DAY 3

The next day, the former Slayers-In-Training, Gunn and Lorne took on new tasks like cleaning out the bus, shopping and planning a schedule of other housekeeping chores. The girls were getting excited about going home, and wanted to put things in order for them to leave.

Splitting up the research tasks between them, the rest of them sought information on Angel's new opponent and for anything on The Crown. The Book Brigade, as they had dubbed themselves, had been hard at work all day. Angel had chosen to do his study at Cordy's bedside while Dawn, Angel, Wes and Giles were in the office. Willow had left Kennedy still snoring from her late night outing to join Fred, and Andrew, using every available computer terminal or laptop to help.

They had searched through nearly every volume in Angel Investigation's extensive library, and run through the 20,000 links Google had returned when they typed in "large male murderer with dog". No one was finding anything significant. But everyone was becoming frustrated.

They had just started a second round with the books and a new search, "crown +recuperative", when, at 6 pm, Giles slammed his hand down on his book. "Aha!" he barked. The whole room jumped, then Dawn recovered first. "Geez, Giles. Give a girl a coronary! You found something?"

Giles looked at her triumphantly and began by prefacing, "Well, it's written in Latin, but basically it says that the secret of The Crown of Strength lies within Sauchen."

"Sauchen?" Wesley whistled. "Of course, I knew it was familiar."

"Sauchen?" Angel repeated. "What's that?"

"It's a who," the younger watcher explained, "Sauchen told cryptic fairy tales for the children of the tribal leaders in central Africa about 2,000 BCE. The stories were rumored to be prophetic. But over time the oral histories of the area were wound through the original stories confusing prophecy with current events. Untangling the original stories from the retelling is a lifelong pursuit. One teacher of mine gave me one of the shorter tales to complete as my year-end exam. I've never forgiven him."

"Is there a translation of the Crown's original fable then?" Dawn asked. "Or do we have to travel back in time to discover the secrets we need?"

"Actually, there is one translation of 'Naillig's Crown'." Everyone looked at Giles. "It's in my flat in London." He smiled at Wesley, "I rather enjoyed Professor Rivits' class."

"Oh, Giles," Willow admonished. "What good is it doing us there?"

"I'll have my notebook here in 24 hours. Angel, may I use your phone?"

#####

David hung up the phone with Giles and took a deep breath. It had been hell waiting while the battle raged in Sunnydale, not knowing the outcome or who were the survivors. But Giles had been right, there was nothing he could have done to stop the inevitable, and his presence would have only confused matters and made things worse.

Still, he regretted the decision to stay in London. Especially now that he knew the losses. He was young and healthy, he might have helped. But it was over and now there was apparently some new mystery and Giles needed a book, of course, sent to him. Glad to have something to do and with only a briefest of hesitations, he picked up the phone to reserve a seat on the next flight to California. He'd take the book to his employer personally.

#####

Buffy wanted to go for a walk, but beyond all laws of probability, it was raining that night in LA. Driven back in with no compelling reason that she HAD to go out, since patrolling wasn't necessary, she wandered back toward her bed. On her way, she passed the open door of the room where Cordy lay. The room was dark but Buffy could see Angel's silhouette against the dim light at the window. He sat leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, his elbows on his knees. He looked as though he was ready to stay there all night and suddenly Buffy realized that that's exactly what he had been doing for quite a while.

Buffy hesitated, unsure whether or not to intrude, when he spoke, "Sometimes I come in and just watch her breathe and wonder if she knows I'm here."

"I'm sure she knows," Buffy replied to the brooding vampire. "Cordy always knew when someone was looking at her, she loved the attention."

Angel gave Buffy a smile and turned back to the woman sleeping in the bed. "You'd be surprised, Buffy. Cordy's changed since she came to LA."

Something stirred in Buffy. There was tenderness in Angel's voice as he spoke about Cordelia. One that she recognized. One that had once been hers alone. She felt the jealousy rise in her throat and commanded it back with reason until her voice bristled only slightly, "So I heard, princess, mother, possessed…"

At her change in mood, Angel's face clouded. "That's not what I meant," he interrupted, his voice low.

Buffy was shaken. She'd heard him use that tone before, but never with her. "I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean…."

"She means a lot to me, Buffy. I thought that, of all people, you might understand how tragic it is to lose people you care about."

Buffy stepped backwards into the hallway and turned toward her room without a word, Angel's words ringing in her ears. Enumerating her losses had not been on the agenda for this evening. In the two days since the apocalypse, Buffy had carefully withdrawn from the world. She still moved within it but was sheltered by a self-imposed zone of indifference, free from caring and pain and loss and as long as she didn't think about the past, she didn't miss the things she had found there, friendship, compassion, love. She reached her room just as the cocoon she had spun around herself began to unravel.

That night, as she slept, Buffy spoke to her lover in her dreams. She heard herself say it again, "I love you."

"No you don't, but thanks for saying it."

The horrible scene at the end repeated over and over. She'd left him there, alone. She'd confessed her deepest emotions and he'd not believed her, she wasn't sure she believed herself. Tears streamed down her face as she begged him again. "Please, Spike. I love you. Please don't die."

Then it was dark. Silent. She stood watching, waiting until she heard a match strike and the room came to life. She saw herself lying down, naked between layers of fabric. She was cold, but not alone, not here. It was Spike's crypt, the bed where they had… "C'mon, love. Stay with me tonight."

She heard herself say it, just as she had then, "No Spike, I told you, I can't stay. I have patrolling, and Dawn…"

Spike turned back from the candle toward the prone Buffy, and slipped his arms tenderly around her. Both Buffys felt the sensation of being pulled toward him, his muscles tightening into an embrace. But whereas the one that watched welcomed his gentle touch, the other shrugged him away. "I said no, Spike."

The blond vampire lifted his arms to release the protesting Slayer, but tried again, "But pet, your house is full of people to care for Dawn. I'd be worried m'self otherwise. And we patrolled together just hours ago. So c'mon and stay."

The Buffy in the room began to get dressed, ignoring his protests, concerning herself with everything except him, everything except recognizing their relationship for what it was. When he reached out for her one last time, she'd decided to hurt him. "I don't love you. This is…just what it is."

Spike pulled back his arms and let her go as though she'd struck him. "Oh, we're playing that tune again, are we?"

As she watched, Buffy remembered saying the words, knowing they were lies. They were meant to stop him from getting close, from allowing her to get close, allowing her to be hurt, again. And as she watched, distanced now by time and dimension, she knew just how obvious her lies had been. Spike knew the routine and rolled onto his back in the bed and laced his fingers under his tousled hair with a resigned smile. "Right then, that's it for now. But you'll be back."

"Never." Another lie.

"Someday…" he called out after the retreating Buffy but she wouldn't stop. The steel door that let outside slammed loudly upstairs before the remaining Buffy heard him finish, "Someday you'll stop lying to me and to yourself and admit you love me. 'S'alright, though, I'm not going anywhere, I can wait you out."

"You knew I was lying?" The vampire's eyes sought out the other Buffy as she spoke.

"Slayer, you were good at a lot of things, but lying and deception…," Spike shook his head and reached for his pants.

"You always could read me, couldn't you Spike?"

"Yep, luv, like a book." The man she'd loved stood and padded bare-footed across the stone floor until he stood before her. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and laid her head on his chest. "Preferred the Braille version, though."

A laugh spilled unbidden from her lips and she reached her own arms around his slender waist. Feeling again the chiseled muscles of his back, cool skin under her warm hands. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

"It would have been like this?" Buffy wondered out loud. "You and me?"

"Better, Buffy. Better than anything you can even dream."

Silent tears streamed from her eyes. "I was an idiot, Spike. Foolish, maniacal, oblivious, stubborn, a…what you said."

"Bitch?"

"Yeah, that."

"Hey, you're talking about the woman I love."

"If you love me then you were more of a foo…," but she didn't finish. His lips were on hers and her mind was swept away in a whirlwind of old passions and new freedoms. She felt herself letting go, admitting to all the emotions, accepting his offer of love for what it was and finally cherishing it. When their kiss broke, she struggled to catch her breath.

"See?" He grinned. "No sparkles yet, luv, but definitely better."

Buffy stood within his embrace. She stood there in a dream where time had no meaning, where there were no vampires, no demons, no Apocalypses, no Watchers or Slayers. In her dream there were only two young lovers in each other's arms. A normal man and a normal woman discovering the tentative intimacy of sharing souls.

Still, even here, where all seemed idyllic, Buffy balked. She had packed away her emotions with her childhood dreams to be treasured, but forgotten because living daily with what might have been had become too painful. She faced the honest passion of the man before her and Buffy Summers knew it was time to reopen old wounds, knew that Spike was the only one strong enough to help her bear her pain and that the love he carried for her would help her begin to heal. He was, after all, her champion.

"Can I tell you something, Buffy?" She nodded. "I used to fear the future. I hid from it all the time. Bloody 'ell, being a vampire is all about fearing what's round the next corner or existence. Immortality is a proven way to avoid the future. But you changed that in me."

"I did?"

"Sure did. With you 'round I couldn't wait to see what would happen next. There was potential. I wanted to meet each day with you, face them together, come what may. I'll miss that the most, I think."

"No." Buffy didn't like where this was going.

"But you can do it for us, Buffy. You have to. You have to hold your head up and face the future for us both."

Turning her face up to his to protest, she felt dizzy, his image was wavering in the light, as though caught in a candle flame. She could feel him slipping out of her grasp and grew desperate. "Stop saying that, I can't. It's always left to me to carry on. To live in the world, to be the one who is living. Spike, please. I can't do it anymore. I'm tired, I'm lonely. I'm not even needed. Let me come with you, to your future."

"No, love that can't be. But Buffy, I know you, remember? You're strong. You can do this. Sure there's pain, but there are rewards too. Even I got one of those. I had you."

"Wait!" screamed the dreaming Buffy frantically. "No! Stop! Damn it, you swore you'd never leave me. You swore. You swore."

Her eyes flew open to strange surroundings. Before she could remember where she was she heard a voice at the door, and a gentle rapping. "Buffy? Are you all right? The door is locked. Buffy?"

"Willow?" Things were coming back to her now. The Hyperion. L.A..

"Buffy? Are you OK? I heard your voice. You were...screaming."

"Yeah, Wils, I'm fine. Just a bad dream." She listened until Willows steps retreated from her door and then lay back in an empty bed to weep for the lack of sparkles.

#####

As the rest continued researching the Crown, Buffy spent the next day training with anyone she could find, the potentials, Gunn, even Andrew. She wasn't particular, any victim would do. After her dream last night, the frustration and pain she had felt over Spike's loss, were now becoming anger; an anger which was getting harder and harder to control. The workout didn't improve her mood, but her spirit was coming around slowly.

Everyone was in the mood for a less raucous evening the next night. With at least one clue uncovered and on its way, they intended to relax. The dinner dishes finished, Wes and Giles took up residence in the library again and everyone else found a place to sit in the main lounge, reading or chatting quietly about the future none of them had ever assumed they would have.

"Okay, well, I'm headed out." All eyes turned to Kennedy as she walked through the lobby. "I'm going to check out the nightlife around here. Anybody with me?"

"We thought we'd all stay in tonight," Willow stood and approached her new partner. "Why don't you stay here?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Willow," Kennedy replied quietly and with a caress of her lover's cheek, "You're so sweet, but I've just got an urge to go out and do something fun. Raise the roof with some normal people tonight, well, normal like you and me normal. There's somewhere only a few blocks away, Lolita's. Come with me?"

Willow looked around, everyone else had looked away, no one had heard the invitation to the lesbian bar, but no one made a move to join Kennedy's expedition. "I really don't feel comfortable in those…places. We could cuddle up with a good book in front of the fire."

With one last pity-filled look at Willow, Kennedy shrugged. "Alright then, like I said, I'm headed out. See all of you later," and the young woman strode purposefully out of the hotel. Desolately Willow walked back to her seat and picked up her book.

After Kennedy left, the mood of the room became somber. Buffy was the first to make a move. She stood and walked over to her friend, laying a hand on her shoulder she asked, "Are you okay Wils?"

"Sure," the witch replied, "I'm good. I mean, this is good. We've all be wound pretty tight and, well, we all relax differently. Right? Some people paint, or read, or…" Willow floundered, trying to find acceptable excuses for Kennedy's behavior. It tore at Buffy's heart when Willow looked up at her with tears brimming in her eyes. Loss was hard bear no matter the cause.

Buffy hugged her best friend to her. "She'll be back, Willow. She will."

#####

After an hour or so of reading, Wes rubbed his eyes and reached for the radio. He fiddled with the dials and ran across a news station. He was about to move on when the words caught his attention. "…inion Institute brought this alarming statistic with them to the White House today."

Something in the tone of the newscaster caught his attention and he paused as the story began to unfold. "The death and injury rate for young girls throughout North America has jumped dramatically over the last three days. The nationally recognized research firm first recognized this disturbing pattern while running reports on a recent study they had already been conducting within that demographic.

"Mr. James Rierdon of the National Opinion Institute: In this case we were doing a paid study on teenage recklessness. The study parameters were to collect data from fifteen metropolitan areas over a period of three months. We had completed the first two months and were beginning the final phase this week. The third phase included a comparison over the three-month period and yesterday we began running those reports. Although the statistics for teenage males were within predictable ranges, as you can see in the chart behind me, the catastrophic and fatal injury rate within the female sector of this demographic has quadrupled since a similar period only a month ago.

"Mr. Rierdon went on to report that although the rate of injury has increased, the recovery rate and time has mysteriously altered as well. Fatal injury is defined by a team of experts as 'irreparable damage caused by outside force; self-inflicted, accidental or intentional'. These injuries have increased by 400% as I've already indicated. Our study, however, also reveals that, although the injuries within this category have increased, the recovery levels have increased remarkably and recuperation from such injuries, considered inconceivable just last month, is now commonplace, again apparently only within this demographic.

"As yet there are no guesses as to the cause of this mystery. Our on-the-town reporter took this afternoon to speak with several teenage girls at the East Side High School.

Reporter: Girls, you've heard the report. What seems to be going on? Felicia?

Felicia: Uh, well, it's funny. The last few days we've all been noticing certain changes. We're all feeling stronger, more…sure of our selves…

Girl 2: Confident.

Girls: General consensus. Yes, that's it.

Reporter: Why is that?

Girls: Uncertainty We don't know.

Felicia: It's great though. We feel like we could do anything.

Girl 2: We CAN do anything!

Felicia: I jumped off the top of this building earlier today.

Reporter: Felicia has indicated her school's three-story high gymnasium. But you couldn't have…

Girls: Confirming. She did. I saw her. I was there.

Felicia: But I did and look at me. Not a scratch.

Reporter: And you all feel this way?

Girls: General agreement, murmurs.

Reporter: Have the rest of you tested these new found…um…powers?

Girls: General agreement, murmurs.

Girl 3: I rode my bike in a race against my brother on his motorcycle yesterday and I won.

Girls: Cheering

Reporter: And all of you have experienced these same feelings?

Girl 2: Yes, well, nearly everyone in my sophomore class and, from what I hear, lots of the juniors too.

Reporter: Most everyone, but not all?

Girl 3: Well, it seems to be everyone who's…um…unattached.

Reporter: No boyfriends? Is that what you mean?

Felicia: No one in a 'committed relationship'.

Reporter: The girls who were affected were all virgins? Is that what you're inferring?

Girls: Giggling

Felicia: Well, it could just be a coincidence…

Giles and Wesley looked at each other. Their Watcher senses were running on overdrive. The fact that this news corresponded exactly with recent events in Sunnydale was no coincidence.

The newscaster continued, "In an oddly related story, the crime rate in metropolitan areas has increased by an equal percentage to the young girls injury and death rates in the previous story. It seems that whatever has effected this population has caused an abnormal amount of rash, ruthless and thoughtless behavior. We have Dr. Martin Joffery on the line from Seattle, WA to discuss the…"

Rupert raced for the office door and called out into the hotel. "Willow, Buffy, get in here now." All heads turned toward Giles whose command had caught them off guard. He hadn't sounded that in charge in years.

#####

He found his place by the window, hefted his carry-on to the overhead and stretched his muscles one last time, but, as David began to sit down, he stopped and reached up and into his bag. He pulled down a small hand-bound book, then settled down into the narrow seat, buckling in for the 14-hour flight. He looked out the window at the sunset over London.

The city held nothing for him other than memories, most of them bad. An East-ender for his whole life, he'd thought he'd never leave that dreary part of the city, much less the country. The horror stories that had enriched his youth had certainly drawn him down an unusual course.

Rupert had answered so many of the young man's questions about the Slayer and the members of the Sunnydale group that although they had never met, he felt he knew each of them personally. But the LA group had been secondary. He knew that Angel was a souled vampire, that the Slayer had loved him, but they had parted friends, Angel Investigations was the result and there were others there now helping the vampire "help the helpless". Alan wondered if he fit into that category, or if he would once his boss found out he'd brought the package himself instead of sending it. He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of his seat.

"You all right, sir?" a passing steward asked.

"Fine," David replied gently.

"Can I get you a glass of water before take-off?"

"No, thanks, I'm all right. Jus' leavin' home for a while, s'all."

"First trip to America, sir?"

David opened his eyes and looked out into the darkening sky, "Second," he replied.

#####

Upon hearing the news, Wesley had thrown himself at his laptop. "Rupert," he called now from the library, "What was the name of that organization? National Resea…."

"No, it was National Opinion Institute."

"Got it."

"What is it?" Willow asked as she and Buffy ran downstairs toward him, "Giles, you look positively…."

"Good, you're here." Giles interrupted, looking beyond them to the top of the stairs, "Angel, you should hear this too." By the time they were all present, Wesley was printing out everything he could find on the MSNBC, CNN and all the major network news sites. Giles turned to Willow and handed her the first of the printed sheets, "Read this." He turned back to the printer, "Can't this thing go any faster?"

"It's the color. I'll print everything else in black. Sorry, I didn't think about speed." Wes adjusted the printer settings.

"Giles," Willow was half-way through the first page. "What is this? What's going on? What happened to all these girls?"

"Willow," Giles answered as he handed her more paper. "Don't you see, the spell, the Slayer spell you did?"

"It worked, didn't it? I mean, we won because of it, the battle was…"

"Yes, yes, it worked." Giles pulled off his glasses as he always did to make his point stick. "The problem is that it worked too well. There have been repercussions we didn't foresee. Girls around the world have gained the strength and confidence of Slayers overnight with none of the training, none of the experience. They're taking chances, risks, dares and they're hurting themselves at an alarming rate."

Willow wobbled and Buffy helped her find a place to sit, not feeling too steady herself.

"Giles," Buffy looked from one face to another. "What's going on?"

Turning to one of the younger girls who had followed the others into the library, Giles asked, "Jennifer, since Willow did the spell in Sunnydale, how have you felt?"

"Great. Never better. Strong." Giles nodded and the girl continued, "Powerful. Invincible."

Giles moved on to Fred, "And you?"

"Well, fine, I guess." She looked questioningly at Angel who returned a confused glance.

"Giles," Buffy repeated, "What is it? A little too much drama going on."

"Buffy, it seems that Willow's spell, although it allowed us to win the battle with the First and to close the Sunnydale Hellmouth, held some unanticipated consequences."

The other girls stood in the doorway, curious about the excitement but now concerned that their fate was once again. "Like?" Rona asked.

"Like that it only affected young women who were…um…virgins," Giles said with belated delicacy. "I suppose I knew on some level that all girls who are called were…, but it didn't occur to me that the spell would be selective."

"But I'm not…," Becca started to say, but Shannon hit her in the shoulder and she demurred. "Okay, yeah I am."

"But," Willow interrupted, "Kennedy was a Slayer after the spell. She fought like one. Didn't she?"

"It could have been suggestive. Adrenaline was running on high and may have been mistaken for new-found power if you were looking for it," Giles suggested.

"Oh." Buffy thought for a moment. "So, is that a problem? If it's just certain girls that share the Slayer power, that's okay. Isn't it?"

"It seems that having given this gift to young girls without training or maturity, or the guardianship of a Watcher has led to an abuse of those powers, or a misunderstanding of them. They've been putting themselves in danger."

Wesley finished the thought, "So, we either have to go public and educate them all, or we have to…."

"…reverse the spell."

Giles looked at the stricken Wicca, "Yes, Willow. Reverse the spell."

Buffy flinched. The idea of not being the only Slayer, of not having to be the One anymore had provided her with some measure of relief over the last couple of days. She didn't have to think or do or manage anymore. "That can't be the only way," she stood and argued. "We can teach them, like Wes said. Willow can do a web site to let them know. We'll spread the word. We'll…"

"There's too many, Buffy. And the danger is too imminent. Look." Giles handed her a fistful of the papers Wesley had been printing, copies of the news reports. "It's happening everywhere. It's happening now."

"There's another thing," Angel spoke up. All eyes turned toward him. "The blood."

"Blood?" Gunn asked.

"Yes, there was something about that dog the other night. It had killed. Recently. I could smell the blood on its breath. I just do, you know. But there was something about the smell. I couldn't place it until now. But it was Slayer blood. All of the girls that were effected must now have Slayer blood."

"And," continued Lorne, "In the demon community, that's a pretty hot commodity. Used for everything from an aphrodisiac to a major spell booster. Possessing Slayer blood puts each of these girls in immediate danger and without the training…"

"We can't pull their powers back just like that," Buffy argued "It'd be like pulling out the rug from under them."

Faith stepped in. "Better that than hoping they survive the learning curve, B."

"I know we all thought we'd be sharing a great gift. We thought we'd be empowering the weak, but instead we've put them all in danger," Willow surmised. "Buffy, if we don't…"

"…they're all dead." Buffy conceded, "We have no choice."

"Willow, I need you to help me find a way to reverse the spell." The redheaded witch nodded at Giles. "And girls, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to go home until we resolve this." The girls, despite their disappointment, nodded silently. "Wesley, what else have you found," Giles asked and then he, Wes and Willow headed into a corner to confer. Buffy turned to leave, making a path through the girls in the doorway.

She had been free for a few days, free to not be the only Slayer. For the first time in seven years, she had just been Buffy Summers and now, as suddenly as it was given, that freedom was being taken away. Destiny hadn't been good to her, claiming the man she cared most about in the world only a few short days ago and now it was calling her again. She would answer, as always, but she didn't have to be happy about it.

#####

David pushed back his tray of airline food. 'Disgusting,' he thought. He looked out the window once more at the deepening twilight. The stars over the ocean were beautiful. Sleeplessly, he reached for Rupert's book. 'Well,' he figured, 'If it's got somethin' to what's happnin' now in L.A., I guess I ought to give it a read.' He opened the volume to the first page.

This story existed only in the oral histories of the Akasumite peoples, said to have originally been an instructive fable told to the youth of those tribes. It was first committed to writing by Sir Harmon Gerrard during his 1853 sojourn into northeastern Africa. His assistant on this trip was his wife, Lady Gwendolyn Gerrard. Each of the pair were renowned linguists in their own right. They originally heard this story in the native tongue, Ge`ez, and later discovered it existed within the old South Arabian language, in which the story was also related to them. Their subsequent translation was derived is the culmination of both accounts as assembled by Lord and Lady Gerrard upon their return to London in 1865.

"Bullocks," David thought. "Rupert, you swot. This is the kind of over analytical rubbish that gives us Brits a bad name." But he continued reading.

This, the oldest written version of the tale of "The Crown", appears to be broken down into three distinct sections with the second and third seeming to have been added later to enhance the original meaning or the original message of the story.

In the time before time there were ten kingdoms, ruled by ten siblings. The Eldest among them was prized as the chief of all the People and that kingdom was the heart of the People. The Eldest was sought out to settle all disputes and each generation of Eldest put the good of all the People before the good of their own tribe.

The ten kingdoms lived in harmony, each content to provide their neighbors with the product of their individual skills. One tribe was skilled with metal, making jewelry and tools for trade. Another one from near the sea, harvested shells and sea creatures. A third tribe, from near the river were basket weavers, and a fourth worked the land. In this way all gifts were shared, all tribes rich in each other's bounty and the People at peace.

Many generations ago in the time of Egsus, upon the rising of the new moon within the 4th moon, the ninth tribe, that with skills in fighting and weaponry, held counsel. They spoke secretly among themselves saying, "Why toil to trade for what we need when we can make weapons that will allow us to simply take what we require?"

Now, whereas the homes of each tribe were protected from harm by a circular wall made of sticks woven with reeds and mud, the scheming tribe began to fortify their wall. They made it stronger and thicker and their shaman protected it with charms against invaders although no other tribe threatened them. Behind their wall they created an army of fierce animals; dogs with sharp teeth and flying lizards with taloned claws for holding and shredding enemies.

Then they began to attack the other tribes one by one and to take the treasures meant for worship or trade. These they took back and lay behind their new fortress, ending each victory with strong wine, wicked depravity and vile rituals created to celebrate only themselves, no longer feeling the need to revere their gods. By following this path their tribe became rich in power, but had separated themselves from the People and were poor in spirit.

Thus ends the first part of this tale. This first section speaks only of the loss of innocence of the People and was, for this culture, a tale akin to the Garden of Eden. The next section appears to be added to address what could be done by the people to overcome such base nature, by turning to their most trusted leaders and separating themselves from those who couldn't strive for the good of all.

As the news of the attacks spread the other kingdoms sought out the Eldest saying, "Please, denounce your brother's tribe, for we fear what they do and make behind their thick wall." The Eldest did not answer. Again they asked, "Let us attack their wall and take their weapons, kill them and their beasts. Let us live in harmony as only nine kingdoms." Again their petitions were unanswered for, at this time, the leadership of the eldest kingdom was fulfilled by an old woman, Naillig. Her decisions had been sound and good for many years, providing the People with peace, but now she lay dying and could not answer the People's cries.

Her children gone before her, the grandson at her side was to be the Eldest, yet he stood only eight years and was afraid to face the People's troubles alone. As the woman breathed her last, and the People called out for justice, the boy trembled. He knelt at the woman's side for three days and nights, asking for her to stay, to rise up and reunite the People once again. Still the woman slept more deeply. When he could say no more, the young chief closed his eyes and wept for the future of the People.

At this same time, the People, fearing for their lives, begged the gods, "Oh, Ancient Ones, please hear us, create a power which will open their gates to us."

The boy's prayerful tears fell to earth. When the boy opened his eyes he found that upon those spots where his tears had fallen, stood a great spirit. Her cloak glowed with the bright green of spring and shimmered as though made of stars. She looked at the young leader and spoke gently. "Do not cry boy. Your grandmother is not dead."

"I do not weep for her life, spirit," the boy explained. "My grandmother lived long and well and is content to go on to her next nature. I rejoice for her."

"Why do you weep then?" the spirit asked.

"I weep for the People who live here in fear. I weep for I know that, without my grandmother, the People will be at war."

With a slight smile, the spirit replied, "You will be a great chief one day," she smiled. "But not yet." And with that the spirit held out its arms and between her hands appeared a circlet of gold. "Place this crown upon your grandmother's head and she will rise to save the People."

The boy did as he had been told and Naillig the Eldest arose from her slumber. In unity the nine kingdoms fought the tenth, tore down their walls, slew their fierce animals, released their prisoners and the ten tribes were united once again. A small band of the most corrupt men fled to the jungle and built their fence anew but were left to live, the People content to be whole again."

#####

Willow took a break from the research which today included not only Cordy's problem and Angel's giant with the dog, but now the need to reverse her all-Slayer spell. She took a walk up onto the rooftop deck of the Hyperion. Stepping out into the warm sunlight she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her thoughts turned to Kennedy. She hadn't returned until late this morning and when she had, she had been aloof, crawling into bed fully clothed and without a word. Willow had tried to wake her at lunchtime to no avail. That wasn't like her. Or at least it wasn't like Willow had known her.

As though on cue, Kennedy emerged from the top of the stairwell. "Hi," she said sheepishly, lifting a hand to shield the sun from her eyes, "Crap, that's bright."

"Oh, hi," Willow replied. "Sunlight."

"I guess there's a reason that vampires don't like it, huh?" Kennedy asked to make conversation.

"Yep," the witch responded.

"Um," they both spoke simultaneously and then laughed nervously.

"Silly," Willow said.

"What?"

"We should know what to say to each other…I mean we are…you know."

Kennedy raised her eyes and looked fully at Willow. "Yes, I know."

They both lapsed into silence for a moment then Willow cleared her throat and asked, "Are you going out again tonight?"

Kennedy nodded. So did Willow.

"C'mon Willow. Come to the club with me."

"I don't underst…Why do you go there?"

With a smile, Kennedy told her, "It's fun. The music is great. The drinks are strong. There are other women like me…like us."

"But…they're not like me. I just can't go out to a gay bar. I'm not like that."

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know." As though she had been reading Willow's thoughts, the younger woman began, "Willow, we've only ever known each other when something terrible is about to kill us. Maybe, we don't know each other as well as we thought." She looked at her lover and continued, "I remember taking you out on our first date. You were uncomfortable about it then. You still are."

"Uncomfortable?" Willow asked, but she knew.

"About being a lesbian."

"No. That doesn't bother me at all." Kennedy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Willow explained, "No, really. It's who I am now, I'm not ashamed…."

"I didn't say you were ashamed. I know you're not. I meant that you don't…," she searched for the right words and settled on, "walk the walk." Willow began to object, but Kennedy cut her off, "When's the last time you spoke out for gay rights? Sought political or religious freedom for us? Went to a parade or celebrated your choice publicly…."

"Well, been a little busy. Saving the world here," Willow began defensively.

Shaking her head, Kennedy took Willow's hand. "Willow, you're not gay any more than you are…not. You, my love, are a romantic, in love with being in love, no matter which gender."

"Hey, I am too a…," she was trying hard to sound convincing, but her voice grew softer as she finished, "…lesbian."

Kennedy grinned in spite of herself, "Think about it for a minute Willow. Were your happiest moments with Tara really any different than those same moments with Oz? Your first date, your first kiss, your first night together? When Oz came back for you did you choose to stay with Tara because she was a woman, or because you had a commitment to each other by then?"

Arguing, Willow balked, "We loved each other. I couldn't have left Tara any more than…."

"Than you could have left Oz?" Kennedy asked. Willow's eyes grew wide for a moment. "See?" Willow nodded quietly. "But, I'm not like that. When I fall in love with a woman it is, at least in part because they are a woman and I want to show it off to the world, to make the world acknowledge it…me…us."

Willow squeezed her lover's hand, "Isn't it enough if I acknowledge you? If we just celebrate each other?"

Releasing her grip, Kennedy looked sadly at Willow and answered, "Not for me." Silence fell again for a time. "Willow, it was important that we had each other when we did. I feel like I'm still able to contribute too, so I'm not leaving yet, but I think from here out we should just be friends because I can be a friend but I can't be the kind of lover you need."

"You don't love me?"

"Willow, I care about you so much. You are an amazing woman, probably the most powerful woman I'll ever know. You excite me, I admire you, I idolize you, but I can't give you what you want. It won't ever be 'happily ever after' with us."

"It could…I could be okay without…," Willow sniffed.

Kennedy ran her sleeve over her eyes and stood to leave, "No. Listen, Willow, you deserve it if anyone does. You deserve the fairy tale ending. You need someone who can dream the same dreams you do, who can share their heart, not a cause."

Willow stayed to watch the sunset then went back to her room. Kennedy's things were gone.

#####

"Buffy?" Angel called for the blonde Slayer. He had watched her as the team had discussed the magical problem earlier and he knew she had been devastated by the outcome…and why. Eventually he found her sitting in the garden, her head resting on her arms and tears falling onto the ground.

Angel sat down on a bench opposite her and waited.

Eventually the sniffing stopped and a small voice asked, "Angel, have you ever seen me sparkle?"

The dark vampire was stumped; he'd prepared himself for a conversation about duty and honor. "Sparkle?" he asked.

Raising her head and wiping the remaining tears away, Buffy repeated, "Yes, sparkle." When she was answered with silence she continued, "I know I haven't felt much like it lately, but, did I ever?"

"Buffy, I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You know. Happy, perky, shiny. Do I sparkle?"

Angel looked at the woman he used to love and took a moment to consider his answer. He knew her well enough to know that this question was very important to her and that his answer would mean more to her than she was letting on. "When I first met you, you were so young. Everything was new to you, slaying, Sunnydale, love. Even before I knew you, I used to watch you from the other side of the room, the way you tossed your hair, your smile, your laugh…and yes, you sparkled."

"I did?" Buffy asked with a smile that quickly faded, "But I don't anymore?"

He continued, "Buffy, a Slayer has a lot to deal with. Life and death everyday, not just her prey, but her own, and the people she cares about. You've had more than your share. That spark you used to have may have matured into an ember, but, it flames to life once in a while. It's still there."

"It is? When?"

"What is this about Buffy? Why are you all concerned about 'sparkling' all of a sudden?"

"Because…someone told me I didn't…not for him."

"Was it…," he began. "Was it Spike that told you that?"

Buffy nodded, as she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall again.

Angel's first instinct was to rage. He had left Buffy so that she could have a "normal" life. He'd hoped, well, sort of hoped, that it would be with that Iowa farm boy, but that hadn't worked out well, and then she had taken up with Spike who was anything but "normal". Angel had known about the two of them for a while, or at least he had suspected it because she reeked of the blonde vampire, but he'd kept his tongue. She wasn't one to take advice well especially when it came from him.

When he came back to Sunnydale during the middle of the most recent apocalypse Angel had been conflicted. The situation with Cordelia was confusing to say the least. He had become Angelus and Angel again, Cordy had been with Connor, he had tried to kill her, she had tried to steal his soul…so he had come back to Sunnydale where things had been simpler. He had brought with him an amulet and his curiosity. He wondered if there was anything left between Buffy and him. He'd approached her, offered to be her champion and then he'd kissed her, or had he been kissed by her? Either way they had kissed and he had seen her eyes 'sparkle' once more.

He knew that Spike had seen it, surprised only that Buffy hadn't sensed his presence too. He'd been pleased about that. But then Buffy had sent him away, had chosen Spike to be her champion, had spent those last days with him. It was funny, but after his initial surprise, Angel had been relieved. He could clock from that moment when he knew he was in love with Cordy. From that moment he had given Buffy over to Spike, trusting her to have made her own best choice. Now, after all that to find that Spike had left her questioning herself, he was enraged.

Buffy felt the familiar rumble of his anger. "Don't go there, Angel. Please? I really need a friend now, not a…."

"…champion?" he finished. Reminding himself that Buffy had obviously felt something for his old roommate, Angel swallowed his temper and walked over to the blonde Slayer. "Okay, Buffy, I'm here," he took her hand gently and sat down with her. "I've learned a lot of things in my 200 plus years. Mostly about the evil things people can do to each other, but lately, even more lately, I've learned a lot about how people love each other." Buffy looked up at Angel hopefully. "I know that there is the kind of love where you feel like teenagers, giddy and silly and foolishly happy. The kind of love that makes you weak in the knees and lifts your soul up, the kind that makes you sparkle. But, Buffy, there's another kind of love. The kind of deep love where nothing is more important to you than the other person, where what you feel is so profound that you can't put it into words as small as 'love'. That's the kind that is fueled not by sparks, but by embers."

"I told him I loved him, Angel. I told him too late. I told him, but he didn't believe me."

Turning his eyes star-ward, Angel answered, "It's never too late to say 'I love you'. And if you said it, he believed you."

"How do you know that? He sent me away, he left me alone…."

"Sometimes, you can only show someone how much you care by walking away."

With a jolt, Buffy realized the sacrifices that both of the vampires she had loved had made for her. Tears were trembling within her eyes again when Angel's next words, spoken only to himself, left her wondering, "And sometimes you show them by staying."

#####

David had lost himself in the story and was surprised back to reality when the flight attendant asked him if he wanted a drink.

"Oh, yeah. Scotch please. Neat."

"Certainly sir." The attendant handed David a jigger of scotch poured into a plastic cup. "Anything else I can get you for now? A pillow? It's getting late."

"No, thanks. Jus' wanna read."

"Yes sir. Sorry, sir. Just push the green button above you then, if you change your mind."

David nodded, took a swallow of his drink and turned his attention back to the book.

This final section, the third, was added on within the last millennium, modifying the importance of the crown itself and embodying it with a power of its own. This appears to be in response to the quashing of a rebellion within the Akasumite peoples, which dates c.1615-1622.

They celebrated their peace and as a sign to her Peoples that no tribe held honor over another, the Eldest removed her crown. At once the great spirit that had bestowed the crown upon her returned. Naillig presented the circlet back to the spirit who would not accept it.

"I make this crown a gift to the People in whom I and my brethren are well pleased, that they may remember this day of joy and peace forever. To aid the chiefs who are to be in their duty to continue harmony among you, I place within the crown a portion of my own essence. It will serve the Eldest to open any gate which you may create between yourselves, or to close any gate behind which lie your enemies." At that moment a small section of the spirit's glowing cloak floated from her and infused itself into the crown. "From now until all time, this crown is given by the gods to the People. Its power is bequeathed to that one in every generation who seeks only to serve the People's peace, the Eldest. In conflict it lays upon the head of the chosen. In peace it rests lightly at their side. May the People live in peace forever."

To this day, in arguments between peoples, whether they be tribes or husband and wife, it is said that Naillig's Crown will reunite those who seek to open the gates between them. And when one tribe attempts to overpower another with corruption and evil, it is said that this same crown overwhelms and encloses the wicked. Although the translation of the word 'chosen' is debated, the similarities between our own Slayers and the spiritual appointment of a sole leader with power to rule in peace are striking.

David closed the book and thought back to his conversation with Giles. They were seeking only to awake Cordelia from her coma. From the description of the crown's power in the second part of the story it seemed possible. Still, perhaps Giles had forgotten the third section of the story. David wondered if Naillig's Crown was really the answer at all, or maybe Giles didn't know the whole question.

#####

"I give up," the redheaded witch threw another book on top of the growing pile at her feet. "There is no way to reverse this spell."

"Perhaps if I call Ms. Hutchins again," Giles began.

Willow turned on him, "She doesn't know either, Giles. Nobody knows. This is new territory."

"What if we simply destroy the scythe?" Wesley suggested for the umpteenth time.

The others answered in unison, "No!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Destroy the scythe and destroy the legend.' Poof, no more Slayers, not even the One." Wesley repeated the one bit of data they'd found like a petulant child. "But isn't none better than what we're facing?"

"No!" the others responded again.

"Willow," the elder Watcher asked, "What was it that you just said? That this is 'new'?" Willow nodded. "Maybe that's just it. Maybe it's not new, maybe it's as old as the First."

"Okay," the witch answered, "I'm listening."

"Who do we know who knows everything ancient?"