A/N: Okay so, ages since the last chapter. Read on for a quick recap of what has happened.

Recap: Angel tells Buffy there's this guy called The Hand looking to kill her for some unknown reason. Angel goes off to find answers. Willow does a ritual to try and make Buffy human again. In reality, she can't do this unless she turns back time and tries reviving her again. The psycho demon inside of Willow takes control of her during the ritual and alters the spell so it sends all of the Scoobies back in time to China during the 1900 when Spike encountered his first slayer. Buffy, Spike, Dawn, Xander and Giles are trapped inside the bodies of that time and try to figure out a way back to the present.

Chapter 19 - The Hand

It was so easy to let go. The guilt, the sorrow, the shame. They were just words to her now, maybe not forever, but for now they were. She stared up at Spike's narrow face, his cheek bones high as he smiled lovingly, a side of him she always admired but never admitted to. His bare skin pressed against hers and he exhaled heavily. Rubbing his chin gently against her neck, he laid there a moment, his lungs breathing against hers. Why? How? There was no why, she didn't care how. Ever since she had risen from the grave, she had never felt happy and at peace with herself than she did right now. She smelt his skin as he lifted her upright, their arms wrapped around each other. She turned her head and rested a cheek on his shoulder. They were quiet for a while, just holding each other.

He pulled himself away to face her. "Buffy I..."

Her lips folded inside her mouth and she held a finger to his lips. She wasn't ready to hear those words just yet. She brushed her hair back and smiled.

"Hungry, you?"

His eyes slowly widened in agreement. "Want me to kill the innkeeper?"

"For the last time, no."

"The bloke did look a bit dirty didn't he?"

She smiled and rolled her eyes. She pulled him closer, wanting nothing more than for his body to blanket her. Sigh. I'm happy for a change, so naturally I have to remember that I shouldn't be.

Buffy sat up and rested her arms on his shoulders. She gazed into his eyes. "We have an Easter egg hunt to finish remember?"

He kissed her forehead. "I've already found my golden egg. The only one that matters."

He's so cute and vulnerable when he's sappy. "That's sweet Spike, but the sooner we find the Scoobies, the sooner we can get outa this dump." She slid off the bed. "I can't survive much longer without running hot water." She paused, sliding a hand down her arm. She had almost forgotten how cold her skin was.

"Something wrong love?"

She turned to him. Drusilla's smile was quirky. "So besides the throbbing neck of a human being, what else can vampires eat here?"

"Well there's–"

She cupped her mouth with both hands. "Please don't say puppies!" She frowned. "Don't say kittens either."

"Actually–"

"And I'm not scrounging around for rats." She shivered. "No way in hell."

"Angel's idea."

She got a mental image of Angel eating rats in a sewer, and she slowly shook her head. "Can't we go to a bar? Like for the creatures of the night type of thing?"

"Not so much with the bartending scene in this time, more with the killing."

There came a soft knock at the door.

Spike smiled. "Ah. Breakfast."

Buffy quickly pulled her gown on and scowled. "Don't even."

Spike opened the door. The stumpy old innkeeper was shaking as he slowly bowed and offered a clay jug to the vampire. Spike mockingly bowed back, took the jug and closed the door.

"That's sum qualitay service," he said with a heavy accent.

"And I'm guessing that's quality blood. The human kind?"

"Fresh cow."

She sat down on the bed. "Lovely."

. . .

"Where did you take them?"

"A play room. A place where time is still and everything they do matters not. The longer they play inside, the stronger I will become."

"You have to let them go."

"Eventually. The strength I gain from them is insignificant compared to the power I will gain from this body. The red haired girl knows this. She knows she must give up her entire being, her soul, to me."

Tara crossed her arms. "Yeah, I don't see that happening."

A devil like smile drew Willow's lips. She brought her hands to her chest and flung them outward. A dark explosion engulfed the room, shattering glass, and tearing through furniture. The force hit Tara in the chest like a brick wall and she flew backwards. All light in the house was extinguished.

Tara opened her eyes and struggled to raise her head. Willow was knelt to the ground, head hung with hair covering her face. There was dead silence. Tara's lips quivered.

"Willow?"

Willow slowly raised her head and a sob escaped her. "Tara? I can't – my head. It hurts so much. He's so strong." Tara moved closer to her, but Willow backed away. "Don't. I don't know what he'll do."

Tara bit her lip as her eyes moved frantically over the broken women trying to figure out what she could do or say to make her sorrow go away. She suddenly felt cold, realizing the wind was blowing through the house's shattered windows. Tara grabbed a blanket from the couch and threw it around Willow's shoulders. They both jumped as there came three hard knocks on the door. They looked towards the window, but it was darkness.

They cautiously edged towards the door, Willow rubbed her arms. "Who is it? It's past midnight by the way."

The voice behind the door was deep, yet lighthearted and chummy. "Sorry to disturb you – uh Buffy Summers I presume? My name is Billy. I'm a big fan."

They exchanged peculiar stares. "Who's Billy?" Tara whispered.

She shook her head. "I–"

The door broke from the wall slamming hard into Willow. Tara shielded her face as wood splinters flew everywhere.

Something very large and heavy stepped into the house. "Sorry. I couldn't contain my excitement. And to the last question asked, you might also know me as, The Hand."

Tara lowered her arms, eyes widening at the hulking creature before her. He slowly looked around the house. His demeanor was confident, badass.

"It's so dark in here," he muttered. He snapped his fingers and fist-sized balls of fire scattered through the air. They slowed to a stop and hung like lanterns casting a warm glow in the area.

His attire was pretty unconventional for a demon. He wore a grey dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, under a slick black suit. One would think the buttons would be threatening to pop, but everything fit him perfectly. A single horn protruded from his forehead, curving back slightly. His skin was blood red. Long black nails were noticeable as he crossed his arms. His gaze slowly fell upon Tara. She held her breath.

"So you're Buffy."

Tara couldn't help but stare back, mouth slightly open. She exhaled heavily and mentally shook herself. "Lucidus!" she shouted. A blinding flash emitted from her hands and engulfed the room for a long moment. She attuned her senses and found Willow lying unconscious on the floor. She would have to escape through the back door in the kitchen, but she wasn't strong enough to carry her quickly.

The brightness faded and the Hand lowered a palm from his face. "A witch? My mistake." He swiftly moved forward and wrapped his hand around Tara's neck. "Where is Buffy Summers?" he asked in a severe tone. "Where is the Slayer?"

Tara smacked her palms on his chest. "Ignis!" Fire engulfed her hands and spread to the fabric of his clothes. His grasp loosened and she pulled away coughing harshly. He yelled in agony as his entire body burned in flame.

Dragging Willow under her arms, she made it to the kitchen. She could still hear the demon's screams. She swung open the door and quickly looked back sensing something approach. The balls of fire he had casted earlier were hurtling towards her. She swung a palm upwards, creating an energy barrier that reflected the fireballs and sent them exploding into cupboards and dishes. She turned back to the door, but the demon was standing in the entrance, clothes burned away, skin sizzling.

"I liked..." he breathed heavily, "that suit." Blood thirsty eyes narrowed on her. "It's alright. I can make a new one out of your flesh."

She tried to cast, but he was too fast. He swung the back of his hand and smacked Tara in the face. She flew sideways, her body collided with the wall. He raised a claw like hand above her, preparing the final blow. He hesitated and looked down behind him. The once unconscious red head had a firm grasp around his ankle. Her eyes were pitch black, teeth gritted in ferocity.

His eyes widened. "This can't be good."

With inhuman strength, Willow yanked his legs up from under him, sending his head crashing to the floor. In one powerful motion she swung her arms around and sent him flying out the door. Grass and dirt flew in the air as he tumbled across the lawn. There was silence as he laid there motionless. Then he started chuckling. He sat up showing a smile on his face.

"You are one, powerful, little girl. Or should I say..." he stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants, "Fearal."

Willows dark eyes narrowed on him.

The Hand raised his chin slightly and studied the witch standing on the porch. "I thought your stench was awfully familiar. Not to mention unpleasant." He chuckled. "Have your kind degraded yourselves to possessing sweet looking girls now?" She said nothing, her cold gaze still upon him. "Not very chatty are we? Oh I get it. You want to wrassle with me a little more."

"Why do you seek the Slayer?" Demanded the Fearal sounding somewhat uneasy.

"No reason. Well, I just want her dead is all." He scratched his cheek. "Why do I get the feeling you've already done her in?"

"She is no longer your concern. Leave this place now."

The Hand shook his head. "Sorry, can't do that. Not until I see her cold, lifeless body."

The Fearal slowly smirked. "Then we have a problem." She raised hair hands to her shoulders and dark purple energy started flowing from them. The demon inside Willow had no intention of letting anything get in the way of his plans, but it had been long since he last fought someone worthy of his magic. He remembered the excitement of battle, of tearing his opponents limb from limb. He hoped for a long and exhilarating fight. Willow's strength was weakening allowing more of his power to reach the surface. It was only a matter of time before guilt would completely consume her, forcing her to give up her soul for her friends. Once I have taken the witch, the darkness in Buffy will grow. She will turn to hate and revenge. Her moral shell will fall to pieces after every step she takes towards me. Her despair and that of her friends will be unbearable, and I will relish in it.