It stood in the middle of the cavern, arms folded across its chest. Its mouth pursed in frustration, eyes narrowed, body taut.
The steady drip-drip of the nearby sewer was the only sound to echo in the vastness.
"You're playing a good game, Slayer," it spoke. It flipped its blond hair over its shoulder.
"But playing the game isn't always enough to win. Sometimes you have to bend the rules."
****
"I've got nothing," Xander stated as he dumped the last book into the massive pile accumulating in the middle of the Summers' living room floor.
Anya flipped closed the laptop. "Me neither."
"Ditto," Dawn sighed as she closed Buffy's college psychology textbook.
"There's still no answer at Riley's contact number," Buffy grunted as she slammed the phone back into the cradle.
"So, what now?" Anya asked.
The four of them looked around them, seeking some outside inspiration. But none came.
"Well," Buffy sighed, "I guess this plan wasn't the answer we were looking for."
"On the contrary," came a voice from behind them. The room turned to stare at the front door, where Giles now stood.
"You were on the right track. But your sources are useless."
He stepped into the room carrying a massive tome. Placing it on the coffee table, he gestured for the others to make themselves comfortable.
"I'm glad you called me, Buffy. To tell you the truth, deactivating the trigger never even crossed my mind. But I did some research, and I came across this."
Giles flipped open the book and thumbed through it momentarily before holding it up for the rest of them to see. He tapped a picture with his index finger and began speaking again.
"This here is a, uh, mystical device used to bring unconscious…memories…to the front of a person's mind. I believe that this could be the key to helping Spike overcome…whatever it is that the First is preying upon in his subconscious."
"How does it work?" Buffy asked.
Giles replaced the book on the table and began cleaning his glasses.
"Well, the stone pictured here will, uh, 'morph' into a liquid form and enter the patient's, erm, mind, and the rest isn't very clear, but the outcome should, theoretically, be what we desire."
Buffy frowned. "So, you're saying that this blob thingy will crawl into Spike's brain and fix the problem?"
Giles replaced his glasses. "It's not that simple. A major part of the treatment lies in Spike's ability to overcome whatever negative emotions this memory, or memories, as the case may be, invoke in him. All the…'blob' does is show him what it is he needs to deal with."
Silence descended upon the group.
"It's basically a therapist of the non-humanoid variety, then?" Xander clarified.
"Um, yes. I suppose one could call it that."
"Cool!" Dawn exclaimed. "When do we start?"
Giles once again began cleaning his glasses. Buffy looked on with a concerned expression.
"Uh-oh, major lens-cleanage. Either we're about to hear bad news, or Giles is under the impression that the demons he sees are taped onto his glasses."
He glared at his Slayer before reluctantly placing his glasses back on his face.
"The bad news, as Buffy so astutely surmised I was about to inform you of, is that the only known one in existence is currently in the possession of one Ethan Rayne, who is, as we speak, incarcerated in God-knows-where by a shady government branch we know as the Initiative."
"Oh," Buffy muttered.
"However," Giles continued, "I've called some old friends of mine, and I believe that there is indeed more than one in existence. I have a lead that a brotherhood in Romania may know the whereabouts of this…second stone."
"So, what are we waiting for? Off to Romania!" Xander cried, leaping off the couch and thrusting an arm in the air, finger pointed like a character from one of those campy old superhero shows. Dawn looked up at him amused, but the other three simply rolled their eyes.
"Right Xander," Anya admonished, "let's just hop in our Slayermobile that conveniently transforms into an airplane and fly there. Newsflash: we can't! And neither do we have the money to afford a plane ticket or some other form of trans-oceanic transportation."
"Maybe I can be of use, then?" came a voice, once again, from behind them. The room turned around to find Spike standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Buffy jumped out of her seat, eyes wide, and ran to his side.
"What the Hell are you doing down here? When I came home I specifically said I wanted you to stay in bed!"
She wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him to her seat. Wearily, he accepted the assistance, and she gently set him down.
"You think I can just lay up there with nothing better to do than count the ceiling tiles? The least you could have done is leave me some reading materials. I mean, is that so much to ask?"
Buffy rolled her eyes before wedging herself between Dawn and Spike on the couch. Spike fiddled with the drawstring on the grey sweats and smoothed out the folds in the oversized 'Seinfeld' t-shirt he was wearing, both of which had been lent to him by Xander.
"Good to see you…up and about, Spike," Giles said.
"Well, of course he's getting better, he's been drinking real good blood," Xander muttered. The three women shot him looks of death while the other two men simply looked at him quizzically.
"Right then," Spike said, changing the subject, "you think there might be a cure for me in Romania, Rupert?"
"Hey, have you been eavesdropping?" Buffy demanded.
"Sorry, pet, but it's a little hard to ignore all the conversations going on in this house when the only amusement you have is testing the endurance of Mr. Gordo's springy tail."
Buffy's eyes widened in horror, but Spike smirked, and she realized he was teasing her. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Spike continued with his idea.
"I've got a demon friend who owes me a couple favours. Among other things, I rid him of a vampire problem a while back for which he was quite grateful. This chap just happens to work for a travel agency, and I'm sure I could persuade him to give one of us a free round trip to Romania as payment."
Buffy looked sceptical. "You really think he'd be able to do that?"
Spike smiled slightly. "Not a doubt in my mind, love. You know how persuasive I can be."
All eyes turned to her and she blushed slightly under their scrutinizing gaze.
"Oh, yeah, um, persuasive. So, we'll get in touch with him tomorrow, see what we can work out," she said.
"All right, so it's a plan," Giles said.
"What's a plan?" came a third voice from behind them. They all rolled their eyes before turning.
"Geez, doesn't anybody knock around here?" Xander quipped.
"Um, no door," Willow explained, waving her hands around to emphasize. A surprised look came over her face as she glanced around the room.
"Oh, hey Spike! You're awake! No one told me you were awake. I guess that's 'cause I wasn't, huh? And, oh, research? I missed research? Did the earth stop rotating too?"
A sad little pout tugged at her mouth and everyone jumped in at the same time to explain why they hadn't included her. The only one who remained silent was Spike, who secretly shared her feeling of exclusion; they hadn't even consulted him about this, and it was his problem.
Willow gave a little shrug and a forgiving smile. "That's okay, I was really tired. But now I'm ready and rearing to go!"
"That's nice, but it won't do you any good."
"For the love of all that is chocolate with a cream-filled centre, people need to stop interrupting our conversations!" Xander cried, and they turned once more to see who had entered the living room.
They saw Buffy. Or what looked like Buffy. It stood there, in all its glory, black leather pants and tight white shirt, hair tied up like it was ready for a fight.
Spike slowly stood and began backing away from 'Buffy', until he was pressed against the far wall. Concerned, and a little wigged out, Buffy stood too, and put herself between the disturbed vampire and her doppelganger.
"Who are you?" she demanded, hands at her sides, ready to deal serious damage if the thing even moved.
"You can't hurt me, Slayer," it said, stepping towards her. It walked right through the coffee table, books and all, and advanced upon the blonds.
Buffy stared at it in realization, and she heard Spike make a little whimper behind her as he huddled in the corner.
"The First," she stated. It smiled at her.
"One for one! But something tells me you're not the brains of this operation."
It turned around, eyes passing menacingly over each of the bodies in the room. Raising an arm, it pointed at Giles.
"You, you're the one with all the answers."
It shifted its attention to everyone in turn.
"The redhead…Willow. You make the plans, you wield the magic. Anyanka, how nice to see you human again. I want to thank you for the evil you brought upon the world for all those centuries. It's unfortunate that you give your insights to the white hats now. You, you're special. Not human, no, not quite. There's some mystical energy left in you, Dawn. Not enough to save you, though. And ah, the carpenter. Xander, the useless one. All he can do is watch. Make jokes."
It turned back to Buffy.
"Warrior, I see you've found the prophecy. So you know that you'll lose, no matter what you do. No matter if you've found your Hero." It turned to Spike then, and stepped towards him.
"Foolish William, your soul's no good to anyone, not even yourself. It doesn't make you a man - nothing can ever make you a man. Not hope, not righteousness, not love. Remember that."
With one last hateful look at the group, it walked towards the front door, a tune on its lips. Buffy frowned, she'd heard it before. But where…?
Suddenly, a growl sounded behind her, and she turned around just in time to see Spike lunge, murder in his eyes.
She screamed, and as she fell to the ground beneath him, his fangs at her neck, she remembered: the night the First visited Spike in her room, she heard him humming it.
This was how the trigger worked, but her realization may have come a bit too late.