Chapter Eight
Sunday, November 10, 2002 – Xander's apartment, Sunnydale; night:
Quickly glancing around the bedroom whilst trying to think of how to spend the evening, Spike then stared up at the ceiling, wondering how his un-life had come to this. All of the turmoil and chaos of the previous year, and then having his solution to it pretty much blow up in his face – and leave him even more screwed up and confused than he'd been before.
Woulda been a lot simpler if that damned demon in Senegal had turned him back to what he was after them Trials, like he'd asked for. Not into something he'd never been and didn't know how to deal with. After all, who in their right mind would take that demand and decide that it meant he wanted to be a vampire with a soul?
Not a monster, and definitely not a man. A vampire caught halfway between the two, not knowing how to be either one anymore, and still with that bleedin' chip in his head.
He distinctly remembered saying, "So you'll give me what I want? Make me what I was. So Buffy can get what she deserves." But the stupid incompetent ponce had buggered that simple request to hell 'n back!
Oh, he understood why the demon hadn't just removed the chip and made him back into the vampire Drusilla had created, way back when. What he had been. The Slayer didn't deserve that. But why couldn't that bloody thing have turned him all the way back into human William? Not that whimpering, bookish little nebbish with his gawd-awful poetry and mother fixation, o' course, but... sodding hell. If that cave demon had humanized him with his memories of the past hundred and twenty years intact, maybe he could have –
{ No. Slayer wasn't 'appy with Captain Cardboard, she wouldn't go fer William Pratt either. }
Absently, Spike figured that one of these days, he'd explain to Buffy just why she needed a little monster in her man. Because she couldn't be satisfied or happy with just the human thing, now, could she? She needed someone who could equal and complement her in all ways. Last year, he'd thought that 'someone' was himself...
{ At least until she told me she didn't love me. That she could never love me. And then I went and almost... no, don't wanna think about that. Not now. Not ever! }
Still. Lying around staring at the ceiling and brooding wasn't accomplishing anything either, was it?
No! Not brooding, damn it. Soul he may have, but he wasn't the gelled-hair ponce – always grumping and moaning about his guilt and mooning over his past misdeeds. Misdeeds that Spike was pretty sure the wanker actually kind of enjoyed remembering – probably where all of Angel's brooding came from.
He then heard the front door open, and footsteps travel through the living room and down the short hallway past his cubbyhole bedroom. Not long after he heard rummaging sounds, followed by the slamming of the bathroom door and water running in the shower.
{ Great. Droopy Boy's home. }
Ah well. Maybe his unwilling flatmate would be up for a spot of pool at the Bronze, or heading out to Willy's to roust a few demons. Even if they didn't particularly like each other... hell, most of the time, they couldn't bloody well stand each other, and he was pretty sure that Harris occasionally hated his guts... the whelp wasn't half-arsed bad in a brawl, even if Spike figured he'd be the last person or demon to actually tell him that.
Screw it. Give him a few to finish up his shower, and then wander out and see. Couldn't hurt, and it beat the hell out of lying here or trying to find something worthwhile on the Sunday night telly.
Once the water shut off and the rummaging sounds disappeared in the other bedroom, Spike sat up, stretching. Giving it a little while longer for Harris to get settled, he walked out the bedroom door, and sure enough – the bloke was sitting on the couch, looking through a photo album. { What the heck, guess it beats watching Passions reruns... }
Shrugging, Spike told the human, "I'm headin' for the Bronze, or maybe Willy's. You – "
"Great. Have fun – and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," the git interrupted absently, still focused on the pictures he was looking at.
{ OK. So much for inviting the putz out for a spot of pool and demon bashing. }
Looking up after a moment to find him still standing there and scowling, Harris scowled back and said, "What? Forgot where the door is already? Too much hair dye leaking into your brain?"
Well, naturally, he couldn't just leave after hearing the sodding arse pop off with something like that. He bloody well knew Harris disliked and probably even hated him because of what he'd almost done to Buffy last year; but in Spike's view, that didn't mean giving the whelp a free pass to insult him whenever he liked. So he strolled over to the couch and said, "Wotcher lookin' at, mate?" before snatching the album away.
"Hey, give that back!" Xander said angrily, getting up off the couch and grabbing at the album.
Spike only had time for a brief glimpse of a high school graduation photo of Harris and that brunette bint he'd used to run around with before Anya had entered the scene, but that glimpse was enough for him to guess what was going through the useless arsehole's mind. So he released the book, before their struggle over it ripped the bloody thing apart.
"The cheerleader with the big knockers? Indulging in a bit of nostalgia tonight, are we?" Spike smirked. "Kinda surprised, actually. Thought that bird had flown out of yer mind years ago."
"What are you talking about?" Harris demanded, looking annoyed.
"Well, ya got caught cheating on her with Red, ya pillock! And I heard 'ow that chit got injured 'cause you couldn't restrain yerself back then. So why'd you want to be reminded of her?" Spike demanded, honestly curious.
"You know," Harris replied, his voice now low and angry. "Considering that you were the reason that Will and I were trapped in that damn factory in the first place, and so it's partly your fault that Cordy got injured that way – that might not be the best part of Memory Lane to go walking down, Fangless."
Spike winced internally at the sudden pang of guilt that went through him, not really knowing what to do with it, and so he shook it off angrily. Not letting his emotions show on his face, he just shrugged and flipped a hand dismissively. "Just sayin' is all, mate. Didn't she pretty much stomp on yer heart and bugger off to the big city, never to be seen again? So wotta ya want to be dredging up old pains like that for, anyway?"
It came out a lot kinder and gentler-sounding than Spike had intended it to, and he hated himself for it. But blast it all, anyway – not like he hadn't seen and felt his share of that sort o' thing.
"I could ask you the exact same question where Buffy's concerned. Y'know, after what happened six months ago," Xander fired back, the angry look deepening on his face.
"That's different, that is," Spike replied uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he'd just left instead of deciding to bait Harris a little.
"Yeah? How? And I swear, I still don't get why Slay-gal did the whole 'forgive and forget' routine for what happened that night. If I was her, I'd have staked you the moment you showed your face in Sunnydale again – insane-o fruitcake or otherwise," the useless bricklayer spat.
"Good thing fer me you're not her, then," Spike said somewhat flippantly, shaking his head. He sighed and began heading toward the front door. "Anyway, like I said, I'm heading out – "
"I went to see Faith today," Harris said somewhat abruptly, causing him to pause and turn back to stare at the bloke in confusion. The ponce then elaborated, "The other Slayer? The one who's in prison, upstate? She told me that you met her while she was driving Buffy's body around, way back when. Made some kinda comment about you popping like warm champagne?"
At once, Spike had a flashback to that night in the Bronze when Buffy had acted so... un-Buffylike. Then he focused and said, "Yeah, so?"
"Faith asked me why you got your soul back, pal. Then she made some kinda comment about how, after Angel set the trend, all the cool kids are following in his footsteps. Kinda made me wonder, ya know?"
Spike immediately scowled and glowered at the construction worker. "I'm not some bloody copycat, Harris! And even if I was, the Magnificent Poof is the last vampire whose footsteps I'd want to follow in!"
"Gee, Spike, no reason to get so upset. And hey – I'm sure I'm not the only one in our little social circle who's been wondering why you did what you did, last year. And is it my fault that the most likely reason you went all soul-having like your undead grandpa, is that you're trying to compete with his memory in Buffy's heart? Even if we both know that's, like, completely pointless?"
Harris then smirked knowingly, "It must just eat you up that he got there first... "
Snarling, Spike spun on his heel and started heading for the apartment's front door. "Bugger this!"
"If you say so." Xander smirked again, as he sat down on the couch and resumed looking through his photo album. "Couldn't help noticing you didn't deny it, though."
Fuming, Spike stalked out of the apartment, slamming the front door shut as he did so.
A minute or so later – outside of the Montgomery apartment complex in north-eastern Sunnydale; night:
Amy watched as the platinum-haired figure in black jeans exited the apartment building, glanced around, and then stomped off into the night. { OK, good. One down, one to go... }
After another ten minutes or so, another figure exited the building, heading out toward a burgundy car in the front parking lot. Amy watched as the young man entered the vehicle, and then the Ford Taurus backed out of the parking slot. It subsequently drove off, heading for the town's central business district.
{ Still can't believe that different circumstances, I'd have ended up an item with Xander freaking Harris, } Amy thought to herself, as she vanished into the shadows – and then reappeared within Xander's apartment. { OK, so I heard from Willow – assuming that bitch wasn't lying to me – that Xander's some kinda Viking in the sack, nowadays. Well, according to that Anya person, anyway, when she was boasting about their sex life. But the great sex alone wouldn't have been enough for a long-term relationship, would it? Can't help thinking it's pretty unlikely, anyway. }
Amy shook her head, forcing such thoughts away and locking them up in a mental cupboard with a huge padlock. Like Whistler had said – whatever might have happened all those years ago, the reality was that she and Xander were nothing but distant acquaintances, here and now – and given his attachment to his red-haired best friend, not exactly friendly ones, either. { Better to focus on the mission. Not that Whistler has really explained why all this needs to be done, of course, but still. }
Amy brought out the Orb of Thesulah, and looked at the misty white light that was trapped within it. She set it down on Xander's breakfast bar and chanted, "Lansare!"
The white mist was immediately released from the Orb, which went dark. For a moment, the immortal soul of Dennis Pearson was visible to Amy's eyes – before it vanished from sight. Amy frowned, "Dennis? Dennis, are you here?"
The lights briefly flickered on and off, which Amy took as a 'yes'. "OK, good, I was afraid for a moment that the anchoring spell didn't work. Now remember – you need to keep a low profile until it's time to reveal yourself, understood? Don't let either Xander or Cordelia know you're here, until you have to."
Again, the lights flickered on and then off again, but Amy got the impression that Phantom Dennis wanted to know why she'd told him to do that. "Because Cordelia doesn't know who you are anymore, that's why! She thinks she's still seventeen, she'll freak out over the presence of a ghost – and Xander probably won't be much better. I know it sucks for you, but – well, that's just the way it is. And according to Whistler, this is the best way Cordelia will get any happiness out of this whole amnesia deal. And that's what's important to you, right?"
The lights flickered yet again, in a way that indicated acceptance to her. So Amy nodded, and after a few long moments, she added softly, "Right. Well, good luck, Dennis. And keep an eye out for anything apocalyptic, for all our sakes!"
Grabbing the Orb, Amy took one last look around the Harris apartment. Then, stepping back, she simply faded into the shadows and vanished from sight.
A few moments later – Osgood Avenue, not far from the Bronze, Sunnydale; night:
Frigging Spike. Faith had been right: he really should just stake the bleached-hair menace and put him out of everyone's misery. Sighing, Xander shook his head and did his best to simply shove all thoughts of the vampire out of his mind.
At least he'd managed to grab a shower and change, after spending way too much time struggling with that flat. And he'd finally managed to get to the Espresso Pump just before it closed, so he could get himself coffee and a snack and something to munch on for the morning. Jeez.
It was like the universe was freaking conspiring to keep him from getting to the Bronze in time to enjoy a simple beer and maybe a quick round of knocking balls around a pool table, before calling it a night.
He'd damned near said, 'the hell with it,' and just swung by Willy's to knock back a brewski while glaring at the local vamps, and shoot the shit with the weasel-y bartender -slash- snitch. But that felt way too much like showing the flag and working, and this was his night off, damn it.
Besides, there was something itching at the back of his mind that he really should just keep to plan and hit the Bronze tonight. No reason he could put his finger on; just a nagging suspicion that since Buffy didn't always include it on her usual patrols these days, someone should drop in and scope the place out. It was a favorite hunting ground for the teen vamp population, after all...
Turning the wheel, Xander slowed down and pulled into the parking lot of the nightclub, feeling himself tense up almost immediately.
Case in point, right there.
And oh, great and wonderful – freaking Devon and one of his undead buddies, with some college-age girl running for her life away from them. Right out in the main parking lot.
{ Nice curves on that babe, } Xander noted appreciatively as he cut around the end of the first row of parked cars, straightening the wheel and hitting the gas. { Shouldn't be wearing heels, though. Can't run in them worth a damn – }
{ And hey, hi there, Devon. Pause and look up at the sound of the racing engine, that's a good vamp. }
Wincing as the impact crunched the front bumper and grill of his Taurus – damn, it was gonna cost to get that fixed – Xander winced again as the former lead singer of the Dingoes rolled across the hood and up over the windshield, flying back to land somewhere behind the car. Starring the frickin' windshield on his way over, damn it.
{ Yup. Definitely gonna pay for getting that fixed, too. } Ignoring that unwelcome thought and stomping down on the brakes, Xander reached down into the passenger footwell and grabbed the pistol grip of the compact crossbow he kept there, and then shoved the driver's side door open.
It smashed the other vamp across the knees and midsection, just as he was turning around to face the car. Mouth open and a look of stupid surprise on the demonic face, vamp the drummer boy went staggering back...
One down.
One to go.
Xander unfolded himself up and out of the driver's seat, bringing the crossbow over and down to bear as he stood.
Just another night on the Hellmouth.
A few moments previously – the Bronze parking lot, Sunnydale; night:
Unfortunately, it seemed as if Vamp Devon's prediction was very likely to come true, damn it – still wearing the same heels she'd had on in L.A. only a few short hours ago, Cordelia could no more outrun the two soulless demons than she could escape from Ratty, Stringy and their friends on Hyperion Avenue. She tried to head for the Bronze, but just as Devon was about to grab her...
"HEY!"
The roar of a car engine and a squeal of tires on asphalt gave her an unexpected break. Devon stopped, whipping around to face the source of the noise, and Jace halted as well, beginning to turn. "Watch where you're driving, you moron!" the undead drummer shouted.
Cordelia didn't. She threw one fast glance over her shoulder and put on a burst of speed to gain some distance, and kept running. Unfortunately, she only made it about six more steps before one of the stupid heels turned under her, and she went down on one knee and the palm of her hand. { Ow! }
{ Stupid heels. Maybe the glance back was a mistake, } Cordelia reflected to herself.
The next moment, a burgundy and silver Ford Taurus came straight at Devon, smacking into him at full speed. There was a crunch of metal and composites, and a roar of pain from the soulless vampire. Devon flew up and over the hood of the car and into the windshield, rolling and thumping up and over and disappearing somewhere way to the back of the vehicle.
The driver was already slamming on the brakes and slewing the wheel over, as a harsh THUD! came from the pavement behind the rear bumper.
Jace snarled something obscene and took three long steps toward the rapidly stopping car, only to have the driver's door slam open and take him across both knees and the belly. He went staggering back and away from the car as fast as he'd moved in on it, and a lot more unsteadily.
And oh ye gods, Xander unfolded himself out of the driver's seat and stood up behind the opening door, with a loaded crossbow in one hand.
"Hi there, Jace," her boyfriend said cheerfully, with a slightly manic expression. "Didn't they tell you that the Bronze doesn't do fast food anymore?"
"Fuck you, Harris," Jace snarled out, straightening in what looked like a painful manner. "Always the wise a-"
A loud twang was easily heard as Xander triggered the pistol-gripped crossbow, and a wooden bolt flashed through the chest of the undead drummer, right at heart level. Jace stopped in mid-snarl and a startled expression briefly crossed his face, before he exploded into dust with the horrible whistling shriek of an escaping demon.
"Xander?" Cordelia couldn't believe her eyes. She'd been driving around this whole freaking town looking for him, and now suddenly the Doofus pops up right in the nick of time in order to rescue her? Not that she was complaining or anything...
"Xander!"
They both heard a thudding clatter of boots on sheet steel, and Devon lurched up over the trunk of the Taurus and onto the roof like a drunken Frankenstein.
"Aw, crap... " Xander said, turning. Dropping the crossbow, he reached for a stake tucked into his belt, as a seriously pissed-off vampiric Devon launched himself off of the roof of the car and onto him.
Both of them went down and over backwards, Devon on top. Xander somehow managed to get a leg and a foot up between him and the vampire, and shoved up and out with it while pulling down with the hand that had grabbed a fistful of Devon's shirt. The undead lead singer went up and over Xander's head, to land sprawling on the pavement way too near to her.
{ Indian rifle throw, } was the first thought that passed through Cordelia's mind. { That's what Xander and Jesse always used to call that thing... the fall backward and throw from all those idiotic Western TV shows we used to watch as little kids... }
Devon flashed her a hideous smile full of fangs, and snarled, "Don't go anywhere, babe – I'll be right back!" as he lurched up onto his feet. Foot – one leg didn't seem to be working right.
Xander threw himself at Devon, cursing, stake held ready and coming down. But the vampire grabbed her boyfriend's staking arm by the wrist with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and they began to struggle. Cordelia watched them do so while scrambling to her feet, part elated and part worried that now that she had finally found who she'd been looking for – she was going to lose him to a stupid, idiotic vampire!
"God damn it!" She decided to join the fight, and attacked Devon from behind, shoving both him and her boyfriend down to the ground. They ended up on the hard concrete of the parking lot with Devon sandwiched between Xander on the bottom, and Cordelia on the top. Luckily, with her weight on top of him and Xander's leverage against the ground, Devon could no longer hold back the stake, and it plunged into his chest.
With the hissing scream of a suddenly ejected demon, the one-time Dingoes' lead singer exploded into ashes between them, the inner skeleton visible for one timeless moment – and then Cordelia collapsed down on top of Xander. Ow. Freaking stake.
Still, she wasn't going to complain –
"Oh, God, Xander!" Cordelia cried out in combined passion and relief, throwing her arms around his neck as she started kissing him passionately. She was so overwrought with emotion, so relieved and happy to see him, the action was as instinctive as it was desirable in her mind.
Vaguely, Cordelia figured her boyfriend had to be... surprised, to say the least. After all, they'd been apart for almost five years now and there was no telling what terms they'd parted on.
The hell with it. Right now, Cordelia definitely didn't care about all that. And to be honest – the Dweeb didn't seem to be in any great hurry to end the kiss, either.
Wasn't even that surprising. Not like he was a stranger to having her tongue mine for his tonsils.
"Mmmmmm," Xander moaned, the concrete crunching under his back a little as Cordelia kept attempting to devour his tongue. "Mmm! Cordy?" he finally managed to say, after tearing his lips away from hers.
"Xander – " she replied, before her expression froze up. Hastily lifting herself off of him, she scrambled back while staring at Harris in sudden horror.
"What is it, Cor? What's wrong?" Xander asked her in concern.
"You're, you're... you're old!" Cordelia blurted out, looking horrified. She jumped hastily to her feet, stumbling a bit on that stupid broken heel again.
"I'm what?"
Looking completely befuddled, Xander managed to get up onto his feet a bit slower and more awkwardly than she had. OK, not much more awkwardly – he wasn't wearing heels. The jerk.
"You're not seventeen anymore! You're an old-looking twenty-something! OK, don't get me wrong, it looks good on you – hell, it looks great on you, but that's not the point!" she ranted, almost directly in his face. "Damn it, Dork – what's going on? Why did I wake up in some weird hotel in L.A. with a bunch of losers I didn't even know, and Evil Angel of all people – did I get kidnapped by Angelus or something? And why am I looking like, like this?"
"Huh?" Harris looked like he honestly didn't get any of that. Cordelia wanted to slap him one for it. Or burst into tears. She wasn't quite sure which one she wanted to do first, so she settled for continuing to yell at him.
"And why are all the newspapers and magazines I've read tonight telling me it's been nearly five years since the last thing I remember this morning? Where are my parents? Why is my home an abandoned-looking mess? For God's sake, what the hell happened?" Cordelia screamed in the parking lot, which was luckily deserted apart from the two of them.
"OK, Cordy, just... just calm down," Xander said soothingly, instinctively taking her in his arms and giving her a comforting hug as tears started to splash down her cheeks. He eventually managed to get her calmed down, after listening to her babble into his shirtfront like an idiot while turning into a complete wreck. He then said, "I dunno for sure what's happened to you, Cordy, or why you don't remember anything past May of junior year. But I'll help you find out, if you let me. OK?"
"Fine," Cordelia sniffled, clinging to him like a human barnacle. "But I want answers, damn it, so let's hear some!"
"Uh, not here," Xander decided, looking around. "Let's go somewhere a little more public, I don't want to tempt fate with any more vampire surprises tonight. Look, Cordy, if you'll give me a chance, I promise that I'll explain what happened to your parents and your house, and everything else, but – but you'll need to brace yourself, as it really has been more than four years since then, and a lot has happened... "
{ Just great. } Cordelia couldn't help thinking that, somehow, the nightmare had only just begun...
A while later – Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale; night:
{ It's totally dead around here tonight, } Buffy decided, looking around. Pun fully intentional. "Here, vampires... " she crooned softly, hoping that one of them would hear her. "Weak, helpless girl... neck all moist and delicious... "
But when none of the undead appeared, she started to look annoyed. "Oh, come on!"
It was partly her own fault, granted. Being the Slayer on the active Hellmouth for six-plus years (not counting the months she'd been dead or on sabbatical in L.A., of course) meant that just about the entire supernatural community was aware of who she was by now. Buffy had no use for the whole secret identity thing – and hey, Darwin was absolutely right about evolutionary selection pressure; by this point, apart from the newly-risen vamps who still had dirt behind their ears, and the occasional Master-level vampire or demon badass, the members of Team Evil knew enough to stay away from her if they didn't want to get killed.
Well, crap. This obviously wasn't working.
{ Stupid vampires. Never around when you want one, } Buffy thought in annoyance, as she walked through Sunnydale's biggest cemetery.
"Looking for me?"
Buffy whirled around, seeing an impossible sight – Darla. Angel's sire. Number one offspring of the Master himself. "What the-?" Then she got it. { Great. The First decided to look like her? }
"No, not me. I can tell you're not in the mood for this face," the eldritch horror shrugged. It then morphed into the image of Glory, the long-deceased hellgod that had almost destroyed the world. "OK, lemme guess what you're looking for, instead of who. You want a way to be free of it all, don't you?"
Glory morphed into Warren, with an ugly sneer on his face. "You also want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror, and not be disgusted by what you see. You want... "
Warren morphed into the image of her mother, Joyce. "...mommy's forgiveness for your sins. Too bad it's never going to happen, dear."
"Stop looking like her, First-y," Buffy gritted out, trying to keep a lid on her temper. She then walked on, attempting to ignore the First desecrating her mother's memory. Unfortunately, the First Evil didn't give up that easy...
"You obviously don't get it, Buffy. It's not about what you want. Likewise, it's not about right, not about wrong... "
The First then manifested itself right in front of her as she skidded to a shocked halt, almost unable to believe how the ancient evil was now using her own face instead of her mother's. "It's about power. Remember how you gave Dawnie that speech a few months back? Power. Who's got it. Who knows how to use it. So... who do you think has the power? You or me?"
"What are you talking about?" Buffy blurted out, instantly annoyed with herself for being drawn into this thing's totally stupid conversation.
"Well, newsflash, but I am eternal. How's that for power?"
Buffy forced herself to calm down, and calmly poked the First Evil in its non-corporeal shoulder. "I dunno. How's that?"
"Cute," the First said, before it morphed into Angel – no, not Angel, Angelus. She could tell from the cruel smirk. "You wanna know what I want?"
"No, but I get the feeling you'll tell me, anyway."
"Good guess. I want to feel, lover. I want to put my hands around an innocent's neck and feel it crack. I want to bite into a young girl's neck and feel the blood slurping its way down my throat. Whereas all you want is to know the peace and enlightenment of Heaven once more."
Angelus/the First laughed cruelly. "That's the difference between us; I want to be somebody, but you want to be nobody. Which is fine; I can be patient, not to mention obliging. You'll get your wish – you and all your friends."
The First then vanished in a short burst of white light, and the sound of running footsteps caused her to spin around, the stake coming up automatically as her other hand rose to block or punch. Seeing only a familiar-looking redhead running up, panting loudly, Buffy sighed and lowered both stake and hand. { Get a grip. The First Evil is only playing mind games, same as it's done the past few months. You can get past it. You will! }
"Buffy!" Willow called out, and the witch puffed to a halt after coming up from the direction of the cemetery's main gates.
"Will?" Buffy asked, feeling concerned. She decided not to mention her encounter with the First Evil just now, it looked like her best friend had more urgent news. "What's wrong?"
"I got a voice message from Anya. Well, after I realized my cell had died and I started recharging it," Willow said, shrugging in minor embarrassment. "She said Giles has been trying to get in touch with both of us. Lemme guess – you switched off your phone?"
"Yeah," Buffy said, looking somewhat embarrassed herself. "Um, y'know, during patrol these days, I kinda have to. My cell alerts the vamps whenever it goes off, even if I put it on vibrate. Plus, I might get a call from one of the parents of the kids I counsel at the school, in the middle of an ambush or whatever, and – what am I gonna say? 'Sorry, I'm currently surrounded by a horde of vampires; I'll have to call you back'?"
Willow giggled, but then she sobered up at once. "Anyway, Anya told me what Giles told her, so I came looking for you. I think you need to go back to the Magic Box and call him, pronto."
"Right. So, what's the dire, Will?" Buffy inquired, as they both started walking quickly and heading for the car.
"You remember those Slayer dreams you've been having over the past few months?"
"Sure." In Buffy's view, they were more like nightmares; horrific images of teenage girls being chased by hooded, man-like beings and eventually being stabbed and killed with evil-looking, curved blades.
"They're not just dreams, Buff. And Giles said that all the victims have exactly one thing in common."
"What?"
Willow looked her right in the eye as they arrived at the car, and stopped before getting inside the Jeep Cherokee. Buffy felt a brief chill, suspecting that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.
"They were all Potential Slayers."
TBC…
A/N: As always, a big thank you to everybody reading and reviewing the story! We know your reviews still aren't showing up on the Reviews page, but we are getting your feedback via the site's automatic notifications - so please keep it coming. Seriously, inquiring minds want to know what you think of the story! For now, if you submit an anonymous/guest review, we'll acknowledge it here in the author notes: taran63, thanks and you're welcome, your kind words are much appreciated! Anyway, we hope you liked the chapter, and if you have any ideas you'd like to share with us regarding the upcoming plot, please feel free to do so...
