a/n: I'm freaking out because I just realized that Ryder sang 'I Only Have Eyes For You' in the Sadie Hawkins episode of Glee. Wish I'd remembered that when I was writing the last chapter.

Tina had visited Ohio's closest ancient history museum many times, but never had she accepted an invitation from the curator. She clinged excitedly to her black pleather purse as a docent lead her past doors that read 'Staff Only'. She'd repeatedly asked the scrawny, red-haired employee wearing a nametag that read 'Albert' what this was all about, but he

was unable to answer her questions.

He led her to a small room at the end of a narrow hallway and she stepped past him to take in the overwhelming sight of a slab of rock, at least three feet taller than her, and twice as wide. Two workers brushed dust and dirt off of it with brushes. A broad-shouldered, sandy-haired man in reading glasses watching over them.

"Careful. Concentrate on this spot," he called down to the archeologists.

Tina lifted her chin to look at the man in charge. "Hello?"

He turned around, his hands on his hips. "Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Yes?"

"Doug Pierce," he strode forward and shook her hand, "Wow, I did not expect you to be so young."

"Pierce?" Tina smirked, "You aren't Brittany Pierce's father, are you?"

"Oh, you know Brittany?" Mr. Pierce smiled.

"I go to high school with her."

"I'll be damned. The Washington Institute made you sound... older."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "The Washington Institute?"

"Of ancient history. I wanted to consult an expert, and they directed me to you. You submitted all those papers on ancient artefacts and their roles in the occult. Figured you were the best authority on obscure relics in Ohio."

"Well, that's... an exaggeration..." Tina blushed.

"Thank you for coming, really," Doug nodded.

Tina cleared her throat, embarrassed by the flattery. "So, what is that?" she asked, nodding to the massive slab of rock.

"That's our baby," said Doug, "Construction crew dug it up outside of town."

He led her towards the massive monument as the archeologists brushed dirt out of the crevices of carved letters.

"It's not unlike a sarcophagus," said Tina, almost under her breath. She lifted her hand and hovered a finger in front of a faint line running up the middle of the rock. "May I?" she asked, holding a hand out for a brush.

One of the archeologists shrugged and placed a thin brush in her hand, watching with curiosity.

"Have you tried to open it?" she asked.

"Open it?"

Tina flicked dirt away from the line, revealing a deep, even crack.

"I figured it was solid. What do you think's inside?"

"Maybe I can translate the text and see if it tells us before we open it."

"You don't like surprises?"

"No, not much."

"Alright, I'll trust you. I'm pretty damn curious, though."

"Yeah. So am I."

xxx

"Is it weird for you? Having her at school every day?"

Buffy tucked her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she shuffled through clothes and magazines strewn on her bedroom floor.

"It is pretty awkward, but nowhere near as dramatic as I imagined in fantasies," Rachel said on the other line.

"You've had fantasies where Shelby became the school's new guidance counselor?"

"Well, more like fantasies where Shelby became a famous Broadway director and a created a musical based on Barbra Streisand and I was chosen to play the leading lady. I guess this is as close as I'm ever gonna get."

Buffy smirked. Shelby Corcoran had worked at McKinley High for a couple days now, consoling dramatic freshmen and giving college recommendations and career guidance to stressed out seniors. So far, she seemed to like her job, but everyone in the school was aware that she didn't have the same cheerful demeanour that Ms. Pillsbury carried around with her. Especially Will.

Buffy tossed a sweat-soaked tank top in the hamper. "How've you been?"

"I've been... okay. But my problems are manageable. I'm more interested in how you've been. You didn't come to the Sadie Hawkins dance last weekend."

"I wasn't really up for it. Dancing and spiked punch and merriment. I was more in a mopey kind of place after seeing Santana again. I mean... Snix."

"Do you feel better now?"

"I'm still pretty confused. Frustrated. I know I have to kill her. I knew it after Ms. Pillsbury died and I know it even more now. This has to stop."

"You're really anxious to get this over with, huh?"

"More than you know."

Buffy lifted a leather jacket that was half peeking out from under her bed and turned out the sleeves and pockets to find a half finished pack of Lifesavers, a mini bottle of holy water and a thick roll of parchment. Buffy stared at the foreign language written in ink against the discolored papyrus.

"Rachel... you said that Shelby was helping Quinn find a way to find Santana's soul, right?"

"...Well, yes, but by the time they figure out how to do it... Who knows what Snix could do in that time."

"What's stopping them? What do they need?"

"Well, something like a translation for some sort of ritual-"

"A Romanian ritual?"

xxx

The black iron gate creaked from the back of the garden as Drusilla opened it and walked in, her white dress catching on thorns and wildflowers.

"Nice walk, pet?" asked Spike, lying back in his chair by the door.

"I met an old man," she replied, "I didn't like him. He got stuck in my teeth. And then the moon started whispering to me. All sorts of dreadful things."

"Naughty moon."

"What did it say?" Snix stood on the second floor balcony with her hands gripping the ledge as she looked down at her cohorts in a long robe draped over her silk black teddy.

"Oh, look who's awake," Spike rolled his eyes.

Snix ignored him and started to walk down the staircase, her eyes trained on Drusilla's frame under the moonlight. "What did the moon tell you? Did you have a vision? Is something cool gonna happen?"

"Oh yes..." Drusilla breathed in her through her nose, raising her head to the sky, "Something terrible."

"Where?"

"The museum. There's a tomb. With a surprise inside," she added with a devilish smile.

Snix smiled warmly and walked over, outstretching her hand and caressing Drusilla's cheek. "You saw all that in your head?"

"No, you ninny, she read it in the morning paper," Spike grumbled, holding up 'The Daily Lima' in his hand.

Snix raised an eyebrow at Dru, who simply shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Well, let's see it," Snix sighed, walking over to Spike and snatching the paper from his hands.

She was pleasantly surprised to recognize the black and white picture that accompanied the article about the ancient history museum's newest find. She recognized it from one of the books on demonology her dad... - uncle - used to have, back when she found the subject interesting, before she'd started to resent her adoptive parents' passion and gotten into cheerleading just so she'd have her own thing.

"Is that what's been whispering to me?" Drusilla asked over her shoulder.

"Mm hm. Don't worry, though. It'll stop soon. It'll be screaming."

xxx

Jesse wheeled a large cushioned stroller into The Lima Bean, with Beth cooing inside, drooling all over his leather wallet. He was grateful for his surprising knack for childcare, and for how much Shelby's blonde little cherub adored him, because he knew it was the only reason Shelby agreed to hire him as Beth's full-time nanny when she got a job at McKinley High.

He rolled the stroller up to a square table with four seats and sat down just as Quinn walked through the doors, her blond hair bobbing against her shoulders and a messenger bag strung over the sleeve of her lace peacoat. Puck followed her in, running a hand over his shaved head.

"Look, Elizabeth, it's Mommy and Daddy," Jesse cooed as they approached.

"Don't call us that," Quinn sharply corrected, setting her bag down and taking a seat.

Quinn and Puck had been visiting Beth more and more since Shelby settled into her apartment in Lima, and even more so now that Jesse took Beth out on 'field trips' during their lunch breaks.

"You know it's just Beth, right?" Puck asked, leaning his hands against the back of a chair.

"That's not short for anything? I've been calling her Elizabeth all day," Jesse smirked.

"No, dude, like the KISS song."

Jesse wrinkled his nose.

"Don't worry, baby," Puck said softly, leaning into Beth's stroller as she looked back up at him with wide brown eyes, "If you take after your old man, you'll have way more appreciation for classic rock than your metro manny."

"Coffee order?" Quinn asked, her eyes darting between the boys.

"Black, two sugars. No, three. Thanks," said Puck.

"Iced orange spice frappucino, extra frothy, no chocolate powder. And a bran muffin. No raisins," said Jesse, "Actually, raisins are fine. No nuts, though."

Quinn rolled her eyes as her old-fashioned ringtone sounded in her pocket. She answered quickly when she saw the name on the screen.

"Shelby? What is it?" she asked.

She and Shelby kept in close correspondence as they researched day and night for Santana's cure, but Shelby rarely called her during school hours. The boys watched Quinn listen intently, her eyes getting wider with each passing second.

"Oh my God," Quinn breathed, and looked at Jesse, "We have to get to McKinley. Now."

"What is it? Did we find something?"

Quinn shoved the phone back into her pocket and picked her bag back up. "Oh, we found something."

xxx

"This is a difficult subject for all of us."

Kurt watched his principal's hands like a dog as he clasped them together and rested them on his mahogany desk. Principal Schaffer had salt and pepper hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes no matter his expression. Kurt stared at the thin hairs on his knuckles as he sat snugly in between his father and his stepmother opposite the desk.

"That's where I disagree, pal, because we don't know what the subject is," Burt said curtly.

Principal Schaffer had called them to his office without giving them a reason, but Kurt had a strong suspicion that he was in trouble.

"Kurt's behavior has been less than satisfactory since he began at Dalton. We were impressed with his transcripts when we accepted him, but since then, his involvement in the academy has been disappointing."

Burt squirmed in his seat and side-eyed his son. "Well, it's been a difficult couple months for Kurt. Family issues."

"Of course, but you have to understand that we expect all of our students to uphold the same standards. Kurt's been skipping classes, missing too many days. His grades have been slipping dangerously low. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't allowed to take his AP classes next year-"

"Okay," Carole held up her hand, "He hasn't been the model student. We know that. But Kurt is just getting back on the horse after being through... a lot of... new things. He'll get better. He'll buckle down and study and be punctual. He's a good kid. An amazing kid."

Principal Schaffer sighed. "Kurt?"

Kurt looked up at his principal's face. "Uh, yeah. I mean, I've been a little lost for the last couple months, but I've always been a good student. I can be one again."

Schaffer nodded, not entirely convinced. "Some of Kurt's teachers feel that perhaps Dalton is too academically demanding for Kurt."

Burt knitted his eyebrows. "Kurt's a smart kid. Took AP Chemistry for three years. Practically fluent in French. He can keep up with all these Harvard hopefuls. He just needs a little self discipline is all."

"Well, I would love to see Kurt's behavior improve, I truly would, but we here at Dalton don't tend to take risks, and Kurt, as he is now, proves to be a risk for our school's reputation," said Principal Schaffer, leaning back in his seat, fiddling with a heavy silver Dalton Academy pen.

"And God forbid a kid who goes through a rough time for a couple of months sullies your precious reputation."

"Burt," Carole said softly.

"I'm sorry, but Kurt's a great kid and you would be lucky to have him here."

Principal Schaffer pursed his lips and nodded. "I agree. But if he doesn't pass all of his final exams, I'll have no choice but to expel him."

"Expel him? Are you insane?" Burt fumed, his face getting red.

"Burt," Carole said again, and turned to Schaffer, "Kurt will pass his classes, Mr. Schaffer. You won't need to do anything drastic."

"I hope not," Schaffer sighed, "Thank you for your time."

They all stood and left the office, Burt giving Schaffer one last glare.

"Can you believe that guy?" he said aloud as they walked through the hallway of Dalton's administrative building, passing scalloped wallpaper, backless wood benches and white Grecian columns.

Kurt's stomach turned at the thought of flunking his classes and being expelled after his dad and Carole spent so much money on his tuition.

"It's okay, Burt," Carole said reasonably, putting her arm over Kurt's shoulders, "Nothing bad's going to happen. Kurt may be a little behind but that not something we can't help. He can get help from me. From Tina. From Blaine, who I'm sure is on top of things."

Kurt started to blush.

"Heck, even Finn is pretty good at Social Studies," Carole continued, "Kurt will be just fine."

"Thanks, Carole," Kurt said quietly as they made their way out to the parking lot.

"I gotta get back to the shop. Got a leaky carburetor to fix by the end of the day," said Burt, unlocking the truck.

"You want to come with me, Kurt?" asked Carole, heading towards her mini-van a few spaces away, and added in a sing-song voice, "I'm passing a frozen yogurt place on the way home."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

He jumped into the passenger's seat, grateful for a little bonding time with his stepmother. When she and his father got engaged, he had plenty of time to take her shopping, help plan the wedding and watch The Real Housewives of various cities with her while vegging out in front of the TV. But ever since his powers and his mother's secrets started taking over his life, he didn't have much time for Carole. Since she had adjusted so easily and sympathetically to what Kurt was going through and the revelations of her husband's past, Kurt was even more grateful for her presence in their family.

"Don't worry about all of this, Kurt," Carole said as she drove through town, her hands slack on the steering wheel, "You've just gotten everything together. You'll be just fine. You're such a smart kid."

Kurt nodded. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was buckle down. Even though it was only his last couple weeks of school, his mind was far away from his grades. He couldn't care less about his GPA and his college prospects, even though he knew he should. His priorities have shifted and he was so sure how to shift them back.

"I was thinking..." said Kurt.

"Yeah?"

"I know I can handle Dalton's classes if I tried, but... it's really expensive, and you're going to have to pay tuition again next year, and all new books-"

"Kurt, that's not something you have to worry about. Your father and I can handle it."

"I know, it's just, the reason I left McKinley was because I was being bullied, and it was unbearable, but I feel like a different person since I started at Dalton. Since all of this craziness happened. More than anything, I feel stronger."

"Are you saying you'd like to go back to McKinley this year? You won't miss Blaine?"

"Of course I will. I just don't want to run from my problems anymo-"

Kurt cried out in pain and jerked forward, clutching his temple.

"Kurt!" Carole swerved the car, "What's wrong?"

"It's okay," Kurt assured her through clenched teeth, "I'm... seeing something."

Flashing images forced their way into his vision, no matter how wide he opened his eyes. There was darkness. A flash of light. Buffy and Santana, their chests heaving, their expressions weary. Just as they looked like they were about to kiss, Buffy plunged a sword into Santana's chest, and the vision stopped.

Carole stopped in traffic, staring at her stepson, alarmed and frightened.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, wincing from the dull ache in his head, "I just saw something."

"Something bad?"

"I don't know."

xxx

"What are you saying?" asked Quinn, not quite believing what she was hearing.

She, Puck and Jesse had met Shelby in her office where she was talking rapidly with Buffy and Mr. Schuester. Rachel, Mike and Tina quickly joined them, surprised by the news of the long forgotten Romanian translations Buffy had received from Angel and lost in the midst of her deadly fever.

"The curse," said Buffy, "Angel's curse. This is it."

"The Romani rituals," said Shelby, "These are their translations."

"To restore Santana's soul?" asked Tina, "I thought it couldn't be done."

"We're not saying it can be," said Shelby, "Not yet. It'll take a lot of practise and a lot of power. This is very advanced black arts. More advanced than anything I've ever done."

"We can do that," said Quinn, "You and Jesse already know so much, and I've been studying, and Rachel..."

She looked at the brunette, her wavy hair falling over the shoulders of her cardigan.

"I'm not... powerful," Rachel shrugged, uncharacteristically shy.

"But you are special," said Quinn, "And it's just a little more natural magic to add to the ritual."

"It's not that simple, Quinn. Something as dark as this could open a door you may not know how to close," Shelby warned.

"Who cares?!" Quinn exclaimed, "This is Santana we're talking about!"

Quinn looked back at Jesse, who was bobbing Beth up and down on his hip. He just gave her a sympathetic looked and stayed silent. He knew Shelby was right.

"I don't want to put anyone else in danger," Buffy said calmly.

"Yeah, and I don't want Santana dead," Quinn said heatedly, before her voice softened and she looked at Buffy, "Look, I get it. If you have to kill Santana, you're only doing it to protect everyone else. But if there's a chance that we can help Santana-"

"Why should we?" Mike asked aloud.

"Mike-" said Tina.

"No, Santana's a killer. The more time we waste, the more victims pile up. And who do we blame then? The murderer, or the people who could've stopped her, but didn't?"

"It's not that simple," said Buffy, "What happened to Santana wasn't her fault. This isn't her. This is a demon, in her body, using her to spread evil. I know Santana. This isn't her."

"You can paint this however you want," said Mike, "But they way I see it is that you want to forget all about Ms. Pillsbury's murder just so you can have your girlfriend back."

A silence fell over the room.

"Wow, even I know that was insensitive," Puck sighed.

"Am I wrong?" asked Mike, turning to his girlfriend, challenging her glare.

"Yes, you are," said Buffy, "I did not forget about Ms. Pillsbury. I remember every day. She was someone I couldn't save and I hate myself for it."

"Buffy-" Will reached out his hand.

"No, I do. I hate myself. But if there's a chance I can save Santana, then I have to do that. I have to save people. It's what I'm good for. And this isn't about getting my 'girlfriend' back. The person we get back will not be Santana. She will be a hollow, guilt-ridden person with nothing but repentance and self-loathing on her mind after the things she's done. But it's better than nothing."

xxx

Doug set up a desk in the back room of the museum, dim light from his desk lamp spilling over his paperwork and showing off the dark outline of the tomb against the wall. He had been spending more and more time at the museum when he should've been at home, with his wife, and his two daughters. He slipped his fingers under his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose, worrying about Brittany, who grew more quiet and distant everyday ever since her friendship with Santana abruptly ended.

Just as he started to yearn for the feel of his pillow under his head, he heard whispers rush past his ears. He looked up, alert and unsure of whether he'd imagined it or not.

"Danny?" he called the names of one of the archeologists, "That you?"

He heard the whispers again, not being able to decipher a single word. His eyes shifted towards the tomb and he rose from his seat, curious, and disturbed. He walked towards it and placed a hand on its front, the whispers growing louder. He took his hand away, and they got quieter. He raised an eyebrow and brought his hand back, his heart beating faster as the whispers grew louder once again.

His heart jumped in his chest as a hand clamped over his mouth and several sharp teeth sunk into the sensitive skin on his neck. He screamed into the cold mouth.

Snix walked in, flanked by minions, and threw a warm smile at Drusilla as she hungrily fed on the museum curator.

"Mr. Pierce, long time no see," she waggled her fingers at the man, writhing in Drusilla's grasp, "Let's see, I'll have one of those."

She pointed a finger at the tall tomb and threw a look at her minions. They rushed to the tomb and threw heavy duty thread ropes over it.

"Be careful," she ordered, "Your weak imitations of life depend on it."

xxx

Buffy laid an arm over the surface of her bedroom armoire and swept an arsenal of stakes, crosses and holy water into her gear bag when her cellphone rang. Her mind was muddled ever since her scooby meeting at school. She didn't want to get her hopes up about the restoration spell. If it didn't work out, she'd have to grieve all over again.

She picked up the phone on the end of the bed to see a square picture of Kurt cropped out of the glee club after winning Sectionals in their sophomore year.

"What's up?"

"Another vision."

"Oh boy," Buffy sighed, "Lay it on me."

"Basically? You kill Santana."

Buffy breathed in deep. Kurt's vision was confirming Buffy's fears.

"But sometimes your visions are vague, right? Metaphorical. You had a vision Santana cracked my neck at the Bronze and it meant something else."

"My visions are getting more and more realistic," Kurt said reluctantly, "I didn't even go unconscious for this one. Just got a killer migraine."

Buffy breathed through her nose. "But they can change, right? The visions you have can be stopped."

"I don't know," Kurt sighed on the other line, "I'm sorry. I wish I was more of a help, Buffy."

"No, it's fine. Thank you. I gotta go patrol."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye."

Buffy tossed her phone back on the bed. She'd been prepared to kill Santana a week ago. A day ago. But now? Santana's soul being restored was a very real possibility. She couldn't turn away from that. She strung her gear bag over her shoulder and trotted downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

Buffy looked through the arch to the living where her mother was lounging on the couch, a thin cotton blanket thrown over her legs.

"Uh, Tina's. To study. Got two finals tomorrow."

"Okay, well, make sure you actually study. Don't just waste your time online all night."

"We won't," she said as she tightened her grip on her bag, forcing a wooden cross to fall out and clatter on the floor. Joyce narrowed her eyes at it.

"Oh, um," Buffy mumbled, bending down to pick it up, "I've been getting sort of religious lately."

"Well, your father and I were both agnostic. We always thought we should let you decide for yourself."

"I'm just kind of... soul searching."

"Well... that's good. Get a ride home if you come back late."

Buffy nodded and headed out. She walked down the street, heading closer to Lima Cemetery near the town's border, when she heard a rustle in the tall, rectangular hedges at the edges of Rovello Drive. She felt someone step behind and whirled around, holding her hands defensively in front of her and her feet apart.

She was surprised to see the short figure in front of her and straightened up.

"You know, it's in bad form not to call before you jump out of the bushes and attack someone," she smirked.

Sunshine Corazon grinned under her thick-framed glasses. "Just testing your reflexes. I was on the way to your house and saw you walking. I couldn't help myself."

"Don't think I'm not glad to see you, but, why are you here? Wait, let me guess, your watcher told you that a dark force is on the rise in Lima."

"That's about it."

"Great," Buffy's head rolled back, "Did he give you any idea what this dark power might be?"

xxx

The minions dropped the tomb on the dining room floor, kicking up dust underneath it. Snix leered up at it, gleeful. Spike rolled his wheelchair under the archway and stared at it, unimpressed.

"It's a big rock," he said sarcastically, "I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big."

"You sound like you flunked History, Spike," Snix smirked.

"Give us a lesson, then."

"This big cutie's name is Acathla. A demon who tried to swallow the world, killed by the knight in shining armour. Acathla turned to stone because sometimes demons do that," she said matter-of-factly, "Boys?"

Two minions clutched crowbars and wedged the tomb open, the front falling against the floor with a thunderous thud. A stone demon stood inside, a grimace on his mutilated face, fangs sticking up from his bottom teeth. A stone sword stuck straight out of his chest.

"Ooh, he fills my head," Drusilla moaned as she wandered in, her hands clutched over her raven hair, "I can't hear anything else."

"Let me guess. Someone pulls out the sword-" said Spike.

"Someone worthy," Snix interrupted.

"-then the demon wakes up and wackiness ensues."

"He will swallow the world," Drusilla said with certainty.

"And every living creature on this planet will take up permanent residence in Hell," Snix smiled, her eyes on the demon, "We're about to make history end."

xxx

Tina hung up the house phone in the hall and walked back into the den, where Buffy was sitting with her hands under her thighs and Sunshine removed a long, quiver-like leather hull from over her shoulder and set it down on the coffee table. Her stomach turned as Buffy looked up at her.

"The tomb is missing. And... they killed Mr. Pierce, the curator. Brittany's father."

Buffy started to feel sick. "Who? Who killed him?"

Tina wrung her hands together. "Vampires."

Buffy grimaced. "Snix," she said under her breath, "God, maybe Mike was right. The longer we wait, the more damage she'll cause. I have to do it. I have to kill her."

"Wait," Tina squirmed, "Just, you should probably take care of this demon thing first. We should, together."

Buffy put a hand to her temple. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. You mind explaining the whole 'suck the world into Hell' thing?"

"Right. Well, according to legend, Acathla's breath can create a vortex to a Hell dimension. Like a whirlpool that sucks our world into theirs. Into Hell."

"So the literal kind of sucking. Great."

"You think Snix stole the tomb?" asked Sunshine.

"I'd be willing to bet."

"We don't know where she is, though. Their lair burned down," said Tina.

"Tina, go to Shelby and the others. I want them to start the ritual," said Buffy.

"Are you sure?" asked Sunshine before looking up at Tina, "I think agree with your boyfriend. Snix must be stopped."

"I'll fight Snix. I'll kill her if I have to. But if I lose, or if I don't find her in time, that curse is our only hope," said Buffy.

"That's not true," said Sunshine.

She reached for her bag and opened the latch, pushing the soft leather back to reveal a thin, silver longsword.

"Blessed by the knight who slew the demon Acathla," she said, holding it out to Buffy, "If all else fails, this might stop it."

"Well, let's hope all else doesn't fail," Buffy pursed her lips.

"Snix will have to do a ritual of her own to awaken Acathla," Tina added, "Hopefully that'll buy us some time."

xxx

Spike stood alone in his room, pacing back and forth, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what was happening and what he might do. His empty wheelchair lie in the corner as he wondered how to get out of this. He wanted to spill as much blood and wreak as much havoc as the next person, but an apocalypse? There were some pleasures that could only be described as earthly and he wasn't going to get them if he was surrounded by hellfire and brimstone.

"Spike?" Drusilla called from the hall.

Spike made a beeline for his wheelchair and fell in just as Drusilla entered the room, sweeping her arms emphatically in the air.

"Spike, love, the fun's about to start," she said excitedly.

"Seems more to me like the fun's about to end," he said bitterly.

"Don't be all gloomy."

"Darling, if this works, everything changes. In this world, we can be kings. In the next..." Spike shrugged.

"Don't worry about the next world. You'll always have me."

"Will I?"

A gurgling scream sounded downstairs.

"Oh, the blood ritual!" Drusilla hopped on her feet, "Let's go see!"

Spike sighed and let her wheel him downstairs and into the dining room where the statue of Acathla stood free from its tomb. Two minions held a young man with a goatee between them as they slit his throat and carried him toward Snix.

"I will drink," she chanted, "The blood will wash in me, over me and I will be cleansed. I will free Acathla. Bear witness, as I ascend. As I become..."

She grabbed the young man and buried her face into his neck, drinking with immense thirst. She dropped the boy, blood running down her chin and raised her hands to the ceiling.

"Everything I am, everything I have done, has led me here. This night, this act," she said, looking at the statue, "You will be free."

She put her hand firmly in the hilt of the sword and pulled.

a/n: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Tell me what you thought. And in case anyone's wondering, there's no such thing as the Washington Institute of Ancient History.