A/N: Ok, for some reason it just hit me that I started Akoshta a year ago this month. That's a long freaking time. LoL. At least considering this is the fist thing I've ever written. story-wise. RogueAngel has Beta'd several chapters, and I just got them a few days ago. Unfortunately I didn't get the e-mail that has the recommendations for certain things, so it could be a few more days until I update the chapters. We seen to suffer from an e-mail thing, I have no clue what it is, but she has been majorly patient considering that. Wanted to say that, let her know I appreciate it.

As I said before, the next few chapters will be Sam/Ashton centric. Kind of a play by play for about 60 years. Don't worry, all points touched on will explain a few things. Also wanted to thank everyone who's been reviewing. I know I'm making you wait longer between chapters, but I want to make sure I get it right.

With no further adoo, or adue.. I have no clue.

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Once Upon a Time: Part one

The veil over reality that often came with deep rest pulled back. Sam slowly opened her eyes to see the black sky above freckled with stars. Immediately, she remembered what had happened and turned to find the man beside her, truly, a man now. He still gripped her hand in his, even in rest. Both hands were now warmed from life.

She rolled over and shook his shoulder gently. "Ashton?"

It was then that she noticed he wasn't breathing yet. "Ashton." She shook him again and he began to gasp.

His eyes bolted open and a look of panic came over his face when he realized he needed to breathe and couldn't seem to. Instead he coughed trying to force the air into his chest. Each short breath wheezed and rasped, echoing in his head. He sat up and gripped the collar of his sweater like it was choking him, and pleadingly looked to Sam.

"Its ok, remember you haven't done this in a long time." She stroked his back trying to calm him and looked into his eyes. "Just let your body get used to living again. Slow breaths, okay?"

Sam began to demonstrate for him, taking in oxygen slowly, then expelling it just as carefully.

In a few seconds, Ashton was able to keep her rhythm, although with much smaller puffs of air. It took another few minutes before he was actually breathing close to normal, but eventually it did happen.

Much calmer now, Ashton gave her a weak smile. "Are you-?"

Sam shook her head. "Don't worry about me right now. I'm fine."

He nodded and struggled to stand up. She gave him a hand and they both looked around the graveyard trying to discern their location. "We aren't far from my flat." Sam stated and looked back at him.

"We should go back to the alley." Ashton suggested.

"Alright." She agreed easily and nodded before they headed towards the last place on this earth they had been.

They passed on through the streets of London in silence, not because there was nothing to say but because there was no way they could say it all at the moment. Major discussions would need to be had, life changes, readjustments, and the only person either of them had to rely on now was each other.

Once they came to the alley, it was easy to see they'd been gone for awhile.

Although many demon bodies will decompose quickly, several of the species that had fought for the Tomar would take days or longer to dissipate completely. The empty ally held no signs of the battle or the carnage both humans knew should be here.

"Seven days." Sam whispered as she looked over the empty darkness she knew should hold some sign of the fight that had taken place just hours ago.

Ashton turned to her. "What?"

Sam nodded at her thoughts. "We were gone for seven days. That's how it works, remember?"

Ashton closed his eyes gently then opened them and took another look around the alley. Wet brick with scattered cracks and a cobblestone path were all he could find. Then he cracked a grin. "Guess that means you missed your boat."

Sam shook her head. "I really don't think that's our worst problem right now."

Ashton motioned towards the exit of the alley and they headed to Sam's apartment. "Well then, what is our biggest problem?"

She grinned back at him and winked. "Trying to smuggle you out of Europe now that you're alive."

Ashton sneezed and nearly fell backwards. He shook his head and felt his nose with his fingers. "I sneezed?"

"Bless you." Sam said automatically. Then smiled again. "I'm going to buy you a crucifix."

"No you aren't" He quipped back. "If anyone is giving away jewelry, it would be me." He said just when Sam's home came into view.

"Damn." Sam said when they reached Mrs. Walsh's boarding house. The light in her window was on and she could see people moving around inside.

"What?" Ashton asked before following her gaze. He saw the stiff figures moving past the lone window. "Who would be in there? Walsh wouldn't give away your room this quick."

Sam shook her head and saw one of the men's faces more clearly. "She didn't. It's The Council of Watchers." The former Slayer said and pulled her eyes from the window before turning and walking away. "They're going through my things, what little I left behind." She explained when she heard Ashton following.

"Why would they-?" He cut himself off when he began to understand. "They think you're dead."

She just nodded.

Ashton remained quit until he became aware of what direction they were heading To the building holding a flat still owned by him. Until they could make other arrangements, it would have to be her home as well.

That night they slept. To tired to think, and to confused to talk. The most that was said by either was when Ashton remembered what twinge in his body meant what.

At dawn, he couldn't help it. He went up to the roof of the building and watched the sun rise. Before it had really begun he felt Sam lay a hand on his shoulder.

"I just wanted to see it." He whispered while he stared at the glowing orange line across the horizon. The yellow bulb began its rise, lighting the rooftop.

Sam squeezed his shoulder a little. "We can watch every one of them for the next 60 years to make up for the ones you missed if you want."

He chuckled. "I don't think that will be necessary, but the wedding will have to be outside."

Her hand gripped his shoulder again. "Wedding?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her eyes wide. "Not a very good proposal, I know." He shook his head at himself.

He didn't have time to feel bad, he was too busy being kissed.

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The apartment felt empty. A few crates staked beside his kitchen table now held much of his life's work, and the lack of star charts hanging on the walls along with unfamiliar gaps on shelves that held his books and diaries just seemed to hit him every time he turned.

The order to ship his research and notes on Sam's life had not been unexpected. But actually packing all the research he'd gained with his charge was more emotional than he'd anticipated. And what was worse, he still had no idea if his Slayer lived or not.

The blade had been found, one that he had given her himself when she first began to learn how to wield a sword. A talent for the art was expected, but the ease at which she could counter and attack always surprised him.

The blade itself was rare, once owned by a slayer known for making her own weapons. But he'd managed to obtain the rare item, and it had been well cared for. The original and unique design could not be mistaken, nor could the blood found covering the blade.

Emerson was called, told the results showed that the blood was that of a slayer. Sam had been run through completely from what the council's forensic people could tell. The blood left behind ensured she could not have survived.

But they did not know that the eve she was killed was also the eve she would be called to speak with a demon duo. This information was the thread Emerson now held on to, the only thing that kept him from screaming as he pounded the last nail into the crate holding the diaries. With precision, he marked the side in a symbol any council member would recognize using a stamp each watcher is given during his or her training.

He set the stamp down on the table and looked at his handy work. It was nothing to take pride in if his efforts only killed his charge, despite the fact that the death of a slayer is part of his job description.

Just as he pondered the thought, a knocking came from the front door. He looked up at the clock. "It's nearly midnight, who of all people-?" He grumbled to himself and swung the door open.

Sam smiled up at him. He looked tired, but she was just too happy to see him to notice. Nor did she register the look of shock on his face. "Emerson!" She yelped when he stumbled backwards and tripped over a stack of crates, then fell back on top of them.

He was able to gain some control, and stop himself from flipping head over heals, but now found himself sitting in an awkward position with Samantha staring down at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked and offered him a hand.

He shook his head and stammered while pushing his glasses back into place. "Wha-? What? Yes, I-I do believe so." He allowed her to help him get up and straitened out his white dress shirt while he stared at her. "When did you? I mean to say, how did you get here?"

"Boat." Sam smiled up at him again. "Unless you are referring to the fact that I'm alive, which I am. If so, you may want some tea, and a seat."

The watcher nodded and quickly went to the stove to boil water. In no time at all, he had the table cleared off and tea for both of them.

Sam stirred the cube of sugar slowly and watched Crawford watch her. She decided some part of him had known what would happen. He'd hinted towards a the possibility of, well she'd never known what, but something happening. What she didn't know was how much he'd known.

Sam gave looked up from her tea-cup to the man who'd raised her. "You knew, didn't you? You knew about the sisters, Ashton, everything?"

Crawford sighed and took a sip from the cup before setting it down to respond. "We all knew, the Council of Watchers that is." HE explained, then looked down at his cup. "But only I knew when."

Sam shook her head. "What do you mean, when? How could Graves not know."

Emerson looked up from his drink and felt the air in the room become thick. How could he explain? Tell her why he went against years of training? Again he sighed, then he whipped his glasses off so he couldn't see the look of shame she would no doubt get in her eyes. "My hobbie, it's more than a hobbie. My family has always been well versed ion the stars, calendars and mathematics. When no one else can understand an obscure race's way of keeping track of the days, and Emerson is who you should see." He said as if he'd been told the same thing over and over again. "That's what my father always said, and he was right."

Sam looked confused. "So you," She paused. "You translated whatever calandar said when I would visit Akoshta, but you didn't tell Graves?" She rubbed her forehead. "That doesn't make sense. Didn't he ask?"

"Well of course he asked." Crawford said with a little anger. "Of course he asked." He shook his head. "And I lied to him. Or rather, construed the equations so that it looked as though you wouldn't be going for at least two more years."

Her eyes were as big as saucers. "You lied?"

With defiance, Crawford sat up. "Yes."

She just didn't get it. It wasn't that her watcher had failed to be up- front to the Head of the Council, it was why. She couldn't see any reason not to be honest. They had no control over destiny.

Emerson's pause ended. "If I hadn't, you would have been killed."

"I could be killed at any moment, Crawford. It's part- It was part of who I was. Why Graves's knowing have anything to do with that?"

"Damnit!" Emerson slammed his hand down flat on the table top, nearly causing the tea to spill. His face turned red, but Sam knew he wasn't angry with her. It was something else. "Because Graves would rather kill you than loose the Slayer line."

"Kill me?" It was such an outlandish idea to her, one she wouldn't believe if anyone else had said it. "Why would he kill me? What do you mean loose the Slayer line?"

Crawford closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. The emotional roller coaster had hit the climax and the hill was one hell of a bloody ride down. "He'd kill you before he let you cut the lineage of Slayer blood. Now that you are fully human, there will be no slayer to die and pass on the calling."

Again, Sam was just plain shocked. "What?" She whispered.

"Well, obviously you are not dead." He said and motioned to her with his hand. "The death of one slayer is what activated the next." He explained to her something she knew. "It will mean the end of the Council." He let his sentence run off.

"Wait, Crawford," She began to grin. "As long as I died before they made me human a Slayer can be called?"

He cocked his head a little. "Well, yes, but I don't see how-"

"I died." She said simply.

"You-you died? But how?" He asked and picked up his glasses, now intent on not missing anything.

"My own sword, right in the gut too." She looked at him very seriously., " I do not recommend it."

"No, of course not." He shook his head.

"But somehow I was brought back, by the powers. It cost Ashton his immortality, but-"

"Only Ashton?" Crawford cut her off.

"Excuse me?"

Her watcher cleared his throat. "It's just that, for something of that magnitude, I would think they would have a cost from both of you, since you both benefit." He tried to elaborate, but then just shook off whatever bad feeling had interrupted the conversation. "No matter. In any case, a new slayer can be called. Perhaps has been. It isn't as though I would need to be informed." He nodded at his own words then carried the idea further. "I may have been if one had not been found though."

"See." Sam patted his hand. "The line is safe. Besides, we made sure we covered that when it came to the wish"

Crawford thought he understood, and looked over Sam once again. She had been a little girl at one time. He could still picture her small and trying to learn all that she would need to survive her destiny. Now she was, as they say, "All grown up" and now had a chance to live out her life.

But what does a young woman, trained to fight, trained to survive, trained to help humanity, do?

He leaned forward and took the hand still resting on his own. "What will you do now? You can't be seen in London, not when others could recognize you. You can't come back here," He hated to say this, but it was true. "Too many people here know you, and I'm leaving for London before the month is over."

Sam grew serious. "We were thinking of going East. Poland or Russia. There is word that some people can be smuggled out, but it's hard to find volunteers willing to go."

"We?" Crawford raised a brow.

Sam looked away from the father figure. "Ashton, and I." She looked back up, and gave him a shy smile. "When I get back, we're going to be married."

"I see." Crawford nodded. "And how do you hope to accomplish that?" He stood up and walked to a small table beside his chair that held a folder.

"What do you mean?"

He walked back with the folder. " I mean, marriage, travel, how do you expect to accomplish that without documentation."

Sam watched as he set the folder in front of her, then looked from Emerson to the folder and back up to the man. "What is this?"

He just nodded towards it and sat.

She opened the folder and plucked out a small rectangular piece of paper. On it the words Operators License were printed boldly. Ashton Emerson was the name typed in the space where one's name went.

She looked back up at her watcher confused, then pulled out the next piece of paper, larger this time. "Certificate of Birth." She read out loud, and she understood. "Ashton Emerson."

"I seems fitting, don't you agree? After all," He paused and smiled, "I owe my family to him."

Sam smiled again, "You know?"

He waved his hand "Pfft, of course. What kind of Watcher would I be if I didn't." He smiled then admitted. "It was only a rumor I tried to prove incorrect for my thesis. Imagine my advisors shock when it turned out to be true." This time he chuckled. "But it did earn me an exemplary mark."

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Sam set her bag down and pulled her jacket closed. It was colder tonight than she thought it would be, and there was no where to go warm up.

She'd had a heartfelt goodbye with Emerson, one that still made her eyes well up when she thought about it. He'd given her copies of notes he had on the real dated of Akoshta without asking why she wanted them.

She loved and trusted Emerson, but she didn't want him to have to break any more rules than he already had for her. She couldn't tell him she needed them so she could someday save a Slayer who had not even been born yet.

And now her life would begin. The life she never should have had, and it was beginning well. There was one more thing she had to worry about until it was time to fulfill her mission. And he should be showing up any time, she thought.

The ship she would be boarding was docked , and passengers were milling at the gate that would take them to the ramp that let into the large structure floating on the water. Then a sense of something, nothing she could describe, but much more subtle than the warnings she had as a slayer, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

With no more than that as a sign of danger, she turned around to see, William the Bloody looking back. She was not shocked, she'd been expecting him.

He looked different than Spike. His hair was much darker for one, and his manner was somehow less confident than the man she'd met. And of course, this was a vampire, not a man. His face held back the demon, but she could see him almost snarling.

"You don't want to do this." She said.

He swaggered in a way that she definitely could imagine Spike doing, and grinned. "I have received Akoshta." She answered.

His features changed, not to the demon, but to realization. He took in her scent again, she smelled of the line he most enjoyed, but on greater exploration there was something different. Almost as though a switch ha been flipped, and the power was to far beneath to affect the woman. As if She'd never been called.

His gaze went to her eyes, and he knew she was telling the truth.

All at once every idea in his head met face to face and none of it matched up. But there was one constant, one truth, When faced with something only the PTB can control, you turn around and leave, while all your parts are connected.

He gave her a small nod. "Long life to you Slayer." And he left.

Sam expelled the breath she'd been holding and followed him with her eyes until he disappeared in the crowd. "Well that went well." She sighed. "We're all going to have one big laugh over this someday" She said to herself shaking her head and fell into line as she headed towards the ramp.

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