Buffy:

Willow's spell is working great, but when we get back to the shop, Angel still insists that I need to rest for a while. He says I'm too weak to take part in performing this ritual. This time I don't bother arguing. Magic was never my strong point, in any of my lives. So I leave it to Angel and Edward.

There's a little area upstairs where the spells are performed. There's no carpet, due to the high possibility of fire. In fact, the floor has been painted repeatedly to get rid of any diagrams that had to be inscribed on the ground. Some of the more recent ones are still visible. Compared to some things, this ritual is quite simple. No painting required.

You need a pot, and various herbs and spices. Oh, and an orb of Thessala. We don't have one, but the note Willow gave us has a simple charm for turning any glass sphere temporarily into an orb capable of containing a soul drawn from the ether.

Angel sits in the centre, next to the orb. He and Edward had a little disagreement earlier about which one of them should actually cast the spell. It was quite amusing, really.

"I'm not doing it. Too many bad memories," protested Angel.

"Well I'm not doing it. I don't speak ancient Romanian."

"You think I do?"

"You were around when it still existed as a language, so I'm thinking you're better off than I am. Besides, I thought you were a whiz with languages and things." Angel sighed. I think a part of him wanted to cast the ritual. It would be a nice cycle. He casts the spell once used on him to create the next generation of souled vampires. Is that irony? I'm not sure. Poetic, maybe.

"Look, all you really need is the accent. Your sorceress gave you phonetic spelling as well." Angel snatched at the sheets, muttering

"Thanks a lot, Willow." So now he's sitting there, reading from a phonetically-spelled sheet of old Romanian while Edward walks around waving incense. I'm glad I'm just watching, because they both look quite ridiculous.

Even so, I can feel the power in the room, and it makes me nervous. I've never witnessed this spell being performed, so I can't really know what to expect, but the feeling crawling along my spine tells me that something must be happening.

As the spell continues, Angel's voice rises to a crescendo, as if he no longer has control of the words. Even Edward gives him a worried glance as he walks past with the incense.

"Asa sa fie!" he practically screams. "Asa sa fie!" I have no idea what it means, but I think it must be nearly the end, because the orb is starting to glow brightly. "Acum!"

And, just like that, Angel slumps down and it is over. He looks up at me, grinning lopsidedly, and I move over to him.

"Did it work?" Edward asks, but before we have time to think about that, Matt bowls in through the door. He's slightly flustered.

"Guys… I think I may have said something I shouldn't have."

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Gene:

Things have been quiet down here. That probably means that something very important is happening. The lone guard they've posted to watch both me and Jericho is looking nervous, as if he isn't sure whether he should go and find out what's going on or stay to watch us. I wish he would go, because I'm getting curious myself. I doubt Jericho's planning anything, and I'm so shaken up after Angel's cold threats that I can hardly stand.

Suddenly, something in the cage opposite grabs my attention, and I walk up to the bars to get a better look. Jericho has thrown himself forward and onto his knees. He looks in pain, and is making some low grunting noises. I look over at the guard, but he's on his way up the stairs, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Uh… Jericho?" I ask, but he doesn't reply. He stays seated on the cold, hard floor, arms wrapped around his torso.

At this moment, my attention is drawn towards the basement door. The door opened as the curious guard reached it, and he doesn't seem pleased.

"Hey!" he says in confusion. "You can't come in…" Then he doubles over and groans in pain. As he leans, winded, against the wall, a woman enters, takes the keys hanging from his pocket despite his objections, and hops down the stairs two at a time. I think at first it must be Jackie, and that she must have already killed everyone upstairs.

I soon realise this isn't true, though. If she was Jackie, that hapless guard would be dead, and she wouldn't need his keys. This must, instead, be Jackie's mother. I had heard she was estranged from the group, though, so her presence here is a little surprising.

She strides over to Jericho's cage and unlocks it, and it is only then that I notice the wooden stake in her hands. I can't help but smile. Jericho, on the other hand, has no idea what is going on. He looks up at the woman towering over her, and both of their eyes are full of tears.

"Who are you?" he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

"Don't I look familiar?" she screeches. "You murdered my daughter!"

"I what? I'm… sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry!" She lunges forward with the stake, and he makes no move to stop her. He's probably too shocked. However, Angel comes to his rescue by pulling the woman back… her name is Kass, if I recall correctly… and relieving her of the stake. I was so absorbed in watching the cage that I didn't even hear him approach.

Kass falls to her knees and doesn't get up again. I can hear her sobbing from here. Jericho looks ready to vomit, except that vampires never do.

"What have I done?" he mutters into his chest, curling into a ball and rocking gently. Kass wails as Edward comes up to her. Matt is standing far back, watching silently with his sister leaning on his arm.

"What's happening?" Kass asks Edward pleadingly.

"We just returned his soul." Is that so? Kass doesn't seem impressed. Instead, she only cries out louder, clutching onto Edward and burying her face in his shirt.

"You stole my revenge!" she bawls. Angel just shakes his head. Looking at Jericho lying in the foetal position, I'm inclined to agree with him.

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Vampire:

This isn't an easy time for my kind. Well, it is, in a way. People are more scared than they've been for a long time. So much has happened to the world that things like vampires can't be hidden any more. Most of us don't try. I've been around a hundred years or more, and I still do, but I'm starting to doubt whether there's any point. People just refuse to believe. I've seen whole hordes of vampires run around town, drinking on people openly. Even those witnesses that survive tell stories of gang activity and mutants rather than vampires. I suppose there's no reason for them to suspect vampires. Even the myths aren't as popular any more. They used to be plentiful - every mortal had his own theories about vampires. Since vampires have become more obvious, writers tend to avoid the subject wherever possible. It's a defence mechanism, I guess. Nobody wants to get close to the truth any more.

The only problem with this is that nobody complains when buildings are torched - turf wars, as they're often called, are commonplace. The few people that do know about vampires - the hunters, and that band that call themselves Watchers after a long defunct society - don't have to hide either. That's why I still hide. Not from the populace, but from those that aren't afraid to see what's there.

My brood hides too. I'm the leader, as it were. I'm the strongest, and I made most of the others. They all respect me in their own ways, whether they follow obediently or with… encouragement. Nobody has ever dared to intrude in my home. At least, not until now.

The girl that forces open the door is quite attractive. Average height, long, dark hair, curves in… almost all the right places. That's all the human in me would have seen. But now I can see something else. There's something in her eyes - a cruel cunning that I look for as a vampire. If she weren't one already, I might have considered turning her into a vampire herself. But she is… I can smell the blood on her.

"Who's the leader here?" she asks the room. There are many vampires here, most of whom are now taking notice. I stand up and swagger over to her. The swagger is a very difficult manoeuvre to pull off, especially for vampires and other creatures that find it difficult to get drunk. I'm quite proud of mine.

"I am," I tell her. "Who are you?" She smiles coyly.

"I'm the new girl in town. Won't you invite me in?" She walks further in before I can answer, so now she's totally surrounded by my 'family'. "Oh, you don't need to." This girl's got guts, but she's starting to annoy me.

"What do you want? You want to muscle in and take over? Sorry but…" She cuts me off.

"Take over? What makes you think I'd want to lead a group of pathetic little vampires like you? Everything about your kind sickens me." Suddenly I'm confused.

"But you're one of…" Her hand shoots out and grips my neck, putting pressure on my wind pipe. I don't need to breathe, so there's no risk of suffocation, but her nails digging into my flesh are very painful. Other vampires around the room react, but they're not fast enough to do anything.

"If you value yourself, I'd think carefully about finishing that sentence." I then come to realise that this girl is the strongest person I've ever met, and it's not a pleasant thought. She's not fond of us vampires - despite being one herself, oddly - and if she wanted to wipe us out she'd be able to very easily. Despite having her outnumbered and surrounded, we wouldn't stand a chance. She still hasn't let go of my throat, and I can both feel and smell a trickle of my own blood running down across my collarbone.

"Okay…" I say, ignoring the pain. "If you don't want to take over, why are you here?" She holds up something in her hand. It's about the size and shape of an egg, but dark metallic green. It has a handle and a hole for a pin at the top.

"Have you ever seen one of these before?" she asks innocently. If I could, I'd shiver.