Book One: Prophecy Boy

Chapter One

'How does it feel?

To be on your own

With no direction home

And a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone…'

Bob Dylan, 'Like A Rolling Stone'

Three Months Later…

Brian cast his eyes up into the clear blue California sky, shielding his eyes with an extended hand from the glaring brightness of the early spring morning. The sun shone with an intensity he had never known in all his travels with Uncle Duncan or Uncle Conner or Aunt Amanda. Of all the places his 'family' took him, none quite had the same sensation of the warm California sun or the light westerly breeze on his face. To him, it was like coming home. Somehow he knew, this was where he belonged. He smiled to himself and hefted another box of knickknacks from the moving van and headed into his new home.

Willow Rosenberg drew back the filmy white curtains and peered out the kitchen window and spotted the large yellow Ryder truck in the driveway of Jesse's old house. It had been over six weeks since Buffy had come to Sunnydale, though the pain and guilt of Jesse's death and subsequent resurrection had not yet passed. Xander told her he still caught himself waiting at Jesse's locker before homeroom or reaching for the phone to call him and tell him a new joke or a secret about a girl he liked. The things he couldn't tell Buffy or Willow.

Brushing away the still tender memories, she noticed her morning bagel smoking in the toaster. With a startled curse, she swatted at the lever to release the charred remains and waved away the acrid smoke that was building up. Ignoring the overdone roll for a moment, she looked out to the window again, and her breath caught in her throat at the young man who bounded out of the truck's cabin, nearly skipping to the wide open front door.. 'Wow, he's cute,' she thought absently while a warm buzz radiated out of her stomach.

Her breakfast completely forgotten, she checked her appearance. She grimaced at the purple denim overall shorts and yellow baby seal t-shirt. 'God, I look like the Joker! I seriously need to talk to Buffy about updating my wardrobe.' Though it didn't stop her from sprinting out of the house to greet her new neighbor.

Brian, hefting a large cardboard box of clothes, sprung off the side of the extended metal ramp and collided with the petite redhead, knocking both of them gracelessly to the asphalt driveway. "Ooof!" Willow grunted under the impact and found herself covered in… boxer shorts. She sat up, braced by her hands and examined the offending garments, a deep red blush staining her cheeks.

Brian looked up, a pair of blue shorts with white stars hung loosely over his head. He saw Willow sprawled across the driveway fondling his underwear. "I'm gonna need those back… eventually." He announced slowly and with a smirk, with only the slightest trace of a Scottish accent in his voice. "Though I have to admit, they look better on you than me. Are you alright?"

She laughed weakly, though it was mostly a squeak at first and the blush made its way further across her face to include her ears and nose. "Yeah, I'm okay. A little mortified, but with time I think I should recover. I'm Willow Rosenberg."

He stood and smiled down to her, extending a hand to help her stand. "I'm Brian Wilson." She accepted his hand and stood shakily, boxers shorts falling off her like rain. She peeled the remaining underwear off of her while Brian placed them in the box at his feet. Finally, Willow reached for the one on Brian's head, which he wore like a makeshift crown. "You know," Brian continued. "I'm really sorry 'bout that. I did'nae see you there. I guess I should watch where I'm going. And I think finding out what kind of underwear I own is at least a third date activity." A voice that sounded suspiciously like Amanda spoke inside his head, needling him. 'Third date? Brian, you're gonna scare her off talking like that. Stop acting like Conner and just be yourself.'

Willow squeaked louder this time, and Brian laughed out loud. "I'm really sorry about knocking you down, though. Let's go inside and get you cleaned up." Brian slammed the ramp back into its sheath under the truck's cabin and pulled down the sliding door.

Willow nodded absently, attempting to remain calm and prevent the onset of hyperventilation. She kept hearing Buffy's voice in her head saying 'Seize the moment, 'cause tomorrow you might be dead.' Brian guided her through the sparsely decorated living room, a stereo in the corner had Rob Thomas and Matchbox 20 croon softly despite the large speakers mounted high in the corners, and into the bathroom down the hall. She hid a smile at Brian's attempts at leading her through a house she had been in hundreds of times in her lifetime, though to be honest the house looked and felt completely different with its new occupant. 'Cleaner, maybe' she thought with a nod to herself. More like the terrible memories of Jesse's death were finally purged from the house. She washed the black asphalt stains off her hands in the master bathroom while Brian left to put his clothes away. "This is a nice house, Brian."

"Thanks." Brian voice echoed down the hall.

"So, where're your parents?" She asked in a way of making small talk. When she didn't hear an answer, she turned to the door only to find Brian there, a sad expression on his face. She moved close to him, any hesitation in her step gone. "Did I say something wrong, Brian?"

He shook his head softly. "Nah, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay. So, where's your mom and dad?"

Brian shrugged, his shoulders retreating inward. "That's a very good question. As far as I know, I don't have any parents."

Willow paled. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I mean, I didn't know. A-are you okay?" Unconsciously, she reached out to him to comfort him, her hand reaching for his shoulder.

"I'm fine." Brian responded a little shortly, though not meaning to be so harsh. At her look, he apologized and waved her to a new-looking black leather couch while he sprawled bonelessly across the matching love seat, propping his feet up on the arm. Willow thought it looked rather expensive. She also had noticed that he had removed the dirty and worn beige-colored carpeting that Jesse's parents had never bothered to replace, or wash as she had once thought. There was a nice lacquered hardwood floor underneath and she idly hoped that Brian would leave it that way. She was brought out of her musings at the sound of Brian's voice. She looked up quickly, blinking away the cobwebs. "No, seriously. I'm an orphan. I've never known who my father or mother really were. From what Father Darius said, Uncle Duncan and Aunt Amanda found me and took me to him when I was a baby."

Willow looked puzzled for a moment. "Father Darius?"

Brian smiled sadly. "He was the priest who took me in and raised me for the most part. I grew up at St. Joseph's Cathedral in Paris, though I spent most of my summers with Duncan or my other uncle, Conner."

"Duncan? Amanda? Conner? Who're they?"

"Friends of Darius. After a while, I guess I just considered them all my family. They would always take me places. New York, Hong Kong and…"

"Hong Kong? They took you to China?"

Brian shrugged. "Well, technically Hong Kong is a British protectorate until 2000, but yeah… China."

Willow leaned forward. "What was it like?"

"Bright and noisy. I was only five, so I don't remember a whole lot."

"Wow. That's so… wow. The farthest I ever got was when my mom and dad took me to the Grand Canyon when I was eight. So where else have you been?"

Brian shrugged. "Oh, here and there. Amanda liked to take me somewhere new every summer. When I was eight, she took me to Rome and Venice. That was really nice, y'know. It's cooler there, Paris gets really hot during the summer, especially in a big stone church with no air conditioning."

"Wow, that's so neat. You've gone all over the world. And you can speak Italian?" Willow asked with undisguised wonder.

"Not all over the world, really. Going from Paris to Rome would be like… going from Sunnydale to the Grand Canyon, I guess. French, yes, Italian, comme ci comme ca." He waggled his palm, torquing it in a side-to-side motion for emphasis. "And I'm fluent in Latin and English. It's hard not to learn Latin in a Catholic Church. Darius made certain I studied other cultures. He told me it would help me to understand and appreciate them better. So he made me learn all these languages. How about you? Parlez vous Francais?"

Willow leaned forward in her seat. "Well, I'll be taking French next year at school and I'm taking Latin now. So yeah, I guess I can. But not so much, 'cause there's all those words I don't know yet, like 'Hello' and 'Good-bye' and things like that. Ummm… so what was your favorite place to visit?" She finished quickly, trying to steer the subject away from her lack of proficiency in French.

He pondered the question for a moment, smiling at her change in subject. "Oh, Rome was great and I loved the food, but Ireland was the best, though don't let Conner or Duncan hear that. They're both from Scotland. I suppose there's a rivalry thing going on there or something. But when I was twelve, I spent a whole summer with Amanda in Dublin, Edinburgh and Belfast, though that's technically Northern Ireland. What was really cool was Amanda introducing me to U2. I got autographs and pictures and everything." He motioned to a silver-framed photo on the entertainment center of Bono, the Edge, Larry Mullen, Adam Clayton, and a slightly younger looking Brian, who was wearing Bono's over-sized sunglasses, which were comically too large for his head. They were all gathered around a table, drinks in hand - though Brian clearly had a soda of some kind, smiling and waving to the camera. "We also got tickets when they played Wembley. And Bono let me keep his sunglasses."

Willow stood up and stepped to the photo above the stereo, smoothing her finger along the silver frame. "Wow, you're so lucky. And here I thought it was great when 'Cibo Matto' or 'The Dingoes Ate My Baby' came to play at the Bronze." Willow half mumbled to herself. "I guess you're gonna think Sunnydale's completely boring by comparison."

Brian looked up at her. "Actually, I'm really looking forward to being here. You know, putting down some roots. This town seems so great, so full of life. Seeing those places was great and all, but I always felt like they were overcompensating for not being there the rest of the time. Believe me, I'd have traded in every summer vacation for a nice house and a mom and dad… and maybe a dog. If anyone's lucky here, trust me, it's you." He caught the look on her face, one of empathy for him and another that he couldn't quite recognize. His heart warmed in his chest and he smiled. "Umm, well, that was the last box. Do you want something to eat?"

Willow nodded, her stomach rumbling from the lack of her morning bagel and cream cheese. "Sure, there's an IHOP down past Crawford Street. They have the best Belgian waffles, though you probably had waffles in Belgium, huh."

He shook his head. "IHOP, it is then. But now it's your turn to tell me about you. And what exactly is an 'IHOP'?" Brian called out, as he reached for his car keys. They made their way to the two car garage; Brian activated the door opener mounted on the wall near the door. Parked on the far side of the garage on its whitewall tires was a vintage two-toned '61 Corvette, a cherry red body and creamy white inset with matching creamy white leather upholstery. The car was in perfect condition, with the chrome fender reflecting the morning sunlight.

"Wow, that's your car?!" Willow cried out in amazement.

He nodded excitedly and bounced on his heels a few times, a beaming smile stretching from one ear to the other. "The one thing I got with my inheritance that I really always wanted. It's a 1961 Corvette convertible, and only has 15,000 miles on it. Uncle Duncan was not pleased when I bought it, either."

Willow frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, he said a sixteen year old wasn't mature enough to have a car like this. Guy I bought it in San Bernardino from said he just didn't have the need for a show car anymore, his wife was due with twins and was forcing him to buy a minivan." Brian leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, and Willow shivered as his warm breath caressed her ear. "Between you and me, I think Duncan was just jealous I found it first." He opened the door for Willow and she leaned into soft the leather bucket seat, reveling in the feel of the cool, slick material against her bare skin. She inhaled deeply the scent of the interior, a mixture of recently cleaned leather, a vanilla scented air freshener that hung across the rear-view mirror, and the light scent of Brian's aftershave, suddenly her new favorite scent. She snuck a look over to Brian, who was pulling the keys from his jeans pocket, and admired his young form.

He was only perhaps an inch, maybe two, taller than Xander, but even with the light gray sweater that hung loosely on his broad shoulders, Willow could see he was in excellent condition, perhaps even better than Angel. He also had light brown hair that was cut short in the back but hung loosely across his forehead. He had eyes so dark brown that she almost couldn't see the pupil and he moved in such a confident way and with an economy of motion that he reminded her of Buffy in a way. At the thought of her friend, Buffy's lingering advice floated back to her mind, 'Seize the moment…'

"Carpe diem," Willow mumbled to herself.

"Huh?" Brian queried, as he put the car in gear and pulled out of the drive.

Willow blushed full into her cheeks again, coloring them till they matched her hair. "Oh… n-nothing."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The piercing ring of the telephone shocked Rupert Giles out of a sound slumber. It wasn't the normal ring of the phone, but the rare double ring that signaled a call from the Watchers Council. Having only one phone downstairs on the desk in his office, it required him to wake quickly and nearly leap down the flight of stairs, partially from the urgency involved and partly from the coldness of the hardwood floor. He reached for the receiver by the end of the fourth ring, panting heavily and moving from one foot to another in an effort to acclimate his feet to the chilly floorboards. "Rupert Giles. The code word is 'Monkey'."

There was a pause for a moment as the line whirr-clicked ensuring a secure line. "Rupert," a gravelly voice replied, and Giles could tell from the static and time delay that it was an international call. "It's Joe Dawson, Darius' ward arrived in Sunnydale last night." Joe told him, careful not to say his name even over the secured line. "We've set up his lodgings and registered him at the high school."

Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you're just thinking to tell me now? I appreciate the fair warning, Mr. Dawson." He continued sarcastically. "It's not as if I don't have enough to do here with the Hellmouth and the Slayer, now you're wanting me to 'watch' Darius'… wait, what has happened to Father Darius?"

Another longer pause. "He's dead, Rupert."

"What? Who? When? I never received the update. As a matter of fact, I haven't received an update in quite a while. I've been sending in reports for months now, with no reply. What is going on?" Giles pressed, anger turning to concern.

"I can't tell you. Rupert, it's on a strictly need to know basis."

"And I need to know! If you're sending this boy here, then I need to know what I should be prepared for!" Anger came back in waves and Giles had to force down the old 'Ripper' before he lost control.

Giles heard Dawson sigh through the static and popping across the line. "Rupert, we have a serious problem. James Horton has gone rogue and has taken a handful of agents with him. They're… eliminating Immortals. They killed Darius… right in front of Brian."

"Oh, dear Lord. Is the boy… is h-he alright?" Giles sat down into his reclining wooden office chair.

"Yeah, surprisingly. We got him some therapy after the incident, and the doctor thinks he's well enough to travel there. We need you to pay special attention to his mental state for us."

"O-of course. That poor, poor boy, witnessing that monstrous event."

"And we'll need you to keep a lookout for James Horton or any other agent except me. For the time being, you'll be operating completely solo. Send reports on the Slayer as normal, but anything unusual on Brian is sent through priority mail to my personal business in Seattle. You have the address?" Dawson queried the Englishman, and Giles acknowledged with a grunting affirmative. "Good. Address the package to me and leave the return address blank. Don't mail it from Sunnydale, either."

"Mr. Dawson, I'm quite aware of how to send a coded package."

"I know, but what you don't realize is the severity of the situation. In the meantime, we've listed the boy as a runaway under a different name back in Paris, hoping to throw Horton off the trail. You don't quite understand how vital this boy is. He is the Herald."

"T-the Herald, you say. Oh, my. That means… the End Times. The End Times are coming." He could feel the bile rise in his throat as his stomach dropped to the floor.

"Right, well, Rupert, the Prophecies department has been on this for years and it is definitely him, but we still have quite some time before the Times. We haven't even seen the first sign. So relax."

"Relax, that's easy for you to say, Mr. Dawson." Giles choked out. He could hear a nervous chuckle from the other side of the line as the call disconnected. He reached for his pair of glasses, wiping the lenses with the corner of his pajama top. Walking to the kitchen and stifling a yawn with a hand over his mouth, he filled the teapot and set it to boil. Then he moved to his bookshelf, taking a dusty tome from the sill and sat down to read.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A middle-aged waitress with frayed graying hair and a nametag that announced her as 'Nancy' took a long look at the young couple and smiled to herself before taking them to their seats. Brian and Willow sat down in a sun-warmed corner booth, with Willow ordering a plate of Belgian Waffles with strawberry topping, and Brian electing to do the same. Nancy mumbled something about "young love" to herself and shook her head as she scribbled their orders on the pad. Willow smiled eagerly as she told Brian about her life in Sunnydale, starting with Xander and the now-infamous "Barbie doll incident" and ending with Buffy, though she was careful to avoid any supernatural topics.

Brian was entranced by her stories of Xander, Jesse, Cordelia and Buffy, particularly her "frog fear" and Xander's ill-fated rescuing of his princess. "… and he only cried because I was crying even though it was Xander who broke his arm." Willow explained around a giggle and a bite of strawberry topped waffle.

"So you two have been friends since you were five? So are you and Xander, y'know, seeing each other?" Brian asked, suddenly uncomfortable and slightly depressed. He unconsciously slid deep into the blue vinyl seat. Good going, moron. She has a boyfriend. Should've known better than to get your hopes up.

Willow felt the familiar dull ache in her heart where Xander was concerned. Her Xander-place as she called it. "No." Willow said, surprising herself when her voice didn't catch in her throat. "I mean, yes, we see each other. Of course we see each other. Everyday, in fact. But only in the sense that we're just good friends." She was rewarded with a toothy grin from Brian, and the redhead felt that fuzzy warmth spreading through her belly again. The two ate in a more or less companionable silence, breaking it only for occasional small talk and to swap suddenly unburied memories of their youth.

Brian fished a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and paid the check and left a healthy tip for 'Nancy'. By silent agreement, they left to tend to the errands of a new home owner, and before they realized it, the early afternoon had passed into early evening. The hazy California sun sank low in the western sky, creating long eerie shadows in the trees and casting a fiery red glow over the horizon and set a chill into the air, and a set of dark clouds floated in slowly from off the Pacific coast. Willow, despite herself, completely lost track of both the time and the Hellmouth, as they walked along the bike trail in Weatherly Park, each holding a waffle cone of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Lost amid their own thoughts, neither was aware of the four hungry vampires that made their way behind them.

A crack from a crushed dry twig alerted the couple to the unwanted arrivals. Willow and Brian turned as one, gasping as they saw the four undead forming a semicircle. "Aww, crap. Willow, get behind me!" Brian commanded, putting himself between Willow and the vampires. He set himself in a basic ready stance: left foot forward, knees slightly bent and left arm in guarding position straight across his front side while the right cocked underneath the right side of his rib cage.

The lead vampire smiled at the impudence of his prey fighting back, then snarled and lunged at Brian. The young man caught the bloodsucker square in the chin with a high front leg kick, breaking the vampire's jaw and sent it sprawling straight back into two minions, and sending them crashing to the pavement with a muffled thud. Brian was so shocked at the end result, that he stood there in shock for a moment. 'Wow! I hit him! I actually hit him!' The remaining vampire took Brian's momentary hesitation as a cue to attack Brian's unprotected flank, but was easily turned back when Willow shoved a large wooden cross in its face. The vamp growl-hissed and dove away before the offending holy object could make contact and burn his flesh. "Let's get out of here! Come on!" Willow cried, and pulled on Brian's sweater sleeve, dragging him down the bike path.

With Brian now pulling her by the hand, they ran faster than Willow had ever run before. She was huffing and puffing by the time they had made it the three-quarters of a mile back to Brian's house on Westminster, a stitch in her side causing her to grimace in pain. He pulled Willow inside and slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him. He turned to her and let out a sigh of relief. "I think we're safe now… vampires can't come inside unless they're invited." He paused for a moment, studying Willow carefully for a moment, who was busy rubbing the cramp out of her side. "But… you knew that already. You had a cross in your purse… and you're Jewish."

Willow felt her jaw drop. "You mean, you know… about the Hellmouth?" She sat down on the couch, stunned by the revelation.

He nodded slowly. "Father Darius was totally nuts on the subject. It was all he ever wanted to talk about. Good versus Evil, Light and Dark, Order and Chaos. 'It is your duty and your heritage…'," he continued in a mocking tone. "Blah, blah, blah. It used to drive me crazy. If I wanted to go with Aunt Amanda to see a movie, he'd make sure I always carried holy water, my crucifix around my neck, and a wooden stake in my pocket." He smiled distantly at the memory. The therapist Brian that saw after Darius' murder told him that it was alright to remember Darius, especially in happy memories. "Not that I ever saw a single vampire in Paris, probably because I was never allowed outside the walls of the church after sunset. And I was stupid enough to leave the house today without at least a stake. God, what was I thinking? Could I be any more stupid? I could've gotten you killed!"

The redheaded young woman leaned in so close that Brian could feel her warm breath on his neck and chest and the heat of her pale skin, and he could swear he could hear the gentle, persistent thump-thump of her heartbeat. The air was suddenly charged as if from a lightning strike as she looked into his eyes, the green of her irises sparkling for him in the dim lamplight. He turned his head mostly to hide his blush, but also to break him away from his errant thoughts. He looked to Willow and realized she had said something to him. "Huh? I'm sorry, what'd you say?"

Willow smiled and let out a gentle laugh that included a smile that caused her nose to crinkle in such a way that Brian thought it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. She reached up to smooth out a wrinkle in Brian's light gray cotton sweater. "I said 'it's alright.' It wasn't all that long ago that I had no idea what was out there."

"Um, speaking of 'out there'," Brian whispered, turning his head to the living room window. "I think our hemoglobin-deprived friends are back."

Pulling back the corner of the cream-colored drapes, Willow saw the four vampires stalking the darkened street, the vampire that Brian had kicked was now sporting a wicked-looking length of lead pipe. She turned back to Brian, but he had disappeared. "Brian?," Willow cried out, panic beginning to overtake her. She raced to the front door, but saw it was still closed and bolted, but the room was empty and deathly quiet. Beads of sweat formed on her brow and her breath quickened as she spun around the room searching for her host. "Brian, where are you?!," she repeated urgently.

Slow, desperate seconds passed before the young man reappeared from the hallway now wearing a black leather blazer and carrying a long brown wooden case edged in gold under his arm. Without answering Willow, Brian set the case down and popped the clasps. The air around the case smelled faintly of cedar, stale air and dust and Willow brushed at her nostrils to stifle a sneeze. The hinges cried out sharply from lack of use as he opened the case, which revealed a deep azure velvet inlay that housed an ivory-handled katana and wakizashi set, each with a beautifully hand-carved oriental dragon that made up the pommel. In each dragon's eyes, a pair of flawless sapphires glistened almost black in the faint lighting. Brian hefted the deceptively light Japanese samurai sword, releasing the slightly-curved silvery blade from its scabbard, then tested the balance with a series of wrist flexes, and the edge cut the air with a haunting whistle. He finally looked down to Willow, a hard look on his face that made Willow take an unconscious step back in shock.

"Stay here." Brian ordered her gently, squeezing her shoulder then pressing the still sheathed ivory-handled wakizashi into Willow's palm. He took two steps towards the front door, then turned around quickly. Willow stood up in absolute shock, alternately staring at the object in her hands and the young man at the doorway. Brian saw the look on her face, and his hard look vanished. "Willow, if anything happens out there… don't come after me. If something happens, I want you to turn out the lights and hide here until sunrise, then go home in the morning and call the police and my uncle in Seattle or my aunt in Toronto, their numbers are on the speed dial. Okay? Can you do that, Willow? Can you do that for me?"

She brought herself out of wherever she was and nodded to him. "Yeah… hey, maybe I should call Buffy." Willow whispered hesitantly.

Despite the situation, Brian gave her a lopsided grin and shook his head. 'This isn't a slumber party. I'm probably going to die out there and she wants to invite her girlfriend over. Women.' "No, I think… ummm, maybe we shouldn't involve your friends. It's too dangerous. Just let me take care of this, okay." He turned back to the open door, this time with Willow hot on his heels.

"No, Brian! We need to get Buffy!" Willow cried out. "You don't understand!"

Brian chuckled to himself, more out of frustration than humor. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, attempting to coax some of the tension out of his body. Then he sighed melodramatically, his shoulders rising and falling with the exhalation. "There's no time for that, Willow. And I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I'm sure Buffy is a great friend, but those are vampires out there. Do you really think Buffy can fight a vampire? I doubt it. Besides, there just isn't enough time, okay. Those vampires are right outside. There's no telling what damage they could or who could get hurt in the meantime. Just stay here and I'll be right back… I hope." He hid his sword under the front of his jacket and opened the door slowly and carefully.

Willow watched him from the front window, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she prayed. 'Don't let him die, God. Please don't let him die.' Despite Brian's warnings, Willow reached for the cordless phone on the lamp table and entered Buffy's number by memory. The phone rang several times before Buffy finally answered. "Hello?", Buffy's voice called out.

"Buffy, it's me." Willow responded shakily, adrenaline coursing through her as she watched Brian face the gang not more than twenty feet from her.

"Oh, hey, Will. I was just going to call you." Buffy called out over the line. "What's the answer for number fourteen in algebra? 'Cause I'm totally stuck on it. Is it 2a = 3b + c or is it 3b = 2a - c?" Willow remained silent, enraptured by the scene playing itself out on the lawn in front of her. She could see the four, now six, vampires that attempted to surround her new friend. She sharply sucked in a breath and the cordless phone fell from her ear as her arm lost the strength to hold the phone.

The air had a damp crispness to it now that the sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and Brian was glad he elected to grab his jacket when he sought out his sword. The sword was a gift from his Uncle Duncan and Aunt Amanda on the day Brian turned thirteen. He remembered that year both fondly and not so fondly, as his 'family' stayed in Paris the entire year, visiting him daily and teaching him how to use the ancient Oriental blade. But most of all, they taught him when it was the time to use them and when it was not. This, unfortunately, was one of those times.

Moving through a breathing exercise to calm his racing heart, he scanned the sidewalk and noticed two more vampires skulking their way along the space between the street lights, trying to use the cover of darkness to sweep in behind him. Making a mental note of their presence, Brian stepped into a glowing globe of light emanating from the lamp on the street corner, making an effort to keep his weapon hidden from his 'prey.'

The leader of the group noticed Brian once he stepped into the light, his attitude brightening at the return of his prey. "Well, well, well… lookie what we got here.", the leader announced to his minions, though the words were slightly slurred, so his jaw was apparently more or less healed from earlier.

Brian rolled his eyes and summoned up his entire reserve of courage. Then he cocked his head to the side and clucked his tongue in a 'tsk-tsk' manner. "Oh, come on. Please, could that be any more pathetic? You've had what… half an hour to find me and in that time that's the best soliloquy you could come up with? 'Lookie what we got here?' Lacks any sense of style or subtlety… or grammar, for that matter. Hey, I'll tell you what. Go ahead, give it another try. It's okay, I'll wait." Brian smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tapping his fingers impatiently.

The leader growl-hissed and leaned toward the young boy, narrowing his yellowed eyes and pointed at Brian and shook his clawed finger. "You're gonna pay for what you did to my jaw, you little punk!"

Brian considered the vamp's statement for half a moment, then shook his head sadly. "Well, it was better. Points for trying and all, but it definitely needs some improvement. Oh, the Czechoslovakian judge gives it a 3.8. That's too bad, but we have these lovely parting gifts."

The vamp roared and lunged for the young man, the black claws of his open hand stretching for Brian's throat just as his other hand came down with the pipe in a clumsy wood-chopping motion. A glint of silver was the vamp's only warning. Brian easily sidestepped the oncoming attacker and flashed his weapon in an upward arc before returning the katana to its hiding place. The bloodsucker stumbled to the concrete, roaring in agony as he saw both of his hands hitting the sidewalk with a wet and nauseating plop before crumbling to ash. His lead pipe clattered noisily across the concrete before settling near a sewer grate.

"Hands off." Brian told the fallen vampire with a deadpan expression on his face. He forced a chuckle at his pun and flashed him a lop-sided grin, even as a bead of salty sweat trickled down the back of Brian's neck. "Get it? 'Hands off?' 'Parting gifts?' Get it? See how easy that was? Clear and concise… fits the situation. Easy to dance to… oh, the judges give it a 10!" 'That's it, Brian. Just keep talking. Don't let them see just how truly terrified you actually are.'

Stunned by both the pain and the sight of his hands disappearing, the leader whimpered for a moment as he stared at the stumps of his forearms, then recovered his senses. He looked to his minions for support, but found them remaining back in the distance, waiting for orders. "Just what the hell are you idiots standing around for? Will one of you morons kill him!", he screamed.

The nearest vamp was a hulking bruiser with the tattered remains of a Sunnydale High letterman's jacket. A dirty patch that still vaguely resembled a football hung on the shoulder by its few remaining threads. A name was stitched into the breast of the jacket that announced him as 'Rocky - Class of '97.' His face twisted in demonic rage and he reached out with his beefy arms towards Brian, who was busy backing up to gain some space. The over-sized vamp dove for Brian, but his hands only found empty air. The sword flashed again with an eerie whistle and Rocky's head was separated from his neck. The head and lifeless body collapsed into a fine gray powder as it made contact with the earth.

Willow's attention was brought back to the phone by Buffy's anxious shouting, so loud that she could hear it clearly even though it was face down against her thigh. "WILLOW!?! WILLOW!!!"

The redhead brought the cordless to her ear, wincing as Buffy continued to shout for her. "I… uh, I'm here B-Buffy. I guess I sorta dropped the phone. Sorry."

Willow could hear Buffy exhale in relief. "God, Will. Don't do that! You scared the hell out of me." There was a pause before Buffy continued in a normal tone. "So? Is the answer 2a = 3b + c or…"

"Buffy," Willow interrupted, a little more forcefully than she intended. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

If Buffy felt slighted by Willow's behavior, she didn't voice it. "Oh, sure, Will. See ya la-" Willow rudely disconnected the call before Buffy finished speaking, though she barely noticed. She was too busy being petrified by the scene playing out before her.

Brian turned on his heel, scanning for the next vamp to make an attack on him. He turned just in time to see another vampire, roughly the same height and build as him, rush up and slam into him. The vamp's shoulder connected sharply with Brian's solar plexus, and Brian's lungs forcefully exhaled and left him gasping for air. As the vampire's kick connected with the ribcage of the young man, a deafening clap of thunder tore through the early evening and the heavens unleashed with a torrent of rain, as if God, Himself, was offended by Brian's wound. The silver katana flew away in a flat spinning arc and landed in the thick green grass, the thick lawn and the sudden downpour made it difficult for Brian to locate it. Not that he could do much at the moment, since he was too busy inhaling oxygen in greedy, painful gulps.

The assaulting undead took full advantage of Brian's prone state and reached back for a sweeping kick to his ribs. Brian attempted to roll with the blow, but nonetheless felt the full blunt force as it lifted him off his knees and spun him to the soft and damp grass. Brian groaned and he wasn't certain if he felt a rib or two crack. He looked over to his left and saw a glint of metal about fifteen feet away. Too far for him to reach. Seizing the moment, the vampire's partner moved in to grab the nearly unconscious teen by the scruff of his sweater, hoping to stand him up long enough to beat him senseless. But as the vampire's clawed hand reached for the cotton material, Brian spun himself over and grabbed the outstretched hand. With the inertia he built up in his spin, Brian managed to flip his attacker forward, causing him to stumble roughly into his undead partner. Both off balance, the two fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, cursing at each other.

This gave Brian the time he needed to recover both his breath and his weapon. He dove for the katana, sliding along the wet ground feet first like a baserunner stealing second, then popping up to his feet just as he grasped the sword. In a brief moment, barely ten seconds of actual time, the dangerous momentum the vampires had achieved was lost. Brian readied himself into a combat stance, not wasting any more time with needless babble. Just keep your mouth shut and focus on the task at hand. He saw the hand-less leader cradling his bloody stumps and struggling to stand, the two minions that were holding back coming up to help him. To his right, Brian saw the other two were finally separated and stepped towards him, snarling in rage nearly to the point of foaming at the mouth.

Brian flexed the sword in a series of sweeps to keep his enemies at bay. His side was throbbing and he had to make an effort merely to remain conscious. His breathing was becoming labored and he was beginning to see shooting stars cross his field of vision. He coughed once and was certain he could taste blood at the back of his throat.

The leader of the pack looked to the young man standing only a few yards away and weighed his options. The pain washing over him and the glint of sharpened steel made the decision an easy one. He turned his back on his minions and fled, and with only the briefest moment of hesitation the remaining vampires followed him. "This isn't over, you little punk," one of the minions challenged over his shoulder as he ran into the dark night. "This isn't over by a long shot. We know where you live now, boy." The vampire's sinister laugh still echoed back to Brian even as the minion disappeared into the shadows.

The young man released a sigh of relief as they retreated, hopefully at least for the night. He turned back towards the house, sheathing his katana in its hiding place inside his leather jacket. He reached the door and leaned heavily against it, when Willow flung the door open. The sudden lack of support the door gave him caused Brian to stumble forward, nearly taking Willow down with him as he staggered to the floor. "Are you alright, Brian?"

He looked up to her, seeing the panic written on her face. He smiled, though he hardly felt humored by the situation, merely hoping to calm her fears. "Yeah, I will be. Just as soon as I finish… um, barfing." He scrambled to the master bathroom, Willow made a concentrated effort not to listen to the choking noises echoing from down the hall. She instead went to the kitchen to get Brian a glass of water.

He appeared a few moments later, his eyes slightly bloodshot, his light brown hair mussed from being towel-dried, his rain-soaked white undershirt draped casually over his shoulder and a toothbrush hanging part-way from his mouth. He saw the proffered glass of water, which he gratefully accepted, wincing as the cold liquid grated over his raw throat. He nodded to the redhead in a silent thanks. She looked up to him, a question in her eyes. He flashed her a quick smile and a nod to let her know he was alright, before walking to the dining room table. "Um, sorry… about the… y'know…" He motioned to the bathroom and made a gagging gesture. "I mean, I know they were vampires and all, but… I've never killed anything before."

"Yeah, but Brian, you had to. They would have hurt or maybe even killed someone tonight if you hadn't stopped them." Willow replied gently, and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. She gasped as she realized she was touching his bare skin, then pulled it back as if burned.

Brian looked first to her hand as it retreated, then focused on her. The young man searched her face, nearly losing himself in her soft green eyes. Slowly, he nodded in assent that she was indeed correct. They would have hurt or killed someone, possibly many people, if he hadn't intervened. If he hadn't intervened, it could have even been Willow who was hurt or killed. He sucked in a breath and his heart turned to ice at the thought, surprised as much by the thought as the emotion it produced.

Another crash of thunder rocked the house and the lights dimmed for a moment, and both Willow and Brian jumped. The rain outside began to fall even harder and Brian moved quickly to the linen closet, retrieving a handful of candles to set around the room. On his way back into the living room he grabbed the phone, which he handed over to Willow. She looked up at him curiously, not understanding. "You should call your parents… let them know where you are."

She smiled sadly, looking down at her lap, suddenly fascinated by a piece of lint on the pant leg of her purple denim overalls. She picked at it for a moment before speaking. "My parents are in Phoenix. They said they wanted to visit my uncle and then 'spend some quality time alone together'."

There was something in her tone that spoke volumes to Brian. This was not an isolated occurrence for the sixteen-year old. "Oh… well, um… you know, you could… you know, since it's not safe and all… you, um, could… stay here tonight." Try as he might, there was no way to fight off the blush that stained his normally pale cheeks. He looked to see Willow's reaction.

Willow heard the words, but could not believe her ears. "You want me to… sleep with you? I-I, uh… I don't think…"

"Oh, my God! No! That isn't what I meant!" Whatever blush he had disappeared as the blood drained from his face. Despite himself, a few giggles slipped past his clenched teeth. "I just meant that… you could, sleep here… in the spare bedroom." He gestured down the hall to the bedroom opposite the master bedroom.

Relieved, Willow exhaled audibly. "Oh! Oh, yeah. Right, I could sleep in there. Not that I couldn't sleep with you, of course." Willow blushed and squeaked as she realized what she let slip. "But I wouldn't, though! I mean, you're nice and really kinda cute and all and it's not that I haven't thought about things like that." And this time Brian reddened at her admission. Seeing this and reflecting on her opinion, Willow blushed even harder. "Oh, no. I didn't mean you specifically. I mean, well, I did, but not… like that. Okay, I'm no longer making any sense, so I'll be shutting up now."

Brian dipped his head up and down slowly in hesitant understanding. "Oooo-kay, then. I guess I'll go and pick you out some sweats and a t-shirt to wear, okay?" Willow nodded, though the blush remained and had spread beyond her cheeks and bled into her ears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The cavern dripped steadily from above, a testament to the deluge that the thunderstorm had unleashed. The five remaining vampires stood stock still in a line, as their leader addressed them. Heinrich Joseph Nest, or the Master as he referred to himself, was nearly as old as any vampire the Watchers Council had on record. The Master, leader of the Order of Aurelius, crossed his arms over his leather-clad chest, slowly shaking his head and tsk-tsking his minions for their failure. "Sloppy." He began in a sing-song tone, moving a taloned hand across his pale cheeks. "Very sloppy, Andrew. A boy. A boy that killed one of our family today. This is not good. I'm very disappointed in you." He leaned in towards the leader who had lost his hands, then stretched back out to include all the vampires in the line. "I am so very disappointed in all of you. You allowed…"

"But, Master, he had a sword! And he was skilled!" Andrew interrupted in a panic. He would have continued his explanation, but the shock and pain of a backhanded slap quieted him.

"How dare you interrupt me! The insolence of your generation fills me with great sadness. Do you not realize who is the master and who is the servant? Perhaps you need a lesson in proper etiquette?" The Master growled menacingly at the younger handless minion, the force of his outburst blowing the loose locks of hair in Andrew's face to whip around his forehead chaotically. The Master turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Colin, what would be a… proper lesson for young Andrew here?"

The apparent child, Colin, peered up from his kneeling position beside a stagnant pool, where he was busying himself skipping tiny pebbles. He made an exaggerated motion of yawning, before returning to his idle task. The boy spoke unhurriedly spreading out his apparent disdain, refusing to look back up at the miserable wretch of a vampire. "Kill him. He failed you. Set an example for the others so that they will not fail you, as well."

The aged Master contemplated this for a moment, then nodded his head approvingly. "Yes, I believe that it would indeed set an excellent example for the others." He motioned with an insistent wave of his hand for the boy to come to him. Colin instantly dropped the remaining pebbles and sprang to the Master, a sly smile on his face. The Master glanced down at his Anointed, and nodded once sharply. Colin picked up a sharp wooden pike leaning against a wrought iron candle stand, then with a wicked grin he slammed the sharp end of the pike through Andrew's chest and Andrew erupted into a shower of ashes, his wailing death shriek echoed through the underground caverns.

The Master smiled indulgently down at his young protégé, Colin, then turned to the remaining minions with a scowl. He cupped the chin of the nearest minion, and traced the line of its jaw with his taloned forefinger. "Questions? Comments?" The remaining vampires wisely remained silent.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The storm raged on steadily outside and the meteorologist on the local news called for severe weather throughout the night, with a possibility for flash flooding in low lying parts of the valley. Behind the weatherman, a Doppler radar graphic splashed variations of dark green, yellow and red across a three-dimensional and computer generated southern California coastline, representing the weather this evening. Brian sighed and clicked the television off, then turned to the living room window, now slicked and obscured with the driving rain. The window buckled slightly under the pressure of the howling gale-force winds, and Brian wiped his hand across the glass to clear his vision. He checked the street for any sign of the vampires he had encountered earlier, but thankfully found none. Perhaps even the undead wouldn't be caught dead in this weather, Brian thought to himself.

He stood up slowly, adjusting to the unfamiliar creak of floorboards under his weight. He padded slowly down the hall, stopping to check on his guest, who was snoring softly in the guest bedroom. His breath caught in his throat at the vision before him. She laid in a fetal position, her flaming red hair draped across the soft white linen pillow case, contrasting her pale face, casting a fiery halo around her head and shoulders. He could see even from the distance the even rise and fall of her chest buried underneath the downy blue comforter. He sighed deeply at the picture before him, then quietly shut the door behind him and tip-toed back to the living room.

Getting back to the warm living room sofa, he stretched out, kicking his feet up on the arm of the chair, ignoring the Amanda-esque proclamation in his head advising him to 'get his feet down.' He reached for the thick blue Tom Clancy novel he had laid on the end table, opening it to the bookmark and stifling a yawn as he settled in for the night. He had difficulty focusing on Jack Ryan or the other characters in the book in his hands, partially from the complexity of the story, but mostly from his exhaustion and the growing bruise on the right side of his ribcage. Thankfully, the injury he sustained at the hands of, or rather the foot of, a vampire did not result in at least a broken rib or, even worse, a punctured lung, although his breathing was still labored and pained. A fact that Willow was not willing to let go of so easily when she saw the mottled yellow, red, purple and black bruising that spread out from his lower ribs just above his waist to just underneath his armpit.. He laughed painfully at a thought, and then clutched at his wounded ribs; she was prepared to stay up the entire night to keep an eye on him, since he was absolutely unwilling to go to the hospital. His heart was warmed by the caring she gave freely to him even though they had only known each other for less than a day. His weary mind uncovered half-buried recollections of events long since past just by being near this beautiful young woman. 'She gives without any thought of reward and then gives of herself just as easily and without any thought or hesitation, even though she knows her heart will be hurt by it. And then she does it anyway. She reminds me of someone. I wonder who?' Brian asked himself, the peaceful haze of slumber smoothing out the lines in his brow. The answer finally came to him just as a restless sleep ultimately claimed him. 'Oh, yeah. Darius.'