AN: Disclaimer and summary with prologue.

Okay, I know it's been awhile, but I finally got the new chapter. :-)

Special thank you to my great beta, afterlife, and also thank you those who took time to review.

Well, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and I'll try to get the next one out soon.

Chapter One:

Cold Day in July

The building pulsated like a human heart; there was no other way to describe how it felt. The mixture of deafening music, chatter, and alcohol seemed to give the place a hungry life that could never be sated. Light and smoke flashed on the overexposed flesh of the people, who twisted and turned in a primitive dance that had only been suitable for the bedroom when he was young.

Remus had never considered himself old – in fact, there were quite a few people here who looked to be around his age – but this place made him feel as if he were a hundred. Really, he couldn't have felt more out of place if he had been made to present a case to the Wizengamot arguing for the extermination of all werewolves and half-breeds.

"You know, a flashing neon sign hanging over your head saying 'I Don't Belong Here' wouldn't be as obvious as you're being right now."

Remus looked up from his half-empty bottle of hops to find Buffy frowning at him from across the table. Like many of the other patrons of this 'fine' establishment, she was dressed in far too few clothes, and the clothes she did have on pulled too tightly and threatened to leave her exposed at any moment. When they had left Grimmauld Place that evening, she had mentioned something about her outfit being her 'clubbing clothes.' Whatever she called it, her outfit had rendered Ron incapable of lifting his eyes off the ground, while causing Sirius to slip into his old 'Every Girl Wants to Date Me, But I Want to Talk to You' ways that Remus hadn't seen since their days at Hogwarts. He wondered when Sirius would realize he didn't stand a chance with this slayer – especially now that she knew he had been Remus' 'dog' that had taken every opportunity to put his head in her lap during their first meeting in Dumbledore's office. After that, Snape had a better chance of dating this girl than Sirius.

"Sorry," Remus replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The jeans – borrowed from Bill Weasley – itched, and the too-large shirt made him feel as if he were wearing a pup tent. "It's just so loud here. And these 'clothes' itch."

"That's what makes it fun - the loudness, not the itching," Xander said from his seat next to Remus. "Well, until you get old, then it just gives you a headache."

Xander Harris was a strange, one-eyed muggle who spoke in riddles that often only he, Buffy, her friends, and at times Hermione seemed to understand. That being said, Remus found himself rather fond of the young man. In the few weeks since he and the other 'Scoobies' had joined the Order, he had shown himself to be a good friend to those around him. He didn't judge Remus because he was werewolf, nor for that matter did any of Buffy's other friends. It was refreshing to meet a group of people who didn't cringe the moment they found out that he was different. But then, he supposed that hardly any of them would be considered normal.

"I'm not old," Remus said.

"Yeah, you're what? Forty-nine? Fifty?" Xander asked.

"Thirty-four," Remus replied. Forty-nine or fifty! Merlin, he knew he had some gray hair, but he didn't look that old.

"See, you're way too young to be complaining about the music," Buffy said, taking a sip of her soda. "So why don't you quit with the old-man routine and relax, or we're never going to catch anything."

"I still don't understand why we're here," Remus said. "I thought vampires frequented graveyards and such."

"Only the newly risen," Buffy said.

"And those who don't want to pay rent," Xander added.

Buffy gave her old friend a heated look, but he chose to ignore it by swallowing the last of his beer. She continued, "To older ones and the ones who make it out of the cemetery, places like these are like fast food restaurants." She shifted in her seat and looked out over the crowded dance floor. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she surveyed the crowd, then lit up when she spotted whatever it was she had been looking for. "See the girl with the really long neck," she said, pointing.

It took Remus a few minutes to spot the girl. She was young, probably too young to even be in the club, with sunflower-yellow hair twisted into two long braids which hung over each of her shoulders. To him, she looked quite a bit like she belonged on one of those American muggle farms in the Midwest, not chatting with some bloke in a trendy club in London.

"What about her?" Remus asked. "Is she a vampire?"

"No," Buffy answered, reaching under the table for her purse. She pulled out a stake, which promptly disappeared somewhere on her person. "The guy she's with is, though."

Buffy rose from the table quicker than he thought was possible and disappeared into the general area where the girl and the vampire had been. After a bit of fumbling, he and Xander managed to follow, but neither one had much luck in finding her or the girl.

"Let's head out back," Xander said loudly. Remus supposed that, since Xander could hardly hear himself above the music, he thought he needed to nearly shout in order for Remus to hear him. But thanks to his werewolf hearing, Remus could hear him fine.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because that's where vampires always take their victims," Xander said, leading them towards an exit. "A dark alley, a dark corner, a dark room. Anywhere completely absent of light is where they like to do their snacking."

Remus frowned and checked his wand. Thankfully, it was still holstered in the back of his pants. He briefly thought of one of Mad-Eye's stories about how a wizard lost his bum for doing so, but Remus couldn't think of any other place to put it that wouldn't draw the muggle's attention. But, if the couple who were nearly copulating in the corner of the building provided any insight into the mindset of this club, then Dumbledore could run through the crowd, throwing curses and hexes, while wearing only the Sorting Hat, and no one would notice.

Remus shuddered at the thought.

"Remind me again why I had to come to this place instead of Sirius," he said as they reached the back area. It smelled like a combination of alcohol, Snape's office, and the divination classroom in the North Tower. Not a pleasant scent at all.

"You mean besides the whole 'Wanted Criminal' thing?" Xander asked, pushing open the door to the fire exit. "Well, there's A, the fact that you're a werewolf and therefore vamps don't want to make you do an impression of a juice box because they don't like the taste of wolf blood. And there's B, the fact that the Buffster would probably end up slaying him instead of the vamps."

Remus sighed, then started to make another comment when he heard something crash in the alley beside the club. Without another word, the two men took off in that direction. The closer they got, the more distinct the sounds of a fight became.

When they reached the end of the alley, Remus skidded to a stop and pulled Xander back just in time to miss having a very irate vampire crash into him. Instead, the creature landed hard on his back and skidded several feet, before slamming into a garbage bin, bending the metal shell inward.

Remus turned to where the vamp had come from and saw Buffy duck as another vampire - a larger male with an infatuation with tattoos - swung at her. Her fist struck out at the same instant, punching the creature in the stomach, making him double-over. She then threw an uppercut, knocking the creature off his feet. He had hardly landed when she staked him.

While she looked back into the darkness to see if there were any more, Xander and Remus ran to the young woman the vampires had been feeding on. She was dazed and had some nasty neck wounds, but it appeared that she would be alright. Now that Remus was able to get a good look at her, it seemed to him that there was something very familiar about her.

"Look out!"

Remus ducked to the right as the words left Buffy's mouth, just missing being tackled from behind by the other vampire. It growled from missing its prey, then launched himself at Remus again, its fangs bared.

"Incendio," Remus said, pointing his wand at the creature.

The vampire's eyes widened as a small fire began to burn on his chest, a fire that quickly grew and engulfed his whole body. It screamed and clawed at Remus, before stumbling backwards and dissolving into a pile of ash.

"Not bad," Buffy said, kicking at the ash before some of it was caught up by a stray wind. "You'll have to show me how you did that sometime."

"Right," Remus replied, wondering how it was possible for someone to fight as hard as she had just done and not break a sweat.

"You okay?" Xander asked, helping the injured girl to her feet. She swayed a bit, so he held her up.

"Just a tad lightheaded 's all," she said. She took one step and fell right back into Xander's arms. "Okay, a mite more than a tad, I suppose."

That voice. Remus knew that voice. "Tonks?"

With quite a bit of effort, she raised her head, blinked heavily, then smiled. "Wotcher, Remus."

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked.

Tonks blinked again at Buffy, as if she were surprised to see her there. "I w-was looking f-for…" Her words trailed off as she passed out.

Xander scooped up the now petite woman into his arms. "We should get her back to the house," he said. "She's lost a lot a blood."

Remus nodded. "I wonder how they got the better of her," he said, pulling out the gum- wrapper port key Dumbledore had given them in case of emergencies. "She's a fully- trained Auror."

"Probably wasn't expecting two of them," Buffy said, picking up a wand that had gone unnoticed until that point. It was still in one piece, but had a large crack going up the middle as if someone had thrown it with all their might against the brick wall. "They got the drop on her. Happens to the best of us," she said, handing the nearly broken wand to Remus. "Come on. Let's go before she gets worse."

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She did not understand these humans and half-breeds. The longer she was among them, the more convinced she became that the Powers That Be must favor their kind for some unfathomable reason because, without their help, there would have been no way that their races could have made it this far in time.

They were weak.

They were idiotic.

They were emotional.

They were odd.

Yet, in the time since her return, she had yet to meet one as odd as James Potter. Even the half-breed Spike made more sense than he did.

When they first met James Potter, he had repeatedly demanded that they find a wizard named Dumbledore and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew – Potter's heart rate increased and his body temperature decreased at the mention of this last human, yet he himself did not seem to notice – as well as his own mate and spawn, Lily and Harry Potter. It had annoyed Illyria that Potter thought himself so important that he expected her to do as he commanded, as if she were some lowly creature meant to do his bidding. He finally stopped his demands when she dropped the shell – the façade of Winifred Burkle -- and showed him her true self. She had seen the bright glint of fear in his eyes, yet he covered for it by becoming more defiant and calling her, the vampires, and the Watcher doctor Sarah Mallory "Death Eaters." Illyria had been known by many names before, but an Eater of Death had never been one of them. The half-breeds and Watcher doctor had been insulted greatly.

The reappearance of Lorne, the irritating green demon, a few days later had not helped to improve James Potter's attitude towards them. She had wished to put an end to his threats of death and calls for their 'master', but the half-breed Angel had asked her not to hurt him. It was only her shell's leftover feeling of gratitude towards Angel as well her own minute respect for the vampire that kept her from doing so.

It had taken them a week to make James Potter comply with their wishes for him to sing so that Lorne could tell the vampires and the Watcher doctor what Illyria had already told them the first time she saw him. He was not Wesley, only a spirit who had inhabited his shell just as she had inhabited Winifred Burkle's after her demise. But there was an important difference: she was an all-powerful demon god, while James Potter was merely a lowly human wizard.

The Watcher doctor had found the entire subject fascinating and had proceeded to read all of Wesley's books as well as her own to find anything relating to the reinhabitation of a body by a different soul.

The vampires had been less clear on their feelings towards the new personality in their old friend's body. She had noticed that the leader Angel had taken to brooding more than he usually did in his tiny hotel office. The blond one Spike acted as if he did not care, but he often smelled of whiskey or bourbon, more so than before the battle. He must have been drinking with Lorne, though the demon himself often smelled of sea breeze.

The bald one Gunn took the arrival of James Potter far better than the others. Indeed, he appeared not to be affected at all by the news. The vampire Spike said that was because the hospital had drugged him like 'a hippy at a pro-hemp convention,' whatever that meant. He told her once the drugs wore off, he too would be upset at the loss of their friend.

Of all of them, though, the one who had taken the situation the worst was James Potter. At first, he had insisted that this was a trick set about by a wizard named Voldemort and that they could not fool him. However, in the middle of his asinine chatter, he unexpectedly recited one of Wesley's memories, in which ghosts had taken over the bodies of Angel and the seer woman Cordelia. Upon realizing this, he suddenly became quiet and despondent.

By the time they had brought him to the hotel, James Potter had become depressed, more so each time one of Wesley's memories surfaced. He no longer insisted that they find the others. Instead, he insisted that they do not.

He was an odd human, even for a wizard.

"Do you no longer wish to return to your life?" she asked.

It was now the end of July and James Potter had grown more agitated and melancholy. He did not wish to speak with those around him, and, when he did, he often said one thing while his tone indicated that he actually meant it a different way. The half-breed Spike called it sarcasm.

James Potter was sitting on a stone bench in the hotel's garden entrance, watching the sunlight in the jasmine. He briefly turned to look at her when she spoke, then went back to his staring.

"You again," he said.

Illyria tilted her head. "You wish me to leave." It was not a question.

"No, stay and build a bloody shrine to Wendelin the Weird for all I care."

Her head jerked to the other side at an odd angle as she continued to observe him.

"That was sarcasm."

"Yeah, it was. Now will you leave me bloody well alone?"

"I asked you a question," she said. "I demand an answer."

Once more, he turned to look at her, but this time his eyebrows were scrunched together while his mouth hung open. The thought that he might catch some flies if he left his mouth like that passed through Illyria's mind, but she quickly dismissed it as a lingering phrase her shell would have used. It was inappropriate anyway. The phrase felt playful, and James Potter did not look as if he felt such a way at this moment.

"Why do I have to answer you?" he retorted.

Illyria let her shell's eyelids drop slightly. She had found that others feared her more when she 'glared' at them. "I am Illyria, the demon god. My vast army obliterated my enemies and all those who stood against me. I have caused humans, half-breeds, and demons to fear even to whisper my name. My throne was built upon the bones and blood of countless weaklings such as yourself. And you dare question what I demand, pathetic human?"

James Potter stared at her for several moments, then turned his back on her. Fool's bravery; James Potter appeared to have vast amounts of it.

"You and I have some things in common, I suppose," he said. "Not that I had a throne of blood and bones, but that neither of us belong here. And neither of us can go back."

"It is true my army was destroyed," Illyria replied, "but the Watcher doctor says that your friends do live. She can contact them. Why do you wish her not too?"

"And say what? 'Oh, hello all. I know I don't look or sound like I used too, and I've been dead for fourteen years, but it's me, James - Prongs. Well, now, who's up for some tea and exploding snaps?'"

"You were using sarcasm again," she said.

"Yeah, I was," he sneered. "Now why don't you toddle off and bother another of the blasted sods who live here."

"I still wait for my answer."

Sighing, James Potter pushed his glasses up his face and rubbed one of his eyes with one of his palms. Illyria found that he often did this when he was annoyed.

"Lily's gone and Harry's grownup not knowing me," he said, sounding very tired. "They'll all be better off not knowing that I'm here."

"Are you better off without them? Without your spawn, now that your mate is dead?"

Spinning around on the bench, James Potter directed an angry look at her. It had no effect on her.

"Why the bloody hell do you care?" he snapped.

She tilted her head. "I do not, but your moping annoys me."

Her words made him seethe in anger, and he once more turned his back on her. "I answered your sodding question, now leave me alone."

Illyria stood there for several minutes, then turned back into the hotel. James Potter was very odd and annoying and was becoming more so every day. Since the vampire Angel had made her swear an oath she would not harm him, she would have to find another way to put an end to his foul temper.

In the meantime, she would find the half-breed Spike. She felt like hurting something.

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Buffy yawned as she walked towards her small apartment. It wasn't as if she didn't have any other places to stay – Giles had offered his spare bedroom and Sirius had insisted that they could find a bed for her at Grimmauld Place, though she was pretty sure he was referring to his bed – but Buffy liked staying in her own place too much to impose on anyone for too long.

Once it became clear that she would be spending quite a bit of time in Great Britain helping out against this Valuemart guy, she got Giles to find her a place to live while she was there. It was nice to get away from the craziness that followed both her and the wizards and just relax with some alone time. And, if she did get lonely, Giles didn't live too far from her place and both Xander and Willow – who had agreed to come help with the fight against Voldie -- were staying with him. Though, Buffy thought that Willow had really come to get away from Kennedy and anything that was a reminder of her. A few months before, Buffy received a call from her distraught friend who told her that the pair had broken up because Kennedy had decided she didn't want to date Willow exclusively and had been seeing at least three other girls at the same time. Nothing like an insane Wizarding Lord bent on world domination to take your mind off of cheating girlfriends, Buffy supposed.

She dropped her keys into a small bowl beside her door and stretched her arms over her head. It was good to be home after a night like the one she had just had. After getting Tonks back to the Order's headquarters, she had spent the rest of the night giving an account to Dumbledore and all of the other Order members who had heard that Tonks had been attacked by a vampire. When she had finished with them, she had to stop by the Council's headquarters to file a report about the incident, check to make sure that the other slayers in town had made it back, and then call Dawn for their weekly check-in. Now, all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and sleep for the next few days.

Buffy's eyes cut to her living room when a shadow moved. Something was there. She could feel it.

So much for bed just yet.

Quietly, she turned to the stand with the key bowl on top of it and pulled open the drawer. She gripped the stake inside and headed into the living room.

It was dark and quiet; the only light provided was the faint street lights filtering through the windows and the flashing green 12:00 from the VCR. Her eyes scanned from one side of the room to the other, but none of the shadows moved. He was here, though. She knew it.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Buffy reacted on instinct. Grabbing it, she flipped the person who was attached to the hand over her head and onto her coffee table. The flimsy piece of furniture exploded when he landed, and Buffy's stake was already traveling towards his chest before he had even hit the ground.

"Buffy," he said with a familiar Italian accent.

The sharp point of the stake was barely pressing against the expensive silk shirt. Buffy blinked and looked at her intruder. "Michael?"

The Immortal smiled up at her. "Hello, darling."