Note: I don't mean to nag, but reviews would be nice. I didn't get a lot of feedback for the prologue, so I don't know if people are liking it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or anything associated with it. All rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and affiliated products belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc.

Summary: Drusilla's request throws Spike for a loop; now there're fledglings in the warehouse wearing the faces of the Slayer and her best friend. "I want the pretty sunshine. Will you make her for me?"

Setting: AU from 'Halloween' (Season 2, Episode 6).

Rating: M

Pairings: Initial Sprusilla, eventual Spuffy.

Genre: Horror(?)/Romance

Sunshine to Moonlight

Chapter One

Buffy knocked on the door to her mother's home, making sure that she looked suitably grimy after a day 'on the street' and plastered a terrified, helpless look on her features. She heard Joyce rushing to the door and almost laughed at the force with which she ripped the door inward. Standing there in her Halloween gown, she looked up at her mother with the most pitiful expression she could muster.

"Mom!" She wailed. "I was so scared!"

Joyce stepped back from the door. "Come in, sweetie!" She invited her in. "Where on Earth have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" She closed it behind her as Buffy stepped over the threshold.

"Things just went crazy." Buffy sniffled. "I hid in an abandoned house until the yelling stopped, but I fell asleep and got lost on the way home."

"My poor baby." Joyce hugged her, seeming not to notice how cold she was. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower and change, and I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate after I call the police and let them know you're home?"

"Yes, please." She whimpered. "And Mom?"

Joyce turned back to her daughter. "What is it, honey?"

"I just wanted you to know," Buffy reached up a cool hand and traced Joyce's cheek, down to her jaw, "that I loved you more than anything in my life."

And then Buffy reached up with her other hand and snapped her mother's neck.

Buffy rooted around her closet, throwing a few items into the bag she'd dug up from under the bed. Most of the clothing was too cheery for her now; she took a few darker items, some jeans and a single leather and two denim jackets, but left most of it on the hangers. She didn't want to stand out like a sore thumb when – if – the new Slayer came to town.

Freshly showered, Buffy squeezed into a pair of dark jeans and a red shirt, glad to finally be rid of that ridiculous dress. She dried her hair with the hairdryer and shouldered her bag, careful not to aggravate her already-healing bite mark, casting a glance around the room once more. It would likely be the last time she ever saw it. Before, that thought would have caused her to feel… sadness? But now, nothing. This was all part of her old life, as was the corpse downstairs.

Her eyes landed on the weapons box that she kept at the bottom of her closet. Let 'em know it was you, Spike's top minion had said when he'd sent her off into the night. Tell 'em you'd been there. She wasn't hungry; Drusilla had made sure that she and Willow were given someone to eat the moment they woke up. Some unsuspecting kids from the school she'd gone to. She didn't even bother to recognise them past that before gorging herself in her first kill. So, she wasn't hungry, but she did have an idea.

Five minutes later, as she stepped over her mother's body on the way out, without even bothering to close the door, she grinned to herself. Unlife was going to be fun.

She didn't notice the pair of eyes watching her in the shadows.

"I should feel bad," Buffy announced as she entered the warehouse, "but I don't. Why?"

Spike had been out on the hunt since before she woke, and only a few henchmen were left behind. Willow hadn't left; she could smell her (that was a little bewildering) in one of the back rooms, probably sleeping. The guard at the door had said that sunrise was on the approach and Spike was due back any moment, though; she mildly wondered what he would say when he saw his former arch-nemesis with his weakened girlfriend, with said girlfriend staring at her as if she were the second coming.

"Silly girl!" Drusilla clapped and patted a spot on the couch she was sitting on. Buffy took the seat, putting her bag on the floor at her feet. "Only Sunshine feels guilt; Moonlight revels in the kill!" She took Buffy's hands and caressed them with exaggerated tenderness. "Such pretty hands; already covered in blood long before my dear William kissed you." She brushed one hand along the bite mark on Buffy's neck, her gaze going vague as she seemed to stare right through her.

"…Drusilla?" Buffy blinked, confused. Buffy wondered what the older woman was talking about; was she mad?

"My little girl…" Drusilla brushed a lock of Buffy's hair behind her ear, "…such a grand party you'll 'ave…" she sighed, blinking as her gaze came back into focus, "…you and my William, dearie… tho' he wont be mine then… you'll both 'ave such a grand time…"

Okay, so, yes, Buffy concluded, she was totally bonkers. She did feel a rush of affection when the older vampiress' fingers brushed against her cheek, though, despite that. "I didn't think vampires could feel good emotions…" she whispered into Dru's palm as she turned her head to kiss it in a reverent gesture. The feelings that the madwoman invoked in her were reminiscent of the feelings that she'd felt for her mother in life, mixed with the indulgence of caring for a child.

"Silly Moonlight, with 'er pretty 'ead full of lies." Dru giggled. "She'll see soon enough… sees like 'er Mummy, she does." She ran a finger down Buffy's cheek, the nails slicing into her flesh; it didn't sting the way it would have if she were human. It almost felt warm as a sliver of blood ran down her cheek and Dru used her tongue to lap it up.

"Should I be jealous, pet?" A male voice cut through the room.

Buffy jumped and tried to back away from Drusilla, not sure as to the degree of familiarity she was allowed to have with her Sire's girlfriend; but Dru kept a firm hold on Buffy's arm, refusing to let her leave the couch. It was the first time Buffy had seen her new Sire since her heart stopped beating; she looked up at him with mild interest, tugging on the arm that Dru held in an effort to put some distance between them as he closed in, ignoring her. "What are you up to, Dru?" He asked softly, reaching down and trying to pry her hand off Buffy's arm. Buffy leant away from him.

"Moonlight looks through the looking glass and sees pictures." Drusilla hissed to Spike, loud enough for Buffy to overhear. "Like Princess, but much clearer. Such pretty pictures… all painted in blood and viscera and daffodils…"

Spike turned to Buffy at Dru's words, mild curiosity burning in his eyes. "You got the Sight, Summers?" He barked.

"No." Buffy answered, bemused. She shrugged. "Had the occasional prophetic Slayer dream. Nothing unusual." He raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "Gotta tell you," she made a face at him, "nothing she's telling me makes any kind of sense. Loony bin too full to take her?"

She found herself violently wrenched up and pinned to the wall, his hand flexing as he gripped her throat. She didn't technically need to breathe, but the sensation of her airway being cut off was still uncomfortable, and she was seeing stars from where her head struck the bricks. Spike was in her face, gameface on, growling menacingly at her. She'd observed other vampires and their progeny before, and knew that she should be cowering against her Sire's wrath; she surprised herself by feeling her own gameface forming and an equally as feral growl tore itself through her lips.

Note to self; never insult Drusilla.

"You insolent little—" he raised a hand to strike her.

"No!" Drusilla grabbed his fist. His face whipped around to look at her. "Dolly doesn't get 'urt." She sounded pretty lucid as she commanded him. "Let 'er go."

Spike growled at her again and relaxed his grip, letting Buffy sink to the floor, coughing. She took a few breaths and (with considerable effort) made her gameface recede until she was wearing her human mask once more. Drusilla crouched by her side, steadying herself against the wall with a hand, and ran her fingers through Buffy's hair. Buffy blinked up at her.

Spike kicked her shin rather hard; Buffy cried out in shock and pain. "You ever talk about Dru that way again, you're dust." He growled at her through his fangs before letting them recede. "You got that?" Buffy nodded weakly, still coughing. "You 'n' Red got some beds over there." He pointed toward the west side of the building. "You're comin' out on the hunt tomorrow; Red prolly wont have her bearin's by then, but you look like you can 'anlde it." He tiled his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. Buffy wondered what he meant by that. "Be ready to go by sundown, or you get left behind 'n' starve."

Buffy scrambled to her feet and rocketed off in the direction he'd indicated, easily tracing Willow's scent to one of the smaller rooms; there were two cots set up. Willow was sitting on one, looking positively feral – like every other fledgling that Buffy had ever dusted in the history of her days as a Slayer; why did she feel mostly like herself (her lack of conscience and emotional connection to her human friends and family notwithstanding), while Willow looked like she wanted to run out the window and bay at the moon?

She decided to ignore her fellow fledge as she curled up on the other cot, pummelling her pillow into a more comfortable consistency and pulling the blanket over her head. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep before sunrise was Willow's wild growling.

Giles, Xander, Jenny Calender, and Angel were all crowded around the library, quiet and subdued. The three humans of the bunch all had tear tracks on their cheeks; the ensoulled vampire was full of rage, looking for all the world like he wanted to kill something.

"Are… you sure?" Xander asked for the third time.

"I saw her." Angel growled, picking up a soda can that had been left behind and hurling it across the room; it made a hole in the wall upon impact. "I could smell it all over her. Spike's blood." He glared at the hole, with orange soda dripping out of it. "Spike didn't just kill her when he took her from the warehouse on Halloween. He sired her. He probably got to Willow, too."

"But why?" Giles's voice was thick. "Wouldn't a sired Slayer be… risky, at best? The essence of the Slayer…"

"Would only make the demon stronger, more dangerous." Angel shook his head. "Buffy's the first actual Slayer that I know of to be sired, but potential Slayers have been sired before. This isn't good." Angel paced the length of the library. "Drusilla's visions and thrall, and other psychic powers, come from her being a potential Slayer." He looked Giles square in the eye. "Her revelations have always been vague at best, since she's insane. Now that Buffy's a vampire, she could have the visions, the thrall, and who knows what else?" He sighed in apprehension. "And she's not mad, so if she does have visions, and she does share them, they're going to be a lot more specific than Dru's. You can bet Spike'll take advantage of that."

"What… can we do?" Xander asked in trepidation.

"We must destroy her." Giles sighed in resignation. "The others, too, if we can. However, ensuring that Buffy's talents can never be used against us must be first priority. She's rather new, so catching her unawares should pose no real difficulty. Nevertheless, if Angel is right, we can count on the clan protecting her. She will be exceedingly difficult to slay. "

"If Dru wanted her, which is probably the case," Angel sighed, "Spike'll be pretty tight with Buffy's restrictions." Angel said. "Dru treats her progeny like pets for the first decade or so; she'll be precious to her. Spike'd never let her suffer her loss."

"Then we must find them on the hunt." Giles concluded.

"No." Jenny shook her head vehemently. "There's gotta be another way."

"I'm afraid not, Jenny." Giles looked as if he were about to cry. "Believe me, I wish there were; however, this is the only way. She's not Buffy anymore. The demon that killed her took her body, but her soul has moved on to the afterlife."

"Then I can summon it!" Jenny protested. "I can give her soul back to her, like my peop—like the Gypsies did to Angel!"

"It'd be kinder to just kill her." Angel shook his head. "Giving a vampire a soul isn't something that can be taken lightly. It may send her insane with guilt. It was a hundred years before I was in any kind of shape to do more than mope in an alley chasing rats. She killed her own mother, for God's sake. Speaking from experience, that's usually the hardest burden to bear."

"Are we sure it was Buffy that killed Mrs Summers?" Xander asked, timid. He simply didn't want to believe that his friend was a monster.

Giles cleaned his glasses on his shirt. "According to the details, and Angel's own eyewitness account, I'm afraid it is the only logical conclusion."

"But he could be wrong!" Xander argued.

"She had a stake through her heart." Angel deadpanned. "I don't think it gets much more obvious than that."

Spike and Drusilla were lying in a spooning position on their bed in the largest room in the factory. She was sleeping; he was leaning over her, gently tracing her jaw line with his index finger, deep in thought.

He wondered just what she was playing at; whenever Dru wanted a particular person sired, she always had a reason. She wasn't like other vampires, who sired on instinct and abandoned their creations without a second thought to be taken by the Slayer. She was ridiculously family-orientated for a vampire and insisted that Spike teach the new girls the ropes once they were able to go out.

Dru stirred in her sleep at his touch. He withdrew his hand with a frown. She was still so ill. He knew that the answer to her recovery was somewhere in Sunnydale; felt in his bones that the answer rested right atop the Hellmouth. But her visions had been few and far between, and he couldn't make top nor tail of the information she tried to give him when the visions did come. All they knew was that it was on the Hellmouth, and it was almost time.

His thoughts turned to the ex-Slayer on the other side of the factory. It had been odd to see her sitting with Dru so casually, with Dru being so familiar with her. There was something like maternal pride mixed with childish awe shining in her eyes at his newest creation; something that she'd lacked when looking on the other minions that he'd made to serve her. He suspected that the Summers girl being a Slayer in her former life would affect her as a vampire, but he didn't know how much. She was remarkably in control for a fledge, and had challenged him like she was decades old, rather than hours, in the other room.

A bout of masculine pride swept through him. First vampire to turn a Slayer. That was him.

If anyone in the supernatural world hadn't heard of him after he'd killed his second Slayer, they'd likely hear of him soon; it was only a matter of time before the rest of the Scoobies found out what happened to their precious Slayer. And then, once the Watcher's Council (bloody poofters that they were) heard the happy news, he'd be one infamous sonuvabitch. Feared and revered everywhere he went.

And once Drusilla was well, he'd make sure the world knew of their new family.