Chapter Twenty-three

Wednesday, November 13, 2002 – Wolfram and Hart building, Los Angeles; late evening:

Lilah Morgan was not in the best of moods, as she sat at her desk and went over the events of the past twenty-four hours.

First off, her personal assistant Gavin Park had been making a subtle nuisance of himself within the Special Projects division of the firm. Quite frankly, if she didn't need him to help run things smoothly around here, Gavin would have gotten his ass transferred to a third world dimension by now. Still, his days at the L.A. branch of Wolfram & Hart were numbered; Lilah figured that as soon as she trained a suitable replacement for the annoying weasel, the Asian man would find out just what playing hardball really meant.

Secondly, there was the disturbing news that Faith Lehane, formerly of the Northern California Women's Facility in Stockton, had been released thanks to a Presidential pardon of all things. Lilah knew that that particular development made her look weak, if not ineffectual; even if the blame lay squarely with the Washington branch of the firm, for not warning her about it in advance. Still, hopefully the Watcher's Council would murder that killer bitch soon enough, before Faith came back to L.A. looking for vengeance – given how Wolfram & Hart had bought the outcome of her murder trial, way back when.

(Personally, Lilah was glad she'd made sure the judge who'd presided over that so-called trial had been set on fire and killed, not long after the traitorous Slayer had been locked up in Stockton. No loose ends, and all that.)

And thirdly, there was Wesley. Her... not-boyfriend. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing to acknowledge how she hadn't been able to pick up on the subtle clues the other night, while the man was thinking that he was seventeen years old again. Not that Lilah minded playing Mrs. Robinson every once in a while, granted; but that sort of thing took place strictly on her terms, not anyone else's. Still, the way Wes had fucked her, once his memories had been restored...

Her cell phone chirped, and with a smile, Lilah answered it. "Hello, lover."

«Hello? Lilah?»

"Thanks for returning my calls, finally," she replied, with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "I left three messages. No need for you to feel obligated to return any of them."

«Yes, well, you don't have to worry about that.» Wesley's voice said, and Lilah felt a sudden chill run down her spine. «Unfortunately, I've been busy since last night, after you stormed out of my apartment.»

"Doing what?"

«Talking to various people. Both here and in London. That's part of the reason why I'm in New York right now.» the British man's voice replied, and that sinking feeling in Lilah's stomach got worse. «And I'm glad you called, actually. Because I've come to the conclusion that I can't keep seeing you any longer.»

"WHAT?!" Lilah yelled into her cell, somehow resisting the urge to crush the phone in her hand. "Why?"

«Because I can't do this anymore.» Wesley's voice said regretfully. «Lilah? There's a line between right and wrong, good and evil. Granted, that line has become more than a little fuzzy for me over the past six months; but after what happened thanks to Lorne's spell, I've realized – »

"Stop. I don't need to hear anything more. God, I can't believe this! You're breaking up with me over the phone, you pathetic creep? You don't even have the guts to do it directly to my face?" Lilah hissed angrily into her cell.

«Lilah. Breaking up would imply that we were ever in a real relationship, in the first place.» Wesley's voice now had a more ragged edge to it. «Let's be honest, our... liaisons were basically two people rutting like animals – apart from the one time when I had no idea who you were, perhaps. Hardly the stuff of a normal, healthy affair of the heart, you must admit.»

"You son of a bitch," Lilah growled at him, even though she couldn't help wondering why. Emotional bonds were something she couldn't afford to have as the head of Special Projects, she knew that; otherwise, Wesley would have become a weakness that her enemies could exploit, long before now. Still, actually hearing such words coming out of the man's mouth was something she found upsetting –

«Please don't insult my mother that way. She's a good woman, one who probably should never have married my father in the first place. Insult him if you wish, but not her.» Wesley's voice said roughly. «Look, Lilah, I won't deny that I've made mistakes – »

"You're making another one now," Lilah interrupted, hating the needy sound of her own voice. "A big one."

«Really? Well, perhaps you're right. It would have been best to do this in person, if I'd had the opportunity.» Wesley's voice now sounded a bit regretful. «However, I didn't think stringing you along like that was the appropriate thing to do; so for better or worse, I made my choice on how to end it. And I don't think there's anything left for us to say to one another; so I'm afraid this is goodbye, Lilah.»

"Yeah, whatever. See you in Hell, asshole!" Lilah angrily hit the End button, and then finally giving in to temptation, she threw the cell phone into the wall, muttering vile curses upon the man whom she was no longer sharing a bed with.


The same time – JFK International Airport, Queens, New York City; evening:

Wesley put his cell phone back in his pocket, ignoring the concerned voice in the back of his head warning him that he ought to be careful; because 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' He had far too much else on his mind, right now.

After that international phone call with Nigel Ahuja last night, he had come to realize that there really was more to life than just being a bit player in the grand Angel saga within Los Angeles. Quite frankly, Wesley had been astonished to learn just what was happening in the world he had once eagerly been part of; such as the planet-wide slaughter of Potential Slayers, thanks to the Harbingers of the First Evil. So he had started asking questions, only some of which Travers' right-hand man had been able to answer –

And when he'd heard that the Council had lost contact with Mrs. Clayworth, the Watcher assigned to a Potential named Kennedy Greene in New York, Nigel's request that he check out the situation on the other side of the country had – for some reason – sounded like a good idea. What with all the regular field teams here in the colonies pursuing missing Potentials right now, Wesley could understand how an independent agent like him would be the most logical resource for the Council to use in this situation – after informing him that Faith had been released from jail.

(In his darkest heart of hearts, Wesley couldn't help hoping that somehow, that particular girl would get what she deserved soon enough. Still, he wasn't planning to ever look Faith up to return the favor, after she'd tortured him. That part of his life was over and done with, and good riddance to it.)

Grabbing his travel bag, Wes departed out the doors of JFK's Terminal 7 and quickly headed for the nearest taxi.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked cheerfully, starting the engine after he got into the back seat of the vehicle.

"Morningside Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, please. Corner of Broadway and 112th Street," Wesley replied.

"Right. Gonna take a while, though, traffic is gonna be a real bitch. Always is, around now. So you're English, huh?" the taxi driver said, as the vehicle headed off down the terminal ring road and towards the Van Wyck Expressway.

"Yes. I suppose it's evident from the accent?" Wesley asked, lifting an eyebrow. It had been quite a while since anyone had asked him that, oddly enough.

"Yeah, but not so much – you've been living here a few years, I can tell. The tourists, their accents are a lot thicker," the cabbie began to chatter nonstop, as the taxi hit the JFK Expressway. "And it's not just them. I got this one bunch from London recently; they came in for some convention at the Drake, hotel over on East Fifty-sixth. And you wanna know they had in their possession? Enema bags! Said that they were the latest thing in Europe, they had transistors in 'em and everything. I couldn't believe it! Still, whether they were shittin' me or not, they were damn fine tippers... "

{ Curse you, Ahuja, what kind of fiendish torture have I let you talk me into? } Wesley thought to himself wearily, closing his eyes and leaning back into the cab's rear passenger seat.

Nearly half an hour later, the taxi emerged from the Queens-Midtown Tunnel and onto the steamy streets of Manhattan. The driver kept jabbering away as they headed in the general direction of Columbia University; Wesley's lack of enthusiasm for conversation didn't seem to bother the Noo Yawker in the slightest, and the cabbie easily maintained a running commentary on all the things Wesley should see while he was in town. Such as the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, and Madison Square Garden...

"OK, we're here," the taxi driver abruptly slammed down on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt. "That'll be fifty-two bucks."

Wearily, Wesley paid the man and got out of the vehicle, before the driver roared off in search of another fare. Stretching slightly, he looked around before making his way across the street to Tom's Restaurant. He entered, ordered a cup of coffee and then retreated to the diner's bathroom, clutching his travel bag tightly.

(Praise the Lord for that spell which was able to fool X-ray machines and metal detectors. It made air travel with weaponry so much easier.)

Making sure he was alone, Wes retrieved his .45 pistol and tucked it into the back of his pants. He then retrieved the gauntlet containing his collapsible sword, and reattached it to his right forearm. The Englishman ignored the annoying memory of what had happened in Angel's hotel with this weapon, back on Sunday night; he just exited the bathroom, grabbed a booth for himself and waited for the Potential Slayer to show up.

Eventually, Kennedy did so.

To Wesley's eye, the nineteen-year-old girl looked like a bit of a mess. It was evident she'd been crying, and the waitress who served her immediately asked what was wrong. He overheard Kennedy say that Mrs. Clayworth was dead, that the girl's Watcher had been murdered in her own home; knifed in the back, according to the police report.

{ Damn and blast it, } Wesley thought to himself in annoyance, { that'll only complicate things... }

He suddenly noticed Kennedy looking in his direction, before she hurried out of Tom's Restaurant. Hesitating for less than a moment, Wes went up to the main counter, tossed a five dollar bill at the woman to pay for his coffee, and then departed without waiting for his change.

"Miss Greene! Might I have a moment of your time, please?!" Wesley called out, and straightaway the dark-haired girl stopped and turned around, glaring at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Kennedy demanded belligerently, hands on hips. "And how do you know who I am?"

"The name's Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. And as for the other part, a man named Nigel Ahuja in England asked me to find you and your so-called tutor. He's an associate of Mrs. Clayworth," Wes replied, coming closer.

Her suspicions slightly abated, Kennedy looked around, making sure no one was within earshot before she asked, "You a Watcher?"

"Not anymore," Wes shrugged. "I'm merely doing Mr. Ahuja a favor, so to speak. Apparently, the Council lost contact with Mrs. Clayworth some time ago – "

"The cops said she's been dead for the past three days," Kennedy interrupted him, looking like she was ready to start crying again. "I've been away with my sister and my parents, we only just got back to town from our place in the Hamptons and then I learned... " she trailed off, miserably.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Greene," Wes said sympathetically. "However, there's something I must tell you; that you yourself are in deadly danger. Mrs. Clayworth was almost certainly not the primary target for that attack; they were after you, instead."

"What?! Mister, what the hell are you talking about?" Kennedy demanded fiercely.

"Not here," Wesley shook his head. "May I suggest we discuss this somewhere more private? I'd imagine you'd want your parents to hear what I have to say, as well – "

"Oh, what the heck?" Kennedy interrupted, her focus on something behind him. Wesley turned around, and paled at the sight of three robed and hooded men – or man-like beings, anyway – heading straight towards them. "Halloween was like over and done with, two weeks ago! Why are they – "

"Run," Wes told the brunette Potential, cutting her off. "If you've got a car, drive home and lock the doors behind you. I'll keep them busy; and if I survive, I'll come find you at your parents' house. Now GO!"

Kennedy didn't hesitate; she rushed off down 112th Street towards her Mustang. Wesley reached for his pistol with one hand and activated his hidden sword with the other, as the three Bringers brought out their curved knives and started running straight for him, right there on the sidewalk –


A while earlier – Xander's apartment building, Sunnydale; early evening:

Xander stared blankly at Jesse/the First while Cordelia screamed, "I know it's not really you, McNally, but I'm gonna say it anyway – I was never your girl, you pathetic little schmuck!"

"Did anyone ever tell you you're gorgeous, when you get so angry?" the eldritch horror smirked at her. "Beautiful. Stunning. Heck, your smile could light up all of New York City after dark. Pity how the luscious outer coating hides such an ugly heart, though. I mean, 'I aspire to help my fellow man. Check. As long as he's not smelly, dirty or something gross.' Sound familiar?"

"Calm down, Cor," Xander said, squeezing her hand and causing her to look at him. "It's just trying to screw with you, that's all." After she took a deep breath and nodded, Xander turned back to face the enemy wearing the face of his one-time best friend. "So. You're the First. Uh, you do know you're not fooling either of us looking like him, don't you? I mean, both Cordy and I know what you are – "

"'Course you do. 'Specially you, bud, you're a lot smarter than everybody ever gives you credit for. You see everything, while just 'bout everyone around you is blind. But while you've been seeing everything, I've been seeing you." Jesse/the First grinned broadly. "Ever since the night you helped bring Buffy back from the dead, matter of fact."

"Buffy?" Cordelia frowned. "What's she got to do with this?"

"Didn't anyone tell you, babe?" Jesse/the First smirked. "She's the reason I'm able to manifest on this plane without my Bringers summoning me, like back in the good old days. You remember, when you were skiing in Aspen – while your ex-boyfriend here was busy trying to help the Slayer save Angel's un-life? Oh, wait, that's right. You don't. That must really suck for you, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Xander asked, staring at the enemy while Cordy silently glared at it.

The First Evil simply shrugged. "What's happening now, me having the power to end it all, destroy the world 'n all that shit? The Slayer caused it, Xand. And that's all I have to say to say about the subject." Jesse/the First then turned to stare at Cordelia. "Ya know, sweetness, I warned you last night what'd happen if you stayed in this stinking cesspit of a town. But you just wouldn't listen, would you? Still, guess that's not too surprising. You never did listen to anyone's warnings about your cheater ex here – "

"Screw that whole 'ex' thing, asshole. Xander's mine again, now; and this time, we're gonna make it work," Cordelia declared, causing Harris to glance at her briefly.

"Aww, young love. Brings a tear to my eye," the fake 'Jesse' smirked. Then he/it turned to Xander and said, "Say, am I the only one who thinks what happened that night with the rebar was just a little too farfetched to buy? I mean, honestly, bud. Was it really pure luck that Oz was driving around Sunnydale's streets – and then bingo, he somehow caught a stray whiff of Willow that way? Sure, the whole werewolf nose thing, but – he was never able to do that before, or even after, that night. And nobody ever found that – odd? And then later, Oz and Cordy showing up in that basement, just as you and Will were locking lips together? Hrmm, you never thought 'bout how that was like the worst timing ever? Not to mention, what were the odds of Queen C running away and falling through those stairs to get impaled that way? 'Cause the Cordelia Chase I knew woulda rushed over and knocked your teeth out for betraying her like that, before she started tearing out Willow's hair – just like she tried to do last night." The First then morphed into 'Kendra', startling him if not Cordelia.

"So, what are you saying? That all that was... planned, somehow?" the Seer demanded hotly.

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winnah," Kendra/the First said, even if the words sounded kinda funny spoken in that thick Jamaican accent. "After all – dey say dat once may be happenchance, twice may be coincidence, but t'ree times is definitely enemy action – "

"So who did it?" Xander interrupted, his voice now as cold as an Arctic blizzard. "Not that I believe a single word I'm hearing from you, obviously; but you've gotten my interest now, First-y. You implying all that wasn't just me and Will being unable to control our hormones? So let's hear the rest of it; who was responsible?"

"Now dat would be telling," Kendra/the First said, smirking slightly. Then she/it morphed into the image of Richard Wilkins. "This isn't high school anymore, young man. I'm afraid you don't get all the answers on a silver platter. I mean, gosh, where's the fun in that?"

Xander shook his head. "Ya know, I can't help wondering why you suddenly decided to look like him. Was it to remind me of Faith? How I failed to stop her from being seduced by the Dark Side of the Force? Hrmm. Tried to tempt Faith into joining you yet? And if you have, exactly how long did it take for her to tell you to go fuck yourself?"

"Golly, young man. That's not only completely inappropriate language to use in front of a lady, but quite a bit of speculation, you know! How can you be so sure I didn't recruit that particular firecracker to my banner?" Mayor Wilkins/the First asked, putting an affable smile on his/its face.

"Because I know Faith, I went and spoke to her on Sunday. And you... " Xander trailed off, suddenly feeling alarmed. "Oh, crap. Wait, wait, wait – you're trying to distract us! Something's happening, or- or about to happen – and you don't want us to get involved in whatever it is that's about to happen! That's why you're here, making with the pointless conversation!"

Richard Wilkins/the First sighed regretfully. "Like I said, son, you're the one that sees everything. And my goodness, but I'm beginning to think maybe – just maybe – I really did choose the wrong horse way back when, trying to get Angel to commit suicide. I should have gotten rid of you instead! Ah well, never mind; spilt milk, and all that... "

The First vanished with a short burst of white light – Xander couldn't help making the comparison to Star Trek in his mind, the way that Q used to tease Captain To Baldly Go that way – but then, there was no time for any further thought, as a trio of Bringers broke in through the front door, charging into the apartment.

"CORDY! RUN!" Xander yelled at her, before launching himself at the knife-wielding enemy. He could only hope he'd be able to buy her enough time to escape death at their hands; Xander already knew the only way he was leaving the apartment after this battle was in a coroner's body bag –

The three Bringers easily handled his attack, though, despite being blind with those rune-inscribed, mutilated eyes. One of them casually tossed Xander aside, with almost effortless ease; and raising those curved silver daggers, his two comrades immediately headed for Cordelia, who was absolutely rooted to the spot out of fear, and concern for him –

– when a miracle took place, in the form of an invisible guardian angel.

Something grabbed hold of the two Bringers about to kill Cordelia, and violently twisted their necks. Both corpses collapsed to the floor, immediately. The third Bringer looked around, looking like it was unable to understand what had just happened; but then one of the silver knives rose up from the floor, and embedded itself directly into his heart in a rushed blur of motion. He, too, subsequently collapsed onto the floor, thoroughly dead.

"Eowawa! Thus do we do in the Jungle!" Xander quipped on instinct, staggering to his feet before rushing over to Cordelia. He had no idea what had just happened, but as long as she was still alive and unharmed, right now he didn't care. "Cordy! Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I – wait. How did you do that, Harris?" she demanded, all huge eyes and quivering lips and heaving bosom.

"Wasn't me, Cor." Xander grabbed and hugged her tightly, wanting to reassure himself that she was all right. "No idea what just happened, but as long as they're dead and we're not? Definitely not gonna complain about it!"

"Yeah, I guess... "

Xander suddenly realized that the hug has lasted longer than two Mississippi's – more like five, if not longer – and he attempted to disengage. But Cordelia wasn't about to stand for that, and she refused to let go. And then her lips found his and –

{ Oh, God. This girl definitely knows how to kiss! }

Not to mention, exactly how to turn him on. The tower quickly became erect within his pants, as she hungrily attempted to devour his mouth.

Cordelia Chase was definitely an acquired taste, but once you acquired it...

High-maintenance girlfriend, but so definitely worth every moment spent on her.

Why the hell hadn't he tried harder to win her back after Senior Prom, when they'd finally done the dance with no pants? Not to mention afterwards as well, both occasions they'd had sex again. The odds were that he'd have proposed to her instead of Anya that night, and without Stewart what's-his-name showing up – right now, she'd be Cordelia Chase-Harris

Wait. Something wasn't right here. What was it-? Oh, yeah. Duh.

"Cordy, stop," Xander managed to gasp out, pulling his lips away from hers. "There, there could be more of them, incoming! I think we better get outta here... "

The brunette growled at him, looking upset. But then Cordelia let go and stepped back. She opened her mouth, most likely to verbally tear him a new one –

But then she started glowing. Literally. Her eyes went completely white, and her mouth hung open in a perfect 'O' shape.

Harris started reaching out towards her, but then Cordelia ceased glowing with white light, and her eyes returned to their normal hazel color.

"Oh my God... " Cordy shook her head, before she looked back at him. She saw the unspoken concern on his face and said, "I'm OK, Doofus. Just a bit... overwhelmed."

"So," Xander said, dropping his arm and amazed at how normal his voice sounded. "That was a vision, huh?"

"Yeah. Same as the one last night, at the restaurant – but never mind that! Xander – I just saw Spike. I saw him kill someone, a woman!" the Seer semi-shrieked.

{ Well, crap. There goes any faint hope I had that Webs was a big old liar as a vamp. } Grimly, Xander rushed to his weapons store, grabbed a few things – a cross and a couple of stakes, the shotgun was still downstairs in the trunk of his car – and said to Cordelia, "You know where to go?"

She nodded fervently. "I saw the street signs, it's an alley near the Promenade. C'mon, let's go – or that woman's gonna die!" Cordy yelled anxiously.

Barely taking the time to lock the front door behind them, Sunnydale's newest couple went tearing out of the apartment – leaving behind the corpses of the three Bringers.

And unbeknownst to them, the ghost whom Cordelia used to affectionately call 'Phantom Dennis' –


A moment later – the same place; early evening:

Amy growled to herself, as she appeared out of the shadows in Xander's apartment. { I don't have time for this – damn it, that Skip guy is starting to get a clue, and it's getting harder and harder to keep him distracted! } "Dennis?"

The lights flickered briefly in acknowledgement.

"Open all the windows, will you? This is really gonna stink up the place," she sighed.

Right on cue, the ghost did as he was bid; and wasting no time, Amy incinerated all three bodies on the floor.

The stench was even worse than she'd imagined.

"Friggin' cleanup detail. Whistler, I'm really starting to wonder whether you did me a favor getting me out of that basement, way back when!" Amy growled all over again, before she quickly vanished.


The same time – Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale; early evening:

Buffy paced around the seal of Danzalthar, before looking around at Jonathan. "All right. Let's go through this again; how did you know this thing was here?"

Levinson shrugged. "Don't wanna sound like Martin Luther King, Buffy, but I had a dream. So did Andrew – or so he said, anyway. Right now, I don't know if I can trust anything he told me since the dreams started."

"So you came back to town and dug it up. Fine. What did you expect me to do about it?" Buffy demanded heatedly.

"Well, I was kinda hoping you'd know how to destroy it," he shrugged again. "That thing is evil, you can tell just by looking at it!"

Buffy clenched her fists, looking angry. "Great. Typical, even. Just dump the whole problem into my lap, why don't you? Jeez, Jonathan, it's no wonder we never wanted you in the Scooby Gang!"

Levinson ignored the insult. "I don't know what else to tell you, Buffy. No idea what it is you want to hear, even."

"Right now, I'm wanting you and Andrew out of my life! Like I don't already have enough problems, what with – "

"Spike?" Jonathan interrupted. "Yeah, I know. And I swear – that guy used to give me nightmares, chip or otherwise. Started all the way back during that memorable Parent-Teacher Night, actually."

"Huh?" Buffy turned to look at him in surprise. "What? Jonathan... you know Spike? Since junior year?"

"Uh, no; 'cause I way heard it, back then he was free-range evil, and no way I wanted to get within a mile of anyone like that! But later on – sure. I mean, last year, Spike showed up in our lair that one time."

"What?"

"Yeah, he got Warren to check him out, when that vampire thought his chip wasn't working anymore. I mean, Andrew and I were both there, we talked to him... " He trailed off, seeing the look of shock on the Slayer's face. "Um, not wanting to get you upset, but – what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong – Spike! Spike actually knew about you three jerks?!" Buffy screamed, causing Jonathan to take a step back. "Why the hell didn't he ever say anything to me about it? I don't freaking believe this! If he'd just said something last year, that whole thing with Tara and Black Magic Willow never woulda happened, I'd have tracked you three down and dealt with Warren before he – "

"Uh, no, wait – hang on," Jonathan said, breaking into her rant. "Um, I'm pretty sure that at the time, Spike didn't know we were your nemises-es. He, he just came to Warren for information about the chip, 'cause he knew him from before; that whole Buffybot thing?"

"Oh," Buffy said in a more subdued voice, quickly calming down. "Right. Yeah, I get it now. Sorry for snapping at you like that, I guess, it's just – "

"You think he's killing people again," Jonathan nodded. "And there's some issues there, 'cause you two were sleeping together last year. I get it."

"Do you? 'Cause I don't," Buffy said forlornly. "I mean, he tried to – Spike almost violated me in a way I never imagined was possible! OK, maybe it wasn't entirely his fault how he didn't realize that 'no' actually meant no for once, but still. And then he went off and won his soul back – for me. Drove him crazy, apparently, but like Xander said the other night, Spike seems pretty much fine now. So I can't help wondering, Jonathan – how much of it was real, and how much was just an act? Especially if he's started killing again... "

Jonathan frowned. "I thought that Willow wasn't able to find any dead people recently who were the victims of a barbecue fork serial killer?"

"No. Just missing persons, ten of them. All of them young women," Buffy replied, looking away.

"I – what was that noise?" Jonathan asked, looking towards the basement door.

"Damn it, it's probably one of the security guards on patrol. Let's go!" She abruptly grabbed the geek by the wrist and dragged him away. The last thing she wanted was to be discovered on the school grounds after hours, without any reasonable excuse for her presence.

Buffy knew that she needed this job Principal Wood had given her, there was no way that she wanted to work at Doublemeat Palace again – or even Fatburger, or the local In 'N Out...


A short while later – alley near the Sunnydale Promenade, Sunnydale; evening:

Spike smiled, leading the young blond woman into the deserted alley. After a long day's sleep in the abandoned house that used to belong to the whelp's parents, he felt better about his situation than he did last night. And after taking a walk to clear his head and decide what to do next in his un-life, he'd run into – well, he couldn't quite remember her name, after they'd laid eyes on one another outside that club and started talking just now...

The blond giggled. "What – are you gonna make me guess why you brought me here? All right, I'll bite." They stopped walking and embraced, face to face. "I'll guess you're a little bit bad, huh?" she asked, before kissing him.

"Time was I was the Big Bad and proud of it, luv," Spike replied with a smile, after their lips parted.

"So, I was kinda right? Are you a bad boy? 'Cause I don't mind if you are. You know, I was getting pretty bored waiting over there in that line." The woman nuzzled him, adding, "I hate waiting. Know what I mean?"

Spike nodded, bending down to kiss her neck – when he looked up and saw Buffy not far away, just standing there. His eyes widened in surprise.

"You know you want it. You know I want you to," the image of the Slayer said, smiling at him.

{ What? } Spike asked himself, feeling – odd.

"SPIKE! GET AWAY FROM HER!" a familiar male voice shouted angrily, causing him to blink and the young co-ed to let go and step away from his embrace.

"Who are you two, and what the hell do you want? This is a private party!" the bint said angrily, before turning back to face him. "You know these people?"

William the Bloody groaned, and nodded briefly. "My ex-roommate, and his latest bird. And what the effin' hell are you on about, Harris? Why should I get away from her?"

"We know that chip doesn't work anymore, Bleach Boy. And besides – I had a vision of you killing this woman, just now!" the Cheerleader yelled angrily, glaring at the vampire.

"Chip? Vision? Are you seriously spaced?" the blond co-ed asked incredulously, before turning back to Spike. "So, is that why you and this guy quit sharing an apartment? The crazy new girlfriend?"

"Hey! Lady, we're trying to save your life – although right now, I'm seriously tempted to just walk away, and let Spike kill you!" The brunette's glare could almost melt steel, she was looking that pissed right now.

Spike looked at her in confusion. "Look, woman, I'm not out to kill anybody. All right, kinda tempted to make an exception for you if that chip ever stops working, but – bloody hell, I can barely live with what I did. It haunts me. All of it. So if you think that I'd start adding to the body count now, you are completely daft!"

"Add to the body count?" The co-ed's eyes were now very wide, and she rapidly distanced herself from him. "What the hell are you... "

"So, then – you went strolling along the Promenade tonight looking for someone like her, why exactly? You were just hungry for conversation, and maybe a bit of making out? Huh. Spike, why do I find that kinda hard to believe?" the whelp asked sarcastically.

'Buffy' abruptly morphed into Warren, or at least his mirror image. "They're upsetting the plan. Especially the cheerleader. Nothing's according to specs anymore, thanks to her being here."

Spike looked in Warren's direction and said firmly, "You are not here."

"Who are you talking to?" the co-ed asked timidly, looking ready to bolt at any moment.

"Go ahead and bleed that stupid bitch dry, dude. You know you want to," Spike heard Warren say, before the guy started singing, "Early one morning... "


A moment later – the same place; evening:

Xander was definitely starting to feel concerned by this point.

The confrontation with Spike certainly wasn't going the way he'd expected it to, he had to admit. Xander figured that, like it or not, he knew Captain Peroxide pretty well by now; at least well enough to know whenever the vamp was trying to lie to him, anyway. So, much to his chagrin, a smidgen of doubt over the validity of Cordelia's warning entered his mind, after accusing the British vamp of being a killer again –

But that doubt was replaced with concern, after Spike started talking to someone who was apparently invisible. He figured most likely the vampire's high school basement crazy was suddenly flaring up again, and talk about the inconvenient timing there –

Xander's instincts instantly started screaming warnings, though, the moment Spike started humming to himself – and then the vampire transformed into his demon face, growling and heading for Cordelia and himself.

"Oh, hell, no!" he heard an icy, inhumanly beautiful voice from right beside him say.

Suddenly, everything went white.

There were blurry, inky shapes in his vision as Xander blinked rapidly to clear it, and he did so just in time to spot an incandescent bolt of something smashing directly into Spike's chest.

The snarling, demonic-looking vampire was instantly gone, vanished, not even a hint of dust remaining nor the sound of a hissing demon being sent back to Hell – before the co-ed started screaming and she ran out of the alley, as fast as her legs could carry her.

Cordy's eyes morphed back to their normal hazel color, she ceased to glow with white light – and then she dropped bonelessly to the ground, out cold.

Xander wasted no time in scooping her up, and carrying the Seer out of the alley –

{ No, no, no! Don't you dare die on me, honey, 'cause I'll never forgive you for it. Never ever! } he thought to himself desperately. { God, please, I can't lose her, not now. Not like this... }


A moment later – the same place; evening:

Whistler appeared out of the shadows, staring at where Spike had been standing barely a few moments ago. He suddenly remembered the night when the Vision Girl had ascended to the Higher Realms, and that nightmarish vision of the future he'd had –

Especially the big finale six months from now, the role which the British vampire would have played in getting rid of all the Turok-Han and sealing the Hellmouth. Not to mention what he'd have gotten up to, afterwards – annoying his grandsire for a year or so, before the big showdown with the Circle of the Black Thorn –

"Sorry, Blood Breath. But that whole thing with the seal and those über-vamps, Powers have decided it's not going to go down that way anymore. Plus, that suicidal crap with the Circle is no longer an option, and you simply weren't needed to play the role of Angel's sidekick in L.A.," he shrugged. "And what the hell, your sacrifice tonight won't be in vain – in terms of getting the blondie Slayer really motivated to battle against the First, anyway. At least, I certainly hope it works out that way!"

TBC…


A/N: Err, we did say that someone was going to die in this twisted version of Sleeper a few chapters ago, right? Sorry to all the Spike fans out there reading this fic, but it turned out to be him. Just the way the cookie crumbled, so to speak! Our regrets to all the Weslah fans out there as well, but that 'ship ended early in this AU on account of certain plot developments.

What do you all think, should Wesley and Lilah somehow reconcile? Assuming he survives that fight against the Bringers, of course. Should Cordelia fall into a mystical coma after saving both her life and Xander's? Should Amy finally demand better wages and perks for going above and beyond that way? Should Phantom Dennis play a bigger role in this tale? And how should a stressed Buffy react to hearing what happened to Spike? Please tell us what you think, and thanks as always for reading!