Buffy walked the streets of Sunnydale for several hours after her fight with the vampire. She was confused, mostly. After she had calmed down and left the building where the fighting had occurred, it dawned on her the enormity of what had happened. She remembered her careless charge into a fight where she was obviously outnumbered and the zeal she felt believing that she was invincible. Thinking back, these creatures she ran into were some of the more fearsome she had encountered. They were well prepared and almost expecting her arrival. They fought well and the multitude of them should easily have overpowered her. They had not, however, and this had been as much of a shock to her now as it must have been to them.
"The dagger." She thought.
The eternally warm and scaly grip of the weapon pressed against her palm. She still held it in her right hand. It was comforting. She felt she had something in common with the weapon. As if it empathized with the life of killing that Buffy had been born into. There was a difference though; the dagger seemed to enjoy it. She felt crazy believing that the weapon had feelings of its own. It was a weapon, a device, a means to an end and nothing more. However, ever since she had first gripped it, she had felt it's presence like a like another person in the room. Perhaps a second pair of eyes watching her and experiencing her thoughts and feelings just as she did. This idea made her uncomfortable. The anguish she felt as a slayer was very personal to her. It was a link to her human weaknesses and she didn't like anyone else to see her vulnerability. Yet it was just a dagger.
Buffy continued down the long dark street she found herself on. The cool night wafted around her, pulling breathes of smoky white from her lips. She walked with her eyes cast down in thought. Not really sure where she was headed, Buffy just walked onward, turning down this street or that alley as she came to it. The sky stood dark and unbroken above her. Neither the moon nor the stars looked down from the heavens.
"Perhaps I should just get rid of the dagger." Buffy whispered to herself.
The idea suddenly hurt her. She gasped her breathe and stopped in her tracks. The image of her dropping the dagger to the ground or throwing it deep into the night made her almost weep with loss. No, that was certainly not the answer. She just had to learn how to control it. The weapon gave her an advantage. She felt lithe and untouchable when she fought. Her strength had been greater and she had felt an unstoppable confidence. Her thoughts skirted around the memories of the pleasure she felt after slaying a vampire. She knew it was induced by the dagger as some type of reward and she felt even now the need to find another vampire to slay in order to feel the intense pleasure again. However, the intimacy of the feeling made her uneasy. She had only felt that type of sexual pleasure on a few precious occasions and never had it turned out the way she planned. Even so, those moments had always been accompanied by feelings of passion and desire for her partner. Now, though, its source was the dagger and her desire to kill. Still, she had to admit to herself that, despite its cause, she liked it.
That realization made her blush and lower her head even further. She realized that it was probably pretty late and that she should head on home. Buffy lifted her head so she could look about and find out where exactly she was. With a startled jerk of her shoulders, she found someone standing before her.
"Hello, love."
Spike stood a few meters ahead of her at a street corner. He leaned to his right on a street lamp as he watched her.
Anger flashed through Buffy. She felt as if Spike had intruded on her in a private moment. As if her thoughts were visible around her and he had just read them across her face. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and the dagger's handle cut into her palm.
"What do you want, Spike?"
Spike's eye's widened in a mock look of surprise.
"What? No hello?" he spoke, standing up from the lamp post.
"Spike, I'm tired. What do you want?" Buffy's voice plainly showed her annoyance.
"You know," Spike reproached, sounding quite indignant, "after the favor I did for you, you'd think you'd show a bit more appreciation."
Buffy looked baffled. "What favor?"
"That weapon in your hand, where did you think it came from?"
Buffy looked down at the dagger than back up at Spike.
"This is yours?" she said in disgust.
"Well, not quite mine," he answered, "but it was me that found it and brought it to you."
Buffy was speechless. She hadn't even thought about the weapon's origins.
"Damn thing nearly killed me." Spike muttered.
"The person you took this from almost killed you with it?"
Spike's brow clenched in annoyance.
"I didn't take it from anyone." He sounded a bit offended. "I found it in my yard."
Buffy was confused and her weariness made her moody. She was growing angry at Spike's obvious half-truths.
"What's going on Spike? How did this knife almost kill you if you found it on the ground?" The anger in her voice alerted Spike that she was in no mood for his games.
Spike straightened and took on a more serious demeanor. Lately, it was very important to him that Buffy appreciate his effort to help. Almost as if he was looking for her praise.
"Look, two blokes were chasing down this one asshole through my cemetery late last night. I was trying to get a night's sleep and they were making a bloody racket. I came out to find out what the hell was going on and I find them beating the living daylights out of him. I ask them to stop cause they're keeping me up and they had the balls to take a shot at me. Well, after a short scuffle, they were on the ground I had their pretty knife."
Buffy knew he was embellishing but at that moment she didn't care.
"What happened to the guy they were chasing?" she asked.
"Oh, him." Spike thought for a moment. "I believe the little bastard took off into the forest. No idea what happened to him."
Buffy knew about the chip that the Initiative implanted in Spike's head so he obviously didn't fight those men himself. Generally, though, the story was probably true.
"So, they attacked you with the dagger?" Buffy asked.
"No. The one they were chasing had the dagger. He dropped it as he ran off."
Confused, Buffy tilted her head to the side.
"Then how did the dagger almost kill you?"
Spike's eyes dropped to the paved sidewalk. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I'm not sure, but there is something off with that knife. When I picked it up, I started seeing all these images of my life before I met Angel and Dru. It was sad, and I almost wished I had never become a vampire. Next thing I knew, I have the blade pointed at my chest and about to shove it through my bloody heart."
Buffy didn't hear him finish his statement. As soon as he reminded her that he was a vampire, the new familiar chiming of the dagger flooded into her mind. A cool sweat broke out on Buffy's forehead as she watched Spike. She could feel the sharp edge of the dagger as it curved up the metal of the blade. Images of the knife slashing deep into Spike's chest flashed before her eyes. Her jaw clenched as the desire to drive her dagger deep into Spike's heart began to overtake her. She wanted nothing more then to cut deeply into the demon before her and feel the pleasure's of victory wash over her body. Still, she didn't move. Locked frozen standing before Spike, she watched as a confused look passed over his brow. She could see him speaking, but the words were lost in the rising crescendo in her head.
Finally no longer able to contain herself, Buffy lunged forward toward Spike. Not expecting the attack, Spike was barely able to fall backwards away from her. He quickly rolled to his feet and stood warily before the slayer. Buffy again saw him speaking, this time he looked even to be screaming at her, but she didn't care what he might be saying. She let the music drown out the entire world around her and focused her thoughts on slaying the wretched demon before her.
She took another swipe toward his chest but, prepared this time, Spike deftly dodged her attack. Buffy continued to advance toward him, pushing them both across the street and toward the edge of a bridge over looking a concrete valley of the Sunnydale sewers. After a few steps, Spike felt the cool concrete of the bridge guardrail press into the small of his back. His eyes snapped back to see the great drop into darkness behind him. With him momentarily distracted, Buffy pressed her attack. Swiping with her weapon, she sliced Spike across his abdomen then darted forward to grasp him by his neck. Startled by Buffy's actions and her surprising speed, Spike found himself wounded and pinned back to the guard rail by her hold on his throat. Spike reached up and grasped the hand almost crushing his neck.
Yes, she was the slayer and stronger than a normal human, but Spike knew his vampiric strength to be greater than hers. In a pure test of muscle, Spike knew he could over-power Buffy. Which is why he was surprised to find that he couldn't move her hand. It was like a grip of stone surrounding his neck and moving it felt like trying to shove aside a mountain.
Buffy, stood over the demon with a wild thirst coursing through her. She wanted this demon dead and the reward that the dagger promised. She found herself locked, staring at the creature she had captured below her. He seemed familiar in some way, as if she had known him in some previous time. Buffy also realized that she had yet to strike. A few seconds had passed since she had gotten her controlling grip on his neck, yet the dagger in her hand hung in the air above her head, poised for striking. The weapon called out for the kill. She could tell that it wanted the sharp thrust into the chest of her enemies more even then she did. The music in her head had swelled to a deafening point and urged her onward toward the finish. She stayed motionless, though. Trapped like a statue with her prey writhing in helplessness below her, Buffy began to lose her murderous resolve. Flashes of familiarity echoed about her head as she examined the face of the demon before her. She was almost positive that she knew him.
Suddenly, the musical chorus swimming through Buffy's head took on a more demanding tone. She could feel the anger and impatience of the dagger throbbing from its hilt. The weapon was angry. Denied its pleasure, the weapon ached to be satiated. Buffy could feel her control fading as the dagger began to press its will upon her. Her arm, raised to strike, began feeling heavy as an unseen forced pushed down on her. It was becoming more insistent as its force grew in strength. She could barely resist the urge to drop her hand and slice into Spike's heart.
Spike!
She remembered! He was a demon, but she felt him a friend. He had helped her before and she had saved his unnatural life on several occasions. She didn't want to kill this creature. He was a friend and though she would never admit it openly, Buffy knew that she enjoyed his company.
Without warning, the images of only a few weeks ago flashed through her head. She saw herself with Spike in the condemned house making love. She saw herself writhing in the thralls of ecstasy with the walls crumbling around her and this demon below her.
The dagger, feeling that its last holds on her were slipping, made a final push to control her actions. Pain shot through Buffy's skull as the demand for blood rushed in from the weapon. It demanded the death of the vampire demon and would kill her to get it.
In a last moment of coherency, Buffy released her grip on Spike's neck and forcefully pushed on his chest. She watched in silence as he toppled backward over the edge of the guard rail. Watching him fall, she saw the look of shock frozen on his face as he disappeared into the darkness below.
The music stopped.
Like a rush of water, the night flooded back into her and a cool breathe of air filled her nostrils. She slid to her knees on the concrete sidewalk then turned and rested her back against the guard rail with her legs curled under her. She stared unseeing across the street before her and towards the shops on the other side. Sitting warm and quiet in her right had, the dagger now weighted nothing.
Buffy arrived home several hours later. She didn't remember much of the walk home. Most of the time she had stared blindly down at the concrete beneath her feet, her mind lost in a haze of thought. She continuously ran her previous encounter with Spike through her head. She saw herself lose control as soon as the dagger found out he was a vampire. Apparently, it hadn't known until she remembered and the familiar company of Spike had overshadowed the fact that he was a vampire. Buffy had to consciously remind herself that he was a blood sucking fiend and that if it wasn't for the chip the Initiative had planted in his head, Spike would be more than happy to return to his old ways.
What mostly unnerved Buffy was the extent that the dagger's desires controlled her. Once it took control, Buffy had been completely under its spell. Her view of Spike had instantly changed from the annoying yet familiar friend to a vicious demon of the night. The realization that anything could have that much control over her mind was frightening.
No matter how fearful she was of the possibility of losing herself to the dagger, Buffy could not find it in herself to part with the weapon. Several times on the trip home, Buffy had found herself standing over a dumpster or trashcan with the intention of tossing the dagger in and walking away. Moments would pass, however, and nothing would happen. As she stared down at the weapon, thoughts of the speed and power it gave her would come to mind. She remembered being unstoppable against those demons in the small warehouse. The taste of power had been sweet on her tongue and she secretly craved more. Inevitably, Buffy would convince herself that she could handle the weapon's power and continue walking.
Once she arrived home, Buffy entered though the back entrance and found the kitchen cool and dark. She was thankful to find no one around. A deep cloud of shame had developed during her walk and Buffy feared that it was plainly visible on her face. Silently stepping through the kitchen and toward the front of the house, she found the living room lights on and Dawn asleep in her night shirt on the couch. As usual, Buffy was happy to see her little sister. However, there was guilt from returning home so very late. It was obvious that Dawn had waited up for her but had finally succumbed to sleep.
Deciding to let Dawn remain sleeping on the couch, Buffy quietly clicked off the living room lights and began climbing the stairs up to the second floor. Halfway up, Buffy heard the stairs groan under her weight. She froze, hoping that the sound hadn't awoken Dawn. Waiting in silence for a few seconds, Buffy continued up the steps. After only a few steps, Buffy heard a voice from below.
"Buffy?"
It was Dawn.
Buffy sighed; apparently sharpened senses was a family trait.
"Yes, it's me." Buffy replied.
Dawn walked into view at the bottom of the stairs.
"I waited up for you," she stated. "You were out pretty late."
Buffy looked at the base of the stairs but wasn't able to look up into her sisters face.
"Yeah, I had a couple of goons to deal with. Sorry, I should have called."
"It's okay," Dawn replied, opening her mouth in a yawn as she spoke. She stretched her arms out behind her and started up the stairs, "I was just worried."
Buffy smiled weakly.
"I know. Don't worry, I'm okay."
Buffy then turned to continue up the stairs. She felt her weariness growing and the thought of her warm bed upstairs was very inviting.
"What's that?" Dawn asked from below.
Buffy turned back toward her.
"What?"
"That, in your hand."
Buffy lowered her head to look down at the hand to which Dawn was referring. Buffy saw the dagger sitting in the tight grip of her right hand. The weapon's blade shown brightly, even in the dim light of the stairs.
"Oh…uh?" Buffy stammered, "it just a dagger. You know, those vamps can be pretty nasty."
"Isn't that the dagger Anaya found this morning?"
Dawn seemed only curious, but Buffy felt the question as more of an accusation.
"Yeah, but its okay, I just wanted to see how well it worked." Buffy answered quickly.
Dawn, obviously sensing Buffy on the defensive, suddenly looked confused.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Buffy answered, trying to sound normal. "I'm okay, it was just a long night."
Even as Buffy thought about it, flashes of the previous evening raced across her mind. Again she saw Spike falling backwards off the bridge. She remembered seeing him disappear into the darkness below without a sound and knowing at the time that she could probably have followed him over the edge and finished the job that the dagger desired. As she thought about it, Buffy heard the dagger's sweet chiming sing quietly in the back of her mind. Buffy quickly closed her mind off from the thoughts of Spike, afraid that if she dwelled on it long enough, she would soon go looking for him.
"Where is that coming from?" Dawn suddenly spoke, breaking Buffy out of her thoughts.
"Where is what coming from?" Buffy asked, happy to be thinking of something else.
"That music," Dawn answered as she looked around.
Buffy's eyes shot open as she starred down the few steps toward her younger sister. Fear griped her spine and the chiming of the dagger was drown out.
"Oh, it's gone now." Dawn spoke. "Dunno what that was."
Buffy watched silently as her sister walked up the stairs past her.
Could everyone hear the music? Buffy thought. I thought it was only in my head, but I swear Dawn just heard it.
Dawn awoke in the middle of the night. She found herself staring straight up toward the ceiling of her bedroom and she realized that her heart was racing. Sweat trickled across her forehead and onto her pillow. Her bed sheets and comforter were pulled up to her neck and her two hands held the fabric so tightly that her knuckles had become white.
At first, she was confused. She thought that she had heard something which caused her to wake, but now she wasn't sure if what she heard was real or if it had been part of her dream. At the thought of her dream, Dawn shivered. Trying to recall what she had dreamt, Dawn found that she couldn't recall anything but a few fleeting images. Those images were disturbing. She saw herself running, being chased by some unseen menace. She saw Buffy crouched on the floor, crying with blood covering her hands and some type of dark robed figure bent over her and whispering in her ear. Then the sound of something breaking permeated her dreams and abruptly brought her back to consciousness. She wasn't certain, however, that the sound had not come from the chilling dreamland she had been caught up in a few moments before.
Water.
The thought came to her clearly through the haze of just waking. Kicking the sheets and comforter off from her, Dawn stood from bed and quietly walked over to her bedroom door in her night shirt. Sweat continued to run down her face as Dawn found her room almost as hot and stuffy as it had been under her covers. Reaching the door, Dawn gently turned the knob and swung the door inwards. A blast of cool air rushed in from the hallway beyond. Dawn sighed at the contact of the brisk air. Stepping from her room, Dawn looked up and down the hallway. To her left was two other doors, both were closed. One lead into Buffy's room and the other into the room Willow occupied. To her left was the door into the second floor's only bathroom and beyond that was the top of the stairs down to the living room.
The kitchen.
Again, the thought was clear and distinct in her mind. She began stepping quietly toward the stairs, puzzled at why she wanted to go downstairs when she knew the bathroom had a glass just for these night time thirsts. Giving the thought only a passing moment, Dawn reached the top of the stairs and stepped down the first stair.
She stopped.
In the back of her mind, a quiet chiming began to play. She recognized the song. It was similar to the one she had heard this afternoon at the magic shop and then earlier tonight after Buffy had come home.
She thought she heard it coming from down the hall behind her.
She really wanted to find its source.
Forgetting her thirst, Dawn stepped back up the stair and began to make her way down the hallway. She had only taken a few steps when her thirst returned, worse than before.
Water.
The chiming diminished and sung dimly in the back of her mind.
A glass of water from the kitchen would be splendid.
Though she agreed with the thought, she thought the wording was strange. She couldn't remember the last time she used the word "splendid."
Turning on her heel, Dawn again approached the stairs. As soon as she placed her fingers upon the banister, the chiming music again flooded her mind. This time, the music sang almost urgently, as if it needed her and desperately wanted to find her. Deciding that her thirst could wait until she found the source of this chiming, Dawn walked back down the hallway and past the door to her room. The music became more distinct as she approached Buffy's door. Certain that she chiming was coming from inside her sister's room, Dawn stepped up the door and gently placed her ear to the wood.
As she listened for sounds of her sister awake, the need for water again asserted itself. She felt the thirst pull at the back of her throat and her tongue felt dry.
Water.
This time, however, the now familiar thought was barely audible above the chiming song in her head and Dawn decided to get a glass of water from the kitchen after she checked Buffy's room.
Once she had said goodnight to Dawn and checked in to find Willow asleep in her room, Buffy had come into her room and quickly closed the door behind her. The dagger still played its delicate chiming in her head and whispered ideas of slaying and reward in her mind. Trying her best to ignore the weapon, Buffy quickly began changing her clothes for bed. Buffy found it awkward to remove her pants with the dagger in her hand. The small buttons holding the waist of her jeans closed gave her a bit of difficultly and she shuddered as the thought of just slicing them off her skin flashed through her head. Finally getting them off, she then reached for the waist of her shirt and began to pull it up and over her head. After the shirt was off her head and she could see again, she began to pull it off her arms but found that she couldn't pull the tight sleeves over the dagger. She tried several ways, of course, but the weapon was too large and covered with jagged edges to fit safely through the tight sleeve. There was no way she could find to pull the shirt off her arm with out harming it. The idea that she could sleep with the shirt still over her arms popped into her head, but rational thinking interceded and suggested that she just put the dagger down for a moment and remove the shirt. The idea was almost horrifying. Still, though, Buffy couldn't think of a better way.
Standing in her room in just her bra and panties with her pink shirt draped over her right arm and a large dagger gripped in her right hand, Buffy began searching her room for hidden intruders. The fear that someone might be waiting in the room to grab the weapon as soon as she dropped it forced her to thoroughly check everywhere. After crawling under her bed and digging through her closet and finding no one, Buffy decided it was a safe as possible to set the weapon down. Buffy stood over her bed and drew in the deep breath, preparing herself. Then, she gently laid the weapon down the on the bed. After her hand was off the dagger's handle, she whipped the shirt off her arm with a jerk. Buffy then reached to the floor and snatched up her night shirt and sweats. With a panicked urgency, she yanked each on over her skin. Before the fabric had settled on her body, Buffy snatched the dagger off the bed covers. Standing there looking down at the weapon in her hands, Buffy felt her heart racing and her jaw painfully clenched. Even so, a wave of relief washed over her. She had the weapon in her hands again…everything was fine.
Pulling the comforter and sheets down, Buffy crawled into the bed and gently laid her right hand still holding the dagger on the pillow in front of her head. Soon she was asleep.
However, she did not sleep for long. Her head swam with images of the night's patrolling. She remembered the old vampire she had fought in the storage room and how easily she had bested him. He had to have been at least as old and the elder master vampire she had fought several years ago, but this victory had been easy. She then remembered her short fight with Spike in the open streets. Buffy had easily over-powered the seasoned vampire. She had almost killed him.
Buffy awoke to the sound of someone at her bedroom door. Buffy was facing the door as she watched the knob turn. Sliding backwards out of her bed, Buffy bounded over her mattress and to the side of the door with almost no sound.
She had been expecting this. The dagger was too precious and too powerful not to have someone desiring it. She knew that eventually someone would come looking for the weapon. Buffy wouldn't let them take it, however. It was hers and she would kill to keep it.
Waiting at the side of the door, Buffy watched the door knob slowly turn until it clicked. Then the door began to swing inwards. Buffy stood poised just behind the wood. She watched the doors leading edge as it swung away from the wall. After opening only part way, she saw the head of the thief inch out around the doors edge. Waiting until she saw the eyes of her would-be assailant, Buffy snapped her hand around the door and grabbed the intruder by the throat. She heard a muffled cry try to escape her hold, but only a slight rasp echoed in the dark room. Pulling the intruder into the room, Buffy drug him behind her across the floor and then threw him onto the bed. Jumping on top of the dark shape that lay coughing and clutching had its throat, Buffy raised the dagger above her head to strike. As it rose on its deadly course, the daggers perfect blade caught a streak of moonlight shining in from outside. The light reflected downward and over the face of the would-be thief.
Dawn!
Buffy recognized the smooth, round face of her baby sister. Shocked, Buffy jumped to her feet.
Sliding off the bed and onto her knees on the floor, Dawn struggled to catch her breath. Buffy continued to stare down at her sister with wide eyes.
Could she have been after my dagger? Buffy thought.
"Buffy?" Dawn was finally able to speak after a few attempts to draw a breath.
Suddenly remembering what she had done to her own sister, Buffy crouched down next to Dawn.
"I'm so sorry." She spoke desperately. "I thought you were an intruder."
Dawn looked up at Buffy with anger. She then reached up and smacked Buffy on her shoulder.
"You didn't even look! You just grabbed me!" Dawn shouted.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you!"
"You didn't even look and you almost killed me!" Dawn shouted as she jumped to her feet.
Buffy stood next to her.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Buffy grasped her sister's shoulder.
"Please. Things have been kinda weird and you woke me from a crazy dream. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Dawn shook Buffy's hand from her shoulders and stepped away.
"I get up because I'm really fucking thirsty and I hear this-"
Her voice was cut off by a shrill female scream coming from outside the room.
Both Dawn and Buffy looked toward the door which lead out into the hallway.
"Willow." Buffy breathed.
Bolting to her bedroom door, Buffy grabbed the knob and almost tore the door off its hinges as she swung it open. The hallway outside was dark and Willow's adjacent door was closed. Buffy charged Willow's door and tried to open it. With a loud thud, her weight slammed into the wood. She found that even though the knob turned the door would not move. It wouldn't even budge and stood firm and resilient to any pressure she applied.
Inside the room and beyond the door in front of her, Buffy heard the breaking of wood and glass. There was and echoing boom and another scream. This voice had not been Willow's.
"Willow!" Buffy screamed.
She took a step back from the door and kicked at the wood with all her strength. She made contact but it held firm. It was like kicking at a stone wall. Buffy was baffled and becoming frantic with getting inside to help her friend. Out of desperation, Buffy ran at the door with the dagger braced out before her. The dagger struck the door just next to its knob and slid in up to the hilt as if into water. There was a bright flash from the wood of the door and Buffy felt a small electric sting from the blades handle. A moment later, Buffy's momentum had the door shattered and her stumbling into the room.
The scene she found inside was complete chaos.
Willow stood on her bed and up against the wall in her sweat pants and t-shirt. Her hands glowed with a faint white nimbus. At the foot of the bed stood a man in army fatigues with a large knife in his right hand and a series of cuts across the right side of his face. The wall behind him was blackened and burnt and on the floor lay another body in fatigues. Across the bed from Buffy stood a third unknown figure, this one in blue jeans and a black shirt. He wore a tight black coat over his shoulders. Resting on his forehead and under his temple length dirty blonde hair, Buffy saw a metallic glimmer across his skin.
All eyes were currently locked on her as she burst into the room. The man in the black coat had a particular look of surprise on his face.
Everyone stood in place for a moment watching for the intentions of this new intruder into the room. The man in the black coat then quickly snapped his palm up to face Buffy and muttered a single word. As Buffy saw light flare from the man's hands, she heard the familiar song of her dagger rush into her mind. Diving to the side and toward the man in fatigues at the foot of Willow's bed, Buffy heard the rush of fire and felt a streak of heat fly past her. In mid-dive, Buffy clipped the man in fatigues on his neck and she and her target felt backwards to the floor.
Above Buffy on the bed, Willow shouted.
"Burn!"
Willow's hands flared with light and an arc of flame shot from her extended hands and toward the man in black. The man stood unflinching as the fire struck an invisible barrier between them and splashed across the floor. The fire died harmlessly without igniting their surroundings.
Buffy jumped to her feet and found the man in fatigues already up and advancing on her. Thinking that the blow to his neck should have killed him, Buffy was surprised to see him up and moving. He swiped at Buffy's stomach with his large knife but she easily parried and sliced him across his forearm. The man didn't flinch and thrust at her again. Realizing that her attacker wasn't human, Buffy moved back to dodge the attack. Forgetting the already prone body that lay behind her, Buffy tripped when her heel hit the charred form. Loosing her balance, Buffy stumbled backwards. Her assailant pressed her moment of weakness and rushed forward with his weapon. Buffy quickly caught her balance and rolled to the side. She came to her feet at the side of the bed in time to dodge another swipe of the man's dagger. Her attacker stepped forward to again try and stab her, but Buffy quickly stepped into his attack and swung her weapon up and toward his chin. The blade slid home and the weapon's tip burst from the top of his head. The man's body twitched and then slumped forward. Buffy jerked the dagger from the man's skull and stepped out of his way as he fell to the floor.
She turned to the bed to see the man in black reaching over the bed toward Willow. Willow dodged his grasp by jumping to the side, but lost her balance on the bed and toppled forward onto the mattress. Buffy's tried to advance on the last intruder but was blocked by Willow's fall. The man in black grabbed Willow by her leg and began to drag her off the bed and toward a window behind him. Buffy saw the window's glass was broken but hadn't remembered hearing it break. The man had Willow half off the bed when she suddenly flipped over and grabbed his extended wrist.
"Pain!" she shouted.
Yellow arcs of electricity sprung up the man's arm and he screamed in agony. He was thrown clear of the bed and to the far wall under the window, losing his grip on Willow. Buffy used the confusion to spring across the bed and down on the man in black. As her feet reached the floor in front of him and she was ready to spring toward his death, the man in black again lifted his hand toward her and muttered another unintelligible word. Expecting to be dodging another ball of fire, Buffy was suddenly surprised to find herself flying back across the room and into the far wall with a heavy crunch. She felt the wind knocked from her lungs as she dropped to the floor.
Buffy pulled herself to her feet in time to see the man in black escape out the window.
Buffy ran to the window and stuck her head through the curtains. She saw nothing but the blackness of night and the pavement of the street in front of the house.
Who ever he was, he knows how to make an escape. Buffy thought.
Instead of following him out the window, Buffy withdrew back into the room to check on Willow.
Willow was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the window. Her face looked flushed and she was drawing each breathe in excited gasps.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked her.
Willow looked up at her with calm eyes. Though being attacked was always a stressful feeling, over the years Willow had become used to danger jumping out at her from the darkness and had learned how to keep herself calm when in trouble.
"I think so." She responded.
"What the hell happened?" Buffy asked with a questioning look.
"I dunno." Willow shrugged. "I was sleeping and these guys tried to grab me out of my bed."
"I'm just glad Tara wasn't here." Willow continued.
Tara had been away for a few days. She had received a phone call earlier in the week and found out an old friend had died. The next day, Tara was on a plane to central United States. Willow had offered to go with her, but Tara insisted on not bothering anyone and going alone.
"The one guy with the hair kept saying something to me," she continued, "but I couldn't make it out. Plus, I was busy beating on the other guys and not really listening."
She then looked behind her at the dark scorch mark on the wall and the brunt corpse on the floor.
"Then I blasted one and they backed off. That when you came in."
Buffy walked over to the charred body and rolled him over onto his back. A large blackened whole stood gaping in his chest. The man's eyes were rolled back into his head.
"That must have hurt." She stated.
"What happened?"
The voice was Dawn's. She stood at the entrance to Willow's room.
"Some guys," Buffy said, gesturing at the men on the floor, "broke into Willow's room and tried to take her."
Eyes wide with shock, Dawn asked, "Take her where?"
Buffy looked up at Willow.
"I dunno." Willow responded emphatically. "I was just sleeping and they grabbed me."
"Well," Buffy scowled down at the blackened corpse, "we're not safe here. We better head on over to the Magic Shop."
"What about these?" Dawn asked, nodding at the bodies.
Buffy again frowned at the two bodies. "I dunno, we usually don't have to deal with the wet works. Vampires kinda take care of themselves." She was half speaking to herself.
"Well," she said, her head snapping up, "we can't stay here so we'll put them in the cellar for now and get rid of them later."
"The dagger." She thought.
The eternally warm and scaly grip of the weapon pressed against her palm. She still held it in her right hand. It was comforting. She felt she had something in common with the weapon. As if it empathized with the life of killing that Buffy had been born into. There was a difference though; the dagger seemed to enjoy it. She felt crazy believing that the weapon had feelings of its own. It was a weapon, a device, a means to an end and nothing more. However, ever since she had first gripped it, she had felt it's presence like a like another person in the room. Perhaps a second pair of eyes watching her and experiencing her thoughts and feelings just as she did. This idea made her uncomfortable. The anguish she felt as a slayer was very personal to her. It was a link to her human weaknesses and she didn't like anyone else to see her vulnerability. Yet it was just a dagger.
Buffy continued down the long dark street she found herself on. The cool night wafted around her, pulling breathes of smoky white from her lips. She walked with her eyes cast down in thought. Not really sure where she was headed, Buffy just walked onward, turning down this street or that alley as she came to it. The sky stood dark and unbroken above her. Neither the moon nor the stars looked down from the heavens.
"Perhaps I should just get rid of the dagger." Buffy whispered to herself.
The idea suddenly hurt her. She gasped her breathe and stopped in her tracks. The image of her dropping the dagger to the ground or throwing it deep into the night made her almost weep with loss. No, that was certainly not the answer. She just had to learn how to control it. The weapon gave her an advantage. She felt lithe and untouchable when she fought. Her strength had been greater and she had felt an unstoppable confidence. Her thoughts skirted around the memories of the pleasure she felt after slaying a vampire. She knew it was induced by the dagger as some type of reward and she felt even now the need to find another vampire to slay in order to feel the intense pleasure again. However, the intimacy of the feeling made her uneasy. She had only felt that type of sexual pleasure on a few precious occasions and never had it turned out the way she planned. Even so, those moments had always been accompanied by feelings of passion and desire for her partner. Now, though, its source was the dagger and her desire to kill. Still, she had to admit to herself that, despite its cause, she liked it.
That realization made her blush and lower her head even further. She realized that it was probably pretty late and that she should head on home. Buffy lifted her head so she could look about and find out where exactly she was. With a startled jerk of her shoulders, she found someone standing before her.
"Hello, love."
Spike stood a few meters ahead of her at a street corner. He leaned to his right on a street lamp as he watched her.
Anger flashed through Buffy. She felt as if Spike had intruded on her in a private moment. As if her thoughts were visible around her and he had just read them across her face. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and the dagger's handle cut into her palm.
"What do you want, Spike?"
Spike's eye's widened in a mock look of surprise.
"What? No hello?" he spoke, standing up from the lamp post.
"Spike, I'm tired. What do you want?" Buffy's voice plainly showed her annoyance.
"You know," Spike reproached, sounding quite indignant, "after the favor I did for you, you'd think you'd show a bit more appreciation."
Buffy looked baffled. "What favor?"
"That weapon in your hand, where did you think it came from?"
Buffy looked down at the dagger than back up at Spike.
"This is yours?" she said in disgust.
"Well, not quite mine," he answered, "but it was me that found it and brought it to you."
Buffy was speechless. She hadn't even thought about the weapon's origins.
"Damn thing nearly killed me." Spike muttered.
"The person you took this from almost killed you with it?"
Spike's brow clenched in annoyance.
"I didn't take it from anyone." He sounded a bit offended. "I found it in my yard."
Buffy was confused and her weariness made her moody. She was growing angry at Spike's obvious half-truths.
"What's going on Spike? How did this knife almost kill you if you found it on the ground?" The anger in her voice alerted Spike that she was in no mood for his games.
Spike straightened and took on a more serious demeanor. Lately, it was very important to him that Buffy appreciate his effort to help. Almost as if he was looking for her praise.
"Look, two blokes were chasing down this one asshole through my cemetery late last night. I was trying to get a night's sleep and they were making a bloody racket. I came out to find out what the hell was going on and I find them beating the living daylights out of him. I ask them to stop cause they're keeping me up and they had the balls to take a shot at me. Well, after a short scuffle, they were on the ground I had their pretty knife."
Buffy knew he was embellishing but at that moment she didn't care.
"What happened to the guy they were chasing?" she asked.
"Oh, him." Spike thought for a moment. "I believe the little bastard took off into the forest. No idea what happened to him."
Buffy knew about the chip that the Initiative implanted in Spike's head so he obviously didn't fight those men himself. Generally, though, the story was probably true.
"So, they attacked you with the dagger?" Buffy asked.
"No. The one they were chasing had the dagger. He dropped it as he ran off."
Confused, Buffy tilted her head to the side.
"Then how did the dagger almost kill you?"
Spike's eyes dropped to the paved sidewalk. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I'm not sure, but there is something off with that knife. When I picked it up, I started seeing all these images of my life before I met Angel and Dru. It was sad, and I almost wished I had never become a vampire. Next thing I knew, I have the blade pointed at my chest and about to shove it through my bloody heart."
Buffy didn't hear him finish his statement. As soon as he reminded her that he was a vampire, the new familiar chiming of the dagger flooded into her mind. A cool sweat broke out on Buffy's forehead as she watched Spike. She could feel the sharp edge of the dagger as it curved up the metal of the blade. Images of the knife slashing deep into Spike's chest flashed before her eyes. Her jaw clenched as the desire to drive her dagger deep into Spike's heart began to overtake her. She wanted nothing more then to cut deeply into the demon before her and feel the pleasure's of victory wash over her body. Still, she didn't move. Locked frozen standing before Spike, she watched as a confused look passed over his brow. She could see him speaking, but the words were lost in the rising crescendo in her head.
Finally no longer able to contain herself, Buffy lunged forward toward Spike. Not expecting the attack, Spike was barely able to fall backwards away from her. He quickly rolled to his feet and stood warily before the slayer. Buffy again saw him speaking, this time he looked even to be screaming at her, but she didn't care what he might be saying. She let the music drown out the entire world around her and focused her thoughts on slaying the wretched demon before her.
She took another swipe toward his chest but, prepared this time, Spike deftly dodged her attack. Buffy continued to advance toward him, pushing them both across the street and toward the edge of a bridge over looking a concrete valley of the Sunnydale sewers. After a few steps, Spike felt the cool concrete of the bridge guardrail press into the small of his back. His eyes snapped back to see the great drop into darkness behind him. With him momentarily distracted, Buffy pressed her attack. Swiping with her weapon, she sliced Spike across his abdomen then darted forward to grasp him by his neck. Startled by Buffy's actions and her surprising speed, Spike found himself wounded and pinned back to the guard rail by her hold on his throat. Spike reached up and grasped the hand almost crushing his neck.
Yes, she was the slayer and stronger than a normal human, but Spike knew his vampiric strength to be greater than hers. In a pure test of muscle, Spike knew he could over-power Buffy. Which is why he was surprised to find that he couldn't move her hand. It was like a grip of stone surrounding his neck and moving it felt like trying to shove aside a mountain.
Buffy, stood over the demon with a wild thirst coursing through her. She wanted this demon dead and the reward that the dagger promised. She found herself locked, staring at the creature she had captured below her. He seemed familiar in some way, as if she had known him in some previous time. Buffy also realized that she had yet to strike. A few seconds had passed since she had gotten her controlling grip on his neck, yet the dagger in her hand hung in the air above her head, poised for striking. The weapon called out for the kill. She could tell that it wanted the sharp thrust into the chest of her enemies more even then she did. The music in her head had swelled to a deafening point and urged her onward toward the finish. She stayed motionless, though. Trapped like a statue with her prey writhing in helplessness below her, Buffy began to lose her murderous resolve. Flashes of familiarity echoed about her head as she examined the face of the demon before her. She was almost positive that she knew him.
Suddenly, the musical chorus swimming through Buffy's head took on a more demanding tone. She could feel the anger and impatience of the dagger throbbing from its hilt. The weapon was angry. Denied its pleasure, the weapon ached to be satiated. Buffy could feel her control fading as the dagger began to press its will upon her. Her arm, raised to strike, began feeling heavy as an unseen forced pushed down on her. It was becoming more insistent as its force grew in strength. She could barely resist the urge to drop her hand and slice into Spike's heart.
Spike!
She remembered! He was a demon, but she felt him a friend. He had helped her before and she had saved his unnatural life on several occasions. She didn't want to kill this creature. He was a friend and though she would never admit it openly, Buffy knew that she enjoyed his company.
Without warning, the images of only a few weeks ago flashed through her head. She saw herself with Spike in the condemned house making love. She saw herself writhing in the thralls of ecstasy with the walls crumbling around her and this demon below her.
The dagger, feeling that its last holds on her were slipping, made a final push to control her actions. Pain shot through Buffy's skull as the demand for blood rushed in from the weapon. It demanded the death of the vampire demon and would kill her to get it.
In a last moment of coherency, Buffy released her grip on Spike's neck and forcefully pushed on his chest. She watched in silence as he toppled backward over the edge of the guard rail. Watching him fall, she saw the look of shock frozen on his face as he disappeared into the darkness below.
The music stopped.
Like a rush of water, the night flooded back into her and a cool breathe of air filled her nostrils. She slid to her knees on the concrete sidewalk then turned and rested her back against the guard rail with her legs curled under her. She stared unseeing across the street before her and towards the shops on the other side. Sitting warm and quiet in her right had, the dagger now weighted nothing.
Buffy arrived home several hours later. She didn't remember much of the walk home. Most of the time she had stared blindly down at the concrete beneath her feet, her mind lost in a haze of thought. She continuously ran her previous encounter with Spike through her head. She saw herself lose control as soon as the dagger found out he was a vampire. Apparently, it hadn't known until she remembered and the familiar company of Spike had overshadowed the fact that he was a vampire. Buffy had to consciously remind herself that he was a blood sucking fiend and that if it wasn't for the chip the Initiative had planted in his head, Spike would be more than happy to return to his old ways.
What mostly unnerved Buffy was the extent that the dagger's desires controlled her. Once it took control, Buffy had been completely under its spell. Her view of Spike had instantly changed from the annoying yet familiar friend to a vicious demon of the night. The realization that anything could have that much control over her mind was frightening.
No matter how fearful she was of the possibility of losing herself to the dagger, Buffy could not find it in herself to part with the weapon. Several times on the trip home, Buffy had found herself standing over a dumpster or trashcan with the intention of tossing the dagger in and walking away. Moments would pass, however, and nothing would happen. As she stared down at the weapon, thoughts of the speed and power it gave her would come to mind. She remembered being unstoppable against those demons in the small warehouse. The taste of power had been sweet on her tongue and she secretly craved more. Inevitably, Buffy would convince herself that she could handle the weapon's power and continue walking.
Once she arrived home, Buffy entered though the back entrance and found the kitchen cool and dark. She was thankful to find no one around. A deep cloud of shame had developed during her walk and Buffy feared that it was plainly visible on her face. Silently stepping through the kitchen and toward the front of the house, she found the living room lights on and Dawn asleep in her night shirt on the couch. As usual, Buffy was happy to see her little sister. However, there was guilt from returning home so very late. It was obvious that Dawn had waited up for her but had finally succumbed to sleep.
Deciding to let Dawn remain sleeping on the couch, Buffy quietly clicked off the living room lights and began climbing the stairs up to the second floor. Halfway up, Buffy heard the stairs groan under her weight. She froze, hoping that the sound hadn't awoken Dawn. Waiting in silence for a few seconds, Buffy continued up the steps. After only a few steps, Buffy heard a voice from below.
"Buffy?"
It was Dawn.
Buffy sighed; apparently sharpened senses was a family trait.
"Yes, it's me." Buffy replied.
Dawn walked into view at the bottom of the stairs.
"I waited up for you," she stated. "You were out pretty late."
Buffy looked at the base of the stairs but wasn't able to look up into her sisters face.
"Yeah, I had a couple of goons to deal with. Sorry, I should have called."
"It's okay," Dawn replied, opening her mouth in a yawn as she spoke. She stretched her arms out behind her and started up the stairs, "I was just worried."
Buffy smiled weakly.
"I know. Don't worry, I'm okay."
Buffy then turned to continue up the stairs. She felt her weariness growing and the thought of her warm bed upstairs was very inviting.
"What's that?" Dawn asked from below.
Buffy turned back toward her.
"What?"
"That, in your hand."
Buffy lowered her head to look down at the hand to which Dawn was referring. Buffy saw the dagger sitting in the tight grip of her right hand. The weapon's blade shown brightly, even in the dim light of the stairs.
"Oh…uh?" Buffy stammered, "it just a dagger. You know, those vamps can be pretty nasty."
"Isn't that the dagger Anaya found this morning?"
Dawn seemed only curious, but Buffy felt the question as more of an accusation.
"Yeah, but its okay, I just wanted to see how well it worked." Buffy answered quickly.
Dawn, obviously sensing Buffy on the defensive, suddenly looked confused.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Buffy answered, trying to sound normal. "I'm okay, it was just a long night."
Even as Buffy thought about it, flashes of the previous evening raced across her mind. Again she saw Spike falling backwards off the bridge. She remembered seeing him disappear into the darkness below without a sound and knowing at the time that she could probably have followed him over the edge and finished the job that the dagger desired. As she thought about it, Buffy heard the dagger's sweet chiming sing quietly in the back of her mind. Buffy quickly closed her mind off from the thoughts of Spike, afraid that if she dwelled on it long enough, she would soon go looking for him.
"Where is that coming from?" Dawn suddenly spoke, breaking Buffy out of her thoughts.
"Where is what coming from?" Buffy asked, happy to be thinking of something else.
"That music," Dawn answered as she looked around.
Buffy's eyes shot open as she starred down the few steps toward her younger sister. Fear griped her spine and the chiming of the dagger was drown out.
"Oh, it's gone now." Dawn spoke. "Dunno what that was."
Buffy watched silently as her sister walked up the stairs past her.
Could everyone hear the music? Buffy thought. I thought it was only in my head, but I swear Dawn just heard it.
Dawn awoke in the middle of the night. She found herself staring straight up toward the ceiling of her bedroom and she realized that her heart was racing. Sweat trickled across her forehead and onto her pillow. Her bed sheets and comforter were pulled up to her neck and her two hands held the fabric so tightly that her knuckles had become white.
At first, she was confused. She thought that she had heard something which caused her to wake, but now she wasn't sure if what she heard was real or if it had been part of her dream. At the thought of her dream, Dawn shivered. Trying to recall what she had dreamt, Dawn found that she couldn't recall anything but a few fleeting images. Those images were disturbing. She saw herself running, being chased by some unseen menace. She saw Buffy crouched on the floor, crying with blood covering her hands and some type of dark robed figure bent over her and whispering in her ear. Then the sound of something breaking permeated her dreams and abruptly brought her back to consciousness. She wasn't certain, however, that the sound had not come from the chilling dreamland she had been caught up in a few moments before.
Water.
The thought came to her clearly through the haze of just waking. Kicking the sheets and comforter off from her, Dawn stood from bed and quietly walked over to her bedroom door in her night shirt. Sweat continued to run down her face as Dawn found her room almost as hot and stuffy as it had been under her covers. Reaching the door, Dawn gently turned the knob and swung the door inwards. A blast of cool air rushed in from the hallway beyond. Dawn sighed at the contact of the brisk air. Stepping from her room, Dawn looked up and down the hallway. To her left was two other doors, both were closed. One lead into Buffy's room and the other into the room Willow occupied. To her left was the door into the second floor's only bathroom and beyond that was the top of the stairs down to the living room.
The kitchen.
Again, the thought was clear and distinct in her mind. She began stepping quietly toward the stairs, puzzled at why she wanted to go downstairs when she knew the bathroom had a glass just for these night time thirsts. Giving the thought only a passing moment, Dawn reached the top of the stairs and stepped down the first stair.
She stopped.
In the back of her mind, a quiet chiming began to play. She recognized the song. It was similar to the one she had heard this afternoon at the magic shop and then earlier tonight after Buffy had come home.
She thought she heard it coming from down the hall behind her.
She really wanted to find its source.
Forgetting her thirst, Dawn stepped back up the stair and began to make her way down the hallway. She had only taken a few steps when her thirst returned, worse than before.
Water.
The chiming diminished and sung dimly in the back of her mind.
A glass of water from the kitchen would be splendid.
Though she agreed with the thought, she thought the wording was strange. She couldn't remember the last time she used the word "splendid."
Turning on her heel, Dawn again approached the stairs. As soon as she placed her fingers upon the banister, the chiming music again flooded her mind. This time, the music sang almost urgently, as if it needed her and desperately wanted to find her. Deciding that her thirst could wait until she found the source of this chiming, Dawn walked back down the hallway and past the door to her room. The music became more distinct as she approached Buffy's door. Certain that she chiming was coming from inside her sister's room, Dawn stepped up the door and gently placed her ear to the wood.
As she listened for sounds of her sister awake, the need for water again asserted itself. She felt the thirst pull at the back of her throat and her tongue felt dry.
Water.
This time, however, the now familiar thought was barely audible above the chiming song in her head and Dawn decided to get a glass of water from the kitchen after she checked Buffy's room.
Once she had said goodnight to Dawn and checked in to find Willow asleep in her room, Buffy had come into her room and quickly closed the door behind her. The dagger still played its delicate chiming in her head and whispered ideas of slaying and reward in her mind. Trying her best to ignore the weapon, Buffy quickly began changing her clothes for bed. Buffy found it awkward to remove her pants with the dagger in her hand. The small buttons holding the waist of her jeans closed gave her a bit of difficultly and she shuddered as the thought of just slicing them off her skin flashed through her head. Finally getting them off, she then reached for the waist of her shirt and began to pull it up and over her head. After the shirt was off her head and she could see again, she began to pull it off her arms but found that she couldn't pull the tight sleeves over the dagger. She tried several ways, of course, but the weapon was too large and covered with jagged edges to fit safely through the tight sleeve. There was no way she could find to pull the shirt off her arm with out harming it. The idea that she could sleep with the shirt still over her arms popped into her head, but rational thinking interceded and suggested that she just put the dagger down for a moment and remove the shirt. The idea was almost horrifying. Still, though, Buffy couldn't think of a better way.
Standing in her room in just her bra and panties with her pink shirt draped over her right arm and a large dagger gripped in her right hand, Buffy began searching her room for hidden intruders. The fear that someone might be waiting in the room to grab the weapon as soon as she dropped it forced her to thoroughly check everywhere. After crawling under her bed and digging through her closet and finding no one, Buffy decided it was a safe as possible to set the weapon down. Buffy stood over her bed and drew in the deep breath, preparing herself. Then, she gently laid the weapon down the on the bed. After her hand was off the dagger's handle, she whipped the shirt off her arm with a jerk. Buffy then reached to the floor and snatched up her night shirt and sweats. With a panicked urgency, she yanked each on over her skin. Before the fabric had settled on her body, Buffy snatched the dagger off the bed covers. Standing there looking down at the weapon in her hands, Buffy felt her heart racing and her jaw painfully clenched. Even so, a wave of relief washed over her. She had the weapon in her hands again…everything was fine.
Pulling the comforter and sheets down, Buffy crawled into the bed and gently laid her right hand still holding the dagger on the pillow in front of her head. Soon she was asleep.
However, she did not sleep for long. Her head swam with images of the night's patrolling. She remembered the old vampire she had fought in the storage room and how easily she had bested him. He had to have been at least as old and the elder master vampire she had fought several years ago, but this victory had been easy. She then remembered her short fight with Spike in the open streets. Buffy had easily over-powered the seasoned vampire. She had almost killed him.
Buffy awoke to the sound of someone at her bedroom door. Buffy was facing the door as she watched the knob turn. Sliding backwards out of her bed, Buffy bounded over her mattress and to the side of the door with almost no sound.
She had been expecting this. The dagger was too precious and too powerful not to have someone desiring it. She knew that eventually someone would come looking for the weapon. Buffy wouldn't let them take it, however. It was hers and she would kill to keep it.
Waiting at the side of the door, Buffy watched the door knob slowly turn until it clicked. Then the door began to swing inwards. Buffy stood poised just behind the wood. She watched the doors leading edge as it swung away from the wall. After opening only part way, she saw the head of the thief inch out around the doors edge. Waiting until she saw the eyes of her would-be assailant, Buffy snapped her hand around the door and grabbed the intruder by the throat. She heard a muffled cry try to escape her hold, but only a slight rasp echoed in the dark room. Pulling the intruder into the room, Buffy drug him behind her across the floor and then threw him onto the bed. Jumping on top of the dark shape that lay coughing and clutching had its throat, Buffy raised the dagger above her head to strike. As it rose on its deadly course, the daggers perfect blade caught a streak of moonlight shining in from outside. The light reflected downward and over the face of the would-be thief.
Dawn!
Buffy recognized the smooth, round face of her baby sister. Shocked, Buffy jumped to her feet.
Sliding off the bed and onto her knees on the floor, Dawn struggled to catch her breath. Buffy continued to stare down at her sister with wide eyes.
Could she have been after my dagger? Buffy thought.
"Buffy?" Dawn was finally able to speak after a few attempts to draw a breath.
Suddenly remembering what she had done to her own sister, Buffy crouched down next to Dawn.
"I'm so sorry." She spoke desperately. "I thought you were an intruder."
Dawn looked up at Buffy with anger. She then reached up and smacked Buffy on her shoulder.
"You didn't even look! You just grabbed me!" Dawn shouted.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you!"
"You didn't even look and you almost killed me!" Dawn shouted as she jumped to her feet.
Buffy stood next to her.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Buffy grasped her sister's shoulder.
"Please. Things have been kinda weird and you woke me from a crazy dream. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."
Dawn shook Buffy's hand from her shoulders and stepped away.
"I get up because I'm really fucking thirsty and I hear this-"
Her voice was cut off by a shrill female scream coming from outside the room.
Both Dawn and Buffy looked toward the door which lead out into the hallway.
"Willow." Buffy breathed.
Bolting to her bedroom door, Buffy grabbed the knob and almost tore the door off its hinges as she swung it open. The hallway outside was dark and Willow's adjacent door was closed. Buffy charged Willow's door and tried to open it. With a loud thud, her weight slammed into the wood. She found that even though the knob turned the door would not move. It wouldn't even budge and stood firm and resilient to any pressure she applied.
Inside the room and beyond the door in front of her, Buffy heard the breaking of wood and glass. There was and echoing boom and another scream. This voice had not been Willow's.
"Willow!" Buffy screamed.
She took a step back from the door and kicked at the wood with all her strength. She made contact but it held firm. It was like kicking at a stone wall. Buffy was baffled and becoming frantic with getting inside to help her friend. Out of desperation, Buffy ran at the door with the dagger braced out before her. The dagger struck the door just next to its knob and slid in up to the hilt as if into water. There was a bright flash from the wood of the door and Buffy felt a small electric sting from the blades handle. A moment later, Buffy's momentum had the door shattered and her stumbling into the room.
The scene she found inside was complete chaos.
Willow stood on her bed and up against the wall in her sweat pants and t-shirt. Her hands glowed with a faint white nimbus. At the foot of the bed stood a man in army fatigues with a large knife in his right hand and a series of cuts across the right side of his face. The wall behind him was blackened and burnt and on the floor lay another body in fatigues. Across the bed from Buffy stood a third unknown figure, this one in blue jeans and a black shirt. He wore a tight black coat over his shoulders. Resting on his forehead and under his temple length dirty blonde hair, Buffy saw a metallic glimmer across his skin.
All eyes were currently locked on her as she burst into the room. The man in the black coat had a particular look of surprise on his face.
Everyone stood in place for a moment watching for the intentions of this new intruder into the room. The man in the black coat then quickly snapped his palm up to face Buffy and muttered a single word. As Buffy saw light flare from the man's hands, she heard the familiar song of her dagger rush into her mind. Diving to the side and toward the man in fatigues at the foot of Willow's bed, Buffy heard the rush of fire and felt a streak of heat fly past her. In mid-dive, Buffy clipped the man in fatigues on his neck and she and her target felt backwards to the floor.
Above Buffy on the bed, Willow shouted.
"Burn!"
Willow's hands flared with light and an arc of flame shot from her extended hands and toward the man in black. The man stood unflinching as the fire struck an invisible barrier between them and splashed across the floor. The fire died harmlessly without igniting their surroundings.
Buffy jumped to her feet and found the man in fatigues already up and advancing on her. Thinking that the blow to his neck should have killed him, Buffy was surprised to see him up and moving. He swiped at Buffy's stomach with his large knife but she easily parried and sliced him across his forearm. The man didn't flinch and thrust at her again. Realizing that her attacker wasn't human, Buffy moved back to dodge the attack. Forgetting the already prone body that lay behind her, Buffy tripped when her heel hit the charred form. Loosing her balance, Buffy stumbled backwards. Her assailant pressed her moment of weakness and rushed forward with his weapon. Buffy quickly caught her balance and rolled to the side. She came to her feet at the side of the bed in time to dodge another swipe of the man's dagger. Her attacker stepped forward to again try and stab her, but Buffy quickly stepped into his attack and swung her weapon up and toward his chin. The blade slid home and the weapon's tip burst from the top of his head. The man's body twitched and then slumped forward. Buffy jerked the dagger from the man's skull and stepped out of his way as he fell to the floor.
She turned to the bed to see the man in black reaching over the bed toward Willow. Willow dodged his grasp by jumping to the side, but lost her balance on the bed and toppled forward onto the mattress. Buffy's tried to advance on the last intruder but was blocked by Willow's fall. The man in black grabbed Willow by her leg and began to drag her off the bed and toward a window behind him. Buffy saw the window's glass was broken but hadn't remembered hearing it break. The man had Willow half off the bed when she suddenly flipped over and grabbed his extended wrist.
"Pain!" she shouted.
Yellow arcs of electricity sprung up the man's arm and he screamed in agony. He was thrown clear of the bed and to the far wall under the window, losing his grip on Willow. Buffy used the confusion to spring across the bed and down on the man in black. As her feet reached the floor in front of him and she was ready to spring toward his death, the man in black again lifted his hand toward her and muttered another unintelligible word. Expecting to be dodging another ball of fire, Buffy was suddenly surprised to find herself flying back across the room and into the far wall with a heavy crunch. She felt the wind knocked from her lungs as she dropped to the floor.
Buffy pulled herself to her feet in time to see the man in black escape out the window.
Buffy ran to the window and stuck her head through the curtains. She saw nothing but the blackness of night and the pavement of the street in front of the house.
Who ever he was, he knows how to make an escape. Buffy thought.
Instead of following him out the window, Buffy withdrew back into the room to check on Willow.
Willow was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the window. Her face looked flushed and she was drawing each breathe in excited gasps.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked her.
Willow looked up at her with calm eyes. Though being attacked was always a stressful feeling, over the years Willow had become used to danger jumping out at her from the darkness and had learned how to keep herself calm when in trouble.
"I think so." She responded.
"What the hell happened?" Buffy asked with a questioning look.
"I dunno." Willow shrugged. "I was sleeping and these guys tried to grab me out of my bed."
"I'm just glad Tara wasn't here." Willow continued.
Tara had been away for a few days. She had received a phone call earlier in the week and found out an old friend had died. The next day, Tara was on a plane to central United States. Willow had offered to go with her, but Tara insisted on not bothering anyone and going alone.
"The one guy with the hair kept saying something to me," she continued, "but I couldn't make it out. Plus, I was busy beating on the other guys and not really listening."
She then looked behind her at the dark scorch mark on the wall and the brunt corpse on the floor.
"Then I blasted one and they backed off. That when you came in."
Buffy walked over to the charred body and rolled him over onto his back. A large blackened whole stood gaping in his chest. The man's eyes were rolled back into his head.
"That must have hurt." She stated.
"What happened?"
The voice was Dawn's. She stood at the entrance to Willow's room.
"Some guys," Buffy said, gesturing at the men on the floor, "broke into Willow's room and tried to take her."
Eyes wide with shock, Dawn asked, "Take her where?"
Buffy looked up at Willow.
"I dunno." Willow responded emphatically. "I was just sleeping and they grabbed me."
"Well," Buffy scowled down at the blackened corpse, "we're not safe here. We better head on over to the Magic Shop."
"What about these?" Dawn asked, nodding at the bodies.
Buffy again frowned at the two bodies. "I dunno, we usually don't have to deal with the wet works. Vampires kinda take care of themselves." She was half speaking to herself.
"Well," she said, her head snapping up, "we can't stay here so we'll put them in the cellar for now and get rid of them later."