Season 8 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

by FaithB

Buffy Season 8 - The Slayerettes are called back from the corners of the world to a brand new slayer's academy in the safe, secluded settlement town of beautiful Meadowbrook, but what awaits them isn't the vacation from danger that they'd hoped for.

4. EPisode 04 Paper Roses

PAPER ROSES ( Episode 4 ) by Faith Bowie & Laota French - read more at next-tuesday dot org!
TEASER

SUMMERLAND ACADEMY HALLWAY - MORNING

The hallway was buzzing with activity as the S.A. students rushed to their classes and various campus activities. Buffy and Willow walked the length of the white linoleum floor towards the last classroom at the end of the hallway.

"I dunno, Will. Languages class kinda sounds evil. Generally I slay evil." Buffy scrunched her nose. "God, teaching. Me. Who'da thunk? Evil class leads to evil thoughts."

Willow dog eared the last of many dog eared pages in a large, red manual and set it on top of Buffy's already hefty stack of books. "Oh, no! It's the easiest class, really! All your lessons are outlined, just stick to the lesson plan and read the teachers manual and you're all set." She smiled.

Buffy nodded, returning Willow's smile, "Sorry. I don't mean to be a giant butt pain or anything, just kinda stressed. I mean, that girl last week....and the wolves. And on top of that, fluttery insides. Butterflies vs. Stomach. You know the drill." she sighed and glanced over her lesson manual, getting a split second happy tingle upon seeing a sheet of gold star stickers peeking out of the book. "Ooh, I get to gold star people."

"Yup." Willow grinned and helped Buffy put her books into a tan leather shoulder-slung book bag, "And there's silvers there too. I wanted to get the bronze ones but they were out."

"You went all out," Buffy observed, closing her book and slipping it back into the book bag. She glanced up at Willow, teasing with a small, innocent smile, "See now I'll feel sort of guilty when I sneak out during lunch and catch a boat to Singapore."

"No!" Willow growled, suddenly bursting with anger for seemingly no reason, "There will be no Singapore Boat! You...you didn't pick a class in time, you didn't pick a class at all! Everybody's taught Dante's Inferno but you, and I am not going back into that class room!"

"Hey!" Buffy put her hands up defensively, "Will, calm down, I was joking! Remember? Special Joke-Fun Buffy with new Poke-Fun action?"

Willow swallowed and nodded, calming herself, "Sorry, was up too late last night with the lesson plan and all. There was a coffee incident."

Buffy chuckled and shook her head as the two watched the girls start to line up in front of the classroom door to wait for the second bell, "It's okay, I think we're all a little stressed." She adjusted the strap of her book bag on her shoulder and opened the classroom door, "Dante's Inferno? I thought you said it was the easiest class?"

"Willow's been known to fib." Willow responded with a small grin, "Besides if I told you this class came from hell with a banjo on it's knee, you probably wouldn't have agreed to teach it."

"Good point." Buffy agreed with a thoughtful nod as she and Willow walked into the classroom to get things set up. "I guess it could be worse, I could have gym. Ah, gym, how I hate you."

"Yeah, I think it's good for Faith, though. It's like her thing, she's got the girls stoked to go to class." Willow began to open the drawers in Buffy's desk one at a time, filling each with essentials such as paper, pencils and erasers. She saved the last drawer for Buffy's teaching manuals.

"Yeah, good for her." Buffy feigned agreement with a roll of the eyes. She opened a heavy book that was sitting on her desk to the first of Willow's dog eared pages and started to copy the page contents onto the chalkboard. "That was a real good idea. Put Faith in charge of young minds and give her a reason get violent. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Hey, nice attitude to have. Remind me, do we still give out second chances?" Willow asked, not looking up from her task but obviously upset by Buffy's statement. "Sorry. It's just. Issues."

Buffy shook her head and sighed, sinking to sit in the chair behind her desk, "Sorry. Didn't mean to get all judicial there, it's just with Faith it's not a second chance. It's more like a five hundredth chance. I know she's trying....I know she's better. But in the back of my mind I'm still worried that she's gonna hurt somebody."

CUT TO SUMMERLAND ACADEMY - THE DOCKS - DAY

The floorboards of the Lake Milimo peer groaned loudly when Rupert Giles slammed bodily down to the dock. He looked up to see Faith standing over him, brandishing a broadsword. "Say g'night, English," she said with a relishing smile as she raised back the sword, ready to take Giles' head.

Giles narrowed his eyes, recoiled, and dove past left side quickly, going into a roll toward the start of the dock. Along the way, he tumbled over a discarded sword, taking up with him as he went, and then and popped back up to his feet like a Russian acrobat; as soon as he armed himself, he immediately began returning her attack, meeting her steel with the outer edge of his blade. They faced off, hacking at each other and grunting with exertion.

Faith and Giles had taken their watcher-slayer training to the peace and quiet of the docks that morning, Giles clad in his earth-toned casuals, Faith in her black-and-white leisures. They were both sweating and disheveled, and had obviously spent quite some time engaging each other at a lively pace, though neither seemed to tire of the fight. With a flurry of clumsy blows, Faith beat Giles back down to the ground and onto his back, strong-arming both his and her sword toward his throat. She grinned with self-satisfaction, catching her breath and putting her weight into it.

Giles' gazed into her eyes sadly, struggling to speak and he feebly pushed back. "I'm sorry," he grunted.

Faith sneered. "For what?"

In truly rapid, graceful secession for a man his size and age, Giles somehow slipped out from under Faith and kicked her sideways onto to dock, totally blindsiding her; as she fell, she dropped her sword; Giles took it up, and, before Faith could do more than facially react to the move, Giles had the points of both swords at her throat. He closed in, cornering her neck with the blades, so close that twitch of either his arms would've cut open her throat. He smirked boyishly. "That, for example," he answered retroactively.

Faith smirked back at him. "You tricked me?" she panted, obviously impressed. "Some dirty pool, G. -- what exactly are we trainin' for here?"

Giles stepped back, withdrawing the swords and giving Faith the chance to get to her feet. "I was merely feinting," he told her dryly, trying to "Stuffy Old Brit" himself up. "An action feigned to deceive one's opponent."

"That some more fencing wisdom?" Faith asked, taking back her sword as she rose to her feet.

"No," he sighed. "In fencing, a feint is meant to be false attack, calculated to divert an opponent's attention from one's real purpose. If we were fencing, I would've just beaten you with a 'false'." He assumed an En Garde position. "Try not to get the two confused."

"So, you fencers are low-down, silly bitches?" she noted, raising her sword. "Good t'know." Without warning, she engaged him and they were in "conversation" again, (trading thrusts and parries) circling each other slowly at first, elegantly, their blades flashing and ringing. "But you still beat me," Faith resumed. She livened, setting the pace for Giles.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Giles asked, matching her blow-for-blow as they sped through a set. "Because your more than twice as fast, less than half as old?"

Faith moved them to lightening speed, almost impossible to follow. "That," she panted, "and a set of wicked French-tips away from Wolverine-fierce."

"Precisely!" He took a strong, wide stroke at Faith with the broad side of his sword, knocking her back into a retreat so quickly, she nearly went down; he didn't stop hacking at her for a second while he spoke. "You have every gift to a slayer's advantage. Youth. Speed. Preternatural strength. It's who you are," he elbowing her across the chops, sending her into a header, "and all you know." She whipped her head around back around in astonishment, just in time to find herself at the end of his sword again. "You didn't think I could beat you," Giles continued solemnly, keeping the sword on her, "and you lost."

"Does Buffy know you can kick slayer-ass?" she asked, still incredulous.

Giles lowered his sword and shrugged. "She never asked." He took a step back to allow Faith to regroup.

She got back to her feet. "Yeah, but you guys trained for years."

"Never with the swords," he said, raising his guard again. "While I spent twenty seven years developing my skills, Buffy decided to end her training...prematurely." There was obvious irritation in his voice, though not obvious enough for Faith.

She cocked her head toward one shrugged shoulder with an ignorant, infinitesimal expression of indifference. With that, they engaged again, Faith feinting and chopping, Giles glissading casually. He spun around and made to bring his sword down on her like an axe; as he did, Faith quickly raised her sword to block the blow; Giles swiftly changed direction, spinning down and kicking out, sweeping Faith's legs out from under her. She caught herself masterfully without hitting the ground, got to her feet, and looked back at Giles, only to find him missing. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Giles was there, holding his sword on her with quiet intensity.

"Y'know, I was tryin' not to hurt you," Faith said. "If you can hit and I can't-."

"It's not fair," Giles agreed, lowering the blade. "Never the less, you can't forget your focus. Lose that and you've lost the fight."

"Focus?" she asked with the disdain. "Dude, you cheated."

"I'm a watcher," he replied, smiling, "what did you expect?" Noting her frustration, he became serious again, understanding her anger. "You fight evil, Faith, both demon and human. Evil isn't bound by the rules of a slayer. Of fairness, decency, and even of nature -- the rules a hero cannot break. These apply only to you, and that's one of the most important marks of distinction, not only in separating good from evil, but in the carving of one's own soul." Faith's expression changed slowly, going from one of resolute confusion to the beginning of comprehension. Giles lowered his sword slightly as he went on. "But the moment you anticipate what is and is not possible for you opponent, you'll be distracted from the actual attack. Expect to be surprised, and remember your focus. You never know with whom or what you'll be fighting...."

"Think you're forgettin' something about me." Faith responded quietly as Giles circled to her left, keeping the sword on her without wavering.

Giles arched a doubtful brow, "Am I?"

Faith nodded, a small and painful smile curling at the corners of her mouth, creasing effective lines into her face, "I walk the line." Giles looked a bit confused until Faith dropped back to the ground, catching his wrist in one hand to evade the sword, the other hand holding her balance on the dock. She threw an unholy kick towards his abdomen.

CUT TO SOMEWHERE IN MEADOWBROOK - MORNING

Somewhere in Meadowbrook, several shrouded figures in brown suede robes shuffled into a small, dimly lit room. The walls of the room were furnished with cheap pine paneling, and littered with icons and wall-mounted statues of a beautiful, deific woman, sometimes featured with a infant boy. The dead center of the room featured a grand, porcelain baptismal pool. Awaiting the entering figures were more of their kind, climbing down the molded steps into the waterless pool; some of the figures swung platinum censers, filling the air with smoke -- all chanted something close to the Canto Fermo. The baptismal pool contained a large oak table that had been fitted with manacle cuffs at all four corners. And lying on that table, locked down by the cuffs, there was a gagged, struggling vampiress, fully vamped out. Dressed in the demonically lame, requisite-for-a-newbie "Avril" attire, she watched wide-eyed as the robed figures encircled her, shouting muffled imprecations through her gag.

One robed man stepped into the foreground, holding a large, black, leather-bound book open in front of him. He recited in a gravelly, masculine voice:

"Prenez cette petite vie pour vos armées, vos buts, et envoyez-nous votre garçon en sa place." The man ripped a page from the book and held over the vampire. The ripped edge of the page began to burn on it's own, slowly turning the paper black. The man dropped his page onto the vampire's chest. "Son nom n'est pas désormais une partie de votre volume des morts. Tenez factuel dans Enfer ce que nous tenons factuel sur Terre." After these words, the page went completely black, embers leaping off of it, onto the vampire; her clothing was catching fire, a fire that spread quickly over her body. She squeeled and struggled as the apathetic figures continued their chanting, watching her become enveloped by flame. The man resumed his reciting:

"Maîtresse! Donnez-nous ce fils d'obscurité, pure à l'intérieur. Ne joue pas avec moi!" The shrouded man stepped back; the vampiress screamed through her gag as the black flames covered and ate away at her body and an echoing, monstrously demonic cry seemed to come from her very being, like the sound of something far off on it's way. But rather than be destroyed, she continued to burn until she was unrecognizable through the fire. Then, slowly, the fire began to die back some how, ebbing as though the very nature of the flames were thrown in reverse, and in place of the vampiress, there was another vampire -- male, darkly clad, and also vamped-out. Bleach blonde, wearing an amulet....

Spike snorted a growl and a cast an impatient, dissident glare around himself. Starting to get a idea of his position, he began fighting wildly and maliciously against his fetters.

The shrouded man laughed derisively at Spike's reaction. "Regarder, le petit bâtard délire complètement...."

SCENE ONE

SUMMERLAND ACADEMY STAFF CABINS - MORNING

Kennedy parked her wheelchair in front of the waste basket. She was wearing a pink velour tracksuit and a gray jogging bra -- the hoodie was unzipped, as she was tearing bandages and surgical tape off her stomach, and tossing them. They were the last wounds to heal from her encounter with the wolvens, and they were nearly gone. "Thank you, slayer powers," she said to herself chipper-ly.

Kennedy rolled back toward the sleeping area of the large room. The staff cabin's at Summerland were old, log cabin style building, separated by a massive dividing brick wall into two great rooms, each with it's own bathroom and fireplace. The walls of Willow and Kennedy's room were littered with scarves, sconces, stings of gold Christmas light, and anything else large enough to cover the woodsy, rustic look. There were varying sizes of beeswax candles in the fireplace.

Willow -- who had accidentally slept late -- had been skittering around the room, doing her best to get ready to go out. She pulled a cowl poncho over her black tube top, grabbed an armful of books and folders, and headed for the door.

"Don't I get a kiss goodbye?" Kennedy asked.

Willow stopped and looked back sheepishly. "...I didn't just kiss you?"

Kennedy chuckled, "Great, Willow turns basket case. And you know who suffers? The girlfriend."

Willow came back and gave Kennedy a kiss, shifting her loads to keep from dropping them. "Sorry if I've been a little flaky lately, but I really do hafta meet up with Buffy and go over the lesson plan with her, and then I hafta meet up with the guys-."

"To what? Catch up on the last eight years you've spent together?" Willow gave Kennedy a surprised look, which Kennedy returned with a playful smile. "Yes, I am a turd, but I would not have to be if you'd spend every waking hour with me, and me alone. That didn't sound too demanding, did it?"

Willow nodded. "A pinch, yeah."

"Well, I don't get to go out so much anymore, and you just take off. Would you even notice if I wasn't here?"

Willow frowned. "Hey, y'know when the best time to bring this stuff up is? When I'm late...." She gave Kennedy a quick kiss on the forehead and hurried out of the cabin, just in time to catch up with Buffy on the lawn.

Buffy looked her usual fresh self, her hair twisted up fetchingly, clad in a parchment-colored, sherpa trim jacket with white, notch back trousers. She grinned at Willow and greeted her: "Hey, Buffy says something funny."

"Yeah, but Willow is wittier," Willow replied, then returned her grin. "As per usual-. Hey -- did you just wanna be at that trading post in Adventureland?"

Buffy gaped at Willow. "How do you do that? Ooh -- evil powers, that's probably exactly how."

Both ladies were distracted by the sound of an argument on the lawns. Xander was storming away from his cabin, Andrew in close pursuit. Xander seemed very annoyed. "If you shoot your grandfather," he explained angrily, "and you die, then nobody could go back in time to shoot your grandfather, so then you wouldn't die!"

"You're missing the ripple effect," said Andrew. "Time travel into the future is always the extrapolation of current events of the immediate present, therefore, if one was to return to the present from the past-."

"The end!" Xander shouted, losing his patience. "And now you go. I have work to do!"

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Xander and muttered to himself, as he turned, heading back to Xander's cabin. "That ungrateful little man...."

Buffy gave Xander a playfully shocked expression. "What's up with the Dallas drama-rama?"

Xander shook his head, still angry. "Oh, so much is up. Ever since the watchers moved their way into Summerland, I've been bunked up with Andrew and Giles." Willow and Buffy cracked up laughing. "It's not funny, I've been kept awake for the last twelve hours, going over time-travel theorems. It's not me, that guy gets fricken obsessed!"

Willow smirked. "This from the guy who fell in love with titanic for six moths?" she asked. "You never stopped talking about it."

"We had to watch it with you a hundred times," Buffy added, "and every time, you'd yell at the screen, 'no, don't throw it in reverse! It'll only make it worse'!"

Xander scoffed self-consciously, "Well, if they'd just hit the iceberg dead on, they would've totally smashed it!"

The three walked onward down the dirt trail that lead to the school from the lodge, while all around them, the in-training slayers filed out of their cabin's toward the school. Buffy, Willow, and Xander found themselves strolling by a half completed wooden archway -- part of a fence frame that the Wolfram & Hart construction crew were busy building that very minute.

Xander looked up at the frame irefully. "Am I the only one who's not a hundred percent about that?" he asked.

Buffy and Willow replied, "Uh-huh," to that in unison.

"The construction is a joke, the frame is flimsy. Those wolvens are gonna bust through it like the Kool-Aid man through a brick wall."

"You're not just saying that 'cause the construction crew made fun of you?" Buffy asked.

"Please, when am I that petty -- rhetorically. I'm only saying we should keep the banishment wall up, just in case."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, "but if the wolvens breech the shield again, the fence'll be all we've got."

"In the meantime, we've a real construction worker right on the premises, yet Electric Mayhem is building our last line of defense. It has a real homey feel with the barbed wire at the top."

Buffy chuckled to herself. "It'd make Faith feel right at home."

"Can you not do that!" Willow griped. "No more Faith bashing! It's no fair, and it's making me tense."

"Sorry, stress!" Buffy claimed defensively. "Stress of all kinds! It's just so oogey right now, everything is. I always feel fidgety, on guard." Buffy sighed deeply. "Why can't things just go back to being moderate-difficult? I mean, I actually miss high school, despite common sense. I knew I could handle it. It all seemed simpler than this, even at it's worst."

"Damn progress," Xander muttered. "I think we need time and a half off. Can I get a 'whoop-whoop'?"

"Big yes, to time off," Buffy agreed. "And no to the 'whoop-whoop'."

"What, lame?"

"Yeah, and it kinda dates us. I'm not up to feeling my age right now."

DOWN-TOWN MEADOWBROOK - THE ROLLBAR - NIGHT

A night club called the "Roll Bar" was the only refuge in Meadowbrook from country music. It was dark, crowded and noisy, with bars at either end. A kick-ass techno band held forth on stage, blasting the kind of music that would cause major moshing in a rowdier crowd. Hometown teens seemed to claim this hangout as their own, spending endless hours under the primary-colored lights, dancing and listening to local and touring bands, the juke box, and occasionally, a volunteer D.J.

And with all the other jumping, thrashsome dancers, Buffy head banged along with the best of them, getting her mojo up to full party mode. She'd long since taken her hair down and shed her jacket, revealing her black crew neck tank with the zodiac symbol for "Capricorn" studded across the front.

Meanwhile, at one of the tables near the dance floor, Robin, Dawn, Willow and Xander watched on as Buffy spazzed out. Willow Dawn exchanged looks of worry over the display. "I think you broke her," Dawn said.

"Huh, not me!" Willow squeaked defensively. "She's been ready to blow all month. Look at the dancing -- Willow didn't do that. Xander, tell her."

"It's discrimination!" Xander snapped.

Willow frowned. "Off topic, but good that you're in the conversation."

"Hello, look at the band?" he pressed on.

"Look at what?"

"At the 'me-not-being-able-to-look-at-the-band'ness? This place discriminates against the uni-eyed with it's table placement. I paid the four dollar cover, and all I have to show for it is a crick in my neck and a pupil fulla juke box."

"I'm still kinda worried about leaving Kennedy home again," Willow said to Dawn, not paying mind to Xander's rant. "But I really wasn't sure if she'd have that much fun with us."

"Forget about it," Robin said glumly, nursing a beer. "If you really wanted to be with her, then you'd be with her. 'Stead of leaving her alone." He cast a deriding glare around the room. "With nothing to do but get wasted."

The others stared back at Robin, almost fearfully. "Where did he get that beer?" Dawn asked. "We haven't even ordered our drinks yet."

"I think he snuck it in," Xander answered, absent-mindedly, "can someone describe the band?"

Willow and Dawn looked back to the dance floor. Buffy was definitely too into the music now. Her arms were all over the place, and one might hear her shout over the music, "Yeah, kick it! Crank it up! Wooo!" She broke off from the dancing and headed back over to the table with her friends. "You guys should come dance!" Buffy told them. "The band is great!"

"Yes, you like the band," Dawn said wryly, "we get it."

"Eye wouldn't know," Xander said. "What with the one eye, I can't see the band, and music means squat without the visual. I think the interior designer of this place was prejudice against people with one-to-no eyes.

Buffy looked at him, and then at the others with a blank, insouciant expression. "I dunno!" she said happily. "You guys wanna drink? On me, for I am Dr. Pepper-bound."

Willow shook her head, as did Xander. "Shot of bourbon," Robin answered.

"Ooh," Dawn piped up, "I'll have the same." Buffy arched a brow a Dawn critically. "Not the bourbon," Mr. Pepper?"

Buffy nodded and set out for the bar. Standing in the general area you'd find a bar tender was young, wispy brunet girl. Eighteen-ish, very pretty, but garden variety, non-authentic goth. Buffy approached her warily. "Uh...two Dr. Peppers, sans ice, and a shot of bourbon," she said.

The girl swiftly set about putting out two glasses, which she quickly filled with Dr. Pepper, but when it came time to bring up the bourbon, she seemed to have a bit more trouble. After a moment of browsing under the counter, she brought up a tumbler and a bottle of vodka, and filled the glass to the top, almost spilling. She opened a can of A&W and gingerly poured just a drop of root beer in it.

Buffy smirked at her glibly. "You almost have me going 'til the bourbon. Nice try, though."

The girl smiled, embarrassed. "I saw the bartender leave and came over to snag a free soda, but then people started ordering drinks and stuff, and I didn't know what else to do." She extended a hand over the counter. "I'm Haley."

Buffy took her hand and sat down at the bar happily, still bouncing to the music. "Buffy Summers. I get the lack of guilt on your part, but you should probably get out of there, before you get in serious trouble." Buffy cast a look back over her shoulder to the band, obviously distracted.

Haley gave Buffy a shrewd, sideways glance. "You like that band?" she asked casually.

Buffy turned back around, still bubbly. "Huh? Oh -- yeah."

"They're cool," Haley agreed, and then yelled at the band, "You suck!" She shook her head dismissively at Buffy. "I love these guys, I just give 'em hell 'cause it goes with the scene."

"Yeah, I like these guys, too. They remind me of Seven Mary Three." Haley gave that a pitying look. Buffy realized how dating her reference might be to a teenager. "I love you pants," she went on quickly. "Boot cut?"

"They're flares," Haley chuckled, uncomfortably.

Just then, Dawn walked up to the bar behind Buffy. "That's what I meant," Buffy saved, "'flares.'"

"Hey," Dawn whined at Buffy jokingly, "how long does it take to push the 'Pepper' button?"

"Sorry," Buffy said with a wince. "I just got caught up talking to...Haley?"

Haley nodded helpfully. "Buffy's real cool," she said to Dawn. "Not every mom who would make time to hang out with her daughter, let alone at a club."

Buffy's face went blank at that, and Dawn gave her a sympathetic look. "You should probably bring Robin his drink," she said, attempting a normal tone.

Buffy grabbed her drink and Robin's and turned away from the bar. "Yeah, Buffy go now," she agreed, obviously wigged at the unintentional insult.

Dawn turned back to Haley as Buffy shuffled away. "I'm Dawn," sliding the Dr. Pepper closer.

"I'm still Haley," Haley said. She grinned mischievously and held up the half-empty bottle of vodka, give it a decided shake. "You want a bourbon?"

SCENE TWO

MEADOWBROOK WOODS - NIGHT

The quiet chirping of crickets was broken by the sound of scrambling in the brush beyond Summerland Academy. Any passer-by might have mistaken it for a startled animal, perhaps a deer by the weight bearing down on the dry cracking of twigs and dried leaves; but if they'd looked closer, it would've been obvious that it was no deer, though the creature looked just as startled, it was far more dangerous.

A figure emerged from the coppice, rumbling a low growl of warning to anyone or anything he might encounter. Spike was unsure of where he was and he shifted golden eyes around the terrain, scanning his new surroundings for anything that might clue him into what had happened. All he knew for sure was that he was back and not by accident, though he was a bit hazy on the details.

Spike made his way through the mass of trees, his motorcycle boots almost made a sound this time. He regained his footing and he moved though the brush toward a clearing where the undergrowth became less dense and finally gave way to suburbia.

The dim glow of streetlights lit the shadowed blacktop road as Spike stepped out of the canopy of trees into what appeared to be a park of sorts. The neighborhood seemed sheltered and friendly, the houses painted vibrant shades of pastel blue and yellow with a basketball hoop in every driveway. Passing a wrought iron bench Spike felt something brush against his shoulder and upon turning his head he saw a girl in a pink sweater wander past him.

"Ey," he snapped, "Watch---it?"

The girl didn't take any notice of him. Her eyes seemed glazed and fixed on something ahead of her. Spike's head tilted to the side like a dog listening to a whistle only he could hear. Curiously he tried to follow the girl's gaze but whatever she was watching wasn't something he could see. He moved to grab a hold of her shoulder and he stopped his hand in midair as what appeared to be an enormous werewolf-like creature snuffed past him, the back flap of his leather duster passing over the lycanthrope's pelt.

Spike took a step back to see that the girl and the wolf-y thing were not alone, but were two in a small migration of townspeople and wolves. They all seemed to be moving in mass in the same direction as if pulled toward the same thing. Spike stood stunned for a moment before another of the monstrous things loped past him grazing against his leg.

The vampire took another step back out of its way and whispered, "Bloody hell."

SCENE THREE

MEADOWBROOK - THE ROLL BAR NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT

"Listen to 'em." Xander complained, still trying to peer around the obstruction that blocked his view of the band, "They are so not with the catchiness – I am uncaught." He lifted a clear plastic cup of Pepsi off of the table and to his lips, stopping short before it reached his mouth, "It's just that this is the worst version of Light My Fire since the invention of matches."

Willow's brow rose to a sarcastic arch over soft, sleepy eyes, "Because you're so the Jim Morrison junkie?"

"Hey, I could be a Morrison fan." Xander retorted dryly but quickly caved, "Okay, not so much. But still, this opens my one weird eye to The Doors. Suddenly they glow with a newfound glowyness."

"Well, I like it - I'm excited even, I love Shirtlifter." Willow grinned broadly, stirring her drink with a yellow plastic stir stick that was topped by a little clear plastic pineapple, "Sure...I don't exactly know what he's saying but it's definitely danceable."

Xander shrugged, "I stand by my angry and unreasonable statement."

"Xander.." Willow sighed, "if you can't see why don't we just move to another table?"

"It's the principle of the thing!" He grunted, shaking an unconvincing fist at the wooden beam that stood between him and the stage, "I should be able to see the band, it's my right as an American."

"Didn't you renounce your citizenship when they cancelled Baywatch?"

"Yeah but I'm back." Xander grinned like a game show host, "Aren't you glad to see me?"

Willow looked Xander over with concern, "How many Pepsi's did you have?"

"I plead the fifth. American, remember?"

Willow shook her head and turned to look out to the crowd, worry etching on her features. She could see Buffy slithering through the packs of bodies that stood between them and the bar.

Buffy slipped past a couple that were grinding with purpose and her eyes widened in surprise. She finally made it to the small, circled table where Willow was sitting with Xander and Robin. Buffy passed a broad smile around the table, setting down one of the two drinks that hadn't been screwed up by Haley.

"And she's back from the bar." Buffy announced, taking a seat across form Willow, who'd been eyeing her worriedly. Buffy averted her eyes and turned an apologetic glance toward Robin, "Sorry, barkeepie didn't really get the whole 'make a drink that's drinkable' idea."

"It's fine, thanks anyway Buffy." Robin got to his feet, leaving his jacket on the back of his chair , "Think I'll go try and squeeze a drop of gin out of the bar anyway. Let me know if Faith ever shows up?" Willow nodded in response to his question and then watched him go sympathetically as he began to walk off in the direction Buffy had just come from.

Buffy pulled a yellow tiki stir stick out of a glass coconut that sat as the centerpiece of the table, and used it to try and sink the cherry in her Dr. Pepper to the bottom of the glass, making little drowning noises as it blurred beneath the ice. She chuckled to herself and let the cherry resurface only to scoop it out with her fingertips and pop it into her mouth, raising her eye line back up to Willow, who's eyes were fixed over Buffy's shoulder. Buffy slurred past her cherry, "What are we looking at?"

"Hmm?" Willow responded with soft distraction, looking past her friend. Buffy followed her gaze to Robin who was sitting on a tall stool , his head resting on his balled up fist that was the only thing propping it off the bar. After what seemed like an eternity he stood, tipping a bit as he lifted himself from the stool and headed back towards the only people in the room that were familiar.

"It's so sad...I mean the way Faith treats him. He looks so ...depressed." Willow sighed, tapping her straw around in her ice-filled cup with a sort of distracted pout that had, in recent years, become a trademark of hers. Xander turned to face them and leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, wouldn't rule that out of the realm of possibilities. She's not exactly the queen of monogamy." Xander agreed as Robin found his seat again, moving it to keep a person worth of space between himself and the others.

Willow took a quiet sip of her coke through the purple straw she had to pay extra for, "Really slick, did you take over for Giles as Tact Guy?"

"Nah. Then I'd have to kill Giles, and if I kill Giles I'll have to blow my savings on an old time-y cover up." Xander laughed to himself but got no response from Buffy and Willow. "Get it? Guys, remember funny? Haha? Laugh?"

Willow shook her head, "Sorry, I have stuff on the brain. Big time stuff."

"Still Kennedy stuff?" Asked Robin, running a bored fingertip around the rim of his glass.

"Didn't we cover this?" Willow asked as looked over at Robin, who was expressionlessly filling his shot glass for the third time. She gave him a sympathetic but momentary stare, "I'm guessing Faith was a no show again, huh?"

Robin didn't bother to look away from the bottle in front of him, "What a surprise."

"It doesn't mean anything." Buffy tried to intervene with some semblance of reasoning, "Faith's never been good with ..."

"Commitment?" Robin cut Buffy off with what seemed to be the obvious.

"Actually I was gonna say punctuality. Always missing appointments, training.." Buffy smiled a bit with nervous concern as she watched Robin down another shot, "You know what I mean. It's not like she's blowing you off...." her eyes widened a bit and she amended, "What I mean is she probably just forgot. You know Faith, she's like that one Muppet with the cowboy hat."

Xander casually fixed his eye patch to lay properly. "Forgetful Jones?" he offered, reaching to pull a packet of sugar out of the sugar caddy.

"Hey, it was a long time ago!" Buffy retorted, "I can't even remember the names of half of my friends from my Sesame Street days."

"Actually," Willow reluctantly corrected, "That was the Muppet's name. Forgetful Jones."

"Oh." Buffy looked around at her friends, "I knew that."

As Xander gave Buffy a consoling pat on the shoulder, Willow watched Robin move to down another shot. She reached out and laid her hand on his wrist, stopping him momentarily from raising the shot glass to his lips, "I hate to poop the party, but I think you've had enough..."

A reprimanding voice seconded Willow from behind Buffy. "I'm inclined agree." The group turned to see Mirella, who'd come in clutching her bag as if it were in danger from purse nappers, now stood before them.

"We agree?" Willow thinned her lips and raised her hand to ear level, "Can I retract my statement?"

Willow's question was ignored by the group, whom all seemed to focus on Mirella. For once she didn't have Marcus and Onslow in tow to back her up. She folded her slender arms, not in any way compromising her posture, and continued sarcastically, "Patrolling, are we? And just look at all the dust. My, Miss Summers, you have been a busy thing."

"I patrolled..." Buffy covered with a sort of innocent ditz look, "and then I came here. To...sit." She shook her head, "See, I keep forgetting that I don't have to explain anything to you. I work hard, I was tired, I needed a break. I was driving myself at Cranky Slayer pace! "

Arms still crossed, Mirella cast a frustrated glance at the ceiling, her hands gripping her upper arms. "You know, Buffy, I've had the pleasure of going over many a report of your progress. I've read the pages and pages outlining your work and ethical habits verses that of Faith and, I must admit, I assumed you to be the better slayer. Faster, stronger, more dedicated - or so said every word, every sheet of paper I'd read. But words on a page can be deceiving, and I hadn't expected to find you taking sabbatical as you please while Faith, your junior and a wanted criminal on top of that, is hard at work."

"Hard at work?" Robin and Buffy accidentally mumbled in unison, both suddenly very interested in what the Watcher had to say.

Mirella glanced around the table with a thin line of confusion creasing in her forehead, "Yes, work. I assume you've heard of it? She's been training with Mr. Giles on the docks since, oh I don't know, sometime yesterday morning."

Buffy's eyes widened a bit as she exchanged glances with Willow. "Without a break?" She asked with a note of concern in her voice.

"Of course.." Mirella started, but stopped herself with a wince, covering both ears with her palms. Light My Fire became warped and hard to hear as Order of Lonely Hearts started to blast from the jukebox. She joined in with the rest of the nightclub as they stared toward the corner of the room by the bar.

Marcus was leaning heavily against the jukebox, a broad and toothy smile across his face. He was pathetically trying his best to seduce to a teenage girl who looked politely disgusted by him. "So," he winked at the girl, not paying any attention to the boo's or paper cups being thrown at him from the club goers, "Sam, is it?"

"Y-yeah..." Sam fidgeted nervously, "Hey listen, I gotta go...my dad's waiting for me..."

"Oh, come now, I'm sure you can make something up..." The Watcher beamed casually at the girl who desperately looked for an escape from him. Marcus opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, a startled mouse-like squeak escaped his lips and he jumped a bit as a hand gripped his shoulder without warning. The girl Marcus had been hitting on gratefully made her getaway into the crowded dance floor as soon as Marcus turned to see Onslow, shaking slightly and looking about the room. "Barrie, I thought I told you to stay in the car?"

"Well," Onslow began, holding his precious briefcase beneath one arm, his free hand crossing in front of him to clutch the handle, "I told you I might not. There were....street toughs of some sort. Women. Scary, scary women. I couldn't bring myself to stay another m-moment, even with all the window rolled to the top and all the door locks pushed down. Besides that it was Mirella who instructed me to stay in the car. She instructed you to do the same, and yet you left me stranded with...with.."

Marcus sighed and patted Onslow on the shoulder, "Street toughs, I know. C'mon, Boy, I'll buy you a drink."

Mirella turned away from Marcus' direction as the annoyed groans and jeers from the crowd began to subside. She unfolded her arms and rested her hands on the table, leaning in closer to Buffy, "The point of this conversation is that you are shirking your duties as Slayer. You're the oldest, Buffy, the oldest living Slayer. The other girls, even Faith, are in your charge."

"Since when is Faith my responsibility?" Buffy snorted angrily.

Mirella smiled sheepishly and stood back up at full height. "So sayeth Cain."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Miss Summers." The Watcher straightened the boiled and starched white shirt cuffs that peeked out from beneath her pinstriped blazer, "Except, of course, that if you'd taken a little more care with Faith in her initial fragile state, she might have avoided her transgressions altogether. Something to ponder."

Fuming, Buffy slowly rose to her feet, her eyes trained on Mirella's. "And exactly how do you know? You guys have been here all of, what, a week? Week and a half? And now you're the expert on all things Buffy and Faith? How dare you blame me for the path Faith chose? She did it all by herself, she didn't need me to help her mess up her life along with everybody else's. I tried to help her! I put myself on the line and she threw it back in my face. What Faith needs isn't me holding her hand, she needs serious mental help."

"Buff..." Xander spoke up only to be hushed by Buffy's palm practically in his face. He put his hands up defensively, "Oookay."

"You forget your place, Miss." Mirella's tone became threatening, "Like it or not I am a Watcher, and as such I've council over you and your charges."

"Again, since a week ago." Buffy pointed out harshly, "You don't get it - you don't have any say here. And the Council? Poof. You're only still breathing because Giles hasn't given the kill command yet."

"That's it." Robin shook his head and got out of his seat. He walked around the table to Mirella and wrapped his hand around her upper arm, forcefully walking her towards the door, "It's time to go."

"Oh..oh dear Lord..." Mirella gritted her teeth but didn't struggle for fear of making a scene. Robin gave her a shove out the door and then headed towards Marcus, who quickly reached out and grabbed Onslow's arm and herded him towards the door without Robin's 'help'. Robin's mouth stretched into a satisfied smirk and he headed back towards the table, while outside the Watchers walked towards their car.

"Of all the nerve." Mirella groused as she walked, searching her purse for her car keys. "And to top it all off I think that little guttersnipe threatened me."

Onslow reached the car first and looked around nervously and Marcus started to pull on the passenger side car door handle impatiently.

"What difference does it make? Brute boy won't let us near Faith so we have to concentrate on Buffy." Marcus sighed as Mirella unlocked the car. "We just have to back up a little, re-think all of this Slayer nonsense." They slipped into the car one by one and the car began to pull out of it's parking space.

As the car left the alleyway next to the Roll Bar's entrance, it passed two teenage girls walking by themselves. One girl was slight and tan, with long blonde hair and an overbite. The other was tall and chubby, with dark hair and eyes. She wore a black dress and walked out in front of her friend, staring unresponsively and blankly ahead.

"Britt? Look, I know you're mad at me but this Stepford thing isn't funny anymore!" Said the blonde girl, the tone of her voice was shrill and pleading. "If you're not gonna answer me I'm going home. Did you hear me? Britt?"

Britt didn't respond, but instead walked towards the end of the alley. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the blonde girl's eyes fixed forward and she stopped speaking completely. She quietly followed Britt for a few moments before being grabbed by a pale, slender hand that darted out of the alley's shadows. The hand pulled the girl into the darkness and a distant gurgle-chewing sound could be heard. After a few moments a figure stepped out of the shadows. A pale woman, tall and thin, her long black hair swept back into a curly ponytail at the base of her neck and her face was vamped and easily recognizable.

Drusilla grinned dreamily and wiped the blood off of her bottom lip with the back of her hand, then winced as she heard a loud belching from behind her. Sheila came stumbling out of the darkness, dropping the blonde girl she'd picked up after Drusilla had discarded the body.

Sheila belched again, annoyingly, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Can I have the other one?"

SCENE FOUR

SUBURBAN WOODWARD PARK ROAD - NIGHT

Mirella Bartlett's U.K. addition black, three-door Volkswagen "Polo" coasted down an additional road, softly hugging the woods just beyond the shoulder. The car's headlights illuminated the way between streetlights, which were few and far between in Meadowbrook. Mirella sat behind the wheel of the Polo on the right side, hands at 10 and 2, stewing in bitter disbelief. To her left in the passenger seat was Marcus, how had the window down and one elbow out, drumming his hand on the door to non-existent music. Buckled-up in the backseat, Onslow was leaning back to avoid the rushing country air that poured in through the window as though it was the plague. He cast a look to his suitcase in the seat beside him, buckled in safely like a passenger; Onslow smiled a little grateful smile at that.

Mirella's hair was slightly blown in her face by the incoming wind. "I don't understand how that girl can be so flippant," she muttered to herself. "It's as if she hasn't any sense of duty...." Her hair was beginning to fall in front of her eyes; Mirella put her glassed up to act as a headband and let her eyes wander for a moment toward the center console tray, where a Apocalyptica CD lay. "...Infuriating. You'd think Faith would be the handful, but no-." Reaching for the CD, she trailed off, twittering to herself.

Marcus sneered. "Mirella, the road," he drawled, more annoyed than concerned.

She looked up, swearing, "Jesus!" and anxiously spun the wheel, hard over, to miss the pedestrian. Marcus' head smacked against the door frame and Onslow put a hand out to secure his briefcase, rather affected by the situation. As they came out of the turn, Mirella had to swerve again to narrowly miss a young man standing in the street. They came out of the swerve; now the car was on the other side of the road facing the opposite direction.

"Perfect," Marcus groused, rubbing his head, "now I'm going to have a knot on this side.

Mirella gawked at his insensitivity -- her glasses slipped down from her head in front of her face. She put them on squarely and glanced back at the road, just in time to catch a glimpse of the first man she nearly hit, who was now illuminated by the Polo's headlights. Anyone who knew him would've recognized him immediately: it was Spike, still very vamped-out. He turned and continued wandering, shaking his head in confusion. Mirella's eye's widened. "Vampires," she gasped to herself breathlessly.

"You're crazy," Marcus snorted dismissively, fiddling with the radio console. "Does this get F.M, or doesn't it?"

"Where are vampires?" Onslow asked in a small voice. He reached up and hit the button to roll up Marcus' window, and got an eyeful of the several dozen teenagers outside the car, milling about aimlessly as zombies in the street, all still somehow coming around to the same direction.

The teens were crowding down the street with blank expressions, around cars and lampposts, either barely avoiding them or not at all, as though they were blind. Spike watched them from the relative darkness of the sidewalk he was stalking down, trying to feign apathy at the near collision. He sniffed, squaring his shoulders, and stopped. Inhaling again, deliberately this time, he felt a reminiscent smell permeate his senses. An impish smirk tugged at his lips and he did a three-sixty, rushing headlong back to the last block he'd passed.

As Spike rounded the corner of "Cabot and Rose", the sound of a struggle became evident. He kept his distance, keeping in shadow, as he caught sight of the massacre in progress. His yellow, slitted eyes were awash with reverent nostalgia and he stood there, like Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life".

The hypnotized teens continued to wander past him and a consortium of blithe vampires were picking them off like grapes from the vine. Among the feasting vamps was Sheila. Her dark hair had grown and the style had changed slightly, but otherwise, she looked exactly the same as she had the night she died, right down to the dated, Bad Girl outfit (committing to a look, as vampires often do). After registering her appearance, Spike ignored her. He was more interested a gaunt, matronly figure, turning one of the vacant young men to face her. The boy was in the clutches of Drusilla, already wearing her demon visage.

She embraced the boy roughly, bit down and tasted, but too quickly dropped him, letting his indifferent body crumple to the ground at her feet. She wiped the corner of her mouth, somewhat amused. "All crawling like rats to the valley," she said thoughtfully, musing over his form. "First sip is always the best."

Sheila dropped her handsome kill in a heap on the ground and jammed her fists into his pockets as the other vampires. "No chase," she murmured to Dru. "What's the fun when you're shooting fish in a barrel? I dunno about you, but I'm lookin' for a fight."

Dru sneered at Sheila, sashayed up to her, and backhanded her hard across the nose. "Found one," Dru snarled disparagingly. "Where do we look a pretty gift horse, my pet?"

"Alright!" Sheila consented, holding her face and glaring. "God, I was just saying...."

Making his mind up, Spike moved out of the shadows he lurked in towards Drusilla, just to creep back when he caught sight of Kennedy hobbling down the street with the wandering youths. Spike froze, watching the her and a few other veteran slayers walk past him. He glanced over at Drusilla once more before growling regretfully sinking back into a nearby alley.

As the slayers past Drusilla, she pulled one aside and chowed down, her eyes following the advancement of the girls. They moved with the other youths with steady progression into the woods. Kennedy disappeared into the forest with the rest of them.

The path she took was littered with leaves and narrowed suddenly, twisting and angling past the brush until it became very steep and almost non-existent, but the group of kids trekked on a very precise route, as if they were being pulled by an invisible thread. A boy far ahead of Kennedy moved aside a thicket of bushes to reveal the entrance to a cave. He held it aside the others entered, including Kennedy, before he slipped in after them.

The mouth of the cave opened to reveal an astounding number of the citizens of Meadowbrook, all digging diligently, excluding a couple of families, cowboy-types, and the sheriff's deputy. Kennedy, Vi, and a few of the slayers picked up various sledge hammers and pick axes. Reagan and Rona broke from the group, stepping forward and taking shovels that were handed to them by the people who came before them. A grotesque creature loomed behind them.

The creature was over seven feet tall and appeared to be a combination of hanging mud and flesh. The two apparent parts of the mixture were not only clumped and dried together but also released a musty, wet, and rotten smell. The noxious odor was probably the only thing worse than its appearance in general. This was obviously the foreman of the construction in progress.

The unstable monster surveyed their work and hissed at them in a deep, almost animal voice, "¡Usted debe trabajar más rápido! La efigie es cercana al alcance de la mano y debe ser desenterrada. ¡Cave!"

SCENE FIVE

Mirella looked over her pita pocket lunch with an unappetized grimace as she sat cross legged on a research desk by the staircase, watching Marcus pace around franticly, "I'm telling you, Jonesy, that was a vampire. And who knows how many of the youth wandering around in the middle of traffic last night were also undead?"

"Mirella, listen to what you're saying. A vampire? In Meadowbrook? You know as well as I do that there's been no vampiric activity in Nevada County since the 1980's." Marcus folded his arms, stepping closer to Mirella. He glanced over his shoulder at Onslow, who was sitting with Xander across the room pouring over a book, and whispered to Mirella, "The Firm wouldn't have built Summerland here if there were vampires."

"That doesn't change what I saw. I know you saw it too." Mirella sighed, "And worst of all, Barrie saw it."

"What if you're wrong? What if we're wrong?" Marcus sat next to Mirella on the table and pulled a carrot shaving out of her pita pocket, popping it into his mouth with a sigh. "Or what if there was one vampire? Who's to say the others are any threat at all?"

"Marcus..." Mirella looked over at Marcus with a soft yet painful stare, "They were all twenty or younger....all of them. Walking right in the middle of the road as if they had no care for their own well being."

"Yes...yes I know." Marcus nodded with defeat. He shook his head, about to stand back up when he noticed Mirella's choice in clothing, "A skirt? I didn't know you even owned ladies clothing."

"Stop it." Mirella threatened softly, but Marcus continued to tease her with a casual smirk, suddenly seeming a little too at ease with the situation at hand.

"Fine, see? I've stopped. It's just not entirely in your style is what I'm trying to point out." He shrugged out of his blazer and got to his feet, slinging it over his shoulder, "I suppose this is for Mr. Giles benefit, isn't it?"

"Didn't I tell you to stop it? I have no qualms with using brute force if need be." She warned, standing as well, her hands finding and resting on her hips. "We have a very serious situation to concentrate on."

Marcus put his hands up defensively.

Across the room, Onslow turned a page in the comic book-thin guide to Meadowbrook's occult history, which seemed to be less than minimal. He lifted his eyes from the page slightly and eyed the two other Watchers suspiciously before going back to the book, "Miss Bartlet mentioned that the vampire she claims to have seen was...n-not alone."

"What's that mean?" Xander mumbled past the large chunk of apple in his mouth, "Not alone?"

"What Barrie is saying," Marcus walked the length of the room to where Xander and Onslow sat, leaning over to steal one of Xander's pretzels. "Is that there might have been other vampires. There were others in the street last night, an assembly of youth with..er..nerves of steel. Usual vampire garb - dark clothing, dark make up. The word 'Punk' springs to mind."

"Well," Onslow stood and stepped away from the table, taking the book with him and placing it back onto it's appropriate shelf, "We must do something. If there is o-one vampire, there's bound to be more. Travel in swarms, you know."

Xander took another bite of his apple, slapping Marcus' hand away from his hot pocket, "I'd say this is a job for the Slayer but Buff's been AWOL."

"Then I'd s-suggest employing Miss Girard until Miss Summers regains her composure." Onslow mentioned as he searched through other Meadowbrook titles on the shelf.

Xander looked up from his book to meet eyes with Onslow, looking more than mildly confused, "Miss Girard?"

"Eh, yes." Onslow pulled a book from the shelf and opened it up, quickly thumbing through it only to push it back into place again and pull out another one, "Faith?"

"Faith has a last name?" Xander shook the confusion out of his head and blinked, finishing up his lunch. "I mean, I knew that. And yeah, get her if you can find her. Buffy and Faith, both gone. I say steamy Slayer bonding. Or possibly just a good old fashioned government conspiracy."

Mirella arched a brow, not used to Xander's sarcasm "Conspiracy? To what purpose?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's aliens." He replied almost seriously, leaving what he hadn't eaten sitting on top of his paper lunch sack. "All conspiracies are alien-related."

A nervous chuckle escaped Onslow's lips as he turned to look back at Xander, "That is a bit of a stretch."

"He's razzing you, Barrie." Mirella leaned to reach into the pocket of her coat that neatly hung from the back of a chair, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and silver butane lighter with what appeared to be a pyramid engraved onto the side. She raised the cigarette to her lips and sparked the lighter, holding the flame close to the tip of her cigarette before thinking better of it and flipping the lighter closed. She quietly slipped the cigarette back into the pack then shoved both the lighter and cigarettes into the coat pocket she'd just taken them from. "Don't any of you find this even remotely odd?"

"What's odd?" Xander asked with an alarming complacently that seemed to have infected everyone in the room except for Mirella. Marcus sat next to him and swiping scraps of his lunch and giving Mirella an equally questioning look.

Mirella looked around the room at the three men, wide-eyed with disbelief. "There are two senior Slayers missing and none of you are concerned in the least?"

"Three." The sound of another voice made the everyone in the room turn to see Willow standing in the library doorway in mud stained Hello Kitty pajamas, clutching her coat with both hands. A look of desperate fear in her eyes. "Kennedy's...gone..."

Onslow offered a oddly indifferent shrug and brought a random periodical from one of the magazine racks over to where Marcus and Xander sat, and opened it up. Xander and Marcus looked interestedly over his shoulder as he turned it's pages, Xander giving a careless wave to Willow as he read.

Mirella walked towards Willow and took her arm, leading her as comfortingly as possible towards a chair and helping her sit, "Missing?"

Willow shivered as she sat down in Mirella's desk chair, as if there were a chill in the room. "Yeah and not in the 'I'm mad at you so I went for a walk' kind of missing. Whatever took her left her wheelchair."

Mirella sank into a chair next to Willow, trying her damndest not to be too harsh with her, "Oh dear."

Willow simply stretched her arms in front of her, her wrists resting on her knees beneath the desk and her eyes unfocused a bleary, staring at the neat stacks of papers on the desktop.

"Well that's it, then. Something is wrong and for one reason or another it doesn't effect everyone, though we seem to be the only two of our associates who haven't been affected to this point." Mirella observed, getting to her feet with determination. She turned her computer monitor on, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear compulsively. "Can you manage a computer Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow looked up at Mirella for the first time since she'd walked in, "Let's pretend Willow's not crazy with grief and wold-endy fear? Yeah sure."

"Good." That Watcher crossed the room to a cabinet that's style and color stood out amongst the blonde and oak furniture native to the library. It was armoire sized with small, square silver knobs who's faces were adorned with what seemed to be mother of pearl. The wood was dark stained cherry and sculpted into smooth, round molding, both sides sported fire-branded impressions of a faint circle surrounding an even harder to see triangle with the initials M.B. finely engraved into the center and the top of the case was fitted with a handsome leather strap handle for easy transport. Mirella reached into her pocket and produced a small silver key she used to carefully unlock the doors and draw them open. From inside the cabinet she pulled a large stack of leather-bound books then lifted her eyes without moving her head to catch Willow's gaze with a borderline evil smile, "I'd say it's time we took matters into our own hands."

SCENE SIX

NEVADA COUNTY WOODS - NIGHT

The second wave of Meadowbrook denizens sleepwalked onward through the forests, towards their work in the caverns. Over the uneven forest trails, past oaks and maples, Buffy led the crowd. She was also apparently leading a swarm of hungry vampires, practically drooling with anticipation -- none of them feeding. Deftly, Buffy was suddenly flanked by Sheila and Dru.

Drusilla was glaring at Buffy with contempt, her eyes flashing with cunning mania. "Ashes, ashes," she whispered to herself brightly, "...all falling down."

Sheila frowned, falling in step. "So, we're not eating the slayer yet?"

Drusilla's face went dead, she rocked her head to the side and gazed oddly Sheila. "Don't speak again."

SCENE SEVEN

SUMMERLAND LIBRARY - NIGHT

Xander was nearly through making coffee at the kitchenette in Giles office while Mirella and Willow did what they could to research local demons. Mirella sat a work station near the windows, lazily flipping through one of the watcher's tomes. She propped her head up on one hand, doing her best not to let her eyes wander. Not far from her at one of the computer tables, Willow was running through every search engine she could think of. "This is pointless," she sighed. "There's too many results for the symptoms and no way to narrow the search."

Mirella lazily left her chair and walked up beside Willow. "May I?" she asked, but didn't wait for a response before she deftly typed in and address. A name and password request popped up, Mirella typed her name in, along with an asterisked password, and a green and black account page came up.

"The Council Database?" Willow asked.

"You can research and recorded history of demonic activity in Nevada County here."

Willow goggled at the page. "Is that the symbol for the Illuminati?"

Mirella looked at Willow from the corner of her eye. "It's an old symbol, associated-."

Willow scowled at Mirella and went to her accounts favorites page. "You've got a link to the Illuminati site, right there!"

Mirella sneered, took the mouse, and clicked the "Sign Out" button. "Fine, then," she snarled, straightening up and heading back to her book. "You can fly solo."

Willow scoffed and started trying to break into the user directory for the database.

"And don't even try to hack into the site," Mirella drawled. "You'll never get past the guard."

"I'm not even doing that," Willow said. Without warning, Willow's monitor screen blinked red twice, then the computer shut itself down. Willow fussed with each power button and switch on the tower -- the computer remained down.

She glanced over at Mirella, who'd been grinning at her smugly, waiting for her to give up. "Having a problem?" Mirella asked.

Willow turned her self toward Mirella angrily. "Will you stop doing that!?" she shouted.

Mirella raised her brows in exaggeratedly innocent surprise. "Doing what?"

"You know what you did, you're doing it now! I don't know about anybody else here, but I didn't ask to start a vendetta with you-."

"That was me," Xander said, coming back into the library with a cup of coffee. He sat back to read his book while Willow rolled his eyes at his unhelpful response. "Well, I didn't," she went on to Mirella, "so I'd really appreciate it if we could just call a truce. People I care about could be in really serious danger."

Mirella laid back in her chair sleepily. "Don't you think you're over-reacting?" she asked.

"No, I think you're under-reacting-." Willow stopped talking for a minute, watching as Onslow finally returned from the stacks, disheveled. He was reading the 'Liber Magorum' volume five as he went, heading for Giles office. "How's it doing with you, ladies?" he muttered quietly.

"Crap-Plus-Two," Willow answered. "You got anything?"

He slipped into Giles office, right for the coffee. "I wasn't researching it," he called back to Willow, "I didn't think it was terribly important."

Willow seethed, ringing her armrests. She switched computers and started searching her usual engines.

In a moment, Onslow returned to the library with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. "Search with 'Hamlin'," he suggested.

"The composer?" Xander asked. He got a confused take from Onslow. "Hamlin, Hamlin," Xander went on to Willow. "You know, that famous guy who worked with Liza Minelli.... Who am I thinking of?"

"Marvin Hamlish," Willow replied, distracted by her search. Her results were narrowed to one, and she followed the link, pulling up a definition in a Japanese demon Lexicon. "Anybody here speak Japanese?" Willow asked. "I only know enough to sign up for web space."

"I do," Onslow said, creeping over to Willow. He peered at the site over her shoulder thoughtfully. "...It says to see Ocato Coh'c."

"Oh," Xander piped up, "I have that one." He flipped backward through his book until he settled on a page without an illustration. Mirella, Willow, and Onslow gathered around him. He let Willow read it aloud:

"Let's see, 'Ocato Coh'c. A Summoner Elemental from demonic tribes indignant to the East Indies, rumors of it's victim sightings have been traced north, supposedly the demon is in search of the original effigy of Lenith, an Etruscan goddess. The effigy is thought by elementals to hold the essence of the goddess herself, who's return is prophesied to bring an end to the human-demon hybrids of the new age. Ocato Coh'c is likely to use humans to do his searching for him. The low, physically inaudible song of a Summoner Elemental calls to the unconscious human mind like a summoning spell. It has similar side affects to that of a temporal flux, causing a cerebral reality distortion, that interferes with the functions of the higher mind. Those most susceptible to such distortions seem to be those who already suffer from one or more psychoneurotic disorders. Symptoms of the reality distortion include: Complacency, unconsciously obsessive behaviors, memory lapse, somnambulism,-' That's definitely our guy. '-and any other involuntary activities that manifest from psychoneurotic conflict. Symptoms become more and more noticeable as the song takes hold, making the downside of the elementals m.o. that it's not entirely convenient for the demon, seeing as most people affected become so mentally overloaded, the symptoms of the song result in an aneurysm.' Oh, god." She gave the book back to Xander, who began to cross check it with other volumes.

"There's no proof of that," Mirella said, pointing to the text. "See? 'Rumors', 'Prophesies'. All speculation, they haven't even seen this thing well enough to make an illustration."

"Because of the aneurisms," Willow argued. "The symptoms are right there; Complacency, somnabulism - I think we should find away to break the summoning spell."

"Woah," Xander turned one of the books he was reading towards Willow and Mirella, held open to a partially unfinished engraving of Ocato Coh'c. "Slap my hand and call me Clayface."

Willow took the book from Xander and carefully ripped out the page, folding it twice and pushing it into her pocket. "We've got work to do."

"Were better off doing reconnaissance until we know exactly what's going on." Mirella rested one hand on her hip, standing entirely still and poised in a way that was almost unnerving, "It might just be vampiric activity."

"Alright," Willow said slyly. "We can call on Aradia for a guide and find out where everyone is. But I'll need some things for the spell," Willow took her keys from her pocket and held them out to Mirella, "could you get me the Oculus Fortunæ? It's on the bookshelf in my cabin."

Mirella took a long, deep, long sigh and shrugged. "I suppose,...have to do everything myself...."

Willow watched Mirella leave, then got to her feet and took Xander by the arm, leading him to the stacks. "Come on, we're gonna find the 'Spiritualis' and learn how to break the spell on the slayers so they can slay."

"Ms. Bartlet said 'reconnaissance'," Xander reminded her wearily, "and 'vampires'." Onslow agreed to that with a slight nod while sipping his coffee.

"I know what she said," Willow told them, "but by the time we do the recon and come back, loads of people could be dead. Can you guys just help me out while Mirella's gone?" The two men shrugged, and Willow continued leading Xander to the stacks. Onslow resumed reading his book again and wandered toward the exit. "Onslow!" Willow shouted back at him. Without looking up from his book, Onslow made a U-turn and followed them to the stacks.

SUMMERLAND SCHOOL HALLWAY - MEANWHILE

Out in the now shadowy hallway, Mirella had been sashaying past classrooms with her usual, showy self-importance, when she heard a squeaking sound behing her. She turned back to see Onlsow exiting the library, now sans the book and coffee, looking a bit zombie-like himself, as someone, Buffy, emerged from the teachers lounge and sleepwalked her way through the hall. She met Onlow halfway and the two exited the school. Mirella watched in mild alarm, over the seriousness of what she was seeing. But her alarm soon gave way to apathy; she shrugged it off and, forgetting what she was doing, strolled back toward the library.

As she entered, Willow, who had been gathering materials in the stacks, sprinted out flusteredly to observe her. "Hi," she said nervously, "you're back. Real soon -- why are you back real soon?"

Mirella looked around herself a moment, as though a knat had been buzzing around her. "I was doing something," she sighed. What was I doing?"

Willow was mildly suprised at seeing Mirella so out of sorts. "Hey, did you see what happened to Onslow? I think I need his help, ya know, to swim through the books. That guy's like search engine with arms."

"Barrie? Oh, he left with Ms. Summers, I saw them go outside."

"You saw them? And you didn't think that was worth sharing?"

"Well, I wasn't certain it was-."

"Important? You weren't certain it was important that our only fire power just wandered out the door to Goddess knows where?"

"Well, I'd nip out after them, but...I'm not exactly in the shoes for it...." She took a moment to admire her little black heels.

Willow was practically hysterical with frustration. "I don't think you're getting the big picture!" she growled. "People are going to die, my personal people!"

"Oh, get a grip on yourself, girl, it's not all that-."

"No, I'm not the one that needs gripping! The whole town's going to hell and you're worried about your stupid shoes?"

Without thinking, Mirella took off one of her pumps and shook it at Willow as casual as some might shake a finger. "These are not just 'stupid shoes', Miss Rosenburg, these are Shanghais. I bought them on Collins Street, they're a year ahead of the runway, and if you think...." She trailed off, perhaps as the frivolousness of her arguement was begining to sink in. She looked at herself, gesturing with a seven-hundred dollar shoe. "That bit you said...about finding a way break the summoning spell? We should probably get on that."

Willow's face lightened. "Good, I've got everything I need up here." She retreated to the stacks and, after a moment, brang down a full Starter backpack, trying not to break into proad smile. "I think I got lucky with the local watcher tomes, so we've got ourselves a shot in the dark." She knelt down by the stairs and beckoned Mirella to join her.

The lady watcher shook her head emphatically. "Never touch the stuff," she said, almost fearfully. "But you go on ahead."

Willow made a sound of disgust at Mirella's cowardice and started unloading the backpack. There was bookmarked chronicle, a plain, steel platter, a large jar of something labled "crab ash", and a bundle of dried flowers from the arrangment on the book counter. "This is an 'Uncrossing'," Willow explained, pouring the ash out on the platter. "Well, that's the best translation, but locals used to do this all the time to break charms and curses. Turns out they've been dealing with demon's like Ocato Coh'c for two-hundred years now. Breaking a summoning spell is kid's stuff to them."

Willow crumpled the flower pettles over the platter, then used one of the stems to draw what looked like a trumpet in the ash. She took up the chronicle and read calmly. "Gran Barbatos -- quien entiende el canto de pájaros, las cortezas de perros, los mugidos de toros -- nos presta el poder de liberar la mente de un guerrero, de la mordedura de esta cosa corrupta." Here and there, granuals of ash gradually became red, glowing like embers, and began to jump, shooting up all over the platter. Willow split into a silly grin, forgetting herself. "Awww, it's like a li'l magick Jiffy Pop!"

SCENE EIGHT

SUMMERLAND ACADEMY - LAWNS - NIGHT

Willow slipped quietly out of the night shrouded school and onto the neatly mowed lawns. Her hands were clasped together. Mirella trudged after, her eyes darting around to the few Slayers and staff who were left in Summerland. They were dazed and weary looking. They mumbled to themselves and occasionally walked into one another on their way towards the pines in the distance.

Making her way into the middle of an open and relatively clear lawn near the lake, Willow held her hands out in front of her. She slowly opened them, pulling her palms back to reveal a small dot of softly pulsing green light. It swarmed before her, awaiting command. Willow smiled and let it circle her for a moment before making her request, "Hey there, okay here goes. I want you to lead me to Buffy, okay? Find Buffy."

With only the delay of sharking around Willow in a few tight circles, the Aradian sprite shot gracefully out into the darkness in front of her. She hesitated for a moment, her brows meeting in a concerned point on her forehead. Nervously, she took hold of Mirella's wrist and tugged her into motion. When Mirella gave in and reluctantly started to walk, Willow let go of her vacant companion and followed after the guide towards the forest.

The effects of the elemental's song had begun to finally take hold of Mirella and she trudged lazily after Willow, who had taken a fast lead. She was now a few yards in front of Mirella in the dark woods, visible only by the glow that she tried so desperately to keep up with. The timber was dark and thick, humid from Nevada County's torrential weather. The pair hiked for what seemed like a mile or more, until whatever sounds still loomed at Summerland were distant and muffled by the rustled chirping of wildlife.

The forest floor began to ascend and become steeper. Willow pushed a low juniper branch aside and she began to climb. She grasped at a root that stuck jaggedly out of the moist ground ahead of her and pulled herself up, only to lose her footing and slide down the muddy slope with a grunt of frustration. She dug her fingers into the dirt and pulled herself back up the slippery earth, Mirella trailing dutifully. They scaled the rocks and mire to a channel in the rock face, not far down from the dome of the mountain where their escort glimmered patiently.

Willow pulled herself up onto the dry rock, she could hear movement and some distant voices. She laid her hands on the rock surface around a narrow opening and leaned closer to peer into it. It was dark inside, but what she could make out was a vast and empty space, as if it had been carved out like a pumpkin. She turned to look back over her shoulder to see Mirella climbing up after her and bent down to help pull her onto the small ledge. Mirella dusted herself off and walked casually away from Willow, heading after two girls that Willow recognized from her Home Economics class. Both were on a path not far from the slope that she and Mirella had climbed to get there, but she hadn't noticed them before.

"There was a trail!?" Willow hissed in a whisper and followed the small crowd around a steep ledge and into the cave. Once inside, Willow rocked onto her tip toes to see above the heads of the multitude surrounding her, her guide's light dulling as it wove itself into the crush.

She found herself being shepherded along with the others who'd just entered the cavern, startled as a woman in a housecoat thrust a pick axe into her hands. She looked up at the woman and then around to see Xander and Rhona also handing out shovels and picks to the oncoming herd of people. She approached Xander and waved a hand in front of his eyes with no response, "Xander?" She gripped the handle of the pick axe and took a few steps backward with a worried expression then shook her head, "I don't have time for this!"

Breaking away from the group, Willow started to scan the throngs of people for Buffy. Instead she found Slayers and Watchers as well town residents, city officials and Meadowbrook's Finest among the bustle; all of whom were digging out the walls of the cave. She waded through the cramping mass, moving people out of the way. Only moments passed until her guide became visible again, dipping in and out of the crowd in front of her. She smiled with relief and made her way towards it's light. She drove forward and found the guide circling over Buffy's head near the far back of the cave.

Buffy was staring determinedly at the cavern wall as she pulled a pick axe blade out of the stone only to hold the tool over her head and drive it into the wall again. She chipped away at the hollow with the others, paying no attention to Willow approaching her from behind. She hesitated for a moment then reached out and firmly laid her fingertips on Buffy's temples from behind her. She braced herself as lightening-like webs of blue static charged between her hands and Buffy as she passed on her protection spell.

Willow winced and gritted her teeth, the sheer power of the spell becoming difficult to contain. She held on as long as she could before the swelling energy became so intense that it threw her back away from Buffy and landed her on a pile of red rock.

Buffy raised her pick again, but hesitated. She glanced around, confusion straining her features and arms still in the air, then slowly brought the pick axe down to hang from her hand at her side. "This is...well, oddly not new." She turned away from the wall to get a better view of the cave and saw Willow sitting on the ground, holding her forehead just above her eyes. "Will.." Buffy hurriedly stepped over a pile of rocks to get to her friend, tossing her pick aside and crouching to try and help Willow up. "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"Headachy." Willow nodded and waved Buffy away from her, "I'm fine, help everybody else."

"Okay, but stay here. Stay low. What am I looking for?" Buffy gave Willow a quick look over for any visible cuts or bruises then got to her feet and picked up her previously discarded tool. She rested the handle of the pick axe on her shoulder.

Willow reached into her pocket and produced a neatly folded page. She unfolded it and turned the page towards Buffy, holding it so that her index finger pointed to the engraving of Ocato Coh'c. Buffy took the page from her and looked at the image with a frown.

"Ernnn," She whined with a look of slight disgust mixed with, "Clayface. Weaknesses?"

Getting to her feet, Willow shook her head, "Not sure."

Buffy handed the paper back to Willow, "Stay here, recoup. If this ..thing.. is as bad as it looks I want you to get these people out of here."

All of the color drained from Willow's face and she stared wide eyed over Buffy's shoulder as she tried to scramble to her feet, "Buffy..."

"Will, you need major down-sittings for a minute." Buffy sighed, reluctantly bending to help her friend up, "I can handle the bad, you concentrate on-" She turned away from Willow just in time to be swatted against the cave wall by a large monster that seemed to be made of mud and rock. She hit the wall then the ground with a grunt and slowly looked up at the elemental. "Cheater."

Buffy indolently rose to stand, pulling both fists close to her jaw as she assumed a fighting stance, "Why does this seem familiar?" The beast began to trudge heavily towards her and she dodged another blow, bowing beneath it's swinging arm and ending up behind him. "Hey Genius, I'm back here!" She called to it, picking up a rock and throwing it at the ogre's back. It turned on her and took another swing which she eluded with a small smirk, "That the best you can do?" Buffy started towards the monster in a dead run and leapt, kicking it in the chest with both feet. The monster absorbed the blow with no reaction and Buffy dropped to the ground like a rock, "Oh goody." She grunted in frustration and clamored to her feet, picking up a shovel while still on the ground. She turned back towards the elemental, swinging the shovel around with her and connecting with the monster's jaw. The blow cracking it's head back and eventually off. It fell into a heap of rock and dust on the ground.

Buffy coughed a bit and waved the dust away from her face, the throngs around her beginning to come out of their daze. Drusilla, Sheila and the vampires that had been feeding on the unaware townspeople started backing towards the mouth of the cave. "Wh-what now?" Sheila turned around to see the dust kicked up and shadows of the last of Drusillas minions making their getaway outside of the cave. She'd been abandoned. "Crap!" She dropped the woman she'd been feeding on and took off after them.

SUMMERLAND ACADEMY - THE DOCKS - NIGHT

Faith and Giles pulled their swords back, both growling and grunting with determination; they went for the killing blow-.

Then stopped dead, second-glancing at each other in mild confusion.

Faith lowered her sword and squinted up at the sky. "Did it just get dark out here all of the sudden?"

SCENE NINE

THE ROLL BAR - THE NEXT NIGHT

"Tragic Bus Accident Kills Eleven." Xander read to Willow aloud from the Meadowbrook local newspaper, "Not a mention of Muddy the Mud Monster."

"Looks like the locals took a course in Sunnydale Mischief Coverups." Fresh from the bar and Diet Pepsi in hand, Buffy joined Xander and Willow at a table near the dance floor. Buffy pulled her hair back away from her face to lay over her shoulders, "So, Choco Taco..."

"Ocato Coh'c." Willow corrected with a small smile.

"Ocato Coh'c.." Buffy amended with uncertainty, "He...it... was using the people in town to dig out some effigy?"

Willow nodded and sipped her drink, "Lenith. It's supposed to be hidden in town someplace. Sort of a mouth of evil type of thing."

"Like the Hellmouth?" An oddly hopeful note in Buffy's voice.

"Well, sort of if instead of Hell it was a mega demon waiting to pop out and bite a big ol'e chunk out of the world leaving a bloody, festering hole in this dimension." Willow responded matter of fact-ly, folding her arms in front of her and resting them on the table.

Buffy stared at Willow in quiet disgust and Xander shuddered, "Well I could eat. Anybody else up for spaghetti?"

"The weirdest part, " Willow disregarded Xander's sarcasm, "was that even the our Watcher buddies were kinda spent. You know, mentally. It's like they didn't care about anything, nothing was important to them."

"Yeah, guess you got your wish Buff." Xander casually popped a French fry in his mouth, "No worries for a whole weekend of evil."

Putting her hands up in front of her defensively, Buffy shook her head, "I've officially learned my lesson. A happy, stupid, complacent Buffy is a very dull boy. No more bad-genie wishes for me."

"Good for you." Willow piped, "It's not good to wish for easier things....because...it's never, ever easier. Ever."

"Kennedy still on the distant side?" Buffy laid a sympathetic hand on Willow's shoulder and Willow shook her head.

"I don't get it, I thought everything was going so good. She's been grouchy lately, and yeah, who could blame her with the wheelchair thing and all." Willow rested her jaw on her hand and sighed weakly and Xander shook his head, motioning to her with a French fry.

"This is normal, love stuff. So she needs a little time? You'll be back to stark nude pillow fights in no time."

"You're gonna be the old guy in the club, aren't ya?" Buffy shot Xander a questioning smirk, "You know, the one with the pony tail and leisure suit? Who's thirty years older than the girls he's hitting on?"

Xander sighed fondly and shook his head, "I already am, Buffster. I already am." He rose to his feet and started to move his arms like a clumsy harem dancer, beckoning Willow and Buffy. The women exchanged amused looks and got up as well, following Xander to the dance floor. The three of them bobbed and swayed to the music, smiling and carefree, completely oblivious to Spike who determinedly and intensely watched them from across the room.

FIN - BASED ON THE TELEVISION SERIES BY JOSS WHEDON. VISIT US ON THE WEB AT NEXT-TUESDAY(dot)ORG