See Part One for Disclaimer and details. Hello, everybody! Welcome to the latest chapter of the story – and thank you, one and all, those who have continued to read and review the story! Your feedback and reviews really do keep me going. Joel, you're not the first to wonder about who ends up with who in this fic. But all I'll say at this point is that I'll try to channel my inner Joss, and hopefully surprise you all. :) Anyway, on with the fanfic...

Part Nine: Release

Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale

December 12th, 1997

Rory Harris stared at his seventeen-year-old nephew, after they'd arrived for the annual visit to the graves of his brother and sister-in-law. The experience was somewhat different this year, as there hadn't been a long car journey all the way from Los Angeles – but Rory couldn't help feeling that somehow, that just made things worse.

To be honest, the taxidermist was beginning to regret moving back here to Sunnydale. He'd initially thought it would be a good thing, for both himself and Xander. Rory had hoped that it would give the boy a chance to make a fresh start away from Hemery High School and find some friends in a smaller, more tightly knit community.

Instead, right from the outset the kid had complained that this town was giving off bad vibes, as well as being two hours away from the nearest Krispy Kreme – which Xander whined about, any time the word 'doughnut' was even hinted at in conversation.

( I guess he had a point, though – that gas leak and the riots during Halloween didn't exactly say 'welcome to Sunnydale', did they, ) Rory thought to himself. ( Neither did that accident at the school a few days ago. Still, at least Alexander wasn't seriously injured. I can't help wondering, though, where the heck did he learn to speak Vietnamese? To think he started babbling away in that language, while he was tossing and turning in his sleep at the hospital... )

"Rory? Ya mind giving me a few minutes privacy here?" Xander suddenly spoke up.

"Sure, kid. Whatever you want," Rory nodded and quickly took a walk, hoping that the young man would be in a better mood when he returned.

Xander absently rubbed the Special Forces tattoo on his right arm, right below the green beret. He knew his uncle was worried about him, but didn't know what to say about his concerns. Xander didn't really know what to say either; the sad fact was that they hadn't been all that close since puberty had set in, and the teenager had realized just what happened during the monthly 'parties' Rory felt the need to indulge in.

( What the hell am I doing in this town? ) Xander asked himself yet again, staring at his mother's grave. ( I'm supposed to help save the world? God damn it, I'M the one that constantly needs to be saved! Summers saved my life when Ford knocked me out that night, and she did it again the other day when it was Mr. Whitmore's turn. If I'm the only hope for the future, then the Earth is doomed! )

Xander made a decision at that moment. He knew that Soldier Guy would never have been taken by surprise by the possessed Biology teacher; he'd been too experienced in the ways of combat. So Xander decided to stop trying to forget everything about that guy's life, and attempt to develop the leftover military skills for his own use. He still remembered all the procedures, so it was just a matter of...

"Hi, Xander."

Harris turned around, and saw Buffy, Willow and Cordelia standing there. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked in surprise.

Cordelia gestured to Buffy and Willow. "These two were all worried about you, especially since you recovered from that head injury way faster than you should have, like some kinda freak, and I just wanted to say happy birthday and all."

The blonde and the redhead stared at the brunette with their mouths hanging open. "Cordy, have you ever even remotely heard of the word 'tact'?" Buffy eventually asked in sheer disbelief.

"Tact is just coddling the weak. I'll pass; it saves me a lot of time that way," Miss Chase replied disdainfully.

"It also explains why your popular friends say all the things they do about you, behind your back," Willow interjected, which caused Cordelia to send her a dirty look.

"Ladies, please," Xander had to repress a smirk at the female antics. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine. And thanks for the sentiment, Cordelia, but I don't celebrate my birthday. Never have, ever since I was three."

"I remember," Buffy nodded slowly. "I always thought it was odd, y'know, when we were little. You were always invited to my birthday party, at least before I was ten, but I was never invited to yours..."

"What can I say, Summers? Rory always brought me here to the undead version of Pleasantville, instead," Xander shrugged.

"Uh, I gotta ask – why do you always call Buffy 'Summers' like that?" Willow asked hesitantly. "I mean, I-I've never heard you use her first name..."

"Yeah, me neither. What gives?" Cordelia frowned, staring at Harris.

"Old habit I picked up from Ford," Xander said shortly, not liking to think about his vampire acquaintance.

"Yeah, uh, what's happening with that guy lately?" Willow asked, looking at Buffy.

"He came to visit me at the hospital. Said that some of his buddies had come to snack on the coma ward patients, and apparently, Ford wanted to make sure I wasn't on the menu as well," Xander said, grimacing.

"That is so weird, how you've got your own vampire stalker like that. Really makes me glad that I'm not living in your shoes," Cordy said as tactlessly as usual, even though Xander didn't take offense at her words.

"So everything's okay?" Buffy asked Harris. "No other undead encounters of the third kind?"

"I, uh, spoke to Darla the other night; she came to visit me, too. I was wondering if anyone could pull off that soul restoration thing for Ford, like what happened with her," Xander confessed. "But she told me how those gypsies did that sort of thing strictly for revenge, and I wouldn't be doing Ford any favors cursing him that way. Then again, Ford's soul is probably in Hell for getting all those people killed in that club, so..."

"Nah, forget it. I hate to say it, after all those years we knew him – but Ford was a lying scumbag who was willing for both of us to die, as long as that meant he could become a walking corpse," Buffy said, all her memories of her former boyfriend poisoned by their final conversation and confrontation in the Sunset Club.

Just then, Rory returned from his walk – and he was surprised to see that his nephew had company. "Hello..."

"Oh, hi, Mr. Harris," Buffy said, as she was the only one who knew the taxidermist apart from Xander.

Rory squinted at the somewhat familiar-looking girl. "Wait a...Buffy? Little Buffy Summers? My God, but how you've grown! I haven't seen you for years, what are you doing here?"

"Uh, I live in Sunnydale now," Buffy explained with a small smile. "Me and my mom moved here during sophomore year, after my parents got divorced."

"I see. Well, I hope Joyce is okay. I haven't seen her for ages, either," Rory replied.

"She's fine. Oh, Mom has an art gallery here in town, it's on the corner of Maple Court and Main Street; you should drop by sometime. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, and you guys can catch up," Buffy said graciously.

"Thanks, sweetie. I think I'll do just that..." Rory switched his gaze to Cordy and Willow. "And who might you two visions of loveliness be?"

"Rory, this is Cordelia Chase and this is Willow Rosenberg. They go to school with me and Summers," Xander explained as the two female teens blushed at the older man's praise.

"Chase...Rosenberg...uh, hang on, I know those names from somewhere..." Rory mused, before his eyes went wide and he snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute! Are your parents David and Julia Chase, and Ira and Sheila Rosenberg?"

"Well, yeah," Cordelia said, sharing a confused look with Willow.

"Is there, like, a problem?" the redhead asked.

"No, it's just – my God! It's been exactly fourteen years to the day, since I last saw you two kids," Rory shook his head in amazement. "You've both grown up so much since my brother and his wife were killed in that fire..."

"What?" Xander demanded in shock.

"These two girls were there that day, at your third birthday party," Rory explained to his nephew as a number of teenage eyes went wide. "Their parents were friends with Tony and Jessica; heck, in high school your mother was best friends with Sheila Rosenberg, and your father was the same thing with David Chase. Oh, the stories I could tell you-"

"Maybe some other time," Xander abruptly cut his uncle off, staring at the two female teenagers in question. It was obvious they hadn't known, and that Cordelia and Willow were stunned by the older man's words.

Xander could not help wondering how this latest revelation might be related to his mother's story that he'd originally had a destiny here in Sunnydale. If Jessica had survived and Tony hadn't become a demon, thanks to those Wishes, he would have grown up in Sunnydale with his parents instead of Los Angeles with Rory.

And from the sounds of things, most likely he would have been friends with Cordelia and Willow as well...

Unknown demon dimension

December 24th, 1997

It was Christmas Eve, as Allan Finch materialized in a darkened chamber with skulls worked into the stone walls all around him.

The new Mayor of Sunnydale had been quite busy since the day he had slaughtered all those vampires in Collin's warehouse. Unlike Richard Wilkins, Allan had no supernatural power to speak of, despite empowering himself with the Orbs of Nezzla'khan; the Orbs granted him physical strength and invulnerability, but that was it. Thus, dealing with the magical attacks upon his person had forced him to realize that he needed help in that department.

Allan had consulted with a number of people in Sunnydale about his problem, including a disreputable magic dealer called Rack. The wizard had told him that there had once existed creatures called Wish demons – or 'vengeance' or 'justice' demons depending on who you talked to. All those demons – who had originally been human females – had eventually been wiped out after their leader, D'Hoffryn, had been assassinated fourteen years ago.

With one possible exception, according to a vague bar rumor that could be traced back to one of Skip's drinking binges.

D'Hoffryn's former second-in-command, the demoness named Anyanka.

Intrigued, Finch had paid Rack well to follow up on that rumor. The possibilities had been fascinating – because having your own demonic genie to grant you wishes would have appealed to any politician throughout the world, and Allan had figured that if he could find Anyanka and free her, she might make a very good Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale.

After all – unlike Wilkins, Finch had to worry about getting himself re-elected every few years, and a female running mate would definitely improve his chances of snagging the chick vote in town. Not that Allan would ever use the phrase 'chick vote' out loud, of course, or at least not anywhere the voting public might hear him.

Eventually, Rack had acquired a special coin and an equally special key from a couple of places within the Chinatown district of Los Angeles. After returning to Sunnydale, he had handed them over to his employer, along with instructions on how to use them; and so, after using the interdimensional transport device, Allan had arrived here.

"Gotta love the décor in this place," Allan muttered sarcastically to himself, as he picked up the mystical transporter and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He then spotted a doorway to a room lit by fire at the bottom of a fight of steps, and slowly walked towards it.

As he entered the room, Allan saw a screaming human-shaped being engulfed in flames, inside a burning cube. "Ah, so that rumor was true..."

"Hi there. You know you're not supposed to be here, right?"

Allan turned around, examining the tall, spike-encrusted, silver demon staring at him. "Hello. And yes, I'm well aware of that. Say – your name wouldn't happen to be Skip, by any chance, would it?"

"Yeah, it is. Have we met?" the mercenary demon, who didn't look any different since the day he had imprisoned Halfrek and Anyanka in this chamber, asked suspiciously.

"No, no. My name's Allan Finch, by the way," the new Mayor said politely. "Oh, I just want to confirm – that is Anyanka in there screaming her lungs out, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Skip grimaced, as the screaming was abruptly cut off by an application of his will. There was only so much of it he could listen to, before it started to bug the crap out of him. "There, that's better." Skip then turned back to Allan and said, "So what are ya doing here?"

"I'm here to rescue her," Allan admitted candidly, gesturing at Anyanka.

"You're kidding, right? I mean, why would you wanna do that?" Skip asked in honest confusion. "'Cause there's a reason why she's here, apart from pissing off one of the Powers That Be. Namely, that demon girl's nuttier than a fruitcake! Eleven hundred years, and she's killed more guys than I've had hot dinners. So why the heck would you want to release someone like that?"

"Politics. I have certain plans in mind where she's concerned," Allan replied cryptically.

"Oh, you're a politician!" Skip exclaimed, as the light began to dawn. "So, then, I really can't talk you out of this."

"No, I'm afraid not," Allan declared, right before Skip hit him full in the face. "Now that was just rude." He grabbed hold of Skip by the neck, who was still astounded over how the human – he HAD to be a human, that smell was unmistakable – had managed to shrug off a blow that should have shattered his skull in half.

"What's keeping her trapped in that cage?" Allan asked calmly, releasing his grip enough for Skip to speak – even though the struggling silver demon was now dangling high up off the ground.

"My conscious will," Skip replied, unable to believe this was happening to him.

Allan nodded and brought Skip back down. With a mighty punch, he slugged the mercenary directly in the face – which sent Anyanka's jailer straight to dreamland.

Letting the unconscious Skip fall to the floor, Allan turned to study the prisoner behind him. He saw a naked, soot-smeared woman in her late twenties with a green pendant around her neck, who was staring around in wonder – before she turned her gaze upon Finch.

( Okay, she's not exactly what you'd call 'stable', ) Allan thought to himself, as Anyanka ran to the cage bars and started screaming to be let out, promising horrible vengeance upon him if he didn't comply instantly with her orders. ( Still, all I have to do is gain her loyalty somehow, and she might be useful. )

"SHUT UP!" Allan then yelled at Anyanka, as he effortlessly lifted Skip up off the floor. "Or do you want me to wake him up, and you can start hollering in agony all over again?"

At once Anyanka shut her mouth, even though she kept glaring at Allan in vivid hate.

"That's better," Finch exhaled. "Now listen carefully. I came here to rescue you-"

"That's ridiculous!" Anyanka said, her eyes clouded over with insanity. "Now let's play a game called 'hide and seek'. I hide, you seek. And when you're not looking, the bunny rabbits will gobble you up, starting with your bottom!"

( Definitely madder than Norman Bates in 'Psycho', ) Finch thought, shaking his head. "I've got a better idea. Why don't we play 'tear the head off the demon who tortured you for fourteen years' instead, hmm?"

Anyanka's eyes widened, as Allan placed Skip's head in her hands outside the cage bars. "Wha..."

"Just a moment – and hold on tight." The demoness did so as Finch pulled with all his strength on the mercenary's body, and with a terrible ripping noise Skip's head came away cleanly from his neck.

Anyanka saw the silver head in her hands start to drip black blood all over the floor. The surprise factor was so great, she dropped Skip's head and backed away from the cube's bars. "Wha..."

"I'll explain everything in a moment." Allan used the superhuman strength conferred upon him by the Orbs to bend apart two of the cage bars, far enough to let the dazed and confused Anyanka out of her prison.

The insane woman just stared at her savior in complete bewilderment, as he took out the mystical transporter and sent both of them to Sunnydale. Within City Hall, Anyanka listened as Allan told her that she was now the last of her kind, and that he wanted for her to join him in ruling the Hellmouth.

After a long time, despite the odds and despite her intense hatred for men and the human world in general, Anyanka became unerringly loyal to Allan Finch for saving her from an eternity of torture and pain.

1175 Hadley Street, Sunnydale

December 25th, 1997

It was Christmas morning, and all over Sunnydale various people were celebrating the holiday season in various ways.

Willow and Jesse were watching 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' at his house, the same way they did every year – although McNally absolutely refused to do the Snoopy Dance, as a matter of principle.

Cordelia was having an erotic dream about the one boy in school that she couldn't have. Nobody had woken her up yet – as her parents had decided to take off to Aspen on a whim, and the hired help had the day off to spend with their own families.

Xander and Rory were opening each other's presents at the Harris residence, and Buffy and Joyce were doing the exact same thing at 1630 Revello Drive. Giles and Darla were alone within their own homes, neither of them having any family to share this special day with.

That left Jenny Calendar, or Janna of the Kalderash people as she was otherwise known.

"Good morning, Uncle. Did you sleep well?" Jenny asked, as the unexpected guest from last night came out of the spare bedroom.

"Well enough," Enyos of the Kalderash grunted in his East European accent.

"Good. Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" Jenny asked.

"Later," Enyos told his niece. "As I said last night, we need to talk. Sit."

Jenny did so. Enyos sat down as well and said, "The elder woman of our people has been reading the signs and portents. She says something is different."

"Nothing has changed with the vampire, as far as I know. Darla's curse still holds," Jenny told him.

But Enyos insisted, "The elder woman is never wrong. She says the beast's rage at being confined is growing. It suffers more now than it has for nearly a century. Understand, Janna – I am commending you, not admonishing you for what has happened," the gypsy stated bluntly. "Still, I must know why this has come to pass."

Jenny exhaled after thinking it over for a few seconds. "Well, this is just a guess, you understand – but you remember how I informed you in my letters, that Darla is associated with the Slayer and her friends? That she fights the evil here at their side?"

"Yes," Enyos replied with a look which said he STILL found that very hard to believe.

"Well, there is a boy who...who lusts after her. A friend of the Slayer, who doesn't care that Darla is a vampire – an unclean corpse," Jenny said, leaning back. "Previously, I never thought much about it, as Darla has always seemed to ignore Jesse's interest; as far as I know, he's never even managed to get to the hand-holding stage with her. And he is a teenage boy, fickle as such boys often are, so lately – lately, I believe Jesse has begun to focus less on the vampire and more on..."

"Who?"

"Me," Jenny said in acute embarrassment.

"WHAT?" Enyos shouted. "How could you let this happen, Janna? To think that a, an impudent gadje child would ever dare to-!"

"Jesse is my student at the school, and I have given him no more encouragement than Darla has. However, this is America – and, more often than not, the heart wants what it wants and pays no attention to what the head is telling it. You know this, Uncle," Jenny told him. The undercover spy wisely left unmentioned how she had guessed that Willow's sexual orientation had shifted since Halloween, so that the red-haired girl also considered Jenny the object of her affections; the intolerant and parochial Enyos might actually have a stroke at hearing THAT news.

Most likely so would Giles, Jenny's official boyfriend.

"Americans," Enyos growled, accepting the truth of his niece's statement. "Well, so be it. And yes, all that WOULD explain why the demon's rage is growing. It must consider that fool you've described as its personal property, even if – as you say – the soul does not appear to care for him much. So you should take care in the future, Janna; and see to it that that boy learns the error of his ways, somehow. We should not take any risks that he will make the vampire truly happy."

"I don't understand. What does it matter if Darla is truly happy?" Jenny asked in confusion.

"The curse, Janna. One moment of true happiness, of contentment, one moment where the soul that we restored no longer plagues her thoughts...and that soul is gone, the beast unleashed once more," Enyos said tersely.

"The curse can be broken? Then, if somehow, if it ever happens..." Jenny trailed off, looking shocked. "Oh my God! Why didn't anyone tell me about this before now?"

"You did not ask," Enyos shrugged. "Now, my niece, let us break our fast together. The time for talking is over, at least for the moment."

The Master's cave, somewhere underneath Sunnydale

January 1st, 1998

The Anointed One didn't like this place anymore. Once upon a time, it had been his home – a secure area, and the Master's personal domain. But now the Master was dead and the cavern was dusty, smelly and often crawling with rats, although some of the minions who still had dirt behind their ears willingly took care of them. Once he was ready, the little boy vampire was planning to move back above ground – where IT had happened.

Collin tried not to think of the humiliation he'd suffered over a month ago. Such thoughts always put him in a bad mood, although he made sure not to show it in front of the troops. Temper tantrums made Collin look childish, and he knew it. Of course, technically, he was a child and would always be one. But that had its downside: after the slaughter at the warehouse, Ford and Dalton were the only vampires left who'd been aware of his reputation and his association with the Master.

Ever since that terrible day, Collin had had his undead lieutenants creating new vampires from among the human populace to replenish the ranks, but – the fledglings didn't know anything about him or the Master, and were unimpressed with the prepubescent boy they were introduced to as their new liege lord. A lot of them had to be beaten into submission, and even then they only served him sullenly, looking for any opportunity to defect to greener pastures.

Recruiting was also difficult with the Slayer at large. Something had to be done about her, as well as his masked enemy – and the Anointed One had already set his plan in motion for that. ( Now, if only that damned minion of mine would return... )

Collin looked up as said minion arrived into the cavernous space. "Well?"

Ford marched up to his sire with a crate on his shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, master. It was New Year's Eve last night, so there was nobody at the dock to unload the ship's cargo and I had to-"

"Shut up. Now, put it down and get out," Collin ordered Fordham crossly, and luckily for the teenage vampire's continued existence Ford instantly obeyed his sire's orders.

Slowly, the Anointed One lifted the long box out from the crate and opened it. A demonic blue leg covered in medieval armor rested inside; it was part of the apocalypse demon known as the Judge. Something that, whilst unkillable, had been dismembered over six centuries ago, and its body parts scattered to the four corners of the globe.

The end of the world was coming, as all the king's horses and all the king's men could definitely put THIS demon back together again.

TBC...