit a vampiric witch, or require a witch to also be a vampire...and there was a lot more there than we liked." She shuddered. "The stories were almost as bad as if a Slayer were turned."

Buffy's face turned grim, a slight hardening beginning in her face. "Go on."

 "Well, there was this witch in the Middle Ages...Constance, I think her name was, Constance Barrow. Anyway, according to legend, she was turned and then immediately killed her own Sire." She took a breath, thinking. "She wreaked havoc throughout London and Europe, raising a body count nearly as high as Angelus and his brood. No one was safe: Not vampire, not human, not demon...no one. She killed anything." Tara shuddered. "She especially hated males, so she often reserved the worst deaths for them. That vampire you found sounded like something she would've done." If possible, she suddenly looked sadder. "I also tend to think that that points to Willow." She looked at Buffy. "She read that history too."

The eldest Summers rested a hand on Tara's arm, her face softening with compassion. "Tara, if it is Willow doing these killings, you know we have to stop her, no matter what."

Tara's head raised sharply, her eyes boring into Buffy's. "Stop her? You mean kill her! Run a wooden stake through her heart; your...your...Mr. Pointy! She's your friend!"

Buffy's face twisted with her pain. "Tara, she's dead! And besides...don't you think I know this? My God...she was my first friend here! Why do you think this tears me up so much?! If it has to happen, who do you think is going to have to do it?? ME! I will have to stake my best friend!" She pulled away and stood, turning her back on her sister and Tara, arms crossed over her chest in a protective hug, shutting out the world and its pain.

Tara continued her tirade. "Oh, so it was ok to give Angel a soul again, but Willow...Willow you'll just slam a stake into her without even trying to save her! Buffy, how could you??"

Buffy rolled her head in exasperation. "Tara, that was different. We had an Orb of Thessulah and a witch that knew how to use it. You've said yourself before that you couldn't have done it. I don't see any other option, and we can't let her keep killing or whatever else it is she has planned. We don't have another way."

From behind her, she heard a determined, fierce reply.

 "No. There IS another way."

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In southern California, warm air is a way of life. As a result, being warm is just how things are if you live there. Of course, if you're a vampire, "warm" and "living" are two words that don't typically exist in your lexicon, unless it's referring to your food.

William the Bloody, now known simply as "Spike", walked along the beach on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, his duster pulled about him to ward off the chilly wind that blew in from the sea, contemplating a similar thought, thinking about blood. A tall creature, for that is what he was, a vampire, Spike possessed a lean, lanky frame, all bone, sinew and muscle. Not an ounce of fat resided on his body. Per his typical dress code, he was clad this night in a snug fitting black t-shirt, tight black jeans, and a red overshirt, covered over all with his ever-present leather duster. However, something was atypical about this night; Spike was feeling introspective. Earlier, the British vampire watched for the sun to go down from concealment, noting the disappearing heat and light from behind the wall in the sewer leading to the ocean, stepping out as soon as he was capable. This night, the same as every other, he missed the last rays of the setting sun, reminded again that it was forever out of his reach. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

 "My heart is cold without you; my life only death, unliving.

Your warmth is all I live for; your touch consumes me, undying.

I am denied you forever; you are above me, unreachable, uncaring.

My love…my light…my sun..."

Spike shook his head then sucked a swig from his flask, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Casting a glance upwards at the last vestige of blood red in the sky, the Master vampire muttered, "Bollocks". Spike picked up his party favor then turned and headed up the beach.

Now, an hour later, he was approaching his destination, his earlier thoughts gone and his current thoughts on one thing and one thing alone…getting good and pissed. Every month, on the full moon, the regular denizens of Willy's and many others of Sunnydale's night breed would get together at the beach to have a party under the pier. What made this party unusual was the number of humans in attendance. Goths, metal heads, vampire worshippers, mage and witch wannabes…they all came out and mingled with bikers, demons, and sometimes demon bikers, in a wild, raucous, bitching rave of a good time. The Sunnydale PD acted as if nothing unusual was happening, per their norm, and the party goers kept the bloodshed to a minimum…the vampires usually taking their victims elsewhere to protect the integrity of the party and to keep the authorities out of the picture.

To Spike's great relief, the party goers seemed willing to overlook his past cooperation with the Slayer as long as a party interruption didn't occur; in fact, this was his sixth time attending the bash. Of course, it helped tremendously that he usually brought a keg with him.

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She purred.

Nina wasn't new to the pleasure of being with another woman, but this fiery redhead that was doing such amazing things to her body was in another class, a class only she had the right to belong to, excluding all others.

She belonged in the class of "Sex Goddess Incarnate".

The goddess in question at that moment trailed her tongue down the side of Nina's neck, the tip burning a liquid trail across her skin. Her skilled fingers danced softly and deftly on the dance floor of her body, waltzing about her breasts, gliding across her belly, and dirty dancing OH so well across her quickly heating sex.

Willow pulled Nina across her lap, her back cradled against her arm, the left still dancing lustfully between Nina's thighs. Softly, she stroked Nina's swollen lips through the damp cloth of her white cotton panties, her touch causing whimpers and moans to escape her throat. Willow nibbled at the brunette's neck, her teeth lengthening into fangs to graze lightly on her skin, her face morphing into that of her vampire self before melting again into her human guise, zeroing in on her earlobe, sucking it and worrying it between her teeth.

Nina heard her partner whisper, "Let's go somewhere more private, hm?"

"Ok!" She replied, practically panting with desire for this incredible woman. She took the offered hand and followed the redhead off of the couch and out from under the pier, into the dunes off the beach, practically knocking aside the blonde guy carrying the keg.

"Bugger all! Watch where ya going, ya loony bints!" Spike called after them before setting the keg down on the alcohol board.

The "bar" tender grinned. "Hey, Spike! Always good to see more beer! Oh yeah, yer alright too I guess." The blue Quartos demon behind the "bar" grunted from both mouths, handing mugs and drinks out to revelers with two hands, and wiping down the bar table with the other two. "Just in time, too. We're running low on suds."

Spike made the motion of tipping an imaginary hat to the demon and filled a mug for himself before turning and eyeing the full swing party behind him. "Not anymore, Qwerty…not anymore."

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Buffy turned to look at Tara. "What do you mean 'There's another way'?"

Tara met the Slayer's eyes, her own determined gaze held there, not giving in to the sudden overwhelming desire to turn away. "I-I mean, there's another way. A-a way we can get Willow back, a way we can return everything back to the way it was before."

Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Tara, get real! Don't you get it?? Even if we did get Willow back, there's no way everything can be 'like it was before'!" She thrust her arms down at her side in frustration. "Willow is DEAD, Tara! All the people she and her bunch have killed are DEAD!"

Tara stood and met Buffy's fierce gaze with her own, nearly toe-to-toe, her face mere inches from the Slayer's. "And I'm telling you, it CAN be like it was before." She shouted, her frustration and rage pouring out in a torrent of emotion at Buffy. "There's a way…a way where even if she kills a thousand people it can be like it was before...it can be undone..." She whirled around and strode into her room for a moment, then came back out holding a golden yellow orb in her hand, roughly the size of a grapefruit, with two small red glowing lights, flickering like stars, seemingly floating in the center.

Buffy eyed the orb speculatively. "What in the hell is that, Tara?" She intoned, her face scrunched with skepticism. She reached out for the orb, lifting her eyes to meet Tara's for permission, making sure it was SAFE to touch the thing. Tara handed it over and Buffy was surprised to find that it was much heavier than it looked, something close to several pounds. As near as she could tell the ball was solid and not fluid filled, yet the two stars twirled and floated in the center as though a thick liquid filled its center. She made to hand it back to Tara and inadvertently dropped it. Her eyes widened in horror as it ricocheted off of her foot and began to roll down the stairs, bouncing down the steps towards the front door. At the bottom of the stairs it hit the hard tile floor, and bounced with a glassy sound once, then again, before rolling to a stop in the living room. Buffy stared in wide-eyed horror at Tara, her hand going to her mouth. Her face screwed up in confusion as Tara, who didn't look the least bit concerned, walked down the stairs to retrieve the fallen orb.

"It's OK Buffy." She called up the stairs. "As near as I can tell, this thing isn't capable of being destroyed by anything a mortal can throw at it. My dad found this one on a construction job he was on. He bent the shaft of his jackhammer on it." She picked up the ball and carried it back up the stairs. "As you can see, there's not even a scratch."

Buffy took the ball back, awed, turning it over in her hands, marveling at the lack of damage. "OK, it's tough. What does it do, though?"

Tara smiled. "It grants wishes."

Buffy's eyes widened.

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Nina was on fire.

The redhead from the party had long ago stripped herself and Nina, their clothes making a soft pallet on the shifting sands. In fact, most of her clothes were off before they were even fully hidden among the dunes off of the beach. Nina kneeled above her lover, one of her full breasts cupped in her right hand, the nipple pinched and rolled between her fingers. The other hand was running through the hair of the fiery redhead that was busily making love to her with her skilled lips, fingers and tongue. The young woman moaned as the sensations running from her tingling and dripping sex raced to her toes, curling them as she writhed above the head of her lover, her heels and toes stroking Willow's flanks and buttocks. Her breathing became more and more labored as the seconds stretched to minutes, the minutes lengthened into eternity; time seemed to stretch and stand still for the gray-eyed Latina. Her red tongue snaked out to lick her lips; the sweet and salty taste of the redhead's cum still coating them, the tangy flavor making her taste buds tingle and ache for more. She tasted heavenly!

Earlier, the roles had been reversed, with Nina on her back and the redhead kneeling over her, moving her sex in a primal rhythm with Nina's exploring lips and tongue, her nimble hands and fingers stroking and cupping Willow's firm rear. She vividly remembered the wildly erotic woman's passionate moans as her tongue glided across her swollen, slick lips, the petals of her womanhood opening invitingly with her arousal, exposing the inner walls of her most secret place. There was one oddly disturbing point when she could have sworn that Willow, as she'd announced her name to be, had very long teeth, but when she smiled down at the darker woman tonguing her wetness, Nina quickly lost that thought to lose herself in her lovers dark eyes. Now, it was Nina's turn to look down and meet Willow's burning, hungry gaze.

"Hungry…that's how she looks," Nina thought as Willow turned her head to lick her thighs, her tongue tracing along Nina's pulsing femoral artery. The redhead began to slowly, tantalizingly, circle her partners' clit with her agile fingers, nipping at her thigh and the sides of her sex with her mouth and teeth. Suddenly, she began to suck, hard, pulling at Nina's thigh with her mouth until the sharpness of the pain mingled with Nina's overwhelming need to cum from Willows fingers stroking her soaked slit. With a final keening wail, Nina's body climbed the final peak and rushed headlong over into a shuddering, moaning release, her hands wrapped tightly in Willow's hair. Her orgasm completely overcame her senses; she never noticed the sharper sting of fangs entering her thigh, piercing her femoral artery, and draining her life's blood from the huge vessel. In fact, as the last tremors of her orgasm left her shaking body, her mind barely registered her own body falling backwards. Willow moved from underneath her, drawing a razor sharp nail across her breast above the areola, then placing the blood covered body part into Nina's mouth, the blood trickling down and across the puckered, erect nipple to run across Nina's tongue. Willow's eyes rolled into her head as she purred, her vampiric visage sliding into place as she looked down at her new Childe. "How do you like Mother's Milk, darling?" She smiled as the young, dying woman nursed at her bleeding breast. "Welcome to the family, love. We're going to have SO much fun…"

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Spike was bored. He had plenty of beer to drink, even if it was that weak American brand stuff, but that only carried a bloke so far, right? 'What I need is a bird to shag' He thought, eyes casting about for a likely candidate. He set his empty mug down on the plywood bar table, tipping a flip salute to Qwerty before wandering about the party, checking out the singles, couples, and groups that had begun to mingle for their evening's pleasure. Most of the eligible single women he saw were either too young, too non-humanoid, or too skanky even by his standards. He sighed, about to give up, when he noticed some new faces in the "Blessed Wanna-Be" group under the pier. Most of the group that met during this party wasn't interested in men, but possibly some of the new faces were. Trying to appear nonchalant, Spike wandered over and leaned against a piling, observing the conversation, meditation or low chanting that was going on.

That's when he noticed.

It became readily apparent to him that what was once a predominately human group now largely consisted of vampires. Sure, there was a human or three among them, but the overwhelming majority was distinctly vampire. Spike was puzzling over this when a feminine arm snaked around his left shoulder and a very luscious female body pressed itself against his back. The arm that went around his shoulder caressed his lips, brushing just under his nose…and that's when the smells hit him. He could distinctly smell the scent of a woman's sex and blood on the too cold fingers…a vampire's fingers. He started to speak when he felt the mystery woman's other hand reach around and settle on his stirring groin, sensuously stroking him through his jeans. He tried to turn, but the two arms suddenly gripped him tightly, preventing him from doing so. He smiled, thinking to himself, 'Lovely…she likes to play games…' Before he could speak however, he felt cold wind against his ear, and smelled the breath of a recently fed vampire. Of course, they didn't need to breathe, but many did out of habit, or when they were being seductive…like the undead behind him apparently was.

Chilly lips nibbled his ear, sharp fangs nipped at his earlobe. Spike stirred, but allowed the other vampire to play for a moment. He flippantly asked, "Is this a solo affair or can two play, luv?"

Arousal turned to shock as the female behind him turned him around, manhandling him as though he were a fledgling and pinning him to the big wooden pillar. His shock deepened to stunned disbelief as he saw Willow Rosenberg, mouth still stained with Nina's blood, leering at him with a smug grin. She reached down and fondled his crotch again, noting with sadistic glee that whatever had been blooming there had suddenly decided to hibernate instead. "Gee, Spikey…you seemed happy to see me a minute ago. Need Viagra after all?"

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Author's Note: Ok, I did say I wrote sporadically. That, coupled with a new job, meant SO little time to write. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, so please review…having comments is encouraging to writing more.