Giles poured some more red wine into Jenny's stemmed glass before returning to his barely started plate of tortellini. He nervously fingered his dark linen napkin that sat on his lap as he searched for something to say to his lovely companion. They had already discussed their mutual research discoveries regarding Buffy's return and possible fate related to prophesy. Neither had found much of note and so there had been little new to discuss. Having exhausted the topic before finishing the antipasto, the Brit was at a loss. It was like another lifetime ago since he had dated and he didn't seem to remember the proper etiquette.
Rupert resisted the urge to snort. Perhaps proper etiquette was the problem. He had been nothing remotely close to proper the last time he dated. Ripper's idea of a date would never have involved an Italian dinner, soft lighting and mellow conversation. His youth had been all about embracing his Id. Loud music, controlled substances, illicit magic and loose morals were more the Ripper's dating scene. For a moment, Giles missed his youthful arrogant confidence. The flustered librarian sipped some of his wine and glanced at Jenny over the top of his glasses. A contented smile slipped across his lips as Jenny lifted her head from her plate. Her warm brown eyes twinkled with pleasure and her perfectly painted lips quirked into her own smile of amusement.
"So do you eat this well every night?" the techno-pagan innocently inquired. "If so, you're killing the bachelor stereotype."
Giles grimaced slightly. In all honesty, he perfected the stereotype. His cooking skills did not rival his abilities with ancient languages. Most of the current meal was either pre-packaged or from the grocery store's prepared delicatessen section. Even with the cheats, tonight's meal was a far cry from the sandwiches, frozen dinners, and take-out that entailed his common fare.
"Ah... no... that is, I normally..." he stammered only to be interrupted by the chime of his doorbell.
Frowning, Giles excused himself and walked into his small alcove to the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone thus he palmed a stake from the decorative entry table as he passed it. He peeked through one of the three tiny security windows on his heavy wooden door. His frown grew when he recognized the bright red hair illuminated by the entrance light.
"Willow?" the librarian questioned as he swung the door open. His thoughts instantly shifted to concern that Buffy had experienced a panic attack while on patrol.
The teen rambled a greeting and moved through the archway without an official invitation. Giles' eyes shifted from the first unexpected visitor to the second one.
"Buffy..." he stated in alarm as he noticed his slayer's current condition. She had obviously encountered something more than a simple fledgling on patrol. He moved to push her loose hair from her pale face but the blonde flinched slightly from his intended touch. The injured teen stepped past her obviously concerned watcher. She cradled her injured arm against her body and the shadow of a bruise bloomed on her forehead. Blood splatter marred the girl's top although the watcher could not see any major injury to explain the red stains.
Stiffly, his slayer moved into his flat. She noticed the fancy meal and her watcher's guest. The teen instantly felt sorry for interrupting Giles' evening with her issues. She realized it wasn't every day that her stuffy British mentor had a chance to woo a total babe like Ms. Calender. She wondered silently if her Watcher would ever be able to have any part of a life that wasn't overwhelmed by her duties. The thought touched something deep inside the Slayer because she often wondered the same thing about herself.
"Sorry to interrupt, Giles," Buffy apologized with a pained grimace. "Couldn't exactly go home in my current state."
"Oh! Buffy! What happened?" demanded Ms. Calender as she stood from her only partially completed meal. The computer teacher hurried towards the injured slayer and began fussing over the petite girl's injuries.
"Met our new friend Spike again. Not so much with the fun this time," Buffy admitted as she shuddered slightly as she remembered the fear and adrenaline rush from the clash with the Slayer of Slayers. A nagging sense of betrayal knotted in her stomach. The teen was now even more confused about the reason for the Entity's seemingly perverse dream use of a man who became such a dangerous vampire. She lightly chewed on her lower lip as she wondered how could there ever be potential anything in a mortal enemy.
"Oh man, Giles," clamored Willow as the librarian moved purposefully to his cabinet and retrieved a first aid kit. The redhead's deep breath should have been an indicator of her impending gush of words, but Jenny and Rupert were still both amazed and then rightfully concerned by her ramblings. An amused little smile settled on the slayer's lips as she watched her friend's animated explanation of the encounter. "You should have seen them fight. It was incredible. Buffy yelled at him and the vamp was all 'you remember me' with the acting flattered in a whole kinda creepy way and then Buffy was all, like... wham and the vamp was all like grrrr and they moved so fast you could barely see their attacks. Buffy did this awesome spinning thing and caught him in the face and split his lip. And ew, he licked up his own blood. Why would he do that?"
Willow shuddered at the thought before continuing her tale without anyone having the chance to comment.
"Anyway, the vamp, Buffy said his name is Spike... well, Spike knocked Buffy over a tombstone and then Buffy knocked him to the ground and they were wrestling and the vamp tried to bite her and she totally smashed him in the face with her head and his nose practically imploded... or maybe exploded... there was lots of blood so maybe exploded is the better term."
Giles pulled his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ms. Calendar just smiled softly and exchanged a knowing look with the still silent slayer. Buffy offered the teacher just a tiny shrug to indicate that her friend was doing a fine job of describing the fight without her comments.
"Willow..." the Watcher attempted to prompt in an effort to focus the excited teen. Since Willow refuses to embrace any sort of calm rendition of patrol, Giles turned his attention to Buffy's injuries while the excited teen continued her enthusiastic description of the meeting between Spike and Buffy. The Watcher gently cleaned the Slayer's scrapes and abrasions while he listened to Willow finally finish her tale. The redhead fell silent and Giles clucked his tongue when he carefully probed Buffy's injured wrist. The blonde flinched at the painful touches.
"I think it might be broken," he muttered.
"I figured," Buffy replied in an accepting and unsurprised manner.
"We should get you to the hospital and have them x-ray it."
"Can't you just splint it?" Buffy countered. She despised the hospital and would definitely prefer to avoid another visit. She raised hopeful eyes to her mentor. "Won't my slayer healing take care of it long before a cast would come off anyway. Wouldn't that just be a waste and kinda suspicious?"
Giles glanced at his industrial sized first aid kit. A deep furrow appeared on his forehead as he considered his supplies. With a slight nod towards his waiting Slayer, the Watcher stood. He moved to his desk and dug in a drawer. After a few seconds of searching through the clutter of papers, small books and oddly-shaped magic paraphernalia, he pulled free a thin piece of wood. The engraved wooden plague was only three inches in width, a foot in length, and less than a quarter-inch in thickness. Swirled shapes were carved into both sides.
Rupert returned to Buffy's side. When he placed the wood on the table, Jenny approached and ran her pointer finger along the softly curved shapes. She didn't recognize the writing, but she could feel the lightest tingle of power that seemed ingrained into the talisman. When she questioned its purpose, Giles blushed slightly and stammered that it wasn't anything of importance. He just needed the thin wood for a make-shift splint. The flustered Watcher then proceeded to wrap a bandage around the wood to act as a slight cushion for his Slayer's skin. After placing a rolled bandage in Buffy's cupped hand, Giles positioned the talisman under her hand, wrist and forearm. After poking and shifting her wrist and forearm slightly, he then wrapped another bandage around her arm and the splint to hold the limb immobile until her bones knit back together properly.
Standing once more, Giles expressed that he had done what he could to help with Buffy's injuries. With an apologetic expression to Ms. Calendar, he then offered to take the two teens home. Jenny immediately offered to drop them off safely on her way home.
Buffy glanced between the two adults.
"Um, we kinda had another reason for invading your home, Giles," the Slayer admitted. "It wasn't just your keen ability with bandages and antiseptic that prompted our invasion."
"Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Willow as she finally remembered Spike's comments about Buffy's non-Slayer status. The fact that she had spent the better part of the summer investigating demonic links with daughters finally pushed through her excitement over Buffy's battle with the powerful vampire.
"The Daughter!" Willow practically yelled. "Spike called her that."
Incredulous, Giles glanced at Buffy and asked for confirmation of Willow's claim. Buffy nodded. The Watcher frowned. They had found no evidence or reference to link Buffy with the mysterious Daughter despite all their best efforts over the summer. The researcher found it disturbing that a vicious vampire known for his mindless mayhem seemed to comprehend more about his Slayer's part in the new prophesy than he did. His frown shifted to concern when Willow blurted out their lack of headway on information linking Buffy and the Daughter Prophesy. Giles attempted to silence Willow's continuing ramble as he watched his Slayer for her reaction.
At the casual mention of her life once more being linked to a prophesy, Buffy froze. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at the others in the room.
Finally sensing the sudden riot of emotion in the silence of her companions, Willow stilled. Nervously, she glanced at the others.
"Umm, I wasn't supposed to say anything about the prophesy, huh?" the redhead offered in a tone that implied she expected a harsh scolding.
Buffy glared first at her contrite friend and then at her unsettled Watcher. She refrained from including the computer teacher in her displeasure because she doubted the techno-pagan had much say in the matter.
"Well, bring on the doom-age," she muttered. "I might as well hear it all now that I know. Wonder if mom'll buy me another new dress to wear to this death?"
"Oh no, Buffy," Jenny immediately consoled as she brushed past Giles to offer support to the injured and most likely frightened teen. "It wasn't that kind of prophesy."
The techno-pagan hugged the slender teen as she offered assurances that there was no mention of death in her new prophesy.
"In fact, it might be that the prophesy just was foretelling your survival," the teacher added. She included a hopeful smile with her words in hopes of inspiring comfort.
Buffy levels an incredulous expression at the solicitous woman. A soft snort followed but she did not comment on the overly optimistic statement. When Giles attempted to offer his own lukewarm assurances to Ms. Calender's statements, Buffy returned her annoyed expression to directly scalding the British man. Rupert fell silent under the weight of the unspoken accusation in his charge's lifeless and hard eyes.
After patting her one more time on the arm, Ms. Calender moved towards her small file of paperwork. She extracted a sheet from the battered orange folder.
"It really isn't a portent of doom, Buffy. Listen," she charged as she pulled the original message from the monk instead of just reciting the words. "Angels watch and Demons do but The Daughter shall do instead of watch. Grace returned. The Fatling discarded. With Judgement, the Cat, gifted the first for The Mother, the last for The Father and seven for the Stains. Darkness takes me; may God have mercy on my soul."
"Well, not exactly puppies and rainbows but no obvious death. Yay for me," Buffy snidely stated before taking a seat on the couch. Her short-lived anger dissipated with the absence of immediate proclamations of impending death or dismemberment. She also silently admitted to herself that she probably should have shared her concerns about her dreams before this point since the information was most likely intricately linked.
"So what's it mean?" she asked as Willow settled on the couch beside her, and Jenny sought a seat in Giles padded chair. Her Watcher remained standing and paced slowly as he offered what little explanation they had.
"We believe that Grace returned spoke of your timely resurrection. The Grace of God moved the officer to be just where he needed to be in order to save your life. We believe that the demons do had to do with your death and that no force of good could have prevented it. This makes sense because the death was foretold in the codex. If you hadn't died in that alley, then perhaps the Master would have killed you. Or perhaps some of his minions."
Giles stopped moving and leaned against the back of Jenny's seat.
"Unfortunately and despite our best efforts, we were not able to find the proper context of the Daughter," the Watcher admitted.
"We spent most of the summer scouring books," Willow added in an attempt to be helpful. "Empty on the Daughter help-age and WAY more information about demon procreation than I ever wanted to learn. I mean, why would some long dead Watcher think we needed to know that Tifriphen demons only allow one daughter to reach maturity. All their sons are allowed to grow up willy-nilly but if one of their daughters is ready to make with the babies, all the other ones are killed in some big, bloody, fertility ritual to guarantee that the oldest one can procreate properly."
Giles made a slight choking noise and Ms. Calender barely stifled an amused giggle.
"Yes, be that as it may," Giles interrupted before Willow could continue on the over sharing of her summer reading. "Details are a bit sketchy on the remaining parts of the prophesy."
This time it is the computer teacher who added to the librarians explanation.
"We are pretty sure that the last bit was actually about Brother Luca. I think it was just foretelling of his death at the hands of some dark power."
When Buffy failed to react to the mention of the now dead monk, Jenny felt compelled to remind her that Brother Luca had originally prophesied about the Anointed one.
Giles offered the quote from memory. "The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf, the lion and the fatling together, and the little child to lead them."
"Oh, hey, much with the kitties there and also fatling and fatling," Buffy compared but then frowned. "What's a fatling anyway?"
"A young animal that has been fattened in readiness for slaughter. Like a sacrifice to God," Willow supplied from her own Jewish history background.
"It doesn't have to be related to God," counseled Giles.
Buffy sighed really loudly.
"Yeah... I think it does," she stated as she leaned her head back against the couch back. She tilted her head up until she was staring at the ceiling. The wide white expense offered her eyes no distractions from her impending confession.
"Spike isn't wrong. The Daughter isn't some unexplored demony thing," Buffy stated with complete conviction. "It's me."
"But you're the Slayer," stammered Willow in confusion as Giles simply informed her how preposterous her statement was.
"No, I am the Daughter," Buffy reinforced as she moved her eyes from the bland ceiling to her companions. "Got if directly from the dog's mouth."
"Horse's mouth," Giles automatically corrected before asking for her to explain.
In a calm voice, Buffy shared the general idea behind her dream. Although she skirted around the presence of Spike and Oz in the dreams, she admitted to the Entity speaking to her while she was in the coma. She stressed that despite Officer Ricci's intervention that she would have truly died if the True Power had not shared the renewed gift of life with her.
Giles immediately attempted to scoff at Buffy's supposed dream and dismiss it as a fancy of her bored mind while unconscious.
Buffy bounced to her feet and anger practically radiated from her body.
"It wasn't a flight of fancy," she argued. "I was on a first class express trip to Deadville when the Entity pulled my consciousness into the vacuum-y place and confronted me with a Choice."
"Vacuum-y?" Giles repeated in confusion.
Buffy waved her hand as if dismissing the place as unimportant.
"Yup, the Vacuum-y... the voice called it some place before and after, outside and inside, was, is and will be."
Giles face scrunched in concentration for a moment.
"Was, Is and Will Be?" he parroted as he took a few steps towards his bookcase. "Vacu... oh dear lord."
Giles rushed over to his books. He opened the lower cabinet and pulled a tiny volume from the clutter. He rushed back with the modern, little reference book. Rupert leafed through the crisp pages of Deity's Garden until he found the reference he remembered from the book he had purchased for some light reading while visiting a new age bookstore before his flight from England to his new position in Sunnydale. His finger trailed over the page until finding exactly the passage that he remembered.
"Those of True Power are believed to exist in a realm beyond our ken as linear beings. Only through true communion of body, mind and soul could mortals even scratch the surface of the place before and after, outside and inside, was, is and will be. In this Vacuity, the Diety exist as they are meant to be. Unhampered by the preconceived notions of a religiously corrupted society."
"Wha-oh!" clamored Willow as she too jumped from the couch. "Are we talking Diety as in God, capital G and all, not little g like Zeus or Ares. We're talking Big G, right?"
"Like Father, Son and Holy Ghost, big G," Giles confirmed with a nod.
Silence fell over the room. Slowly, Willow, Rupert and Jenny finally turned to face the Slayer with strangely similar expressions of awe and disbelief. Buffy returned their looks with one of annoyance.
"So, you were touched by the really real God not an Angel?" Willow squeaked in a breathy voice that sounded like the precursor of a mild anxiety attack.
"Well, I wasn't brought back by the Pillsbury Dough Boy, now was I?" Buffy snipped in answer. "Yes on the God. No on the Father."
Buffy shrugged as she explained how the Entity had sought a Daughter like the Father had a Son only just in this world and not in all of them. The Entity shared with Buffy that sending the Son across all worlds had taxed even the Father's infinite power. It, or She, as Buffy preferred to describe the Power, was not as ambitious. She had simply sought a single touch into the living worlds.
"I'm like cable or something," Buffy offered with a silly smile. "A channel of one but I guess it beats an eternity of snow."
"What did it do to you?" Giles demanded as he strode across the room and grabbed his Slayer by the upper arms. "What does it expect of you?"
The Brit's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What did you promise it?"
Buffy returned the older man's glare with one of her own. She easily shrugged off his grasp and took a step away from the angry yet concerned Watcher.
"I promised her nothing. I gave her nothing. She gave me back my life and told me to live it. She kissed me on the forehead and I woke back up in the hospital. One moment I was in this bright place of nothing and everything and the next I was back here. Aching, hurting, confused."
"What did she say exactly," demanded Giles as he once more loomed into the small teen's personal space.
A sudden shudder whipped up Buffy's back. Her already frazzled nerves unable to handle any more pressure in this moment, the Slayer refused to be cowed. Despite her broken wrist, she shoved her Watcher away from her being. Giles stumbled. By the time he caught his balance once more, Buffy was behind the couch with her arms crossed over her chest and with a deadly anger flashing in her eyes. Even with her bandaged arm, she made for a strong and unyielding front.
"She told me that she would send me back, more or less exactly as I was only, you know, not with the deadness."
Giles' shoulders slumped.
"What does more or less mean," he begged.
Buffy threw her hands into the air in a dramatic fluster.
"How the hell should I know!" she yelled. "I just work here. You're the brains. You figure it out!"
Spinning on her heel, Buffy stomped from the flat without another word. The heavy wooden door boomed closed in her wake.
In the silence after her storming exit, Willow whispered quietly "So Spike was right?"
Giles yanked his glasses from his face and rested them against his hip while pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand.
"It would appear so," he mumbled in distressed reply.
For almost an entire day, Buffy succeeded in avoiding her Watcher and the other Scoobies. She was currently hiding in Oz's garage and listening to the Dingos practice. Her emotions were a rolling mess and she still wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at her Watcher, apologize to him, or chill him with a silent treatment. Until she made a decision, she was going with the easiest solution and avoiding the whole thing.
Buffy pulled her feet onto the seat of his ratty recliner and hugged her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on her folded knees and closed her eyes. Her wrist still pained her slightly but the bones seemed to be healing already. Her face scrunched slightly as she concentrated on the lyrics and instrumental notes rolling over her entire body as she perched in Oz's cluttered garage. Devon's rumbling vocals meshed with the smooth and soft music and almost felt like a caress. A shiver flitted up the teen's spine and she smiled softly. The first couple songs that the Dingoes had played had been a fun scamper of energy and dancing beats. This one was something different and obviously special. The story in the music spoke of strength of soul under a shattered guise. The blonde took a deep breath and allowed the power of the music to smooth the edges of her own anxious and battered soul.
"Sam says Oz wrote this song over the summer," Anya offered as she plopped a tall wooden stool next to the recliner and perched on it with an enthusiastic hop. "He says it's called Dynamic Fragility and that you were Oz's muse for it."
"Huh?" Buffy replied as the new arrival startled her from her deep thoughts.
"This song. Oz wrote it for you. Well, maybe not exact for you but about you."
"Really?"
Anya nodded happily as she immediately jumped into a rambling story concerning Sam and his reactions to Oz writing some different songs for the Dingoes. Buffy found herself smiling despite her conflicting emotions. Her pretty brunette companion was a bizarre girl but amusing all the same. She seemed to be a strange mix of ditzy Cali-girl obsessed with fashion and an old soul who seemed to see things others did not. Buffy nodded in encouragement to something Anya said about how frustrated she gets with Sam's inability to treat her as well as she deserves. Buffy smiled again as she considered that she might like the girl strictly for her fortitude and ingenuity in the ridged face of vampiric death. Buffy giggled as she remembered how righteous and fierce Anya had appeared was she wielded the iron pan last week.
"You know, I never did tell you how impressive your pan-fu was on that vamp," Buffy offered with a grin as she interrupted the other teen's quiet rant about the evil of men in general.
"Oh... ugh..." stammered Anya at the change in topic from her companion. For a moment, the older girl appeared surprised by the compliment. She then returned the grin with one of her own. "Why thank you, Buffy," she replied earnestly as if compliments from a friend were not something she was used to receiving. "I really just didn't want to be his dinner and the pan was at hand."
"Well, not everyone can think so fast on their feet when they are in mortal danger. You are one impressive gal. I'm glad I got to meet you."
A lump seemed to form in Anya's throat and she wasn't quite sure how to respond to the honest good will being offered by her companion. It was a strange feeling. Although Anyanka had a number of companions in Arashmahaar that she considered friends, this was the first time in a long while that the disguised demon had actually felt like someone desired her company for her own worth and not for how well she did her job. The unexpected feeling floored Anya and she fell temporarily quiet.
In companionable silence, the two girls listened to the Dingoes stop playing in the middle of a song and start arguing over the arrangement of the music. After a few moments, the band mates agreed to try an altered rhythm that Jordan tapped out on his snare.
Anya reached out and lightly touched Buffy's shoulder to draw her attention. Her gentle touch floated softly over the Slayer's sweater and was quickly withdrawn.
"I... um... I heard from Cordelia about your attack last spring," the brunette whispered hesitantly.
The friendly smile on Buffy's lips froze in place as she shifted her attention back to her companion while waiting for Anya to continue.
Although not offered any approval of the topic by the suddenly emotionally closed blonde, the older teen continued.
"I just wanted you to know that some of us can understand," the Senior girl encouraged.
Once again, Buffy was struck with the thought that her companion had a truly old soul under her quirky exterior. In that moment, Buffy truly believed that Anya did understand exactly how conflicted she was. It was like she knew how jumbled the Slayer felt with overwhelming combinations of anger, pain, fear, and loathing. The negative emotions battled daily with her inherent feeling of duty and desire to recapture some form of optimistic passion for life.
"If you ever want to talk about the attack or about your feelings, I am willing to listen." Anya intoned solemnly.
"Thank you," whispered Buffy in return with a slight nod.
"I wish I could make it never have happened," Anya gently prodded.
Buffy smiled painfully.
"Too bad we don't get do-over buttons, huh?"
"Do you really wish you had one?" Anya offered hopefully.
Buffy shook her head as she stood. She pulled a stake from the sweater sleeve of her injured hand as she indicated she needed to get out on patrol.
"I think I would have died no matter what happened that night," Buffy admitted as she considered the tangled web of prophesies entwined in her life.
"But doesn't it bother you that the guys who did it got away with it? It isn't fair. Don't you wish they had to pay for your pain?"
Buffy glanced at the whittled wood in her hand. She sighed. So many things about her life were unfair: fighting alone in the dark, being pressured to embrace her destiny because a bunch of tweedy guys in England decided she had to, being destined to die young, not to mention having to face the evil in men that almost made some of the vampires she slayed seem mellow. Life wasn't fair. Buffy sighed one more time before meeting Anya's serious gaze with her own weary eyes.
"It's not fair," she simply stated with a minor shrug. "Evil exists. It always will no matter how hard I fight it. None of us can escape it."
Buffy turned to leave.
"But what of the guys who hurt you? Where is the justice. Don't you at least wish that..."
"It's okay, Anya," Buffy stated firmly as if trying to console her new friend while crushing her own disappointments and pain. "It may not be perfect and it may suck beyond measure but it is my life to live. I thank you for caring."
Buffy took two steps towards the open garage door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the warm September night air.
"I wish, that just once, they understood what it was like to be a victim like me," she uttered so quietly that she was sure no one could hear her secret wish over the sounds of the band. "Now that would be justice."
Buffy stepped into the darkness without looking back. She missed the green glow of the disguised demon's necklace. She missed the sudden appearance change as Anyanka's body transformed to the vein covered and harsher appearance of a Vengeance demon.
"Done," whispered the altered agent of Arashmahaar.
A crack of thunder pierced the sky and the earth shook so violently that Buffy lost her footing and bounced on all fours against the pavement of Oz's driveway. Dogs barked crazily in the distance and car alarms sounded harshly in the continuing grumble of the upheaval. Shaking her head at the unexpected earthquake, the Slayer scrambled to her feet and rushed back into the garage. A swift survey of the jumbled room revealed the Dingoes to be safely picking themselves and their instruments off the ground, but Anya lay crumpled on the floor. Buffy rushed to her side and found her unconscious. She frowned in confusion when she noticed the scarred remains of the pretty green necklace the teen always wore. The stone was shattered and a huge hole gaped in Anya's shirt where the pendent used to rest. The teen's pale skin appeared charred through the tear and she did not respond to any of Buffy's prodding.
Buffy called Oz and his friends to come help as she worried for the health of her quirky new friend.
Drusilla sat flipping a newly stolen pack of tarot cards across the quilt of the brass bed that Spike had secured and assembled in the basement of the large abandoned factory they were currently calling home. She had almost completed a simple reading for her Sweet William. Only one card remained to be read. In the outside room, she could hear her precious knight speaking with the translator who was helping research her cure. Drusilla was feeling a bit ignored at the moment because Dalton and Spike had spent most of the day blearily staring at books they liberated from the local natural history museum. She frowned as the Justice card fell expectantly from the deck to land on the bed. The sword wielding woman seemed to taunt the vampire for a moment and Dru shifted her appearance in order to properly hiss at the portent. Her now yellow eyes narrowed on the improper and unimpressed card.
"Miss Edith did not give you permission to play," she scolded as she flashed the unrepentant figure a nasty fang-filled scowl.
Suddenly, the earth groaned and shuddered. At the same moment, Drusilla screamed and desperately grasped her head. The violent quaking tossed the weakened yet still shrieking vampire to the dirty cement floor. Her tarot cards scattered about her fallen form like naughty children on a playground.
While the earth still shook in anger, Spike stumbled into the bedroom calling the name of his lover. Her continuing cries frightened him far more than the earthquake. Reaching her side, the vampire pulled Drusilla into his arms and attempted to calm her. The screeching vamp failed to respond to any of his entreaties and William was reduced to simply holding her as gently as possible until the fit ended.
The earth calmed at almost the same time as Drusilla's cries. Shaking with exhaustion and with painful tears leaking from her eyes, Dru's piercing wail ended as suddenly as it began. Spike smoothed her hair back from her ridged face and wiped the tear trails that fell from her feral eyes.
"Hush, Pet," he soothed as he settled the distressed vampire more comfortably in his lap.
Drusilla's fangs receded and Spike smiled tenderly at her while still running his free hand gently through her hair. She often found his soft petting a soothing comfort when the voices were too aggressive in her head. Her dark eyes still appeared glazed as if she was not really seeing him but she relaxed against his chest.
"The naughty boys must be punished," Drusilla muttered.
"Which boys would that be?" the male prodded gently.
Drusilla finally focused on her companion. She smiled evilly.
"Why the naughty boys who ruined Grandfather's plans of course," she answered evenly as if he should already understand her ramblings. "They stole his toy surprise. Her blood should have been his escape. Instead it fed the greedy worm."
"Can't have that now can we, Luv," Spike offered with a smile.
"Punish them for me," Dru pleaded. "Punish the naughty boys so Grandfather can have his vengeance."
Spike's blue eyes faded to yellow. His tongue traveled over his fangs and he grinned in anticipation.
"Punishing naughty boys sounds fun to me," he promised as he stood and lifted his love to the rumpled bed. "Anything for my precious plum."
A frown furled across Sam Lawson's brow as the faintest hint of a tremble quivered under his feet. He glanced at his boots for a moment as if they could explain why the ground was shifting under his feet. London wasn't known to be a hot bed of seismic activity. The faint hint of dawn approached which forced the dark haired vampire to disregard the strange shaking in favor of seeking safe shelter from the fast approaching sunlight. Sam slipped through the door of the small townhouse he had acquired from one of his first victims when he arrived in England. After twisting the dead-bolt lock, the vampire tossed his stolen keys on the small credenza sitting in the dark, wood trimmed hallway.
He started up the steps towards his first floor bedroom when he heard something out of place in the normally silent house. The vampire changed direction and moved down the hallway and into the kitchen. The first thing he noticed in the recently unused space was an attractive woman sitting at his table. The second was that the large wooden surface was covered with a veritable mountain of unexpected information.
"What is all this?" Sam Lawson demanded as he shifted his gaze from the large pile of papers, books and blue prints back to the interloper. A small half grin twisted his lips as he caught a telltale odor from his unexpected guest. "Been a long time since I smelled a fae. Don't your kind normally avoid we Death Tainted?"
The beautiful Leanhaun Shee rose from her seat and smiled seductively at the handsome male. Although the undead were normally immune to the seductive powers of the fae, Sam found himself intrigued by not only her beauty but also her boldness in seeking the company of a vampire. He may be immune to her seductive and life sucking powers but she was not immune to his fangs. He shook his head and questioned her reason for invading his home once more.
"Purpose, Mr. Lawson. I bring you a purpose," she proposed.
Sam smiled as he pulled out a chair.
"What's the mission, Gorgeous?" he flippantly replied as he pulled some of the blueprints towards him and settled in for a much anticipated bit of explanation.
The ground heaved violently and a bright flash of light shattered the normally comfortable darkness that shrouded Arashmahaar. Unable to maintain his dignity or his feet, D'Hoffryn was tossed roughly to the stone floor by the unexpected quake. All around him, lesser beings screamed in pain as their skin erupted into flame from the pure light that flooded the entire realm. The Ruler of the hell dimension rose to his shaking feet. He stared in amazement at the pulsing glow of power gifted to the realm in the wake of one single wish. D'Hoffryn closed his eyes and felt the thrumming energy. He communed with the magic with his own innate talents. With his eyes still closed, he moved from the smaller chamber into a vast open cavern that was normally lit only with magical demon flames. His eyes flashed open in amazement and he began to laugh.
"Two legacies, one wish," he cackled while staring out at the still glowing landscape dotted with the charred corpses of less powerful and photosensitive demons. Even the very stone of Arashmahaar pulsed with the power of vengeance delivered. It was truly a sight to behold. Unable to contain his glee, the demon lord's cries echoed off the pulsing stones.
"Good job, Anyanka! Good job!"