a/n: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Supernatural fans can probably tell from my last chapter that the Impala and the Djinn were inspired by my love for that show. This one we get to see Santana's surprise party, so I hope you enjoy.

xxx

"Angel!" Buffy called, knocking urgently at the vampire's door, in a basement apartment at the town's edge.

"Hold on," she heard his gruff voice calling from behind the door and it subsequently swung open to reveal him looking groggy, his shirt off and his dark hair tussled.

"Sorry," said Buffy, clasping her hands together, "It slipped my mind that you would be sleeping right about now."

"It's fine. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just, something happened."

"Are you okay? Is Santana-?"

"I'm fine. She's fine, I think. It's my friend, Kurt."

"The one with the premonitions?"

"Yeah. I think he had another one."

Angel nodded. "Come in," he said and closed the door behind her as she stepped inside. He picked a white t-shirt up from a laundry hamper in the kitchenette and threw it over his broad shoulders. "What was the premonition about?"

"He says, um... Santana killed me. Spike and Drusilla were there. He thinks... well, he says he knows that Spike and Drusilla are alive."

"He knows?" Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Except, I mean, there's no way he can really know for certain, right? The only evidence we have is his vision and that could mean anything, right?"

"Are his dreams usually accurate?"

"Well, usually, but in very vague ways. But he says this one was different. Stronger and more real. He wasn't even sleeping when it happened."

Angel clenched his jaw, in deep thought. "It sounds like your friend is some sort of clairvoyant."

"But is he right? Can he be? What if Spike and Drusilla are alive? We never saw their bodies!"

"Have you told your watcher about this?"

Buffy paused, taken aback. "W-Well, no. Mr. Schuester's been distracted lately. He's got a new girlfriend and-"

"Regardless, you should tell your watcher. What about your other friends? Your, uh... scooby gang. I'm just... I'm not sure why you came to me before, say, Santana."

Buffy's face immediately flushed red. "That's complicated."

Angel shrugged. "I've never been a teenage girl so I'm not going to pretend to know what it's like and I've always been... straightforward. Santana cares about you. More than that, she's passionate about you. She's... she's nuts about you, Buffy."

Buffy blushed. "I... I know, I just-"

"You need to put her out of this agony soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell her your decision. Don't let her continue hoping for something that might never happen."

xxx

Tina had sheets sprawled out on the coffee table of her already kitschy cluttered living room. Words like pink and French and monkey in bullet points in her notebook as she scrawled endlessly.

"Maybe The Bronze doesn't actually represent the club. Maybe it's connected to the color bronze," Tina said, her tongue slightly sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

"What significance is the color bronze?" asked Kurt, sitting beside her and watching her near-obsessive researching.

"The dream website says it means you need to take better care of your health."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "My health is perfect. I'm a flexitarian."

"Maybe it's less literal than that," said Mike, twirling a pen in his hand as he sprawled over Tina's armchair, mostly engrossed in a Chemistry textbook, "I mean, that's what we learn in AP English Lit, right? Everything has a deeper meaning."

"Yeah," Tina nodded at her boyfriend, "So maybe it's warning you to take care of your... mental health?"

"Maybe it's just a general warning," said Mike, his eyes still flitting through his textbook, "That nothing is safe."

Tina smiled proudly. "That's my boyfriend," she smiled to herself, "So, danger." She wrote 'danger' in capital letters on one of the pages. "Next. Me and Blaine speaking French to a monkey."

"I don't think that has any meaning," Kurt shrugged.

"Never underestimate the power of subconscious symbolism," Tina shook her head, "You speak French, right? Do you know what we were saying to the monkey."

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "I don't know..."

"Try to remember."

Kurt pursed his lips and thought. "Something like... Sauver et un traitre."

Tina frowned. "Savior and traitor. What could that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe someone will save Kurt and someone will betray him," suggested Mike.

"Me and Blaine?" Tina raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily. What does a monkey mean?" asked Mike, "You were speaking French to a monkey."

Tina read from one of her pages, "Monkeys in dreams symbolize deceit, insight and intuition or an immature or mischievous side to your personality."

"And French monkeys?" asked Kurt.

"It... doesn't say. But you said your mom was there."

"Yeah. White hair. White dress."

"Well, white represents purity, peace and starting anew. In Eastern cultures, its associated with death."

"Sometimes," said Mike, "it's associated with a cover-up."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the boy. "A cover-up?"

Mike nodded. "Like, a white lie."

"Did your mom say anything?" asked Tina.

"Um, yes, actually. She said, 'I see you'."

"I see you?"

"Yeah. 'I see you. Right in here.' Something like that," Kurt said thoughtfully. They were the same words Blaine said to him once in a dream, but Kurt decided not to mention that. "Wait!" he said suddenly, "After that she said... 'This is a warning'."

"A warning?" asked Tina, "Like she was warning you of danger?"

"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, "She disappeared after that. Then Buffy was there. Then Santana and Santana looked... evil."

"Evil how?"

"Her eyes were red."

"And then...?"

"And then she snapped Buffy's neck."

"And that's when Spike and Drusilla showed up?" asked Tina.

Kurt nodded and Tina emitted a sigh. "This is all so complex," she groaned, putting her head in her hands, "I'm better with facts, not... conjecture."

"The only thing I'm sure of is that Spike and Drusilla are out there. Somewhere."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just... I know. I can't explain how or why, but I just... know."

xxx

"I have your package."

The minion walked meekly into the lair - walls of stone held back with wooden panels and furnished with objects only the undead could find comforting.

"Just put it on the table," Spike groaned, the spokes on his wheelchair grating stiffly against each other as he rolled forward on a rocky surface, "With the other gifts."

Drusilla smiled girlishly, draping her arms over Spike's shoulders from behind.

"You're dead set on this, pet," Spike sighed, "Sure you wouldn't rather have your party in Vienna?"

"But the invitations are sent," Drusilla smiled, "My gatherings are always perfect."

Candles lit the lair as minions rushed quietly back and forth, setting up for the party.

"But Sunnydale is cursed for us," Spike moaned, "Because of the slayer. Because of Angel and his infernal companion. They see to it."

Drusilla shushed him, leaning intimately close into his ear. "I've got good games for everyone. You'll see."

She licked the tip of his ear with a devilish smile and turned away to admire her decor. Her eyes landed on the flowers garnishing the tables; a dull red that made her tongue taste like paint. She grimaced.

"These flowers... are all wrong. They're all... wrong," she frowned and whimpered slightly, "I can't abide them!"

She let out a strangled cry and tore animalistically at the flowers, ripping them from their vines.

"Let's try something different with the flowers!" Spike called to their minions.

Drusilla let the petals fall from her hands and let out a calming sigh. Her eyes landed on the table of wooden boxes and garishly wrapped packages.

"Can I open one?" she asked innocently, "Can I?"

Spike smirked slightly at her.

"Can I?" she repeated, a giddy smile on her face.

"Just a peek, love," Spike said tenderly, and wheeled closer, "They're for the party."

Drusilla purred happily and opened the lid from one wooden box, gasping with delight at the gift inside.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asked.

"It reeks of death," she moaned with joy, "This will be the best party ever."

"Mm. Why is that?"

"Because," Drusilla sweetly simpered, "It will be the last."

xxx

Kurt parked the Impala on the curb outside of his house and slammed the car door shut behind him. After everything that had been revealed to him, Kurt felt a buzz through his system. An urgency and a newfound strength that might've been inspired by his mother or might have been inspired by the new friend he found in an old acquaintance; Tina. Either way, he felt a small rush of ambitious excitement when he spotted Blaine's head of thick, dark hair. The boy was sitting on Kurt's small porch, writing into his ever-present sketchbook with a 2B pencil.

"Blaine?" Kurt called to him, purposefully approaching across the short front yard and not bothering to run a hand through the bronze tips of his hair that were sticking straight up after a day of restlessness.

"Oh, hey," Blaine greeted him and closed his sketchpad, standing up and patting down his Dalton blazer.

"What are you doing sitting out on the porch?" asked Kurt, realizing in his suede ankle boots he was several inches taller than the adorably awkward boy in front of him.

"Waiting for you," Blaine said nervously, "I, uh, I just wanted to talk and your dad and step-brother intimidate me."

Kurt smirked. "Finn and my dad may look big but they're hardly a threat."

Blaine attempted a smile, though he seemed to be fidgeting self-consciously.

"What's the matter?" asked Kurt.

"Nothing, I... I just wanted to make sure you weren't... avoiding me."

Kurt wrinkled his brow apologetically. "Blaine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to seem like I was avoiding you. I know things got awkward after I found out about my mom, but that's not your fault."

Blaine sighed. "I just feel so guilty."

"Don't be. I'm glad you told me. It's the best thing that ever could've happened to me."

"It is?" Blaine asked skeptically.

"Yeah. The reason I've been MIA lately is because I've been searching high and low to find out about my mother's past and even though I'm sure I have a lot more about her to learn, for now, I think I've learned a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt smirked, "I learned that strong people do weak things and... You have to have control. Over yourself and your life and your destiny. Because my mother didn't have any control over her life and it killed her... That's not going to happen to me. I have her in me. I am powerful."

Blaine smiled, his button-round brown eyes circling Kurt's face. "I'm glad you learned that about yourself."

Kurt nodded. "My life is in my control. That means that certain things have got to change."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. All this time I've been putting the control in other people's hands and letting life drag me around in whatever direction it decides to go. I'm not going to do that anymore."

"What are you going to do?"

Kurt sighed and settled his stormy eyes on Blaine's. "First, I'm transferring back to McKinley."

Blaine looked slightly taken aback, slightly disappointed and slightly proud. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"It's what I need to do. Not Karofsky and not any other bully is going to push me around. Never again."

Blaine smiled and nodded, though his puppy-dog eyes seemed sad. "You really are strong, Kurt. You're brave."

"You can be, too."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"Yes, you can. Together, we can be brave."

Blaine grinned. "I don't know if I'm as confident as you, Kurt."

"I do," Kurt smiled, "It's all about control. Don't let anything - friends, enemies, fear - stand in your way. Courage. That's what you said to me."

Blaine looked slightly pained, his chocolate eyes fixated on Kurt's lips. "Control, huh?"

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, "For example... I keep having this dream where we kiss, and I think it's time to make that a reality."

Kurt gripped the edges of both of Blaine's blazer-clad shoulders with pale, urgent hands and pulled Blaine forward, placing his soft pink lips on Blaine's slightly clumsier ones. They leaned into each other's warmth and pulled back simultaneously, their eyes flickering over each other's faces.

"Wow," Blaine breathed, his lips now pink and his face almost the same shade.

"Yeah," Kurt grinned, and leaned in for another. Blaine jumped as the front door slammed shut and both boys looked up at the porch as Burt stepped out, hands on hips and looked bewildered at the very least.

"Dad!" Kurt gasped in surprise.

"What is this?" Burt demanded.

"This is... nothing," Kurt stammered, "We were just-"

"No, not that," Burt frowned, and pointed across the lawn at the Impala, "That!"

Kurt looked over at his mother's car and turned back to his dad, grinning slightly. "My new car."

xxx

"She seems truly conflicted, Santana."

"Yeah, she's probably trying to find a way to let me down easy."

Angel clenched his jaw, his face painted with shadows as the pair walked under and out of streetlamps in the night. "Don't be so pessimistic."

"I'm not. I'm being realistic. People don't choose me, Angel. They get stuck with me. Sofia didn't want me. Quinn's only around because her parents kicked her out. I mean, admit it, if you had your pick of vampiros con souls, you probably wouldn't choose me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"If you recall, I could have left, but I didn't. I decided to stay - chose to say - because of you. I care about you, and so does Sofia, and so does Quinn, and so does Buffy."

Santana grimaced. "But she doesn't love me."

"Santana-"

"No, she doesn't. She might care about me and like me. Even like the idea of having some sort of secret romantic homoerotic sexcapade worthy of a grocery store novel. But she doesn't love me. She won't choose me and that's... okay. I got over an almost lover once, I can do it again."

Angel nodded, disappointment painted in his under his dark eyelashes. "I'm not as certain as you are."

"Well, I'm certain enough for the both of us. God, I wish we could just go get a drink at Willy's."

"We're almost at The Bronze. I think it's important for you to socialize tonight."

"I know Sofia asked you to bring me there."

"Just pretend to be surprised, okay?"

"Fine... Angel, what is that?"

Angel narrowed his eyes at where Santana was pointing in the distance. A small group of vampires were carrying wooden crates off of a loading truck, darting glances around their surroundings with suspicion.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't look good," Angel grumbled.

xxx

Quinn wrapped a strip of tape around the end of a streamer and strained to the tip of her ankle boots to reach for a high spot on the wall of The Bronze, balanced on a chair.

"Kurt," she sighed and turned around, unable to reach, spotting the tall, thin boy dressed in Alexander McQueen and engrossed in the screen of his iPhone, "Can you help me with this? Kurt?!"

Kurt looked up from the bright screen of his phone. "Huh?"

"Can I get a little help?"

"Yeah, sorry," he said, and tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, "It's my and Blaine's one day anniversary."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and stepped off of the chair to let Kurt get on. "...Oh," she said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he grinned and stretched his arms to stick the streamer in place, "I have a new philosophy. It's all about control. I see what I want and I do what I can to get it. I thought it was very Quinn Fabray of me."

Quinn fidgeted in her cotton dress. "Uh, yeah... I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?" Kurt smiled, his eyes crinkling as he stepped off of the chair, "You're Quinn. Always in control."

Quinn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? The homeless teen mom?"

Kurt sighed. "Maybe not every facet of your life is enviable, but it doesn't change the fact that you're somewhat of a legend to Lima losers like me."

"You're not a Lima loser, Kurt," Quinn shook her head, "If anyone's a Lima loser, it's me."

"Regardless. Don't tell me you've lost that manic controlling Fabray spirit."

"No, I just... I don't think it's been working out for me lately."

"Why not?"

"It's nothing, it's just..." Quinn shrugged, "There are some things I'm not sure how to get and... Sometimes I'm not sure if I should even want them."

Kurt frowned sympathetically. "Sometimes we forget to want what we already have."

Quinn smirked. "You're very deep these days."

"I think I heard that on Doctor Phil."

"Well, maybe you and Phil are right. I have more to be thankful for than I think, sometimes."

"You have Santana. I mean, you guys were always friends, but you used to have this bitter rivalry. I think vampirism and teen pregnancy have really brought you two together."

Quinn smiled and looked over Kurt's shoulder to see Jesse sauntering in through the entrance, a small package in his hand wrapped in silver paper and topped with a box. "Excuse me," she said to Kurt, "I have to start greeting guests."

"Sure," smiled Kurt, and Quinn squeezed his hand in a silent thanks. Although the contact was brief, Quinn felt and saw Kurt shiver and pull back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as anxiety clouded over Kurt's eyes.

"N-Nothing," he said, putting on a nervous smile, "I think there's a draft, is all."

"Well, okay," Quinn said skeptically, and left to greet Jesse at the door.

Kurt grimaced and looked around to see Buffy and Sam, standing near the refreshment table they had been standing by when he first arrived, being awkward and quiet. He thought perhaps he should talk to Buffy, but he didn't want to be the one to step into the tense atmosphere around her and her boyfriend, so he went back to texting Blaine.

"It's kind of nice. That Quinn did this for Santana," said Sam, biting into a cocktail sausage.

"Yeah," said Buffy, staring at the slightly sticking concrete floor of The Bronze.

"Things have been okay lately, right?" he asked.

"Yeah... What?"

"Just... maybe I've been a little distant."

Buffy stared at the entrance, Quinn and Jesse blurring in front of her eyes as she wondered when Santana would arrive and what she'd be wearing and what she'd be thinking when she saw Buffy.

"I think I've been happy, though. So far."

Buffy wrinkled her nose and turned to Sam, the tips of his bright blond bangs hanging over his vulnerable blue eyes. "What?"

Sam looked down at Buffy, his pink lips pursed as he contemplated what to say. "Are you happy?"

"...I guess so."

"I just... I didn't know if I should mention it later or wait until after the party..."

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked quietly, feeling guilty and a little feverish.

Sam sighed. "My dad found a job in Kentucky. Better pay and... benefits and stuff..."

Buffy blinked. "You... You're moving to Kentucky?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Maybe permanently."

Buffy's mouth fell open. Part of her thought that this was a perfect sign for what she should do, but another part of her was dismayed she would be separated from one of her best friends. Her eyes wavered over Sam's soft face and she knew she felt upset. It was one thing to be tormented by a choice you had to make, but it was much worse to have no choice at all.

"Listen, we've only been dating for a few months, so... I'll understand if you won't want a long distance relationship."

"I... I don't know-"

"I don't know how you feel about this whole thing, but I know that I love you, Buffy, and I would do anything to be with you."

Buffy frowned sadly. "I know."

"But it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. Whatever you choose to do... I love you."

Across the room, Puck walked in through the entrance and scanned The Bronze until he spotted Quinn's golden hair.

"Hey, Q," he smiled at her a few feet away and sauntered over. Quinn turned from Jesse and smiled.

"I'm glad you came," she said, her eyes bright, "Puck, this is Jesse St. James. Jesse, this is Noah Puckerman. Um, I think you two may have met briefly."

"Indeed we have. You're the baby daddy," Jesse smirked, sticking a hand in the pocket of his dark jeans.

Puck scowled. "Yeah. And you're the prep who egged Rachel."

Quinn blushed. "Guys, can we please keep it civil? Santana, should be here any minute."

"Yeah, where is the woman of the hour?" asked Puck, looking around.

Suddenly, a loud, glassy crash erupted through the near empty nightclub as the window behind the stage bust open and Santana fell through, wrestling a vampire underneath her. They struggled on the surface of the stage, amongst broken shards of glass and specks of dust. Santana plunged a stake into the heart and fell through the small cloud of dust.

Santana coughed and sat up, on her knees on the stage, looking out at the group of people who had gathered together, staring up at her in stunned silence.

"Surprise...?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Jesse mumbled.

Angel bounded through the broken window and put his hands over Santana's shoulders. "Santana, are you okay?"

"Santana, what happened?!" Sofia cried, rushing to the edge of the stage in her snakeskin heels.

"There were these vamps in the alley," said Santana, patting dust off of her clothes as she stepped offstage, "One of them was-... This place looks really nice."

"Happy birthday," Quinn quirked her eyebrows.

"This is really sweet, you guys. A-And I'm so surprised-"

"Just tell us what happened," Sofia urged her.

"Fine," sighed Santana, "A bunch of vamps were unloading these wooden crates. Angel thinks they were Spike and Drusilla's minions."

"So I was right?" asked Kurt, "Spike and Drusilla are back?"

"We can't know for sure until we see them in the flesh," said Angel, "But it doesn't look good so far. We have to see what was in those crates."

"I'll help," said Buffy, and the three of them left the club through the door instead of the broken window.

Quinn sighed in distress and turned to Puck, who was staring, slack-jawed, at the surface of the stage.

"Are you okay?" she asked, putting her French-polished hand on his shoulder.

"Did anyone else see that guy turn into dust?" he asked.

Jesse smirked. "Oh, you still don't know? Vampires are real. Santana is one of them. Quinn's a witch. I'm a warlock. Kurt is apparently a psychic. Get used to it."

Quinn scowled at Jesse. "It's a lot to absorb, I know-"

"Actually, it explains a lot," frowned Puck.

Buffy, Angel and Santana trudged in carrying heavy, wooden crates.

"What is it?" asked Kurt, as they put them down on a table.

"I have no idea," said Santana, "How do we open it?"

"It looks like there's some sort of release," said Buffy, putting her fingers over one side of the box and lifting the lid off. She gasped and dropped the wooden lid when she saw the heavily armoured, severed arm inside. She didn't have much time to scream when the hand scrambled forward and gripped Buffy's neck in its thick, callused hands.

Santana gripped Buffy's shoulder with one hand and pulled the severed limb off of Buffy's neck, finger by finger, wrestled it away and flung it back in the box, clamping the lid shut over it.

"Oh my God, Buffy, are you okay?" asked Kurt.

"Man," Buffy coughed, "That thing had a major grip."

"What was that?!" asked Quinn.

"Looked like an arm," Puck said matter-of-factly.

"It can't be," Angel shook his head, "She wouldn't..."

"What?" Santana panted, her hands on her hips, "This the vamp version of snakes in a can?"

"Angel?" Buffy prodded.

"It's a legend before my time, of a demon brought forth to rid of the earth of the plague of humanity," Angel said, his Irish accent slightly coming through, "To separate the righteous from the wicked... and burn the righteous down. They called him The Judge."

"And this is The Judge?" asked Jesse.

"Not all of him," said Angel.

"Backstory?" asked Santana.

"The Judge can't be killed," said Angel, "An army was sent to destroy him. They dismembered him, but they didn't kill him. The pieces were scattered on every corner of the earth."

"Now all of the pieces are here," Santana frowned, "Drusilla did this. She had to. Those were Spike's men. You said so yourself."

"She's just crazy enough to do it," shrugged Angel.

"Do what? Reassemble The Judge?" asked Quinn.

"Reassemble The Judge," nodded Angel, "And bring forth Armageddon."

"Armageddon?!" Santana shook her head.

"I have to go. I'm the only one who can protect these pieces."

"What about me?" asked Buffy.

"You can't just skip town for a few months, Buffy," Angel shook his head.

"Months?!" cried Santana.

"I have to take the pieces to the most remote places on earth. I can catch a cargo ship to Asia, maybe trek to Nepal-"

"You know, nowadays we do have these newfangled flying machines that us city folk like to call airplanes."

"I can't travel by air, Santana, there's no way to ensure I could avoid sunlight. I have to leave. There's no other way."

Santana grimaced and briefly glanced at Buffy. "I'm going with you."

"What?!" Buffy and Quinn cried simultaneously.

"You are do-een no such thing, Santana Lopez," Sofia put her hands on her hips.

"Sofia, I love you and I love Quinn, but I'm going with Angel," Santana said furtively, "Nobody needs me here, but I have something I can do now. Someone I can help."

"No," Sofia shook her head, "You are no going anywhere. I am the adult ere!"

"With all due respect, Ms. Lopez, there are a few adults here and Santana is one of them," said Angel, turning to Santana, "Santana, are you sure you want to do this?"

Santana nodded. "I have to."

Buffy grimaced. "I'll go, too. I mean, to the docks. You guys need someone to help you carry those boxes, right?"

Santana looked sadly down at Buffy through thick eyelashes. "Right."

xxx

"You lost it?"

Dalton quaked in the dimly lit lair as Drusilla paced back and forth, the dark velvet of the end of her gown dragging across the stone floor.

"You lost my present?" she asked, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide with livid anger.

"I-I know," he shivered behind his rattling glasses, "I'm sorry-"

"Bad turn, mate," Spike frowned, leaning back in his wheelchair, "She can't have any fun without her box."

"The angelic one and his companion, they came out of nowhere. I-I didn't even see them-"

Drusilla lunged forward and snaked her slender arm around Dalton's neck, gently slipping off his glasses with the other.

"Make a wish," she said sweetly.

"W-What?"

Drusilla raised her hands, her ruby red fingernails razorsharp, and was poised to slash Dalton's face.

"I'm going to blow out the candles."

"Dru," Spike said nonchalantly, "You might give him a chance to find your lost treasure. He's a wanker, but he's the only minion we got with half a brain. If he fails, you can eat the eyes out of his sockets, for all I care."

"I'll get it," Dalton cried, "Please. I swear."

Drusilla curled her fingers in the palm of her hands and slid Dalton's glasses back onto his nose. "Hurry back, then."

xxx

The docks were dark but Buffy could hear the gentle slosh of waves against the cargo ship.

"We should go the rest of the way alone," said Angel, hauling two boxes under his arms. He nodded stiffly to Buffy and Santana and walked closer to the small ship.

Santana turned to Buffy and took on of the boxes she'd been carrying. "I'll be back," said Santana.

Buffy frowned and folded her arms in the cold air. "When?"

"You don't have to worry about it, slayer."

"Of course I'm going to worry about it. When am I going to see you again? Six months? A year? Who knows how long it will take or if we'll even..."

"If we'll even what?"

"If you haven't already noticed, someone pretty much always wants us dead."

"Don't say that, Buffy. We'll be fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. No-one can ever be sure. That's the point. Listen... Angel got me a birthday present," said Santana, sticking a hand in the pocket of her overcoat. She fished around and removed a silver ring. The ring didn't have a jewel or an inscription, but an engraving that looked like a miniature pair of hands holding a heart and wearing a crown.

"It's beautiful," said Buffy.

"It's called a claddagh ring. People wear them in Ireland. The hands mean friendship. The crown is royalty and the heart... well, you know. If you wear the heart pointing out, it means you're available. If you wear it pointing in, it means you're with somebody," Santana held out the ring, "I want you to have it."

Buffy's eyes widened. "I... No, Santana, it's yours."

"Which means it's mine to give. Please, I want you to have it."

Buffy smiled and took the ring in the palm of her hand, squeezing it tight. "Thank you." She smiled down at her ring, her bottom lip curling up and tears coming to her eyes.

"I don't want to do this, either," Santana said quietly.

"So don't. Don't go."

"I have to. What is there for me here? You know how I feel slayer."

"Yeah... I know..."

"So you know the only thing for me here is heartache. Maybe if I leave... I can get over you."

Santana and Buffy shook with surprise as a vampire bounded from the cargo ship and landed on the surface of the wooden dock with an impressive thud.

"Santana!" Angel called, rushing back to the girls as two more vampires appeared, snarling hungrily.

Buffy ducked and kicked, fighting off the nearest vamp when she saw a bespectacled minion darting in for the box Angel had dropped.

"Angel!" she cried, "The box!"

Angel threw himself forward and tackled Dalton the the ground, the box flying from his pale hands and skittering across the dock's surface.

Santana threw herself viciously into the fight until she felt an aching thud of a wooden plank hitting the back of her head. She stumbled forward, stunned, sprawling off the edge of the dock and into the water with a loud splash.

"Santana?!" cried Buffy. She ran forward and dove into the freezing water, trying to open her eyes in the dark murkiness and feel for skin or cloth. She grabbed onto what she sure was an arm and pulled in closer to wrap around a waist. With one arm, she paddled back toward the dock, dragging Santana along with her until she felt Angel's strong hands lifting both girls to the surface.