A/N; Hey, I'm back! I'm pretty happy about this chapter actually, and I hope you like it too. I screw up the time line again by making another reference to the episode 'shot at dawn' from season 11 of Midsomer Murders, but I figure that if you haven't complained before you're not likely to start now. Thank you, the two of you who reviewed chapter 18. You know who you are! I simply adore you, and I thank you on my bare knees for your kind word of encouragement. Comments, questions, complaints? Please leave them in a review, and I'll be forever thankful! :)

----------------------------

They were ten feet from the front door when the haze that had settled over him since Buffy had told him she loved him disappeared. Something broke through the fog of his mind and startled him back to the present. The tantalizing smell of blood overwhelmed his senses, and he stopped cold in his tracks. A couple of years ago the pungent smell would have made him giddy with excitement, but now it filled him with stone-cold dread instead. He ran forward, through the doors, a bewildered and worried Buffy less then two steps behind him.

Ice-cold panic settled in her gut when she came to halt behind Spike just within the doors. There was blood on the floor, tracks of the sticky, red liquid leading to a big puddle of the stuff coming from behind the front desk. Her own blood left her face, leaving her paler than Spike, and without a word or a glance towards the pool of blood she rushed up the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. Spike ran after her, panic overcoming him too. The feeling of complete dread only intensified when they saw that the door to Dawns room was hanging from its hinges. Buffy stopped, and Spike nearly collided with her. She was so afraid of what she would see when she looked in the room that she trembled! Wordlessly, Spike collected himself and took a deep, unneeded breath. He walked in front of her and looked into the room, silently praying to any deity that would listen that he wouldn't find a wounded Dawn or Heather in there.

A strange feeling of relief mixed with confusion and an almost overwhelming sense of fear filled him when he saw the room was empty. His daughter and Dawn weren't there.

So were were they?

***

The two girls ran as if the devil himself were at their heels, which wasn't that far from the truth. Dawn held Heather tight against her chest, concentrating fully on not dropping the child and not to stumble and fall. Rona was a couple of steps behind her, making sure not to overrun her with her slayer-induced speed, acting as a shield between the two without any extra strength and the thing that followed them. She hadn't seen exactly what it was, but her slayer-radar war making her crazy! She was itching all over, her body urging her to stop and fight instead of running away, but she knew she would have to look after Dawn and Heather, so she didn't listen to her inner slayer.

She had never run across something that made her feel like this, not even the 'übervamps' from the last battle of Sunnydale had her senses acting this hyper! Granted, she had only been a real slayer for the last twenty minutes or so of the fight, and for most of the time the adrenaline rush had won out over everything else, but she could still remember exactly when Willows spell had taken effect and her slayer-sense kicked into gear. The following year-and-a-half as a slayer had introduced her to a broad variety of demons, everything from vampires to groxlar-beasts, and she could feel every single one of them from a long distance, long before they came into visual contact, but nothing had felt as potent as this. This time, she was actually scared.

She risked looking behind her for a brief second, but she didn't see anything. Just as she turned her head forward again she collided with someone, and had to fight not to fall to the ground. The person she had run into was not so fortunate, and found himself sprawled on the ground. Without thinking twice Rona grasped his hand, dragged him up and sprinted after Dawn, and a confused sergeant Jones could do nothing but hang on for the ride.

***

The rain made it harder for him to track them, but the day spent with Heather in Buffy's room had forever imprinted the toddlers scent in him, and he used his nose to follow the faint trace of the three girls and the thing following them. The last confused him, it smelled human, but there was something else, something not quite demonic that he couldn't place. The only thing he could determine was that whatever it was that hunted his girls (and yes, he counted Rona as one of his, since she risked herself to protect Dawn and Heather), it sure as hell wasn't a vampire. It actually wasn't any kind of demon he recognised, and it ad him thoroughly confused.

There had been no words between him and Buffy, he had just started tracking them and she had followed, no questions asked. They had taken the same rout as the girls and their follower, and jumped out the window. Buffy had grabbed the only weapons she had, her old trusty stake and a wicked looking dagger, and she followed beside him with a closed off and determined look on her face.

On the inside she was so terrified she could hardly breathe. This was exactly why she had relocated to the countryside in the first place, to keep Heather safe. She had failed, and it hurt like hell. She was determined not to show her inner turmoil on her face however, and just focus on getting her daughter and sister back. She was relieved they had Rona with them, she was one of the best and the one of the new slayers she trusted the most. She would protect them with her life, but Buffy hoped with all that she was that it wouldn't come to that.

She had followed Spike without any reservations, trusting him without doubt. The look of cold fury that had settled on his face told her that he would hunt down and destroy anything that threatened the girls, making it as painful for the bastard as possible. It comforted her to know she wasn't the only one with homicidal thoughts when it came to something threatening her daughter. On the other hand, he was till a vampire, and it would have surprised her if he hadn't showed any bloodlust, even with a soul. God knew she wouldn't stop at mere dismemberment when she caught up with the monster that wanted to harm her family.

Spike suddenly stopped, and she looked up at him. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and he cocked his head to the side as if listening to something.

"They met up with someone here." he offered as an explanation."Smells like the guy I socked in your room, the police." he hesitated for a moment. "I can't be sure, the rain makes it difficult to tell, but I think it's him."

"Which way did they go?" her voice was cold, her face grim. She just wanted to go forward, to find the girls and slay whatever was after them. She wasn't overly concerned about the policeman for the moment, though she was pretty sure she'd feel guilty about that later.

"Wait a moment, gotta get my bearings right." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his head still tilted in that peculiar way of his. Then suddenly his head snapped up, and he started running. She followed him, and within seconds she heard what had caught his attention.

Coming from straight ahead of them, there was the unmistakeable sound of fighting.

***

Jones was running faster than he could remember running since his school days, but he didn't know why. He surmised he had to be running from something, but he didn't know from what exactly. The young girl that had run in to him clutched his hand so tight he could almost hear the bones grind together and dragged him along. He didn't have any choice but to follow her as best as he could. In front of him he could see another girl running, and it looked like she clutched something to her chest, but since he saw her from behind he couldn't determine what.

Whatever they were running from was quickly gaining on them, and the girl in front of him faltered a little, making it obvious she was getting winded and that she wouldn't be able to run for much longer. The girl clutching his hand speeded up until she was running alongside the other girl, and for the firs time he could clearly see what she was carrying. She was carrying a child, and it was a child he recognised. It was Anne Sinclair's daughter!

Shock and confusion rushed through him, and he nearly came to an abrupt halt, but the expression he saw on the young girls face prompted him to run faster instead. She was absolutely terrified! Her face looked ashen, her lips pressed together in a thin line and her eyes were huge, reflecting exactly how scared she actually was. Whatever they were running from had her fleeing for her life with a baby, and suddenly he also felt scared. Pictures of decapitated bodies flashed before his inner sight, and he ran faster still. Perhaps he would be able so catch the murderer in the act this time, but he'd rather not. He'd like to live to see his next promotion.

The girl carrying heather faltered again, and this time she nearly stumbled and fell to the ground. The other girls quick reflexes saved her as she caught the stumbling girls arm in her free hand and prevented her from falling. The action forced them to stop, however, and for the first time Jones was able to determine exactly where he was.

They had stopped on the village green, just beside the war memorial where Lionel Hicks had exploded a car to cover up the murders he'd committed a year before. The nearest houses was not far away, but that didn't comfort him that much. The possibility of being chased by a maniac with a yen for decapitation didn't leave much room for comfort. Right now he really wished that British police officers were allowed to carry guns. Perhaps that would have made him feel marginally safer.

The poor girl carrying the baby was gasping for breath, and it looked like she wouldn't be able to take another step. He was feeling the effect of the sprint as well, and he clutched his side and panted. The other girl seemed remarkably unaffected by the run, and he was pretty impressed at how athletic she must be.

"Rona..." the other girl was gasping and fighting to get some oxygen into her lungs. "I... I can't run... anymore..."

The athletic girl (apparently called Rona) finally let go of his hand and turned around to look behind them. He followed her example in hope to finally see what (or who) he was fleeing from.

The vision made him reel back in shock.

He saw a young man running towards them, dressed in only a shirt and jeans, his clothes plastered to his body because of the rain. Hi looked about 25 years old, his hair was dark and he was wearing glasses. There war nothing remarkable about his appearance really, except perhaps for the broadsword he carried in his right hand. Despite the fact there was no sun out, it seemed to gleam.

It looked like he'd found the murderer. He only hoped he'd live to tell Barnaby about it.

Rona's face was grim with determination. She bent down and took out a dagger that apparently had been strapped to her leg under her baggy pants. Before Jones got his breath back enough to say anything she spoke, without taking her eyes from the man coming towards them.

"You run." she stated calmly. "I'll hold him of for as long as I can."

Without giving either of them a chance to say anything about it, she rushed towards the approaching figure with the dagger in a secure grip, preparing to attack him. Before Jones could stop her or even get a word out, the other girl had grasped the hand Rona had let go of and dragged him away from the scene, in a much slower pace than before but still in a dead run.

When Heathers parents arrived just seconds after Dawn had dragged the sergeant out of sight, and Rona was doing her very best to hold of the crazed swordsman. Without a thought, they both jumped into the fray, but not until Paul Horner had managed to skewer Rona through her stomach. She fell to the ground, the rain washing her blood from her damaged body.