Part 4

"Destiny envelopes you, like silken binds, caressing, then pulling and sucking the life from your veins, choking your spirit. Destiny is greatness and death."

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" Gunn said, dropping a book on the table. "You sure that's all you know?" He looked towards Buffy.

"Yeah... I mean, I can't remember anything else that would be important," Buffy said.

"Could you tell us what happened, from the beginning to the end?" Wesley asked, putting down his book.

"Okay. I was in the kitchen making her some cocoa and...and she was playing in the living room with her stuffed bear. George gave it to me; I thought it was her right to have it. The wind was blowing outside, harder than usual. I didn't hear anything. When I went back into the living room and she was gone, I called out to her. I didn't get an answer; I went into the other room to see if she wasn't watching TV, and then upstairs. She was nowhere to be found. I began to panic. I screamed her name, and then I heard the wind blowing harder outside, and the willows tugging at the windows, and I realized she could be outside. I went out and then I saw the backyard; it was endless, leading up a hill and into a forest of some kind. And up on the hill, I saw a child. I thought it was Fatima. I ran towards her, but as I neared her I realized it wasn't Fatima. Her skin was so white, even transparent at some point. She had curly blond hair and these creepy blue eyes, they glowed... and, standing in front her, I had this uneasy feeling... I asked her who she was and she shook her head and said 'No'. And that's when her shape shifted and she asked 'who are you?' I asked her where Fatima was and she stared at me for a moment before walking off. I yelled 'wait!' but then the hill disappeared and I was in front of the fence," Buffy finished.

"Why would she ask you who you are?" Angel asked. "If she kidnapped your daughter…Fatima, she knew who you were."

"I don't know. I don't think that's the way she put the question," Buffy said, tilting her head slightly, tired.

"Then in what way?" Cordy asked, distracted from her laptop.

"It was like she knew who I was, as a slayer, and now that I'm no longer one, she didn't know who I am anymore," Buffy said. She had been thinking about it a long time. "And she expected me to know who she was, but I can't place her anywhere! I've been thinking everything over, analyzing, remembering every demon I've ever faced or met, but she's just not there. The black girl, she seemed familiar, but I've never ever met her; it's like someone told me about her."

"Maybe she was killed in an accident and someone told you about her?" Wesley tried.

"No, it…can't be. Her clothes screamed not of this millenium. '70-'80 maybe," Buffy said, shaking her head.

"Wow, way back there," Faith said. "At least if we had like a city or something, but I doubt we'd track her down. Murder's pretty common, in big cities especially. It would help if it was a smaller town."

"We're not talking about Sunnydale, are we?" Cordy asked.

"I don't think so," Buffy said, trying to remember.

"Good. Trying to track down an unknown murder in Sunnydale is like looking for a needle in a haystack," Cordy said. "We've sorta been there."

"Oh, yeah. Real ugly business too." Gunn remembered one of their cases. "Especially when the fate of the world depended on that one dead body."

"Most horrifying…actually almost the most horrifying thing we've been through," Wesley added.

"Took us a good few weeks too," Fred said, trying to hold back a yawn.

"Sleepy?" Angel asked, a small smile on his face.

"A bit." She gave him a lazy smile and leaned her head on his shoulder. Buffy followed the scene with a certain jealousy. It was obvious who Angel had a crush on.

"Try to focus." Angel turned towards Buffy. "I can show you a concentration exercise. Maybe it'll come to you like that," he added. "I can only imagine how worried you must be." He gave her a sympathetic smile.

"You can do it in my room," Fred told Angel before raising her chin from his shoulder. "It has this extra mystic energy point. Helps with concentration. And sleep," she added, smiling.

"Thanks," Buffy said while Angel took her hand and guided her upstairs.

"Don't forget the yucky herbs!" Cordy yelled after them. "Only way the damn thing works."

"I regret I just offered my room. It takes around a week to get the stench out!" Fred said, burying her face in a pillow.

"I'm just happy he didn't flip, with the pipes and all," Gunn said looking up from the book.

Cordy turned from the computer to smile at him. "Well you have this whole sweet-adorable thing going on, I told you. You could convince me to jump off the roof with that look," Cordy said coming closer to him.

"Really?" Gunn asked, taking her in his arms.

"Yeah" Cordy said, her lips coming closer to his.

"But then I'd have to jump off too," Gunn said giving her a light kiss. Fred rolled her eyes at this point.

"Why?" Cordy asked, smiling.

"Cause I couldn't live without you," Gunn said and leaned down to kiss her, but suddenly three pillows hit them at the same time.

"Oh, stop being so mushy and adorable!" Faith told them, giggling. Wesley chuckled from behind his book; he seemed not to have moved, when actually he had thrown a pillow from a chair nearby.

"Please, you're in front of a crowd of emotionally desperate people!" Fred added, joining in the laughter. "Look at us: I'm slobbering over a vampire, she has a thing for the local drama cop and he's still mourning over the pharmacist who dumped him for France."

"You're right, you guys are pathetic," Cordy said, obviously joking. A storm of pillows flew at them.

"Hey, hey!" Cordy said trying to block them.

"Quick, say something mean, then we'll have all the pillows and we can strike back properly!" Gunn said in a funny tone, making Cordy laugh. "Oh, hell with it!" He changed his mind and began throwing the pillows back at them. Cordy joined in, laughing.

"Okay, now breathe," Angel told her as she gracefully lowered her hands to her chest. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He began tracing a circle with the black, sand-like herbs around her.

"Geez, what's that smell?" Buffy asked, opening her eyes.

"Concentrate!" Angel reminded her as he lit a match.

"Okay, now I'm getting freaked," Buffy said, opening her eyes again. He touched the match to the herbs and in an instant a circle of fire surrounded the slayer. "What's going on?" she asked, a little terrified.

"Don't worry, the flames aren't really there," Angel told her.

"Easy for you to say!" she said, trying not to touch the red flames.

"It's not here. The fire. It's in another plane of existence. This is just a shadow," he added, passing his hand through the flames. "You really think I'd stand this close to a fire?"

"Great, so you just made a circle of fire in another dimension. I think the people are already bowing to the miracle," Buffy said, extending her hands again.

"Now, touch the flame." She lowered her hands by her sides, her fingertips caressing the savage fire. He was right, it didn't burn. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," he added standing up. She couldn't hear him anymore. He left the room silently.

He climbed downstairs to find feathers spread on the floor and pillows thrown everywhere.

"I can't leave you people alone for 2 minutes!" he said, shaking his head. "I knew these pillows were a bad idea," he added to himself, lifting one from the floor.

"Hey, we were just punishing them for being so cute in front of emotionally disastrous people," Fred said, smiling.

Angel gently took some feathers from her hair. She smiled at him. There was a moment of silence.

"Just clean up a little." Angel broke the silence. "We have a guest for god's sakes!"

She was in a deep trance, her body moving without her knowledge in front and back, her hands painting imaginary, strange symbols in the fire. Her life seemed to flash backwards the more she concentrated; back to the moment she was told of the black girl. The speed was overwhelming. She saw all her life, from the moment she had walked into the Angel Investigations Office, to the night of Fatima's disappearance, back to her days in Sunnydale, George and the scoobies… she remembered now with astonishing clarity the thrill of the chase, the kill. It seemed at the same time something so strange to her… and to her surprise she flashed back even further, before her death, even before her mother's death.

Then shadows started playing in front of her. They seemed like they were dancing delicately, when they were actually fighting, or gesturing a fight. It was a back alley and she was standing there, with her arms crossed over her chest. She realized her eyes were closed and she asked herself why she had closed them, why had she been thinking of a baby girl at that moment. She didn't know anyone named Fatima. And why of all people would she be thinking of Angel? And Faith? Especially since in front of her, telling his stories, was Spike.

"The stress getting to you?" he asked, giving her a cocky winning smile.

"Just go on," she said, rubbing her temples. She felt she had to remember something, but she just couldn't place it; it was on the tip of her tongue, yet she had no idea what was so important that her mind was churning and hurting.

"All right, then," Spike said, beginning to move, recreating his fight with the slayer from the past. "The first was all business, but the second, she had a touch of your style." He mimed a blow to her head. "She was cunning, resourceful... oh, did I mention? Hot. I could have danced all night with that one."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked, and Spike stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong? Can't keep up?" The words rang in her head bringing back not-too-pretty memories.

"I thought you and me are done. No more sex, no more love. Do you think I forgot what you did to me? To Dawn? You're suppose to get out of town by sundown, remember?" her head was pulsating like it was going to explode.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Spike asked, confused.

"Didn't you…hear me…" The world started to spin.

"Buffy…you okay? Buffy?" He came closer to her, helping her stand on her feet. But the world spun too much and suddenly she remembered everything…

"Spike!" That was the answer. And as she screamed the name she abruptly woke up, sweaty and shaking in the hotel room, the bitter smell of burned herbs surrounding her. The fire was out. Quickly, the sound of footsteps came from outside. The door swung open and Angel came in.

"You okay?" Angel asked, helping her up.

"Yeah, yeah… I know who told me," she said, making her way towards the door. Angel didn't move. "Are you coming?"

"Just a moment" Angel gave her a smile, before turning and opening a window and kneeling down next to the burnt rug, passing his hand over the ash. It disappeared instantaneously. "Little trick I picked up along the way," he explained before following her out the door. "So, who was it?"

"Spike. He…" she started.

"Spike? He did mentioned something about living in Sunnydale when he was here," Angel said, surprising Buffy.

"Spike was here?" she asked, a bad feeling passing through the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, yeah… He freeloaded around here for half a year," he said. "I sorta felt sorry for him. He seemed destroyed. I assumed it was because of his soul. I was like that after I got it. He didn't want to discuss it."

"How strange," she said, knowing all too well why the vampire had been depressed. "So what happened, why did he leave?"

"I don't know. I never really understood him. He was always the weird one. Always having to prove himself something," Angel said. "One night he was just sitting on the roof and when I went up, he suddenly says he misses home. It was really dark, but I noticed he was crying. I never saw him cry before."

"Must've been weird for you," Buffy said, remembering, with astonishing clarity, when Spike had wept at her feet because she was banishing him from Sunnydale.

"Before he left he apologized to me. I never really understood what for," Angel said as they finally made it downstairs.

"Well?" Cordy asked. They had cleaned up the mess of pillows, and little Wesley was up, eating at the low table, his bowl of cereal put on a piece of carton.

"It was Spike," she said, and the group seemed surprised.

"There's one name I haven't heard in a while," Gunn said. "So who's the wonder girl?"

"One of the two slayers he killed," Buffy said. "One was in 1900 and Chinese, so I doubt it was her. That leaves us with the 1977 slayer…I think she was black… he killed her in a subway. Could you look that up?" She turned towards Cordelia.

"As we speak," Cordy said, not raising her eyes from the computer.

"So, we're dealing with the ghost of a slayer," Wesley said, and sighed. "But what about the little girl?"

"Maybe their murders had something in common, same city, maybe in the same year, even day" Fred suggested.

"I'll look into that," Cordy said. A page displayed on her computer. "Here we go… 17 year old Meredith Banks, found murdered in New York subway…" she began reading between the lines. "Her neck was broken. This her?" she asked turning the computer towards Buffy.

"That's her" Buffy said looking at the girl laying dead in the subway, her neck twisted.

"I'll check for dead kids," Cordy said turning towards the computer. The little boy didn't even flinch at the hearing of the word dead.

"Can I see uncle Lorne tonight?" little Wesley asked turning towards Faith.

"Sure, honey" Faith said caressing his brown hair and placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Really?" the little boy smiled.

"If you'll be a good boy today," Faith said.

"I will. Promise," he said before turning back to his cereals.

"Who's Lorne?" Buffy asked, sitting down next to Faith.

"Oh, he's a friend of ours. Owns a karaoke bar. For demons," Faith added.

"Nothing!" Cordy said. "There were no kidnappings, crimes that involve children in any way that day. Just a few accidents. Nothing big, the only consequence probably being a lot of therapy."

"Try year," Angel suggested.

"Are you sure that's what it is?" Buffy asked.

"It can be. All the people this thing shifts into have to have something in common. Since age isn't the case, maybe it's the date or year and…" Wesley started to explain.

"Any idea what age she could've been?" Cordy interrupted.

"Around ten. I don't even know how I could confuse her with Fatima. Probably I just wanted it to be her," Buffy said.

"So as I was saying… Disaster has a great impact on human souls, so when the flesh and bone persona is killed the spirit has a great shock and it becomes disoriented. And some spirits actually melt together when they find some kind of familiarity in each other. Now for this to be the case, they'd have to be at close range. Which would mean the girl must be from the same city as the slayer," Wesley finished.

"Guys, I think we'll have to narrow it down," Cordy said.

"I'm just gonna' take Wes to kindergarten," Faith said, standing up. Her son had finished eating and was now waiting for her to say something.

"Take care," Angel said, handing her the car keys and pressing a small kiss to her lips – a friendship kiss . He took his son in his arms and hugged him. "And you be a good boy. And don't tease Marcus. It's not his fault his father had horns."

"I won't," Wes promised.

"Love you," Angel told him sweetly.

"Love you too," The little boy smiled and took Faith's hand. "Bye, guys!" he told the others.

"Bye, Wes," everyone said. Faith, holding her son by the hand, headed for the door. The little boy turned halfway out the door.

"Oh, and bye, Buffy!" The little boy smiled and headed out.

"Bye," Buffy let out; something in the way he had spoken her name disturbed her.

"So we need to narrow them down. How?" Gunn asked.

"Well we either find more things in common with the dead slayer or Buffy looks at 562 pictures of dead girls," Cordy said. "And there are some articles without pictures too."

"What else can they have in common?" Wesley asked, pacing.

"The way they were killed?" Fred suggested.

"Or who they were killed by," Wesley suggested, looking up.

"Spike's victims?" Buffy asked, and Wesley nodded.

"Try to find… bite marks, low blood, draining, or brutal killings," Angel said, thinking of Spike's habits of killing.

"That leaves us with 109 cases," Cordy said, tapping on her computer.

"Now cut out the ones with no identified killer, " Gunn said, looking over her shoulder at the laptop.

"That leaves us with 34," Cordy said.

"I can take a look at the pictures," Buffy said, sitting next to Cordy at the computer.

"Tell me if any of these seem familiar," Cordy told her as she began showing her the pictures. There was a long silence until Buffy finished looking at the pictures. Wesley had walked towards the bookshelves looking for a certain book.

"Well?" Gunn asked first.

"Nothing," Buffy said, looking surprised.

"Maybe we passed over her in the cutting?" Cordy suggested.

"Or maybe it's something else," Fred said. "These kind of spirits haunt their crime scenes forever. Just think about it. What would they be doing in San Francisco?"

"Or at least haunt the killer. Last time I saw Spike he didn't seem to be haunted by anyone. Just incredibly drunk!" Gunn added.

"Good point," Angel agreed. "So what else could it be?"

"A-ha!" They all turned towards Wesley. "Pardon me," the English man said, clearing his throat.

"Well?" Angel asked, awaiting an answer.

"When Buffy described the little girl… and the fact that the other girl was a slayer… it got me thinking… I remembered it from somewhere. The little girl I mean. Then it just hit me." He pointed towards the book he was holding. "Watcher's diaries!" He came closer to them, putting the open book on the table in front of Buffy. "Regina Faircastle. She was a slayer in the 15th century."

"How could she be a slayer? She was way too young," Buffy said, looking at a small portrait of the girl. It was truly the ghost that had kidnapped her daughter.

"Actually, the youngest" Wesley said.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, looking at the young girl in the book.

"She was the youngest slayer to ever be called. She was 9 years and 6 months old. Her parents died in a plague," Wesley explained. "I remembered her because she was one of the particular cases that had a certain difference from the others."

"What happened to her?" Buffy asked, touching the picture in the book.

"She was killed less then a year after her calling. A demon nest. After her death, the Council decided to never pick slayers underdeveloped," Wes continued. "Too small."

"Always like the council to decide after it's too late," Buffy said bitterly.

"Two slayers," Gunn concluded. "What do they want with a third?"

"Maybe they want a new addition to their duo?" Cordy suggested.

"Well, if they want a fight, they're gonna' get one!" Buffy said, looking up from the book.

"There's the Buffy we all know and love!" Cordy said, smiling.

"Okay, problem. I'm more than a little rusty. I sorta need a little practice. Help?" Buffy asked, looking towards them.

"Yeah, we have this whole practice room arranged in the basement," Gunn said, he was quite proud of their little demon-slaying gym.

"It's equipped. Even I have to practice, now and then, just so I don't get killed. I miss the days Angel use to play trainer, Faith is way to hard on us!" Cordy said cheerfully. And after a moment of silence, she added, "Don't worry, we'll find her."

"It has to show up at some point. This thing has a personal problem with you. And when it does show, we'll be here to send it straight back to wherever the hell it came from!" Gunn said confidently.

"Thanks for the support, guys," Buffy said.

"It'll show," Fred repeated, trying to comfort her.

"But until then I'm afraid we're stuck," Wesley said. "We know what it is, but spirits don't have a particular place to exist. So until they act we can't do anything but hope nothing bad's going to happen to your daughter."

"Don't even say that!" Buffy's voice trembled. "I should go find a hotel," she added after taking a deep breath.

"Like Faith said, you can stay here," Angel suggested. "It's not good to be alone. The ghosts could attack anytime. And besides, you need a friend right now."

"There's always someone here. Anything happens, just scream," Gunn told her.

"Why do you think it's after me?" Buffy suddenly asked.

"If it's slayers, it probably has something to do with your slayer-being or your non-slayer-being," Faith said, coming closer. She had been listening to them for a while. "A sister slayer quitting? It's like kicking tradition in the ass. Like you're dancing on their graves or somethin'. That or they're just jealous that you could quit and they couldn't."

"So they would be angry because they think Buffy mocked them by quitting slaying?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah, what you said," Faith nodded.

"I didn't want to mock or dance on anyone's grave… I just wanted to keep my daughter safe. How do you explain that to a ghost?" Buffy asked.

"We'll just see what happens" Angel said. "Meanwhile we'll find a spell for ghosts."

"We could use the one we used on old man Johnson's place," Gunn suggested.

"Wait. Didn't that explode in our faces?" Faith asked, remembering the case.

"Technically. We just had to pay a cleaning bill," Wesley remembered. "There was a considerable amount of green…"

"Goo?" Cordy tried.

"Try not to make it messy," Angel quivered just at the thought of the incident. "I think we'll have enough paying to do thanks to your 'experiment' on the water pipes."

"You are so cheap," Cordy said, exasperated.

"Because I don't want my house covered in green slime?" Angel asked.

"Good point." Cordy gave up. "But the way you put it… it sounds more like you were thinking of the money before the slime."

"Hey, I have a college education to think of now," Angel said, sounding like a concerned parent.

"Now you have an excuse to be cheap," Gunn said smiling.

"Hey, my baby is not an excuse to be cheap!" Faith protested. "As a matter of fact, I love his daddy just the way he is!" she said, giving Angel a protective wife-like look. "Even if he is cheap," she added, sending Angel a butterfly kiss and making Fred giggle.

"All right, I got it. I'm cheap, and you're not, when it comes to my money. End of story," Angel said, putting his hands up in surrender. "Do you have anything to do, to pass the time?" he turned towards Buffy.

"I think I'm going to go see Dawn," Buffy said, taking in a big breath of air.

"You want me to walk you?" Angel asked.

"No, I'll be okay" Buffy said shaking her head.

"All right, but if anything happens you call us immediately," Angel told her.

"Yeah, we have a few cases to work on now, but we'll come running, okay?" Gunn said, and Buffy nodded.

"Can I please go to the bathroom?" Little Wesley raised his hand.

"Of course. You want me to come with you?" the teacher asked, and the little boy shook his head.

"I know where it is," Wesley said, and got up. He wasn't really going to the bathroom; he had just got the strangest feeling he had to walk out of that room, like something or someone, who only he could hear, was calling him. He hesitated at the door.

"Are you all right, Wesley?" the teacher asked, seeing him stop.

"Yes," he said, before taking one more step and going outside into the hallway. It was pretty dark. That's why most children preferred to be accompanied to the bathroom. This particular kindergarten was a small establishment, probably thanks to its 'special' clientele, located on the first floor of an old house. Wesley began walking down the dark corridor. He'd never feared the darkness. He'd never understood why, but he thought it was because his father always lived in darkness. He didn't quite understand what a vampire was; it was just clear to him that his daddy was different and he had to drink blood to survive. The boy saw nothing wrong in that.

The hallway was empty. No one was there, but he could've sworn he had heard a calling from outside. Not his name, just a hummed song. He advanced and then he heard it. The slow, soft humming coming from further down. He went a little farther, and in the darkness a little light began to shine, as the echo of the humming became clearer. Then the shadowy form of a wooden bench appeared, and on it a little girl was sitting, looking absently at the floor, swinging her feet as she hummed the song.

"Hi," Wesley said, not sure where he knew her from. She rose her head and looked at him. She was his age.

"Hi," she said, a little smile on her lips.

"Your mother's looking for you," he said, not moving from his spot, as though hypnotized.

"I know," she said, looking back down at the floor before adding, "the lady told me."

"What lady?" he asked, and the girl looked up at him again, seeming confused that he didn't know.

"The slayer lady, of course!" she said, surprised that he didn't share her knowledge.

"Slayer? My mom's a slayer," he said, not understanding her.

"So is mine… she use to be," the little girl said, and looked back at the dark corridor behind her. To Wesley it looked endless, but he knew that only two feet away there was the bathroom door.

"She's calling me. I have to go." She stood up from the bench, which evaporated behind her, swallowed by the darkness. "Tell my mom not to worry. The lady takes care of me."

"Fatima…" a ghostly voice called from the darkness. The little girl turned from Wesley and walked away, taking the light with her. For a moment Wesley spotted the shape of a primal girl. The light disappeared, leaving him in the darkness.

"Wait…" he said, as if he had suddenly woken up from a dream. But the ghosts couldn't hear him anymore, and neither could the blond little girl enveloped in them. He stood there, staring blankly at the bathroom door that had appeared in front of him.

End Part 4