Title: One For All (1/?)

Author: Cyclone

Feedback: Please be gentle.

Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at

Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.

Spoilers: Up to Graduation, then AU version of events after that.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to the almighty Joss. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Summary: Thanks to Xander's sacrifice, the Slayer and Slayerettes can live normal lives... until now.

Author's Note: Read the prologue, or this is not going to make any sense whatsoever.

* * *

Xander pulled the trigger, igniting the last flare shell in his shotgun. Fire erupted from the weapon's muzzle and incinerated the vampire in front of him.

He dropped the shotgun and slammed his stake into another vampire's heart, then whirled around and lashed out with his foot at a third. His Slayer-enhanced kick shattered the third vampire's ribcage, but he didn't move to finish him off just yet.

Instead, he steadied himself and faced off against the leader of the vampire gang. Baring his teeth, the large vampire licked his fangs in anticipation and said, "You know, I always thought the Slayer was supposed to be a girl. I guess you're just sissy enough to qualify, huh?"

Xander rolled his eyes and simply raised his hand, "Incendere."

The lead vampire had perhaps a quarter of a second to regret his words before the column of flame that leaped from Xander's hand reduced him to ash.

Xander snorted and calmly retrieved his shotgun and crouched over the last surviving vampire. He raised his stake, preparing to finish him off.

"Wait!" the vampire croaked, somehow managing to speak despite his shattered ribcage. "Something big's going down! I can tell you about it."

"I don't make deals with dead men," Xander told him, swinging the stake down.

"It's about the Hellmouth!" the vampire shrieked desperately, his eyes screwed shut. After a moment -- realizing he still wasn't dust -- the vampire cautiously opened his eyes again.

Xander had lowered the stake.

"Talk fast."

And the vampire did, babbling everything he knew.

"Thanks for the info," Xander said grimly... and raised his stake again.

"Hey, wait, what are you do-?"

Poof.

"I told you," Xander said, rising. "I don't make deals with dead men."

Picking up his shotgun and dusting himself off, he sighed, "I hate Cleveland."

* * *

"Willow?"

The redhead turned and smiled at her husband as he stepped out onto the balcony, "Hey."

"What's wrong?" Oz asked. "Is it that thing again?"

She nodded and said quietly, "Yeah. I just... can't shake that feeling, that something's missing. It's like... like there's this great big hole in my life... in my heart. Like I'm walking around with my right arm missing without even realizing I'm supposed to have one."

He nodded. He'd heard all this before, over the past few years. It was the one thing he felt that was getting between them... and he didn't even know why.

"You should get some sleep."

"I know. But I can't," she said, leaning into his arms. "Help me forget?" she asked quietly, tilting her head toward him.

He kissed her, shoving aside the fear that whatever it was she couldn't remember would find her... and take her from him.

* * *

"What's wrong, Willow?"

"Huh?" the redhead asked, jerking her head up. "What? What do you mean, 'what's wrong?'"

"You zoned out, all gloomy-like, and you've barely even touched your omelette, which I'm sure must be a sign of the apocalypse," Buffy deadpanned. "So, c'mon. Spill, Will."

"Uh, well, you remember that thing we couldn't remember?"

"Um, if I remembered it, wouldn't that mean we could remember it?"

"Buffy!" Willow scowled. "Please! You're as bad as..." she trailed off, frowning. Shaking it off, she said, "Anyway, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy said wistfully. She'd felt the same thing herself, and it kept coming up at the most inappropriate times. Way too many dates had gone south because of it. "Just trying to lighten the mood. The not-memories bothering you again?"

"Yeah," Willow said with a dejected sigh, "and I think it's starting to bother Oz, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... it's just... he's looking at me different and checking up on me more often. Like he's expecting me to cheat on him or something, which is ridiculous, because I've _never_ cheated on him... have I?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, "You'd know better than me."

Willow shook her head, "No, of course I've never cheated on him. I'd remember if I did... wouldn't I?"

"I sure hope so," Buffy replied. "Where'd the fun be if you didn't?"

Willow shot her an Outrage Face and was about to reprove her again when her cell phone rang.

"Hello? Oh, hi, sweetie. I'm having lunch with Buffy. Yeah, the diner down on Fourth Street. Yeah, I am," She giggled, "All right, I'll ask for a doggie bag."

Hanging up, she looked up at Buffy, and her smile quickly faded. "See? See? See what I mean?" she babbled, pointing dramatically at her cell phone. "Always checking on me!"

* * *

"I don't see why I have to wait down here. I see her every day, so what's the big deal?"

"Patience, Conner," Angel said patiently as they waited in what had been the Hyperion Hotel's lobby and was now the front room for Angel Investigations.

The miracle child's attitude had been improving remarkably well over the past few years -- for example, he was no longer trying to kill Angel whenever an opportunity presented itself -- but he was still a little rough around the edges.

"Yes, _Dad_," he growled back. "And why do I have to wear this suit?" he asked, tugging at his tuxedo's collar. "It itches."

"Tradition," Angel grinned. "There are some traditions that you just have to follow, son."

"Besides," Cordy said, "they won't let you in the door unless you're wearing formal. The look suits you anyway, and believe me, I know fashion."

"Right, right..." Conner muttered as motion at the top of the stairs caught his eye, "...whoa."

Dawn blushed at his frank stare and slowly descended. Blushing even harder, she asked, "So, uh, you like?"

Conner nodded, "Uh huh."

"Ahh!" Cordy cried out suddenly, clutching her head.

Everyone turned suddenly.

"Cordy?" Angel asked tentatively. "What is it? Is it a vision?"

Catching her breath, Cordy nodded.

"But... the headaches..." Angel said uncertainly. Cordy's visions hadn't caused headaches since Skip had transfused the demon into her.

She looked up, "It's big. Really big."

"How big?"

"End of the world big, boss-vamp," came a voice from the top of the stairs.

Dawn frowned, "I thought you were still asleep, sis?"

Kennedy nodded, "Slayer dream. Apocalypse is coming. Again."

Angel's eyes narrowed, "C'mon. Let's get the team together."

* * *

Detective Buffy Anne Summers, SPD, homicide division, had seen her fair share of gruesome murder scenes. Although not as large as L.A. or San Francisco, Sunnydale still had enough sickos to keep her division busy.

But _this_ guy was definitely striving to new heights of gore and creativity.

It was the third such double murder already, each time on the night of the full moon. The victims all fit the same profile -- Caucasian women in their mid-twenties, one blonde, one redhead. Each time, both were disfigured, and their organs were removed with a surgical precision.

Their blood -- and the blood of the third "victim," invariably a wolf of some kind that received the same treatment the human victims did -- was used to draw pentagrams around the three bodies, with the organs placed at certain junctions in the diagram.

She sighed as she locked her desk up and rose to her feet, stifling a yawn. *Hmm,* she thought, *maybe Carlos is right. Maybe I _should_ quit working so late.*

She thought about that for a moment, then snorted. Her partner was the _last_ person she was going to accept advice about her private life from, what with all the voodoo junk and stinky herbs and incense he kept pissing around with.

Shaking her head, she stepped out and began the short walk to her car.

"Well, well, well, lookie what we have here."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at the trio of toughs eyeing her. "Okay, I know crooks are stupid... but a mugging in front of a police station? You guys must be shooting for a record."

"You could say that," the leader grinned.

She left her pistol holstered. She didn't need a gun to deal with three unarmed muggers. Besides, she preferred the up-close-and-personal approach. Raising her fists, she said, "Well, come on. I don't have all night."

They launched themselves at her, and she easily nailed the leader with a lightning fast right to the bridge of the nose that sent him stumbling back, clutching his face and swearing colorfully.

She lashed out with a kick at the second one, but he ducked and grinned. She tried to punch him, and he caught her wrist easily. The third member of the small gang grabbed her other arm, and she found herself pinned between them.

The leader stood and glared at her, "Now you're gonna pay for that."

"Geez," she said in disgust at his deformed face, "get a plastic surgeon, ass-face." With that, she suddenly kicked out at him with both feet, using his two cronies for support. Struck solidly in the chest, he stumbled back again...

...and vanished into a cloud of dust. She stared in confusion at the man standing where the gang leader had been a moment ago.

"Didn't your momma teach you not to play with your food?"

*'Food'?* Buffy wondered incredulously.

"It's _him_!" one of them said fearfully as he released her and backed away.

The other jerked on her arm and pulled her toward him. "Don't! Or the lady gets it!"

The man's eyes narrowed, "Wrong move." His eyes flicked over to the other one, and he said, "But you first."

He flung something at the other thug, and it struck him in the chest. Buffy blinked in disbelief as the thug crumbled to dust.

Her rescuer turned and took a couple of steps toward them, but the mugger -- if these guys really were muggers, which she was seriously beginning to doubt -- jerked her back again and snarled, "Don't come any closer! I'll kill her! I swear!"

"Oh, I believe you," the man said, leveling a shotgun at them. "But you were planning on doing that from the moment you jumped her, so what guarantee do I have that you'll let her go if I let you go?"

"A-all right!" the thug said, throwing her to the side. "She's free to go! Just... just don't... hey! WAIT!"

Poof.

The man pulled back his weapon -- in the darkness, she couldn't quite make out what it was -- from where he'd thrust it into the last thug's chest and tucked it into his jacket.

"What _were_ those things?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

He turned and smiled grimly, "You're better off not knowing, believe me."

"Okay," she accepted... for now. Stepping in front of him, she said, "Next question: Who are you?"

"Let's just say..." he hesitated, "...I'm a friend."

She cocked an eyebrow, "What if I don't want a friend?"

He grinned, "I didn't say I was yours."

For some reason, that statement tugged at some long-forgotten part of her memory, and she leaned into him, listening to his heart beating in his chest. He froze in surprise for a moment, then gently wrapped his arms around her. She tilted her head back, ignoring the part of her brain that was screaming, *Hello! You do NOT kiss strangers you meet in the middle of the night!*

"Mmm..." she moaned into the kiss, and when he pulled away, she looked at him uncertainly. "I know you..."

He backed away and shook his head sadly, "No. You don't. Good night, Detective. Stay safe... and don't _ever_ invite anyone in after dark."

She blinked, and before she could react, he was jogging away. She sprinted after him, "Wait! Who _are_ you?!"

Ignoring her, he straddled a black motorcycle and raced off. She stumbled to a halt and tried in vain to read the license plate.

"Who was that?" she wondered.

* * *

Author's Postscript:

Well, I can probably guarantee that you will be surprised at some point during all this, seeing as how even _I_ don't know where I'm going with this. ^_^'