Compared to normal research sessions, it took a surprisingly short period of time before Dalton handed a book to Giles with a muttered instruction to check the second section on the page. The ex-Watcher quickly scanned the Latin then began to translate in his head as he read aloud to the mismatched assembly. The section pertained to the Master and his descendants.
"It has long been suspected that The Master of the Order of Aurelius possessed a penchant for turning humans of questionable morality. As possibly the eldest recorded vampire in known history, the Master has sired untold numbers of Childer. The Council has documented that his Brood have been some of the most vicious and depraved of the Cursed Ones. It is possible that his proclivity to sire those in possession of an already corrupted soul led to the demonic strength of his line. Because the Master has been known under a number of names and we believe he predates the written record, it has been increasingly difficult to cultivate a comprehensive descendant linage."
Giles paused to carefully turn the page of the text and frowned as he once more returned to translating. His voice carried through the otherwise quiet library in a soothing tone despite the disturbing content of the writing.
"Endeavoring to document his family linage in reverse chronology yielded mixed results. Most recently, the Master has moved under the name of Heinrich Joseph Nest. Nest concentrated his Childer to the powerful or the corrupt.
While moving through the colonies in the early 17th century, Nest sired a reputed prostitute who became known as Darla and was the founding member of the Whirlwind. Darla in turn sired Angelus. Reference the Scourge of Europe for further on this lineage."
Giles stole a glace up from the page to gauge the reaction to the mention of the companions of Spike and Drusilla. He noticed Buffy leveling an equally curious look at Spike at the mention of the Whirlwind. Both were intrigued about the past relationships shared with their recent souled ally in Sunnydale.
Giles cleared his throat and continued sharing the section on the Master's Childer.
"In 1244, Pierre Lucian, called Luke after cursed, worked as an inquisitor against the Cathars and was instrumental in the massacre at Montsegur where over 200 Cathars were burned at the stake. Lucian's zealous and aggressive tactics caught Nest's attention and Luke was reborn in 1245. Reference Dark Seneschal for further on this lineage."
"Oh! Luke!" Buffy interrupted with glee as she sat up from her reclining position on the table. "I totally dusted him last year. Remember? He was vessel-ly dude."
From his place near the stair, Spike came to attention. He narrowed his gaze on the tiny blonde as his recalled some of the stories Darla had shared about the Dark Seneschal. If the vampire remembered correctly, Luke had the reputation as being untouchable by the demon hunting community. It was rumored that no hunter had even landed a blow on him in hundreds of years. Granted, Luke had not been known to actively seek Slayers or their ilk but he was still an impressive vampire. Spike snorted. Darla had hated her elder demonic sibling and coveted his closeness with her Sire. Additionally, the Dark Seneschal was legendary in his sly and vicious reputation. That the little warrior before them had destroyed such a powerful vampire impressed William the Bloody. Silently, he wished that he had seen the battle. On the heels of that thought, Spike had to force away the almost overwhelming desire to forget their truce and attack the fighter. The promise of yet another thrilling fight practically had him salivating.
Spike growled and closed his eyes. His fists tightened and a shudder rippled over his body. He opened his eyes in hopes of centering himself with thoughts of Drusilla. She was the reason he was here. The vampire knew she would be the one to suffer if he broke the tentative truce. His gaze snapped towards his lover but his movement stopped when blue eyes clashed into deep green ones. For a moment, Spike was pricked with an unsettling confusion. William frowned because he could not imagine why Buffy was staring at him with such a strange expression on her face. Her look seemed like a strange combination of hope, curiosity, concern and just a hint of what he could only think was something like affection. Spike's frown grew; he could think of no reason for the little warrior to be looking at him in such a manner. He was a monster, and she killed his kind.
While Giles rambled in the background about other older members of the Master's line, Spike and Buffy continued to stare at each other. When Spike did not respond in any way to the teen's open expression, the life slowly seeped from her eyes. An unexpected pang of regret flashed through the vampire's mind when the seemingly friendly light faded. He frowned in confusion and a hint of disgust at himself. The disgust grew as a dim sadness flashed across Buffy's eyes and her lower lip protruded in the slightest bit of a pout. Spike grumbled at himself as his fangs dropped and his eyes changed.
The unexpected feral warning startled everyone in the room. Anya squeaked and shoved back in her chair. Giles lost his place in his recitation of the Master's Childer. Oz and Drusilla snapped their attention towards Spike. Even Dalton jumped slightly and glanced nervously towards the more powerful vampire. The sadness in Buffy's eyes disappeared behind a suddenly blank mask and she slipped off the reference table. She took a step towards the agitated vampire in an obvious move of protection. She strategically placed herself between Spike and the human occupants of the library. As she slipped into a defensive stance, a shaking hand caught at her sleeve. It plucked insistently until Buffy glanced from the grousing vampire to the recently humanized woman.
"Our William growls at the chaos in his head and the pinching in his heart," Dru whispered softly. "Not at us."
"Your William is right here and can speak for himself," snapped Spike before he shook off his vampire visage.
Dru trailed her fingers down Buffy's forearm until she was able to clasp hands with the young warrior. She leaned against Buffy's shorter but stronger frame and squeezed her hand.
"Our William is restless," she murmured so that only Buffy and Spike could make out her words. "A knight without a crusade."
Spike stepped forward and lowered himself to kneel before Drusilla.
"You're my crusade, Drusilla," he offered as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The vampire buried his head against her middle.
Buffy watched in awe as the powerful vampire humbled himself before his lover. A pang tightened in her chest and her breath caught. She offered no resistance when Drusilla raised their joined grips to Spike's bleached hair. Dru skimmed the back of her hand over his slicked back curls and Buffy's fingers trailed along on the ride. Her fingertips disrupted the neat lines of his gelled hair and a shiver traveled up her arm.
For a moment, silence reigned in the library. Everyone's attention was riveted on the kneeling vampire and the two women. Everyone except Dru, that was. She was staring at Buffy with the strangest expression on her face.
Because of his position in the library, Oz was the only one able to see both the expressions on the faces of Buffy and Drusilla. He found the exchange fascinating. He watched silently as Buffy and Drusilla quieted Spike with their joined hands. He easily noticed the confusion in his friend's face but it was the strangely peaceful sadness in the other woman's eyes that surprised him. Her expression reminded Oz of the look his grandfather had gotten in his eyes when he was dying from cancer. After over a year of treatments and too many visits to the hospital, his grandfather had finally decided he was done with fighting the pervasive illness. He hadn't wanted to die but he had made his peace with the idea. Oz's stomach ached at the memory and his eyes itched slightly as he stifled the urge to cry. At the end of the painful memory, the young man wondered just why Drusilla would share such an expression when looking at Buffy. He hoped it didn't mean the same fate was looming for either woman.
The moment of strange and uncomfortable silence finally broke when Rupert cleared his throat. Unsure of how to react to the display, Giles had quickly returned his attention to the book in his hands. He quickly scanned the pages until he found the information they sought.
"I think I might have found your newest opposition," the librarian offered in an attempt to stop the strange and disquieting situation. He found the idea of a vampire prostrating himself before a human and receiving comfort from his charge as a strange and almost perverse oddity. It caused an uncomfortable unease in his stomach to watch the physical exchange.
Buffy extracted her hand from Dru's hold and Spike's hair before turning her full attention to her mentor. She allowed herself to be distracted from the kneeling vampire in favor of information on her newest foe. She offered him an encouraging nod which prodded Giles into reading the current section.
Beside her, Spike pulled himself upward and shifted his arms around Drusilla before he too offered the older seeming fellow Englishman his attention.
"One of the oldest Childer of record for the Master under the persona of Nest is known as the Fly (previous name unknown). It is believed that the Fly was a freedman living in the home of his previous owner, Priscus Cloelius in Mediolanum during the short reign of Nero. It is of note that Cloelius had originally bought the child slave to fulfill the Roman's needs of a pederasty nature. It is speculated that this early influence warped the former slave's personal tastes. These perversions became more evident as he grew in vampiric influence. The Fly is rumored to posses an almost otherworldly beauty. This beauty combined with his perverse nature drew the attention of Nest while he was visiting the trade city now known as Milan. Nest is supposed to have spent almost four years in Mediolanum during which time he cultivated written correspondences with Cloelius which ultimately led to an invitation to his home. Nest is speculated to have slaughtered the entire household save The Fly who he is believed to have entertained without turning for almost six months before cursing him. The turned freeman is known as The Fly because the bodies of the household were left to rot and draw vermin during the six month time of the Master's occupation of Cloelius' home."
Both Buffy and Oz shuddered at the image of rotting corpses and the stench and infestation of bugs that must have accompanied the destruction. Given the current occupants of the library, it was unsurprising that the others did not react in any manner. Dead, rotting bodies were not even close to the worst things these others had encountered in their longer lifetimes.
"So nothing really special about this buggy vamp? He is just old?" Buffy asked the librarian.
"Well..." Giles stalled as he flipped rapidly through some pages. He muttered a few more useless humming sounds before reaching a section about the Fly and his progeny.
"It seems the Fly is credited with speed above average for most vampires."
Giles fingertip traveled down the page while he reported that the Fly was not known to have a mystical thrall but that his charisma and appearance often aided him in charming his victims by normal means. Furthermore, he added that witnesses reported a number of occasions when unusual emotional upheavals occurred in conjunction with sightings of the Fly.
Buffy scrunched her nose slightly as she processed what Giles reported.
"So, couple questies..." she responded. "First, what do you mean by unusual emotional upheavals? Second, what is a pederasty nature? And last, I can just kill him like any other old vamp, right?"
Spike snorted at Buffy's second question while Giles frowned while fumbling with his reference book.
"Um... that is, I would guess you would kill him the regular way," Giles offered as he addressed the easiest question first before plunging into the more disturbing ones. "As far as emotional upheavals, yes, I do believe the witnesses reported episodes of mass hysteria, panic and... um, that is..."
"Orgies," Anya stated plainly with a helpful smile. "I suspect you are avoiding sharing the idea of mass sexual release. Orgies."
Laughter burst from Spike's mouth while the other occupants of the library stared at the brunette in various levels of amazement or horror.
"You're a bit of all right," the vampire complimented with a chuckle and Anya offered him a confused smile. She wasn't sure she wanted a notoriously destructive vampire showing interest in her now fragile human self. Hoping to further distance herself, the previous demon glanced at the previous Watcher nervously.
"That is what you were avoiding sharing. Correct, Mr. Giles? Orgies," she attempted to confirm as she looked to the researcher for affirmation. She was hoping to lead the conversation away from anything personal between herself and any of the vampires present. She unconsciously took a half steps towards Giles and away from Spike.
Rupert swallowed audibly but found himself unable to do more than stammer a bit in response. The librarian was not prepared to discuss topics involving sex with any of his current companions. He could handle blood and guts but debauchery was an entirely different matter. His training never covered these types of discussions. Flustered and disjointed, he finally just nodded. Anya smiled proudly then turned towards Buffy to continue being helpful.
"And a pederasty nature means that Old Cloelius was into young boys. He would have purchased young boys for his own sexual pleasure. It was a fairly common practice during the later part of the Roman empire. It has also been prevalent in..."
"Wait!" Buffy interrupted with a horrified expression on her face. "Romans used to buy boys so they could molest them?"
"Of course," Anya replied as if the action was totally normal. The abuse had endured across time as well as in a large number of cultures and the brunette saw no reason to sugar-coat the history.
Buffy stared with an expression of growing horror on her face as Anya expanded on the information. As the older teen shared her extensive knowledge, Buffy couldn't help but mentally reel. That humanity had condoned such behavior and in a number of cultures and that the practice still endured today in some places in the world made the young woman's stomach clench. The teen crossed her arms over her tummy as her heart rate raced. Unable to contain her disgust, she interrupted Anya and pleaded with her to just skip the details.
Anya fell silent. Into the heavy quiet, Dalton's voice whispered.
"Demons aren't the only ones who can lack humanity."
Giles sputtered in denial while Anya nodded her head in agreement with the studious vampire's statement. Buffy shifted her head back and forth between Anya and Giles. She frowned and clutched at her stomach tighter as her thoughts spiraled around the concept that humans could be every bit as monstrous as the demons she hunted nightly. It was not the first time she had been faced with these thoughts and they were seriously disturbing the foundations of her previous training as a Slayer. Last Spring had been a wake up call to the horrors that humans can remorselessly perform. In light of that nightmare, the teen had still not made peace with her previous black and white ideals. Buffy now found herself awash in grays. Noticing his friend's distress, Oz stepped closer and gently brushed his hand against her upper arm.
"You okay?" he silently mouthed when Buffy glanced at him. The blond took a deep breath and nodded.
"Demons are, by definition, lacking in humanity," argued Giles vehemently in defense of the position long held by the Watcher's Council as he shifted his attention between Isiah and Anya. He didn't seem to notice Buffy's reaction in light of his desire to offer his opinion on the nature of supernatural beings. "Although there are aberrations in human history, humans are incapable of the evil that demons perpetrate."
From across the library, Spike scoffed loudly.
"Yeah, tell that to the twelve million Jews, disabled people, and gypsies slaughtered in Nazi occupied Europe. Or the three and a half million Greeks, Assyrians, and Armenians destroyed by the Ottoman Empire a couple decades earlier," the blond added succinctly.
"Now see here..." argued Giles as anger leaked into his voice and pushed away his previous discomfort over sexual topics. His eyes fixed on Spike's bright blue eyes. "You cannot paint all human kind with the same paintbrush as Nazis or empire builders set on conquering nations."
"Well, don't paint all demons with the same paintbrush either," Spike countered as anger slipped into his voice also.
"Says the demon who painted the walls of Europe in blood and viscera. Lovely paintbrush you had there," goaded Giles as his eyes narrowed in unrestrained hatred as he contemplated all the horrors he had read about which were perpetrated by demons.
"ENOUGH!" screamed Buffy.
Spike snapped his mouth shut without voicing his answering verbal attack. His attention shifted from the hostile librarian to the visibly shaking young woman who yelled at them. Giles too fell silent as he turned to Buffy. The young woman stood bracketed by Oz and Dru who were both resting comforting hands on her arms. She clenched her hands into fists and then released them in a repeating pattern of agitation. Her chest rapidly raised and fell as she gulped large breaths. Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for an exit.
"Buffy," Giles whispered in quiet alarm as he realized just how close the teen was to losing control of her emotions. Remorse pinched in his chest as he realized that Buffy did not need reminders of the atrocities perpetrated by humans on others. He murmured a quiet but heartfelt apology to the teen.
"Maybe we should finish this another time," Oz prompted.
"Yes, before we cause Buffy a panic attack that breaks something or someone in the library," Anya added helpfully.
Giles and Spike nodded in silent agreement although both offered the other an expression of mutual distrust and disdain. Spike wrapped his arms around Drusilla and prompted her towards the exit as Oz and Anya shifted until they were once more like bookends around their upset friend. Neither wanted Buffy to topple from her emotional shelf. A hint of a smile played on Buffy's lips as she took comfort from their solid support. With a wave to Giles, the trio of students followed Spike and Dru through the library doors. For a moment, Dalton glanced longingly at the table of research material. His hand trailed jealously over the spine of the Black Annals before he too scurried towards the exit. The doors swung shut leaving the library in silence.
Giles watched the mass exodus from his position by the table. He sighed. So much had changed in such a short period of time and he felt himself floundering ever so slightly. The woman he was dating turned out to be using him at her family's direction and the Slayer of Slayers sought assistance from his charge for the life of his resurrected lover. Life was not how he imagined it would be. A bit like Buffy's ideals, his foundation of morality was shaking. Sighing once more in frustration, the librarian set about returning his books to their proper places. Unlike earlier in the day, he was no longer in a hurry to return home. His empty apartment held little appeal compared to the evening with Jenny he had originally planned.
"Hmm, Sunnydale has finally found a service to deliver to the hellmouth?" the Master remarked as he watched a young, unknown vampire enter the sunken church. The skulking undead teen held a trussed up male in a fireman's carry over his shoulder and moved cautiously across the rubble strewn floor. The Master stood from his reconstructed throne and stalked towards the edge of his prison. The ancient vampire lifted his head slightly and breathed deeply as the other one approached.
"You're not but a child," he stated with unrestrained annoyance as he quickly lost interest in the fledgling. He turned and waved his clawed hand over his shoulder. "Leave your offering and be gone."
"Not exactly what I had planned," Eric responded with an evil grin. "This is a very special present and I am expecting some special consideration for it."
Disgusted by the arrogance of this only weeks old vampire, the Master turned back to the intruder. His feral eyes narrowed.
"You should learn to mind your betters," he warned with a step towards the unimpressed youth.
"Haven't met many who are truly better than me. Older, yeah but not better," Gittleson replied evenly. He then offered the Master a bit of a smirk. "Now, you, I know you are the big cheese and I am here to offer my humble services."
The Master snorted before informing Eric that he held little worth.
"Not true," the fledge responded. "A little birdie told me you needed a mage for completion of some special ritual."
Eric flipped his squirming burden off his shoulder and down to the ground. The bruised and dirty body moaned as it unsuccessfully attempted to shift itself into a better position instead of face first in the dirt.
"I brought you just what the doctor ordered," Eric continued as he reached down and lifted Ethan Rayne into a kneeling position with a cruel hoist on his dark hair.
When the chaos mage got a look at the Master, he began babbling and squealing through his gag. Eric cuffed him across the back of the head and the captured Brit fell to the stone floor at the Master's feet just beyond the edge of his mystical prison.
"One mage suitable for completion of your Rite of Cyperion," the teen preened cockily.
Eric reached down and once more pulled Ethan from the ground. His human appearance shifted and he gripped the magician's throat in his claws. Eric grinned proudly around his fangs.
"Think I might be worth your time now? Or do I just need to have myself a little late night snack and mind my own business?"
For a moment, the Master stared impassively at the schemer. Suddenly, his shoulders began to shake and a hideous laugh roared from his mouth. He clapped his clawed hands together and barely contained his urge to dance in joy.
"Why, Boy, I think I like your style," the trapped vampire chortled before he turned his back and walked back to his throne. After lowering himself regally into place, he steepled his claws and tapped them against his fanged mouth. "So what do you want in exchange?"
Eric's smile grew and glee flickered in his eyes as he outlined his demands and grand plans. With a nod and a promise, the elder agreed to all the younger vamp's wishes on the condition that Eric assist in procuring all the other needs for the ritual. Eager to gain his rightful place in the power structure of the hellmouth, Eric immediately offered his continuing services before he tossed the trussed mage into the Master's trap. Things were going exactly the way the schemer planned. He couldn't have been happier.
With a grunt of annoyance, Quinton Travers ran his hand through his short, graying hair. His fingers further marred his normally poised and precise appearance. The head of the Watcher's Council had already loosened his tie and removed his wool suit coat. The discarded garment lay forgotten on one of the dark leather chairs across from his massive mahogany desk. Disgusted, the gentleman tossed aside the monthly field report he was reviewing and rubbed his forehead in hopes of relieving his pounding stress headache.
Something disquieting was happening but he couldn't put his finger on the underlying threat or meaning behind the problems that were cropping up across the board for the secret society.
Without thinking, Travers called for Janice. Unfortunately, there was no reply. Annoyed, Quinton looked towards his open office door and the massive desk in the reception office. The Council head cursed as he remembered that Janice was not in the office. He huffed in frustration before standing and heading towards his assistant's empty desk. He shuffled through the pile of unsorted papers on the middle of her previously immaculate work space.
Silently, Travers lamented the loss of his personal assistant. He had never appropriately appreciated just how efficiently Janice handled his workload nor how dedicated to her position she had been. Her untimely death from a concentrated listeria exposure had been a blow that the head watcher could ill afford to absorb. That the entire London based accounting department had been sidelined by the same contaminated food just compounded the disruption in the inner workings of the international organization. Only three members of the accounting department had actually survived the food poisoning. Two of the surviving members were still hospitalized and the third planned to hopefully return to work tomorrow. It would not be soon enough for Travers. Bills needed paid and Watchers needed ensured their salaries.
Finally, Travers found the correspondence from the satellite Council office in Rome. He frowned. It was as he feared. He carried the letter back to his desk and placed it on the large surface that already contained eight other similar reports. Quinton tapped his pointer finger absently over the missives as he once more read and compared their disturbing contents. He had never seen, heard or read about anything that compared with the destruction currently plaguing the Council of Watchers.
In the most recent weeks, there had been fifty-seven small, unrelated yet deadly strikes on Council personnel and properties. It was an unprecedented number of attacks on non-Slayer personnel. Even in a years time, he doubted there would normally be this many successful assaults on the Council. The attacks were happening all over the world but were definitely not something Quinton could believe to be pure coincidence.
Twenty-nine field Watchers had been killed by vampire attacks. Most of the fatalities had been within site of their residences or places of work. Seven residences that housed and trained potentials had been burned to the ground killing everyone in the households including the possible future Slayers. Of the eight seers on the international payroll for the Watcher's Council, three were currently hospitalized with unexplained comas and three had suffocated in their sleep on three consecutive nights. Travers suspected they had been victims of two different demon attacks on three different days. The eighth psychic was currently sedated in the infirmary at Council headquarters because he had gouged out his own eyes while screaming uncontrollably about Mara Demons and the evil perpetrated by the Council and its far reaching fingers.
Furthermore, the three safe houses maintained for Council retreat and protection in New York, Tokyo, and Rome had been firebombed last night. There had been no fatalities involved with the bombings but the property damage was substantial. In addition, six of the nine current satellite office directors had drowned in the last week. Four had been in their own bathrooms, one in the stream beside his home, and the final one had actually been in his car and no where near any body of water when it occurred.
The final four attacks had been against affiliates of the Council. The emissaries to the Council from the Holy Order of Durendal, the Devon Coven, the Betum Para Vasus, and the Santo Espadas had all been killed on Council grounds. The murders were sure to strain relations with the Council allies. Travers also worried that there might have been additional deaths related to smaller organizations that might not have daily contact with the Watcher's Council.
It was a mess of epic proportions for the Council head to address.
A tentative knock on his inner office door drew Traver's attention from the disturbing information on his desk. Glancing up, the Council head waved Darren Langley to enter. The nervous clerk who had recently graduated with a degree in archeology from the University of Exeter took only one step into the dimly lit office. Quinton rolled his eyes. He was unhappy with most of the recent additions to the Council ranks. Langley and Wyndam-Pryce were the only ones he felt had any real future with the organization. Their educations and family legacies with the organization were impeccable. They were both green and needed more guidance but Travers could see them both contributing to his future visions for the Watcher's Council. Their loyalty was obvious so they would be easily molded to his needs.
Langley apologized for interrupting the director which Travers immediately brushed aside in favor of demanding what precipitated the disruption.
"We just received a call from Thatcher about the Durham Registry," Darren provided.
Travers frowned. Over a decade ago, Thatcher retired from the position of head librarian for the largest collection of books held by the Watcher's Council. He had decided to stay in the city of Durham since he had lived there most of his adult life. If Quentin remembered correctly, Thatcher had a home a few miles from his previous place of employment. The impressive library was housed in the Council owned estate along the River Wear. Worried, Travers could not imagine why the retired gentleman would be contacting the headquarters. If there were problems, there were a number of active Council members working and living in County Durham. He stated as such to the junior councilmen.
For a moment, Langley appeared like he was going to puke. He was definitely flirting with a green pallor. Quinton's guts contracted in fear.
"What happened?" he demanded coldly as a number of horrid scenarios clamored through his mind.
Darren swallowed audibly.
"The Registry is on fire," he offered. Langley's eyes widened slightly at the rage he noted on Travers' face. He took an inadvertent step backwards.
"WHAT?!" demanded the Council head as the pain in his stomach shifted up and into his chest. His breath caught for a moment as an edge of panic skated through his consciousness.
Langley cringed but offered all the information Thatcher had shared. He reported that a fire had started in the residential portion of the estate during the night and that by morning the rapid fire had spread to the Registry. The entire collection was lost and all the active Councilmen were presumed dead in the tragic accident.
Travers rubbed at his chest for a moment as he concentrated on catching his breath. After a moment of quiet, he raised his eyes to Langley.
"Contact the members of the Board," he ordered. "Inform them that we need to hold an emergency meeting. You can find their contact information in Janice's Rolodex. Also, please ask Wesley Wyndam-Price to report to my office. I have some tasks for him to complete before I meet with the board."
Langley nodded and fled from the office. After his exit, Travers lowered himself into his leather chair and he once more rubbed at the throbbing pain in his chest. They needed to do something. He wasn't sure what but some reaction was needed. The Council was bleeding at its seams and Quinton feared what tragedy would be next.
Oz angled his van along the curb in front of Buffy's home. After their meeting in the library, they had dropped Anya off at her apartment on the way back to Revello Drive. With a little grin, Oz nodded towards the Mustang sitting behind Mrs. Summers' SUV in the driveway along the side of the house.
"They've been together three nights this week," Buffy offered as she unhooked her seat belt.
"Thoughts, concerns, tantrums?"
Buffy paused for a moment of consideration as she reached for the door handle.
"Nah... I like Officer Friendly. I think he is good for my mom."
Oz joined Buffy on the sidewalk.
"Good enough to smooth over the arrival of your impending house guest?" he asked as the friends watched Spike's beat up black car barrel into position behind the zebra-painted van.
Buffy took a deep breath.
"Maybe," she considered with a slight shrug. "As long as he doesn't figure out that her boyfriend is an evil undead."
"Gotta hate those pesky little details," Oz responded with a small shake of his head to show how sad those details were.
Suddenly unsure of her decision, Buffy scrunched her nose and frowned.
"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" she whispered as she watched Spike climb from his vehicle and circle to the passenger side to assist Drusilla. Like the gentleman from a previous era that Buffy remembered meeting in the Vacuity, the vampire offered his hand to his lady and drew her from the cracked bench seat. The dark haired woman wavered for a moment until the vampire tucked her arm more securely around his own. He easily took her weight and gently guided her forward. The vampire was solicitous and gentle with the woman and his demeanor only caused Buffy more confusion. She wondered where the mindless killing machine was that was supposedly inside the leather-clad blond.
While watching the couple approach, Oz offered his opinion. "I think that I am not the best judge for this, Buffy. I'm a bit late to the supernatural party. You're the one who knows vamps."
Oz reached out and lightly touched Buffy's forearm. He offered her a supportive smile even if he couldn't help her determine what was the best coarse of action.
"You like to help people though, and Drusilla certainly needs help."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed quietly as she nodded her head in agreement. She reached across her body and lightly squeezed Oz's hand with her free one before shifting to meet the couple approaching her front walk. She stepped away from her friend's touch and faced the strange pair. Absently, her right hand brushed nervously against the stake stashed in her pocket as she stopped a few feet from Spike and Drusilla.
"I'm gonna tell my mom that you're Giles' niece and that you need a place to stay while your are visiting him," Buffy offered Dru before turning her eyes to Spike. "You can't stay the night. That will not go over well with the mom-age."
Spike glanced at his lover with concern.
"What if she needs me?" he murmured. His voice cracked slightly with his concern.
"Just tonight, you can come in and make sure she is comfortable," Buffy offered but then paused. Giles knew how to perform the spell to remove a vampire's invitation to her home so it wasn't like she would be welcoming him forever. "You can't abuse the invite though or our truce is over and you will be dust before sunrise."
Spike nodded in understanding and Dru laid her head against his shoulder. She giggled softly and promised that there was nothing to fear.
"Our William will be the perfect gentleman," she intoned with an innocent smile.
Buffy snorted.
"Big Bads aren't known for their manners," the teen murmured which elicited a chuckle from both Oz and Spike.
A hint of a smile lifted on Buffy's lips as she grandly swept her arm towards the front porch of her house.
"Let's get Drusilla settled," she prompted. "Welcome to Casa Summers. Please wipe your feet, don't eat my pop tarts, and leave your bumpy faces at the door."
Following Buffy's direction, Oz turned towards the house. Before Spike and Drusilla had taken a single step towards the porch though, a sudden call broke the quiet of the night.
"BUFFY!" Angel shouted as he stepped from the darkness near her neighbor's house.
Four sets of eyes instantly swung towards the large vampire who stalked towards the small group.
"Spike!" the older vampire then hissed. "Get away from the Slayer!"
Spike frowned as his eyes slid towards Buffy. Fleetingly, he wondered if Dru was incorrect in her insistence that Buffy was something other than a Slayer. Everyone else seemed to be positive she was the Chosen One and it was starting to make sense. The librarian they met with this evening certainly had the feel of a Watcher. It would explain her skills and strength as well as her mission to rid the world of vamps. Unfortunately, Spike never had a chance to make a questioning eye contact with the blond warrior though because Drusilla took one look at Angel and began keening and shaking violently. She dropped to the ground and only William's supernatural reflexes kept her from collapsing fully to the sidewalk. The young woman tore at her hair and screeched so loudly that even the humans present cringed.
"Angelus," Spike snarled as he pulled Drusilla protectively against his chest. If looks could kill, the older vampire would have been scattering dust on the sidewalk in a heartbeat.
The stake from her pocket was suddenly free in her hand and Buffy stepped between the two vampires. In the periphery of her vision, Oz smartly retreated from the potential altercation. There was no way he wanted in the middle of a Buffy, Angel and Spike brawl. He was way too breakable.
Angel's heart clenched in fear when he realized that the Slayer was giving her back to the Slayer of Slayers.
Spike's eyes widened in surprise when Buffy moved into a position to protect him and Drusilla from the souled vampire.
The front door of the Summers' home opened. Drawn by Drusilla's terrified screaming, Antonio Ricci stepped from the foyer onto the porch. His suit jacket and tie were missing and his sidearm was free in his hand and resting unobtrusively against his pant leg. He called into the darkness towards the unidentified shapes in the front yard. From behind him, Joyce stood silhouetted in the doorway as she strained to see what was happening while still remaining in the relative safety of her home.
"Buffy?" Ricci called in concern as he reached the steps and met Oz moving onto the porch.
Despite the new spectators, Angel and Spike continued to glare at each other but neither made a move. Although the witnesses didn't deter their animosity, their fear of retribution from the tightly coiled warrior who was standing between them and wielding a deadly stake kept them in place. Tension continued to grow as no one made a move of any type.
Drusilla's high pitched wail began to taper away. She was soon left sobbing and shaking as she shifted to mumbling a disjointed prayer of protection against Spike's shirt.
Buffy spared a quick glance towards the approaching officer who was warily assessing the situation as he moved towards the obviously distressed young woman. His gaze narrowed when he noticed the wooden weapon present in Buffy's hand as well as the jumbled Catholic prayer Drusilla muttered. His free hand moved into his pants pocket and withdrew a wooden cross as he stepped close to Buffy while maintaining line of sight with the three unknown and potentially dangerous individuals. His apprehension only grew when Buffy addressed him without her normal joking manner.
"Detective Ricci," she greeted quietly without turning to acknowledge his arrival. "Do you think you could escort my friend Dru inside the house? She doesn't need an invitation and would be much safer there."
The subtle confirmation that Drusilla was human shifted her from danger to potential victim in Ricci's eyes. He stepped closer to the distressed woman in order to offer her assistance.
Buffy heard Spike take a deep breath as if he was about to protest and he moved to hold his lover more securely against his chest.
"No," ordered Angel sharply as he took a step towards Buffy and the police officer. "You can't allow Drusilla in your home, Buffy."
Buffy's eyes snapped with anger.
"I think I can decide who is allowed in my own home, Angel," she firmly replied before prompting Antonio to action. "Please, Detective. Take my friend inside."
Trusting the teen to know better than he knew how to handle whatever supernatural showdown was happening in her front yard, Ricci stepped towards the still terrified young woman. His movement arrested though when Spike issued a guttural growl. His face morphed from his human visage to his game face. Immediately, the gun and the cross rose towards the vampire as Ricci suddenly recognized Spike from the incident at the fraternity house.
Spike took a step back with Drusilla still in his protective embrace.
Thinking everyone was distracted, Angel took another step towards Buffy. Her sight whipped back to the souled vampire. With a fierce frown, Buffy glared at him and held up a hand to warn him to stop. Wisely, Angel obeyed the unspoken request even though he was terribly worried about the danger Spike represented.
"Remember, White Hat," Buffy stressed as she shifted so she could actually see Spike and Dru. She leveled her steady gaze on the angered vampire. "You said that you trusted me. So show it. He is not going to hurt Dru."
Buffy nodded towards the house and her mother and Oz who were both now standing on the porch. "He's just gonna take her to meet my mom. She'll help calm her down. Okay?"
Buffy turned her attention to Drusilla who had shifted away from hiding against Spike so that she could warily watch Angel and Antonio.
"Please go with the officer, Dru. He's a good man," she assured her. "I won't allow anyone here to harm you."
Still shaking, Dru glanced nervously from Buffy to Angel and then to Antonio. She nodded slightly. She leaned back one more time against Spike's chest and patted his arm.
"Sunshine's mummy will be good to me, Our William," she whispered between hiccups as her tears and prayers finally stopped and her body tried to calm itself once more.
His face shifted back to his human guise before Spike reluctantly handed Drusilla towards the police officer. Ricci slipped his firearm into its holster on his belt but retained his hold on the holy cross. With his free arm, he reached towards Dru. Cautiously, he assisted her to step from the grasp of the vampire. Without turning, the officer began retreating towards the porch. His eyes continued to sweep between the two menacing males that were still separated by Buffy.
"No, Buffy," Angel stated firmly one more time as he took another step towards the retreating pair.
Dru stifled another sob as she stiffened and stared at Angel in horror.
"Assist us, O Lord, Our God, and defend us evermore..." Drusilla began praying as she stared at Angel as if he were the manifestation of Lucifer in the flesh. Behind her, Antonio's deep yet steady voice joined her in the Catholic prayer as he shifted the cross in his hand into Dru's grasp.
Together, they held the holy symbol and finished the prayer aloud as they retreated backwards towards the porch.
"By the might of Thy Holy Cross, in whose honour Thou makest us to rejoice. Through Christ our Lord."
They both murmured an amen as they reached the steps. Antonio offered a simple nod to Buffy before backing into the house and pulling Dru along with him. Through the open doorway, Joyce could be seen fussing over the young woman as Oz offered the agreed upon explanation so that Buffy could handle the issues that remained outside. Antonio spared a quick glance into the activity in the foyer before moving back towards porch. He stopped and stood once more in the doorway. The policeman wanted to ensure that Buffy did not need any assistance. Behind him, Joyce drew Drusilla gently away from the open door and into the living room.
When they were out of sight, Buffy took a step forward and turned her attention back to the two vampires. She leveled a blank stare towards Angel.
"Are you here for something specific or did you just need to stop by to cause a touch of mental anguish before bedtime?"
Angel flinched at the unfriendly tone Buffy used.
"Buffy," he replied with obvious distress in his voice. He hadn't meant to instigate a scene but Angel felt he had to protect the Slayer from the threat his vampire family offered her. He tried to explain how dangerous Spike and Drusilla were but was interrupted by a derisive snort from the other vampire.
"Never took you for an idiot, Angelus," stated Spike as he shook his head.
"Shut up, Spike," Angel ordered. "And it's Angel now. Not Angelus."
Angel turned back to Buffy.
"You have to know that Dru and Spike are dangerous," he stressed. "I can't understand why you invited Drusilla into your home. What were you thinking?"
"She's harmless, Angelus," Spike responded with emphasis on the elder vampire's name.
Angel's eyes narrowed.
"You have two choices here, leave or dust," the older vampire threatened.
A wicked grin grew across Spike's lips.
"Not my dust I would be worrying about," the bleached blond countered as he bounced slightly and shifted his legs into a more aggressive stance.
"Oh my god, would you two just stop," demanded Buffy as she resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in hopes of relieving the stress headache that was building behind her eyes. For two vampires who were family and had been companions for many years, there was an unexpected amount of resentment snapping between the two males. Buffy sighed. She had enough to worry about and didn't need whatever animosity was flowing between Spike and Angel to make her stress worse. "I so don't need this right now," she muttered in annoyance.
Buffy pointed her stake at Angel.
"You... what do you need? Why are you here?"
Spike snorted and Buffy glared at him before pointing her stake at him and telling him to shut up. That comment pulled a little smirk from Angel. She turned her attention back to Angel and waited expectantly.
"Buffy, Spike is..."
"Why. Are. You. Here?" bit out Buffy as she shifted her hold on her stake so that it was in a position for an easier attack.
Both Angel and Spike took an uncomfortable step back from the armed and annoyed teen.
When Angel tried one more time to emphasize the danger Spike represented, Buffy interrupted him yet again. She made a final demand of his purpose while making it perfectly clear that she had everything under control in regards to Spike and Drusilla.
Angel sighed and shook his head. He was at a loss of how to convince the Slayer that her mother and friends not to mention herself were in the gravest of dangers from inviting one of the members of the Whirlwind into her home.
"She's a sodding human," Spike finally stated when he was sure his grandsire was about to start the argument anew. The younger vampire wasn't sure how Angel hadn't noticed Dru's change but he wasn't about to miss the chance to mock him for the mistake.
Angel's mouth remained open but no sound emerged. For a heartbeat, no one said anything.
"I don't understand. Human? How can Dru be human?"
"She had a minor meeting with a misplaced Archangel on Halloween," Buffy tried to explain.
"Human?" Angel repeated as he glanced between Spike and Buffy as he tried to gauge the truth of the statement.
"Might have been a bit of an oops," Buffy replied as she offered a tiny sheepish smile and shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
"More than a bloody oops," Spike muttered with disgust.
Unexpectedly, Buffy reached out to touch Spike's arm. She gave it a gentle squeeze as she turned back to Angel.
Surprised, Spike fell silent while Buffy offered the other vampire a better explanation of what happened to Drusilla. William glanced down at the hand still resting against his coat sleeve. He hadn't expected the little warrior to touch him in any manner that did not involve violence. He stared at her hand and wondered if she meant to offer him comfort. Spike scowled as he tried to figure out why Buffy would do such a thing. In his mind, it made no sense. Good guys were not supposed to be supportive of the emotional state of the bad guys.
While Spike contemplated the strangeness that was Buffy, the pretty teen finished her resurrection story. Angel stood in shock for a moment before turning hurt eyes towards Buffy.
"Why Drusilla? Why didn't you resurrect me?" he asked with a distinct note of pain and a hint of accusation in his tone.
Buffy sighed. Her shoulders slumped slightly and she shook her head.
"If I had been in control, I would have offered you the chance," she admitted softly. "Unfortunately, I wasn't in charge. I was just a passenger inside the Archangel. I was there but it was like I was watching something from inside a glass box inside my own body."
"I still don't understand why you... er... the angel you, resurrected Dru but not me. Or even Spike."
Buffy smiled again and squeezed Spike's arm one more time before releasing him.
"The angel couldn't catch Spike," she replied with obvious respect for the leather clad vamp's ability to avoid Drusilla's fate. Buffy offered Angel an apologetic smile. "It wouldn't have worked on you, though. If the angel had struck your demon from you, you would have been nothing but dead. You had no soul to be pulled from the Pit to be forced back into you because it is already tied into you by the curse."
"You would have just been dead with a shattered soul leaking from the dead body just like any other dead body. In a few days, all the remaining bits of soul would have leaked from your corpse and rejoined in the Pit before being sent to its final desitination. The angel ripped the demon from Dru then pulled her soul from the Pit and shoved it back into her form. Umm, the act of shoving the soul into the body is what caused the resurrection. It all had to do with the soul. Souls seemed really important to the Archangel. I think it was the its job to judge them in the Pit. Dru's soul, it was..."
Buffy paused as she tried to find the proper words to describe the soul she had held in her hand for a moment.
"It was this tiny, quaking thing. Delicate. Beautiful. And blessed by the Father. It would have already passed to Heaven if it hadn't been held in the Pit by its tie to Dru's demon."
"Vampires are doomed to Hell," Angel stated firmly in denial of what he was hearing about Drusilla's soul.
Buffy worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts. She had been privy to so much information inside the angel's form but the teen wasn't exactly sure what it all meant. She was definitely sure that she couldn't properly describe everything. Despite her insecurity, she was still going to make an attempt with sharing.
"I don't really understand about theology or dimensions or how everything is supposed to fit together. I'm not sure how the judging and the shifting and the whole go to Heaven or Hell thing versus other types of afterlife works but I do know, because I could see and feel it during the spell, that there is still a connection from the soul in the Pit and the demon in a vampire's body. There isn't any soul in the body on Earth. Just the demon giving it life... um... unlife."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and stomach in a protective hug for herself. She shrugged because she didn't feel like she was explaining thing properly.
"I think that the time it takes for the demon to rise, is the time it takes for the soul to completely leave the body. The more the soul clings to humanity, to life, the longer it takes to scatter and reconnect in the Pit."
Spike stepped forward and touched Buffy's arm in order to draw her attention to him. A slightly hopeful expression could just be seen in the dim light.
"You're saying that when the vamp dies that the soul can still go to Heaven?"
Buffy considered for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah, once the demon dies, the soul is released to where it belongs."
"But what about all the evil it did? All the death and destruction?" Angel asked in confusion. He had always thought that his soul was damned to Hell as soon as he became a vampire.
Now it was Buffy's turn to appear confused.
"Why would the soul be responsible for something the demon did?"
"Because..." Angel replied but fell silent. He didn't really have any idea of why he would have thought that way. He reconsidered all the information Buffy had shared until he hit upon an idea to refute her claim. "But you said that the demon was connected to the soul. So surely the demon's sins taints the soul with its actions."
Once again, Buffy reached towards Spike. She grabbed his hand tightly and refused to release him when he reflexively tried to pull away.
"I am now connected to Spike. Held together but that doesn't mean his actions are my own. I am no more responsible for his sins than he is for mine."
Angel frowned as he stared at the joined hands. With a grunt of annoyance, Spike yanked his hand free from Buffy's grasp and quickly put both his hands in the pockets of his duster. He took a step back in order to be out of reach of the strange teen who was confusing him with her casual acceptance of his demonic state.
Angel rubbed his head and sighed.
"I think this might be more than I can handle tonight," the vampire admitted before he offered Spike one last fierce frown. "Even if Dru is now human, Willie here is still a vampire and you are making a big mistake by not dusting him right now. You're the Slayer. You're supposed to dust vampires. Not slaying him makes you responsible for all the victims he kills in the future."
Buffy felt like growling but simply pressed her lips together in annoyance before reminding Angel that she was not the Slayer.
"You can't not be the Slayer, Buffy," Angel explained with a shake of his head. He didn't understand the changes the teenager had been showing since Spring and he couldn't comprehend how she could claim to no longer be the Slayer. As long as she lived, she would be the Chosen One. The vampire shook his head as he decided her strange attitude change and denial of her destiny would be something he would worry about after addressing the issue with his soul.
"I think we should meet with Giles and discuss your concerns about your destiny when I return."
Buffy frowned.
"You're going somewhere?"
Angel nodded then explained that he was seeking advice and intervention in regards to his soul from a shaman that Ms. Calander recommended. The mage lived in the outskirts of Cleveland and the computer teacher had been in contact with him in the past for questions she had regarding her neo-pagan practices. The vampire was hoping he would have insight into the curse.
"I don't know how long I will be gone," Angel expressed in hopes that Buffy would share at least a little bit of regret at his leaving.
"Have a safe trip," she simply replied without any of the emotional connection that the souled vampire had hoped to be offered. For a moment, Angel stood and waiting for more. When nothing was added, he turned from the teen with a dejected expression haunting his eyes. He moved towards the darkness leaving Buffy with Spike. Before he disappeared, he turned towards his grandchilde.
"Spike. If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and avenge her. Before I am done, you will beg for me to kill you."
Spike waved and ignored the threat with an evil grin on his face.
"Safe trip, Angelus," he called with a false good will in his tone.
Angel stared in return for a moment before turning and rushing into the darkness. In his wake, Buffy sighed.
"Let's go check on Drusilla," she murmured as she turned towards her porch.
This time, it was Spike who reached towards Buffy's arm. His fingers barely brushed over her sleeve before she responded. In a heartbeat, she turned, swept away his hand, stepped back and lifted her stake in response to potential attack. Just like the previous evening, Spike raised his hands and called peace.
"Whoa... truce, pet. Remember?"
After a deep and calming breath, Buffy nodded. Spike lowered his hands.
"Before we head in, will you answer two questions?"
Again, Buffy nodded even though it was apparent to the vamp that she did not want to remain in her front yard any longer. Her eyes shifted back and forth in the darkness and her grip on her stake whitened her knuckles.
"Is it really true that the soul of someone who is turned can really go to Heaven? If they were a good and gentle person in life? Being a vampire doesn't matter?"
"Yes," Buffy simply answered.
In the dim light, an expression that Buffy could only describe as profound relief washed over her companion's face. It was only there for a moment before it was gone but it was enough to make Buffy wonder just why the vampire was so interested in the possible truth of afterlife. The teen would have asked about Spike's reaction if he had not immediately voiced his second question.
"Why are you the Slayer but not the Slayer? You got the Slayer package but Dru calls you the Daughter. She's normally right 'bout this stuff, so care to clear the mud?"
Buffy's shoulders slumped.
"That isn't really an easy one to answer," she replied as she reached the steps to her porch. Antonio asked if everything was fine and she assured him that everything was under control. She promised to come in as soon as she finished talking with her new friend. Both Spike and Ricci started at Buffy's claim of the vampire as her friend. The officer shook his head but conceded to wait for her inside the house.
Once the officer reentered the house and closed the door, Buffy found a seat on the porch steps. With a self-conscious smile on his lips, Spike slid into the spot on the step he had occupied last night when he sought her help. His head tilted a bit to the right as he watched the teen fidget slightly with the sleeves of her shirt. He wondered if the teen even realized she was making the same nervous fidgeting motions that he had noticed her make a couple times already.
"Okay," Buffy started with a deep breath that stalled Spike's wandering thoughts. "The Slayer is in Italy. At least, that was the last thing I heard."
Spike nodded since Dru had mentioned something along those lines also.
"She was called after the Chosen One in India died and that one was called after I died."
Spike frowned.
"You look a bit alive for being dead, pet."
Buffy snorted as she ran her hands nervously over her sleeves again. Unconsciously, she adjusted their length so that they fully covered her arms and then she ran her hands along the bottom of her shirt too. Again, Spike watched the motion with narrowed eyes and wondered about the purpose of her actions.
"I died last Spring and my Slayerness got passed to the next oh so lucky Chosen girl. Instead of staying dead though, Officer Friendly found me and resuscitated me. Despite his timely help, I was slipping towards dead again when the Entity took me aside and offered me a world of choices."
Buffy paused as if gauging Spike's response to her mention of the Entity. When he didn't seem to recognize the reference, a bite of disappointment gnawed at her tummy. It pricked something deep inside that he didn't remember their interaction in the Vacuity. Buffy's lip protruded ever so slightly in a pout as she wondered why Spike found her so forgettable when she remembered him so clearly. It especially made no sense to her since Oz remembered their shared dream quite clearly.
"Choices and Chosen," Spike muttered into the silent pause as he finally understood the phrase that Drusilla had been repeating for months.
Pushing aside her dashed hopes, Buffy nodded.
"Yup. I chose life. I chose to be the Daughter and all that it entailed. Although, it isn't much with the 'tailing," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "Mostly, I get to be the me from before I died. As far as I can tell I am just giving the Entity a chance to experience the world with me. Not sure what else might pop up down the line but for now, that is me."
"No more sacred duty for me. Just my own choices."
"And you choose to hunt vamps, Slayer?"
Although she recognized Spike's tone of voice when he called her Slayer as being the same teasing emphasis he placed on Angelus' name, Buffy ignored the jibe and nodded with a smile.
"Yup... gotta go with what your good at and well, slaying is the one place I do excel."
With that statement, Buffy stood and wiped her hands across the back of her pants to remove any dirt from the seat of her pants. Spike mirrored her movement and followed her towards the front door.
"You ever consider switching sides since you're all with the no destiny gig?"
Buffy opened the door and glanced over his shoulder. She smiled at the intrigued vampire.
"Nope... I look too good in white," she replied as she stepped inside. "Maybe you should try it on some time?"
Spike shuddered and scowled at her impertinent suggestion but followed her into her house after she issued an invitation. He might not be interested in joining the white hats but that wouldn't keep him from accepting their help. In his mind, Drusilla was worth it. As he stepped into the foyer of the Summers house and was warmly introduced to Joyce and Antonio, William acknowledged the disquieting idea that getting to know Buffy might be worth the effort too.