See Part One for Disclaimer and details. Hello all, thanks to everyone who's read and/or reviewed the story so far! Please, keep it coming. Now I know I said in the summary blurb that this was a season 2 story, and it will be, but first I need to do a little world-building. Not too much; I'm skipping a lot of the season 1 stuff, even if it will be mentioned here and there later on in the fanfic. So, let's get on with it!

Part Two: Meet 'N Greet

Empire State Building, New York City

Late January, 1996

The balance demon's true name wasn't something any human tongue could pronounce, at least not without the speaker suffering the mother of all migraines and losing half a quart of blood, so for convenience, he had started using the moniker 'Whistler' recently. It was simple to use and easy to remember, and what the hell – occasionally, it generated a bit of interest with the ladies as well.

Too bad how most of them were nuns, but sometimes, that was just the way the cookie crumbled.

Whistler worked directly for the Powers That Be, and they had recently given him an assignment to carry out. It was the same assignment he'd always been destined to fulfill at this point in time, but the target wasn't the one originally chosen by the Powers eons ago.

( Just my luck how that dumb bastard didn't hit the right target, way back when. This would have been SO much easier with the other fang face, ) Whistler thought morosely to himself as he walked. ( Ah, well, if wishes were horses, I'd have cleaned up at the race track last week. Time to get into character. )

"Place has got one hell of a view, doesn't it? From what I hear, that was always important to you. It's what that guy Angelus promised you back in 1760 in order to tempt you away from that dummy calling himself the Master, right?" Whistler said with carefully calculated indifference.

Darla whirled around, tearing her gaze away from the sights of New York. She was no longer the semi-crazed vampiress who had slaughtered the Kalderash tribe a century ago – but her grip on sanity didn't look too tight right now, what with the mention of Angelus. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Whistler. Well, lately, it is," the balance demon shrugged. "And my advice is, enjoy the view while you still can. There's at least half a dozen apocalypses scheduled within the next seven years, so I'd start getting ready for it all going the way of the dodo if I were you."

"What are you talking about? And who ARE you?" Darla demanded. "You don't smell human to me."

"Yeah, well, that's because I'm not. Now lemme tell you a story," Whistler said, in a rather odd imitation of Skip twelve years ago. "Once upon a time, there was a vampire. And she was the meanest vampire in all the land. All the other vampires, save one, were afraid of her because she was such a – a homicidal bitch, I guess would be the best way to put it. Then one day, she's cursed by some fool gypsies who restore her soul. Perhaps not surprisingly, she slaughters them for it, and spends the next ninety years or so walking the Earth in a daze. Can't be a vampire, can't be a human. Always wondering, where does she fit in now?"

"I don't understand what you're hoping to accomplish by telling me things that I already know," Darla shot back in annoyance.

"Basically, recruit you as a Champion for the Powers That Be," Whistler shrugged.

"WHAT?" Darla demanded.

"Come on, blondie, think – why else would I be here? I mean, the balance sheet isn't exactly in your favor after everything you've done over the last four hundred years – soul or otherwise. Unless you wanna suffer perpetual torment when one of those apocalypses I mentioned happens, you'll listen to the rest of what I have to say-"

Darla scoffed as she interrupted, "Oh, please. Did you think I was completely ignorant of your so-called Powers That Be? From what I've heard, they don't give a damn about anything except themselves and their so-called balance. Plus, for the record, it was the demon inside me that did all that – well, apart from those damned Romany, of course."

Whistler frowned. "The Powers are offering you a chance here..."

"To be a pawn of theirs? Thanks, but no thanks."

"No, to save this world you just so happen to like so much. You don't seem to get it; everything I said before is going to happen. The wheels are already turning on this..." Whistler trailed off, seeing Darla's expression and deciding to try a different tack. "But maybe I was wrong, and you aren't the right person for the job, after all. Maybe you really are nothing but a jumped-up whore, useful for only one thing – performing on your back."

In an instant, the enraged Darla had grabbed Whistler by the throat. "I've snapped men in half, literally, for a lot less than that!" she growled like an animal, full game face on.

"Like that'll help when the Master gets loose, and the Old Ones come to town," Whistler managed to choke out, before Darla abruptly released him and resumed her human mask.

"The Old Ones?" the blonde vampiress asked with a scowl.

"I figured you'd remember about them," Whistler remarked, rubbing his throat and being careful not to feel afraid; as Darla would instantly smell it. "Now, as I was saying, apparently the Master is gonna get loose next year. In Sunnydale, home of la Boca del Infierno – the Hellmouth.

"Feel like having a look at the poor girl who's been selected to stop him bringing about Armageddon?"

Hemery High School, Los Angeles

Three days later

School was over for the day, and the students came streaming out of the school building. Not far away an old, rusted Ford with its windows spray-painted black pulled up on the far side of the street; Whistler and Darla had finally arrived from the other side of the country.

One of the windows was lowered, and Darla squinted out into the daylight, careful to remain in shadow. She looked over at the building and saw the newly-called Slayer, Buffy Anne Summers, come down the steps with three of her friends.

"Is that her? Your so-called world savior? She looks like a complete airhead to me," Darla said contemptuously of Buffy, unable to put aside her antipathy and dislike for the Chosen crowd.

"Yeah, but according to the game plan, she's the one that's gonna save the world a whole bunch of times," Whistler said with a condescending mix between a grimace and a smirk that, when combined with the smug tone in his voice, made Darla want to punch him in the head. "So, unless you want the Master to bring about Hell on Earth, self-interest means you helping the new Chosen One when the time comes."

The human-looking pair of demons started arguing in the car as, not far away, Buffy said to her teenage friends, "So I'm like, 'Dad, do you want me to go to the dance in an outfit I've already worn? Why do you hate me'?"

"Is Tyler taking you?" one of the Buffettes asked with wide-eyed anticipation.

"Where were you when I got over Tyler? He's of the past," Buffy said imperiously to her sheep. "That guy would have to crawl on his hands and knees in order to get me to go to the dance with him. Which, actually, he's supposed to do after basketball practice, so I'm gonna wait here for him."

"Okay. See ya later!" another of the Buffettes said, as she saw her dad arrive with his car. There was a brief flurry of farewells, with Buffy telling all her faithful followers to call her tonight, before she sat down on the steps to wait for her boyfriend.

"Well, look who decided to set up shop right outside the school's front doors! I'm sure Principal Murray would be just thrilled with the whole 'street corner hooker' look if he turned up right now," a sarcastic male voice distracted Buffy.

The Vampire Slayer immediately got up and glared at Alexander Harris; someone who, in this world, she had known ever since kindergarten. After the fire, the orphaned Sunnydale boy had been taken in by his Uncle Rory, and raised in the City of Angels from the early Eighties onwards.

Buffy thought to herself, ( Great, just what I needed! Why does God hate me like this? ) The young woman then spat out, "Why don't you take a long walk off of a short pier, loser?"

"Oooh, I struck a nerve? Someone oughta call FEMA; I'm so scared Hurricane Buffy is about to hit LA," Harris replied nastily.

Buffy replied with a fiery glower, "How is it that none of the guys on the football team have put you in hospital yet? And God, what the hell was I thinking when I considered you my best friend back in kindergarten? I swear, Xander-"

"Don't call me that," Harris interrupted at once. "You don't have the right anymore, Summers. Not after the way you and your friends humiliated me in front of the whole school," Xander glared at the Chosen One venomously.

"Whatever. So, is there a reason why we're having this conversation?" Buffy said disdainfully. Even if, deep down, she felt rather hurt at the scornful contempt aimed at her over what had happened a few months ago.

"Yeah. Ford asked me to find out if you've already lined up a date for the dance next Friday," Xander said. Despite his personal feelings, he'd felt obligated to carry out this favor requested of him by Billy 'Ford' Fordham. Because Ford was a friend that lived not far from Xander, and one Harris knew Buffy had had a crush on as far back as fifth grade – and more importantly, Xander owed Fordham for practically saving his life from some bullies during seventh grade.

"He did?" Buffy asked uncertainly, before regaining her poise. "Well, maybe I do and maybe I don't. Tell Ford I'll call him," the Slayer said dismissively, starting to examine her nails to make sure there were no visible blemishes or imperfections.

Without a word Xander turned and left in disgust, wondering what – apart from the obvious – his old buddy had started seeing in Buffy lately. The blonde watched him go and thought to herself, ( What a complete douchebag! Oh, and if you're listening, God – you're gonna help me to decide between Ford and Tyler for the dance, right? )

As soon as Xander was out of sight, a man in a black suit approached Buffy carefully. His name was Merrick Jamison-Smythe, and he was the Slayer's new Watcher. "Buffy Summers?"

"Yeah?" Buffy looked at him and smiled cheerfully. "Hi!" Upon realizing she had no idea who he was or what he wanted, Miss Summers asked in a confused voice, "What?"

"I need to speak with you," Merrick said solemnly, eyeing his new charge.

Buffy was instantly worried. "You're not from Bullock's, are you? 'Cause I-I meant to pay for that lipstick."

Merrick brushed that aside at once. "There isn't much time. You must come with me. Your destiny awaits."

Buffy, still confused and having no idea that her life was about to be turned completely upside down, shook her head. "I don't have a destiny. I'm destiny-free, really."

"You don't understand. You are the Chosen One. You alone can stop them," the Watcher said seriously.

"Stop who?" Buffy asked, getting a very wiggy vibe off of this guy.

"The vampires," Merrick said with grim finality.

"Huh?"

Hemery High Gymnasium, Los Angeles

Late November, 1996

So much had changed over the past year or so, it was hard to even recognize Buffy Summers anymore.

Ever since Merrick had found her and forced Buffy to realize that, yes, monsters did exist, and all the things which went bump in the night really were out to kill you, and it was up to her to prevent innocent people getting slaughtered by the vampires and demons, Buffy's life had never been the same. Her popularity had spiraled down into the depths of oblivion, and the high school sophomore had barely even managed to score herself a date for tonight's soiree.

Just then, a bloodied student made his way inside the gym. "Oh, man! There are vampires out there!" he cried, before collapsing to the floor.

Buffy quickly swung into action as the undead appeared at the doors to the gym, ordering her to come out before they came in. About ten vampires surrounded Buffy as she tossed down her handbag, somersaulted into their midst and lashed out in a fury, kicking and punching and pounding the soulless creatures down as they came for her.

"Xan? Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Ford asked his younger friend in amazement, as Fordham's car came to a halt in the lot.

"Summers in a fight with about a dozen guys? Yeah," Xander grimaced, figuring that he and Billy would have to step in and help her out. Buffy wasn't exactly on his list of favorite people, but she HAD changed since last year and it just felt like something he should do after seeing the fight in question.

"No, dude, look at their faces!" Ford pointed frantically.

"They're high on PCP or something, so what?" Harris asked uncertainly.

Just then, one of the vamps flew forward right above them, and the two high school boys got a good look at the bloodsucker's face.

"They're PCP addicts with yellow eyes and fangs?" Ford demanded. "I've been hearing the rumors lately, bud. But geez, I never expected them to be true..."

"What rumors?" Xander demanded, as he saw Buffy abandon the fight and run for it.

"Vampires," Ford said grimly, as he put the convertible into reverse and gunned it out of there.

"Vampires-?" Xander's incredulous voice could be heard disappearing into the night.

Not far away, Darla saw Buffy re-enter the school and then engage in a fight with the male vampire called Amilyn. ( My, my. What happened to that missing arm, Lefty? ) Darla smirked to herself as Buffy quickly staked her opponent with a drumstick in the music room.

Then Darla went still, as she felt the nearby presence of a vampire even older than herself. Given Amilyn attacking the Slayer here and now, there was only one vampire it could possibly be.

( Lothos, ) the ensouled vampiress hissed angrily. ( The Master and I should have killed you when we had the chance, damn you! Now what? )

That 'what,' as it turned out, was Buffy.

She fought the tall, hypnotic master vampire with everything she had; her strength, her speed, her faith and something no Slayer before her had possessed; her keen fashion sense. Miss Summers managed to set Lothos's hair on fire with a flaming cross and some hairspray, and when that wasn't enough, she burned down the entire gym to get rid of him and his undead minions.

"Well. Maybe this Slayer does stand a chance against the Master after all," Darla muttered to herself as she left the blazing high school gymnasium, going home to pack for her upcoming trip to Sunnydale.

St. Charles Avenue, New Orleans

May 30th, 1997

Drusilla hummed to herself dreamily, as she strolled around the abandoned warehouse she and Spike were currently occupying. The last century or so had been pure bliss for herself and her favorite childe; they had seen and done just about everything in exotic locales such as Beijing, Rome, and Tangiers. Life, or un-life as the case may be, couldn't have been better for them.

But then the moon and the stars started telling Drusilla their secrets, and the crazed seer collapsed onto the floor. The doll named Miss Edith started whispering in Dru's ear as well, and various images then inundated her undead brain...

The latest Slayer, her face obscured by strange shadows, arriving at her new home; the domain of the Master – Drusilla's great-grandfather, so to speak.

A dark-haired boy who should have been a meal for her grandmother helping the Chosen One during the ritual called the Harvest; along with a red-haired witch, and the fuddy-duddy replacement Watcher.

The creation of the little boy vampire named Collin, otherwise known as the Anointed One.

The arrival of a nasty temptress just in time to save the witch and a wicked liar gypsy, with her car.

Great-grandfather killing the naughty Slayer, letting her drown – before the dark-haired boy and Grandmother somehow, impossibly, brought her back.

The Slayer and Great-grandfather fighting on a roof, before...

Drusilla screamed in horror, as a vision of the Master's skeleton appeared in her mind's eye. ( NO! NO, NO, NO! Oh, it's not supposed to be like this! I, I – where's my kitten? And...Daddy was supposed to be there as well? )

Spike immediately rushed into the room and said worriedly, "Dru? DRU! Are you alright, luv?"

Drusilla said nothing; she just lay there whimpering incoherently. The prescient female vampire suddenly had the terrible feeling nothing would be all right, ever again.

No. 4 Parkview Crescent, Sunnydale

July 15th, 1997

Cordelia Chase started packing for her family's traditional summer vacation, all the while wishing she was going to St. Croix, instead of Tuscany – as she hated the thought of being beach-less for the next six weeks.

It was interesting to note the brunette's life had changed a LOT, ever since Buffy Summers had come to town midway through sophomore year. There had been so many near-death and death-related experiences Cordelia had almost lost track of them all.

For example, there was that incident of almost becoming an offering to the Master after being tricked into following a cute (albeit undead) older boy to a mausoleum, before Jesse and Buffy had shown up to rescue her and Willow at the last moment.

Not to mention the unholy ritual of the Harvest, where she had almost been drained by the vampire Vessel called Luke.

There was the insanity of briefly going blind and almost getting run over by a truck, thanks to a psycho witch who'd wanted to relive her teenage glory days.

Plus the horror of finding a headless teacher one day while getting her lunch.

All those dead bodies showing up during the school talent show.

The nightmare of the Ugly Man chasing her around Sunnydale High, after getting inducted into the Chess Club by a couple of geeks.

Almost getting killed by that lunatic invisible girl.

Almost getting killed AGAIN when that Master person had escaped his prison and caused that Hellmouth demon thing to briefly show up in the school library, while she was there.

As Cordelia continued to pack, she suddenly realized that her love life had been nothing to cheer about, either. That complete social reject, Jesse McNally, had constantly tried to talk her into going on a date with him – before he had finally given up, thanks to that incident when he'd briefly been possessed by a Hyena spirit.

That danger junkie, Owen Thurman, had been a big mistake right from the start.

Mitch Fargo, that vain numbskull, had only wanted to get into her panties; said fact being learned much too late for her comfort.

Kevin Benedict, the only semi-decent member of the group, had been murdered by vampires along with his friends the night before the Spring Fling dance.

( Why the hell haven't I asked Daddy to transfer me to a nice, SAFE boarding school in Los Angeles before now? ) Cordelia asked herself in honest perplexity. ( Ever since Buffy Summers came to town, I swear – the option of moving to the big city has been looking better and better all the time. I mean things have GOT to be better outside of Sunnydale, right? )

Eighty miles away in Los Angeles, Xander Harris put down an ancient book on vampires in disgust; he no longer wanted to read anything about the atrocities committed in this city by the legendary Angelus, the one time he and his sire had come here during the 19th century.

The details on Darla would eventually come in handy, though.

TBC...