Author's Note: Please review this fic, guys... and check out my new fic "Double Lives," which is a Castle-NCIS crossover.

"Your mother was once an informant for the Council of Watchers," Rupert Giles explained; it was better to just get everything out in the open and answer any questions Kate had after the fact rather than dance around the truth of it all. "Even back then, William Bracken was on our radar."

Kate's eyes widened, and she turned to look up at Castle. "William…"

The note. The one Spike had left on Roy Montgomery's body. At first, Kate thought that might have just been the vampire speaking in third person, showing off as only he could after such mindless bloodshed.

But was it an actual message? Did Spike's actions lead them to a path of something deeper?

Even the thought of that made Kate shudder.

"Ascensions are rather time-consuming affairs," Giles said. "Decades, if not centuries, in the making. If one knows what to watch out for, the signs become apparent thirty, forty years before anything is imminent."

"And you saw the signs with Bracken," Castle theorized.

"Precisely." Giles offered a rueful smile. "Well, Quentin Travers did."

Kate's brow furrowed in confusion, and she reached out to take Castle's hand into her own - to ground herself more than anything else. The grief of losing Captain Montgomery and the insinuation that it was in some way related to both her mother's murder and Senator Bracken's supposed Ascension, made her knees weak.

The whole thing was beyond overwhelming, and not for the first time, Kate wondered if this was the life of a Slayer. Constant uphill battles, an Apocalypse seeming to lurk around every corner. It was an exhausting and frightening way to live, and Kate couldn't imagine a world where only one woman in the world had to deal with this.

"Mr. Travers?" She shook her head. "Mom always told me he was just a legal consultant."

"Quentin was a great deal more than that." Giles nodded in the direction of the file folder still clutched in Kate's hand. "He first alerted us to Bracken's Ascension plans when we were dealing with our own crisis in Sunnydale.

"Your mother was in the middle of working a case of her own at the time, a mobster named Joe Pulgatti who had been convicted of murdering an undercover federal agent."

"I remember that case," Castle said. "Bob Armen, killed in an alley in Washington Heights."

"The same alley where my mother was killed."

"Pulgatti was innocent." Giles took the folder from Kate before opening it. "He was in that alley with Armen that night, but he wasn't the gunman." He handed Kate a sheet of paper. "That is a copy of the official police report. Look who made the arrest."

Castle stood close to Kate, looking over her shoulder to study the file. "John Raglan."

Kate's eyes shot up to the older British man standing across from her. "Raglan also worked my mom's case."

"The alley in which Armen was killed is a blind alley," Giles explained. "When I landed earlier this evening, that was the first place I went. The only way to know Pulgatti was in that alley with Armen that night was if someone else was in that alley with them."

Kate shook her head. "There's no account of a witness in the arrest report."

A light bulb went off in Castle's head. "Raglan was there."

Giles nodded. "Not just Raglan, either. There were two other men with him, both cops."

"What were they doing there?"

"Armen was investigating an extortion ring." Giles returned to his seat, closing the folder. "Three men were kidnapping mobsters and holding them for ransom. Pulgatti was the target that night."

"Only when Armen showed up, everything went sideways," Castle said.

Kate nodded. "So instead of kidnapping Pulgatti, they killed Armen and pinned the murder on him." The detective ducked her head, closing her eyes. "And after his conviction, the result of an investigation Raglan steered, Pulgatti contacted my mom and asked her to hear his case."

"That still doesn't explain how it connects back to Captain Montgomery's murder." Castle's jaw set. "Or Senator Bracken."

"Because Roy Montgomery was one of the three men." Giles removed his glasses, leveling a serious gaze to the pair in front of him. "And he could be our link to Bracken."

Manhattan…

Crossbow at the ready, Faith Lehane peered over the brick wall in one of Manhattan's many back alleys, narrowing her gaze and holding up her free hand. Buffy Summers and the two men who insisted on tagging along stopped behind the dark-haired Slayer, awaiting further instruction. Faith still felt strange being the point on this operation, but putting Buffy in charge always led to tension.

And putting one of the two men in charge was out of the question. Not only were they woefully ill-prepared for dealing with vampires, but they were also walking wounded. Detective Esposito was nursing a concussion, while Detective Ryan had a broken wrist.

If Faith had her way, they would still be at the police station. But they were as stubborn as she, and the Slayer knew it was only partially due to the fact that they were cops. Their allegiance - to each other, as well as to Detective Beckett - was so strong that they would run head-first into a firefight if necessary.

Faith wouldn't admit it, but she admired that.

"Clear," she whispered over her shoulder before the four of them began their patrol once more. The hunt for Spike was now into its second hour, and the trail was as cold as it had been when they started. Faith cast a sideways glance to see Buffy staring off to the side, her face hidden from view and the grip on her own crossbow tight to the point that her knuckles were ghost-white.

Her history with Spike was… Faith wasn't sure if complicated was a strong enough word. There was no telling how this was affecting Buffy, to know that Spike was not only back, but back without a soul. Just because this wasn't their first encounter with a recently-unensouled vampire, that didn't mean it got easier.

"Yo, Faith," Esposito muttered, picking up the pace so he was by Faith's side, "what's up with the whole Slayer bit? How come you're always girls?"

"Dunno," Faith shrugged her shoulders. "Just better at it, I guess."

"Still can't believe Beckett's one of them," Ryan said with a shake of his head.

"I can." Esposito stopped in his tracks, and when Faith turned to glance at him, she could see how crooked his nose was and how deep the bruising had gotten. Ryan and Esposito definitely should not have tagged along. "Come on, bro… badass like Beckett, you don't think she could handle herself against the undead?"

Both men made a face, clearly still grappling with the reality that creatures such as vampires existed. As Esposito had said back at the precinct, it was bad enough the city was overrun with murderers and drug dealers and mobsters… now they had to worry about monsters too?

"Look," Buffy interjected, "clearly I don't know her as well as you two. But I do know this: Spike would much rather deal with me and Faith. Cause if she gets to him first? There's no telling what she'll do."

"Well, I for one would love to find out."

The cocky British voice caught the two Slayers and the two detectives off-guard. While Ryan and Esposito wisely took a step back, Buffy barely registered the leather-clad presence puffing on a cigarette before she pulled the trigger on her crossbow. The arrow flew through the night air, only to have Spike snatch it before it had a chance to puncture his heart.

With a smirk, Spike snapped the arrow in two and tossed it to the pavement. "Now, love… is that any way to greet an old flame?"

"One that just murdered a police captain, yeah."

"Ooh, heard about that, did you?" The disgusting smile on Spike's face grew as he pushed himself off the wall and tossed his cigarette aside. "So did Detective Beckett get my message?"

Ryan and Esposito lunged for Spike simultaneously, only to be held back by the two Slayers. Esposito grit his teeth, an angry red flare in his cheeks. Ryan, even with one arm immobilized, almost pushed his way past Buffy, trying to duck under her arms before she finally pushed him back.

"They've got moxy," Spike teased. "I like that. But tell me, gents… what exactly were you planning on doing to me?"

Faith smacked the butt of her crossbow against Spike's jaw. As he lost his footing, she twirled on the balls of her feet and caught his nose with the heel of her boot. Spike crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from his nostrils. Before he could react, Faith was straddling him, yanking on his leather coat and pointing her crossbow at his neck.

"Faith!" Buffy called out from behind.

Faith ignored the other Slayer, gritting her teeth and pushing the tip of the arrow resting in the quiver until it broke skin. Spike laughed through gritted teeth as blood seeped down the side of his neck. "Go on, pet. Pull the bloody trigger."

"Faith," Buffy implored again.

"What, B?!" Faith bit back. "You want me to spare him? This isn't your little fucktoy anymore!"

"Oh, but I could be." A sinister grin spread across Spike's lips, made all the worse by the blood drying into his pale skin. "Remember how much fun that used to be, Slayer? Especially that night in the bathro -"

Before Spike could even finish the thought, Buffy kicked him in the chin. Bone cracked and more blood spilled onto the pavement. Yet Spike laughed once again, turning to glance at the dark-haired Slayer still mounted atop his lap. "What about you, Faith? You wanna ride?"

Without a second thought, Faith pulled the trigger. The arrow pierced straight through Spike's neck, and he gargled and gasped. Writhing on the ground in pain, Spike clutched as the weapon embedded in his trachea as Faith pushed herself upright again, tossed the crossbow aside, and grabbed Buffy by the shoulder.

"What the fuck, B?!" Faith's teeth gnashed together as she pushed the other Slayer back up against the wall. "I thought we wanted him dead!"

Buffy punched Faith in the face before pushing herself off the wall. "We need Spike alive! We need him to get to Bracken!"

"Oh, so we're back to taking orders from Buffy again?" Faith bit back, punching the blonde Slayer across the nose. She leaned back to dodge another blow before kicking Buffy in the stomach.

Buffy was about to push herself off the wall again when a gunshot rang out. Startled, both Slayers looked to the side to Esposito standing over Spike, a smoking firearm in his hand and a bullet hole in Spike's forehead. The cop looked up at Buffy and Faith with a sneer, the anger in his eyes accentuated by the bruises on his face.

"We done here?" he asked.

"Hardly," Faith shook her head. "Cause that didn't kill him."

"No." Esposito holstered his gun. "But it buys you time to take him somewhere else, maybe get some answers out of him."

"Not to mention, it adds to your paperwork," Ryan added. "Nice job discharging your weapon, Javi."

While the two men started bantering back and forth with one another, Buffy glared at Faith and let their shoulders bump on her way past. "We're not done here," she practically growled, grabbing Spike by the collar of his coat and dragging him off into the night.

Faith craned her head to the side, until an audible pop sounded, before cracking her knuckles.

"Damn right, we're not."

January 2, 1999…

It wasn't all that unusual for William Bracken to still be in his office long after the sun had gone down for the night. Assistant District Attorney in New York City was probably one of the busiest jobs there was, and Bracken was even busier since he was mulling over a potential run at Congress - to say nothing of his other endeavors.

Ascending was a long, arduous process, one that tested a man's patience as much as anything else. Bracken's patience had been tested several times in the decades since he first set foot on American soil, and if nothing else, holding down a job such as this kept him busy enough that the slog of reaching a higher plane of existence wasn't quite so tedious.

Still, as he read over the Ky-laag Scrolls, Bracken couldn't help but lament the fact that he was still probably twenty years or so away from his ultimate destiny. People in the know around him told Bracken he was White House material; his ambitions were a little higher than that.

The sound of the door to his office opening caught Bracken's attention, and he felt the anger rising in his chest as the sight of the three men entering. Bracken slipped the scrolls back into their place in his drawer, undoing the cuffs of his pressed white dress shirt before leaning back in his chair.

"Raglan, shut the door," he ordered with a scowl. "You've got a lotta balls, coming here."

"Look," the black man with the mustache, Roy Montgomery, said with his hands up in a defensive posture, "we just want to make sure we're all on the same page." He approached the desk, hands in his pockets. "You took us for a lot of money, Bracken. We want assurances."

Bracken pushed out of his chair and jabbed a finger into Montgomery's chest. "Hey, be happy I haven't busted the three of you for your little mafia extortion ring!"

Now there would be a way to ensure winning an election.

"Whoa, relax…" Montgomery took a step back.

"Uh-uh. No… no," Bracken approached the three men again. Raglan and McCallister each looked like they were about to throw down - Raglan was even scratching his knuckles - but Montgomery clearly wanted no part of this. Bracken sneered; he was the weak link. "You want assurances? Here you go: I assure you that as easily as I pinned Bob Armen's murder on Pulgatti, I can just as easily pin it on the cops that actually did the deed!"

Stepping between the other two cops and Bracken, Montgomery shook his head. "Pulgatti knows he's been framed. What if someone gets on to this?"

Bracken shrugged. "Then I'll handle them."

"You?" Montgomery cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"I know people, Roy." This time, Bracken got right up into Montgomery's face. "Dangerous people. Anyone gets too close, like that bitch lawyer Johanna Beckett who's been poking around, I'll have them killed."

Another shrug of nonchalance before Bracken went back behind his desk, standing in front of a makeshift liquor counter. He grabbed a pristine glass, threw in two ice cubes, and poured himself a swig of amber liquid before raising the glass in a toast.

"I've had people killed before."

The three cops all shared a nervous and uncertain glance before Montgomery approached the desk again. "You're not worried it'll trace back to you?"

Bracken shook his head and downed his drink in one gulp. "There is no tracing these people." Bracken's eyes narrowed as he set the glass down on his desk. "And if I hear that any one of you blabbed about this… I can have your body dropped off at Evelyn's doorstep."

Fear and cold realization filled Montgomery's eyes, and he backed away from the desk with his shoulders slumped. Looking over his shoulder, Montgomery gave a nod before the other two detectives reluctantly walked out. Raglan was still looking for a fight, glaring over his shoulder before the door shut behind him.

"Are we clear, Roy?"

For a moment, Montgomery's hands curled into fists again, but he unfurled them and forced another nod. "Yeah. Yeah, we're clear."

Bracken smiled to himself as Montgomery shut the door, unaware that the cop had pushed the stop button on a tape recorder that had been hidden in his blazer. Bracken picked up his office line, pushing a button and pouring himself another drink. Swirling the amber liquid around, the Assistant DA's smile grew when the line connected.

"Holland Manners," he greeted. "William Bracken. How's the wife?

"Excellent… listen, I need a favor.

"Johanna Beckett. Yeah, that's the one. The messier, the better. Don't worry about covering it up or anything.

"Perfect. Then I guess we'll both get something out of this one. I appreciate it."

Bracken's smile grew bigger still as he hung up the phone, downing his drink with a hiss. It was a shame that Joe Pulgatti would have to spend the rest of his life in prison – in another life, he could've made a fine lackey. But Bracken's future hinged on several factors: one of those being that no one could tie him to this mafia kidnapping ring.

If that meant he had to have three deadbeat cops help fund his Congressional campaign and let some vampire off a bullshit civil rights lawyer in an alley somewhere, then so be it.