Part 8:

#

Spike approached the Summers' home, almost steady on his feet again, the buzz of alcohol slowly starting to wear off. He knew he'd have to drink again soon or he'd sober up, which would inevitably bring him pain, both the emotional and the hangover kind. He wasn't in the mood for any of that. He was in the mood for some payback.

The house looked exactly like he remembered, but something was off. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep whiff of the air around him. Vampires were very good at remembering scents and that of the Slayer was burned into his memory beyond hope of ever forgetting it. The funny thing was that, while he did catch some traces of it here, it was much too faint. No way the girl was still living here.

He paused, trying to think. Was she dead? Had his poof of a Sire managed to kill her after all? A smile bloomed on his face. Seeing as the world was still here she must have managed to stop him. Had they killed each other? That would be the best possible outcome of that weird night as far as he was concerned.

Something else confused him, though. There was another scent here beside that of the Slayer's mom. Quite a strong one, too, indicating that its owner spent quite a lot of time here. A moment later he recognized the scent. It had filled his nostrils only an hour or so ago. The little brat who had ripped off his coat. What was she doing here?

For a long moment he tried to think past the haze of alcohol clouding his brain. There had been something funny about the brat, a kind of buzzing somewhere in the back of his head. Almost as if ... nah, couldn't be, could it? Okay, he knew the score with the whole 'one dies, another is called' thing, but why would a new Slayer put down roots in the old one's mom's house? It didn't make any sense.

Quite suddenly he was intrigued, quite a bit so. If the brat was a Slayer, well, he might have just found the perfect outlet for all his pent-up frustration. He needed to look her up anyway to get his coat back and if he could get a little Slayer-killing in ... this might actually shape up to be a decent vacation after all.

First thing first, though. He had come here for a reason and his new discoveries didn't mean he should simply abandon his plan, simple as it was. If nothing else the Slayer's mom should be able to tell him what was up with this new girl, given the proper incentive, of course. Information was half the battle.

Finding what resolve huge amounts of alcohol had left him with he strolled towards the house.

#

The large group of vampires was observing the Summers' home from a distance, far enough away that a passing Slayer's senses wouldn't pick them up. None of them knew why they were observing this particular house or what connection its sole occupant had to the Slayers or Angelus, but they didn't really care much. They were following orders and were good at it.

Khan had only told them that the Slayers were likely to turn up here sooner or later. He had received this information from Mr. Trick, a vampire who had worked Sunnydale before and had, in turn, gotten the information from the Mayor of Sunnydale himself. Khan saw a certain amount of divine justice in using his greatest rival's intelligence for his own gains.

The vampires knew none of this, of course. They only knew that the Slayers were liable to turn up here and, once they did, they were to kill them and Angelus. That was all they needed to know.

Some among the group had been around Sunnydale for quite some time. They had served the various masters that had held sway over it these last few years and had been lucky enough to survive the various encounters with the Slayer these masters had had. So it was of little wonder that several among the vampires quickly recognized the bleached blonde vampire currently stumbling toward the house they were observing.

"That's Spike," one of them whispered.

"I know who that is, dickhead! What are we gonna do now?"

The decision what to do was reached quickly and unanimously. One of them carried a cell phone and they used it to call Khan (or his assistant Elron, rather) and ask for further orders. Elron, after a quick conference with Khan, relayed the order to sit tight and wait for the targets to turn up. Spike was of no consequence to their plan. He might even prove helpful, a distraction.

#

Joyce Summers suppressed a yawn and went to answer the ringing phone. It was quite late already and she played with the thought of going to bed, but knew that it wouldn't happen. She was never able to sleep until she knew that Faith was home safe and sound. This was only partially out of concern for the young girl she had come to regard as something of an adoptive daughter. It was also because she knew that, if Faith made it home safe, odds were nothing had happened to Buffy, either.

As if on cue her daughter's voice rang from the receiver as she picked it up.

"Buffy? Is something wrong?"

"Not as such, no. Sorry to bother you this late, mom. Is Faith home already?"

"Faith? No, she isn't. I thought you were patrolling together?"

"We normally do, but it was a slow night, so we decided to split up. Anyway, I'm really just calling because I wanted to tell her something. It can wait until tomorrow."

"Do you want me to tell her when she gets here?"

There was a slight pause. "Yeah, why not. Remember how I told you about Oz being a werewolf?"

Joyce remembered that very well. After everything that had gone wrong between mother and daughter, the two had decided to keep no more secrets from each other. For Joyce this meant full induction into her daughter's world, including the knowledge that most of her friends were not as harmless as they appeared. Giles a member of an ancient organization that battled evil, Willow a witch, and Oz a werewolf. She didn't know the quiet youth very well, but he was the last she would have suspected of transforming into a raging beast.

"Did something happen to him?" Joyce asked.

"Something did, yeah. Willow tried to come up with a spell so he would be able to control his transformation. What she didn't tell us what that she was going to give it a try tonight."

"My God! Did it go all right?"

"More or less. They're both okay, but ... well, I'm not sure I got it all myself, really. Anyway, just wanted to let Faith know that our favourite cute couple were working the voodoo tonight. Just in case she caught some of the mojo they were flinging around or gets a bad tingle the next time she meets Oz. Willow will give us the full low-down tomorrow."

Joyce took a deep breath. A lot of times she still felt very much out of sorts whenever Buffy told her about such things as magic, spells, and monsters. She also felt that her daughter had rediscovered her old speech patterns with a little bit too much assistance from Faith.

"I will try and relay that to Faith once she gets here. I assume you have one of your Scooby meetings scheduled for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, same Scooby time, same Scooby place, same Scooby channel."

"Good. I'll tell her ..."

"Hello, Joyce," a British-tinged voice said from behind her, causing her to whirl around.

#

"Mom?" Buffy screamed into the receiver. It had been thirty years, subjectively, since she had heard that voice, but she recognized it all the same.

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Angel came over to her, clearly sensing her distress. He had only just arrived at the library after meeting Giles. Willow and Oz, the latter of whom in the process of putting his clothes back on, also looked up.

"Spike," she whispered, dread in her voice. "Spike is in mom's house."

TO BE CONTINUED