Iceland 1933

Drusilla had not been happy, which meant that Spike had not been happy. "It's too cold, my Spike," she'd complain to him. "We're vampires, luv. The cold is nothing to us," he'd remind her. She'd slap him, long nails leaving bloody scratches across his smooth, pale face. "I want to leave. Let us go somewhere warm," she'd pout, giving him that look that made him want to serve the world to her on a platter. They had been in Reykjavik for a reason, though, and he had not been ready to leave. He had asked her to wait a little longer, and then he'd take her wherever her black heart desired.

Of course, then the dozy bint cheated on him with something she said could keep her warm, and following his fit of rage, she ran off to South America to chase the warmth. Mind you, Spike actually kind of liked Iceland this time of year. It was February, and the nights were much longer than the days, which were so overcast that he could still travel if he were so inclined (he often was, even if just to take the risk). She had been gone for two months, and Spike missed her. Not enough to leave, though. Not yet.

He watched from the shadows as she danced through the night. He knew that she knew he was there. She always knew when he was there. Sometimes, he would come out first and initiate their fight. Other times, she would beckon him to her, lure him out with the promise of a worthy battle. She was poetry in motion; she was. He had killed two Slayers and fought a few others in his 53 years of afterlife, but with her, Anna, he was never sure what the natural conclusion to their final dance would be.

She wasn't new and inexperienced like Ainslee or wide-eyed and unsure like Ella. Nor was she world-weary and battle-hardened like Xin Rong. She had a zest for life and stood up for herself against her watcher and anyone else she disagreed with. He'd been watching her for months. She'd been watching him, too. He knew she'd been called when she was 15, nearly three years ago. A long lifespan for a Slayer.

She knew that he hunted and killed her kind. Two confirmed kills and one suspected. He didn't bother to deny the claim that he had killed Ella. It made him more notorious in the demon world, which he liked. Besides, the way he figured it, while he hadn't snapped the girl's neck, he had killed the beastie that did. And he knew for a fact that his win with the skinhead was much less guaranteed than if he had fought one final time with the girl.

Anna, though. She was beautiful. From her pale skin, blonde hair, and ice-blue eyes to her demanding strength and surefooted battle tactics. Unpredictable. She was bloody perfect.

"I know you are out there," she called out, jarring him from his reverie. He grinned and stepped out of the shadows.

He sauntered toward her. "'Ello, luv."

"Spike." Another thing he loved about her was her banter. She spoke English well enough despite her heavy Icelandic accent. "We will do this?" she asked.

Spike tilted his head to the side, a feral grin lighting up his features, and then he pounced. She was quick as lightning, spinning out of the way so that his blow barely glanced off her. He turned around to strike again, but she was ready for him and, with a kick to his solar plexus, had him flying backward until a tree stopped him. He dropped to his knees momentarily before bouncing back up, ducking just as she aimed a fist at his head. Her hand hit the trunk of the tree with a loud thwack. He grabbed her extended wrist and twisted it as he aimed a punch to her ribs. She fell forward and let out a nearly silent cry as her leg twisted under her weight.

It was barely noticeable, and if he hadn't been studying her so closely, he might have missed it, but she was favoring her left leg just enough to let him know that he might best her tonight, and Spike wasn't sure he was ready for that. He landed one more punch to the face before stepping back and allowing her to catch her breath.

She spun to face him, stance defensive, ready to fight or to die. God, he loved the fire in her eyes. The life in her eyes. She didn't have the look that the Chinese Slayer had or the little New York Slayer. This one wanted to live, making him want to give her the death she deserved.

She studied him in confusion. His lips twisted up into another cocky grin. "Think I might win tonight, luv." They had fought dozens of times over the past six months, and it nearly always ended in a draw. Occasionally, one of them would be injured enough to be forced to escape the heat of the battle, and while the back of one was turned, the other never struck. She fought by a code of honor, and he did too...when he felt like it. She had caught him unawares once; the hunter had become the hunted. It was a novel concept for Spike. He had just had an all-out brawl with Dru and was injured, pissed, and stumbling around town with a bottle in hand. At that particular moment, he might have welcomed death just to spite his crazy bitch of a sire.

They had fought that night. In his drunken state, he had held her off the best he could, but Anna was a worthy foe on his best day. He felt sure he would end the night as a pile of dust. Then she had stopped, stepped back, looked him up and down with a disgusted crinkle of her nose, and said, "Be clear-headed tomorrow, vampire. I will not let you live again." Then she disappeared into the night, and Spike had felt an odd mix of relief, disappointment, and self-disgust.

He came back to the present and seated himself on a headstone. "Don't let any big nasties get the drop on you tomorrow, Slayer," He told her. "I will not let you live again." Her eyes widened in realization, and he swore he saw the same emotions swirling in her eyes that had been in his those months ago when she'd done the same for him.

XXX

Anna sighed before sitting down on a headstone across from the vampire. "My watcher stole my powers and set me up to die as a test. I still heal," she confided. She could not tell you why she told the vampire of her struggles. She could only say that, at that moment, she trusted her enemy far more than she trusted the man who had trained her, whom she had relied upon. Besides, it wasn't the first time they had talked. Sometimes, she thought it was a shame that she would have to kill him. He had proven himself a worthy foe, honorable for a demon.

Spike's head snapped back in surprise. "What the bloody hell kind of test is that?"

"The Cruciamentum 'e called it. They put Slayers through it who fight until their eighteenth birthday."

He snorted. "Bloody brilliant. The moment they're afraid you lot will grow too powerful and independent for them, they take you out themselves." She found herself nodding in agreement.

Her watcher knew of her battles with the blond vampire. She knew that the man- no creature, her watcher would say- sitting across from her slayed her kind. He wanted her to kill him, and she wanted to as well. She just wanted it to be a fair battle. They had both earned it. Talking with him, the vampire, made her realize that not everything her watcher told her was true. She began to question him. He did not take too kindly to that. He was still locked in old English customs. Here, in Iceland, women were respected. They had a long history of battle alongside the men. They spoke and fought for themselves. Her watcher did not respect that, and he did not respect her. The vampire did.

Sometimes, when she looked at him, she felt her gut seize up with a strange longing, a curiosity that made her wonder if perhaps her watcher was at least a little bit right about why she had refused to kill the vampire so far. Sometimes, she wondered if he felt the same because he hadn't killed her yet either.

Moving forward before she even realized what she was doing, she could tell he was startled to find her lips suddenly upon his. She felt a faint flush creep up her pale skin, something unusual for her as she was usually so self-assured and almost brash. She was about to pull away when he was suddenly responding, and the earth fell away beneath her feet. She had been kissed and made love, but she had never felt like that before. Like she was being consumed. Like she couldn't tell where she ended, and he began. It was intoxicating.

Before Anna knew it, they were laid down on the cemetery's snow-covered grass, clothing had been shed, and she found herself laid out on top of her protective furs as their passion crested, and he prepared her for his entry. She had never had anyone use their tongue on her before, and she wasn't sure she could live without that sensation now that she knew what it felt like. She fell over the abyss, and yet he did not stop, coaxing more and more out of her until she thought she would break. And then, only then, did he enter her, surging forward and shattering her again. She realized in that moment that no human man would ever be enough to satisfy her Slayer desires.

XXX

Spike was shocked when her lips were suddenly attacking his own, but he only hesitated for a moment before returning her kiss, deepening it. Drinking her in. Dancing a different dance. Arousal during their fights was not new for either of them. Acting on it, however, was. He spared a thought for Drusilla before he shrugged it away. She had left him. She had cheated on him. He could do whatever he wanted. And right now, he wanted to do Anna.

His first taste of her was heaven, that heady slayer aroma proving that it was not just the Slayer's blood that was an aphrodisiac. Her body writhed in pleasure, and he smirked against her as he continued licking, sucking, and biting at her until she was so strung out that he thought she might shatter. She was so sensitized that when he entered her, she broke again, a startled gasp escaping her as a long moan sounded through the night. He hadn't felt such tight warmth...well, ever, actually. He didn't last much longer. He wanted so badly to sink his teeth into her pale, vulnerable neck. He didn't. This wasn't about that. This was about satisfying another desire, one they shared. One that they would never forget, never repeat. He loved every second of it.

In the aftermath, they redressed themselves. Spike watched in amusement as she was suddenly shy. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes when she thought he wasn't looking. She finally regained herself and straightened her spine as she met his eyes. "That will not happen again."

His lips twitched up in a smirk. "No, I 'spect it won't."

"I am the Slayer," she reminded him.

"And I'm the Slayer of Slayers."

She nodded, took a deep breath, and turned on her heel. Spike caught her by the upper arm and pulled her to him, giving her one last long, deep kiss.

"One last taste," he explained as he pulled away, panting for unneeded breath.

She brought her fingers to her swollen lips, the taste of herself on his tongue lingering. "One last taste," she echoed. They went their separate ways.

They would not see each other again. Spike would spend the next few days seeking her out, only to find out that her watcher had gone out looking for her when she did not return home by her usual hour. He had seen their last moment together, and when she came home that night, he put an arrow through her heart. She was tainted and of no more use to the council.

Spike tore him apart.

Sunnydale

October, 1997

It was a busy week for Buffy. Halloween was coming up, and Snyder had "volunteered" the Scooby gang for babysitting duty. The big squick award went to the abandoned, bloodied train car of death, though. She stood inside the car with Giles as their wide eyes took in the remains of the massacre.

"Vampire?" Buffy asked. "Or...pack of vampires?"

Giles didn't get a chance to reply before another voice spoke up. A voice that set Buffy on edge on a good day. "One vampire," Darla said as she came up alongside them. Buffy couldn't help but notice how at home she looked amongst the carnage. Angel wasn't far behind her, and Buffy was chagrined to realize that she thought he also looked too calm.

"How do you know?" Giles asked, finally finding his voice.

Angel shifted away from them, shame evident in his eyes, and he pointed to some porcelain dolls that won major creep points. "Those are Drusilla's."

"I don't smell Spike anywhere in this mess, though," Darla said with a frown, looking at Angel, who looked confused.

Buffy scrunched her nose up in disgust as she thought of them smelling each other before she made the connection and did a double take. "You mean the crazy one you've been waiting to show up did this?"

Darla's answering nod was proud. "She always could make such beautiful art of death."

"Well, we need to find her." Buffy ignored Darla as she went into Slayer mode. She turned to Giles, who was still looking a little green around the gills. "How long ago did this train come in?"

"7 p.m., so four hours ago."

"Angel, Darla, go check the mansion. Maybe she knew to go there if she had a vision or whatever. I'll start looking through the town."

As she started to walk away, Angel caught her by the elbow. "Buffy. You can't kill her," he reminded her. Her eyes narrowed as she searched his eyes. There was a sorrow there, a desperation, and she knew that his protectiveness went beyond preserving whatever prophecy her Slayer dream had given them.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp, eyes cold as she met his gaze. "I'm the Slayer, Angel. I'll do whatever I have to do."

XXX

What was Giles thinking pairing us together?" Xander muttered as the tension rose between him and Cordelia. After Giles had returned from the hell train, looking much more pale than when he'd left, he had handed Willow a book to start poring over while he poured himself a scotch, scrawled a list of books on a piece of paper, and ordered Cordelia and Xander to "Make yourselves useful and go find these in the stacks."

Cordelia had gaped at him like a fish, but before she could argue, Xander had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her upstairs. He had learned not to question Giles when he was in scotch mode. She had yanked her wrist away so hard that she stumbled into one of the bookshelves and smacked her head. Xander had burst into giggles.

"He obviously wasn't," Cordelia grumbled testily. "Pairing anyone up with you is torture."

"Oh, like you're a picnic, sweetheart!" They had been up there for nearly an hour and had only managed to locate half the books on Giles' list. Xander half wondered if sending them on a wild goose chase wasn't the older man's diabolical plan.

"What did you just call me?" Cordelia's fiery eyes locked with his angry ones as their faces grew closer.

"You heard me!" Xander yelled back, maintaining eye contact and waving his arms around. They were silent for a moment, then, before either of them knew what happened, they were pressed against one another, arms winding around each other, lips crashing together.

As if both came to their senses at once, they pushed away from each other and stumbled back a few steps. "What the hell?" Xander exclaimed, swiping at his mouth as though he could wipe away the taste of her.

Cordelia gave a full-body shiver. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Eww!"

Xander shook his head in disgust. "My thoughts exactly!"

"Don't ever touch me again!"

"You jumped on me!"

Her head reeled back. "As if! I can't stay here. Follow me and die, Harris!" She spat out. She quickly turned and walked towards the stacks in the back of the building.

"Hope you get lost!" Xander called after her, shaking his head as he watched her depart. Like he wanted her company anyway, and really…what the hell had just happened. He must have temporarily lost his mind because there was no universe where he would want to kiss Cordelia Chase.

So why did he kind of want to do it again?

XXX

Angel and Darla had looked in the cemeteries on the way to the mansion as they walked quickly back through town. "Things are finally going to get interesting," Darla said with an air of excitement. Living with Angel in the weeks following her return had been torture. All he did was brood, drink, and read. She remembered who Liam was as a human, he was a drunken, whoring lout, but he knew how to have fun, and Darla didn't doubt that he would be deeply ashamed of what this souled version of him had become. Angelus had been a masterpiece. One of those pieces of art that you hated to love. She had, too. Hated him. Loved him.

Drusilla was Angelus' creation, and while Darla had tired of her from time to time over the decades, she had also carved out a place in her dead heart for the insane vampire. Clearly, Dru still knew how to have fun. Perhaps she would make the time spent waiting for whatever was coming down the pipeline more entertaining.

Darla knew she was there before they had even entered the mansion. Drusilla had this aura that could eat you alive. All her victims had felt it as they fell into her trance and begged her for their death.

The two older vampires entered the main living space, and their eyes immediately fell upon the dark-haired beauty as she swept across the room, touching everything in sight. She turned gracefully as she sensed them, and her entire face lit up with joy, giving an excited little jump and clap of her hands. "Daddy! Grandmummy!" She rushed over and flung herself at them. Angel only held her briefly before pushing her towards Darla.

"I felt you die, grandmummy," Drusilla told her as they embraced. She didn't notice Darla's grimace at the title. "But then the pixies told me that your number hadn't been called yet, and you were still waiting to dance," she whispered in delight.

"Right," Darla replied as she gently pulled away from the younger vampire. She and Angel exchanged a glance.

"I'm going to go call Buffy," he told them before leaving the room.

XXX

Giles hung up the phone just as his Slayer stomped into the library. Xander and Cordelia had made it back downstairs, looking red-faced and sullen, and Willow was half asleep on top of the book she had been reading. "That was Angel. Drusilla is at the mansion. It's nearing dawn, so he's asked that you wait to meet with them until tomorrow evening. He has assured me that they will keep her under control."

Her fists clenched in irritation, but she was relieved that the crazy vamp wasn't wreaking havoc on the town. "Fine. I'm going home to get some sleep then. You guys should, too."

Willow snapped to attention as Xander gently grabbed her arm. "Come on, Wills, time for bed."

Buffy gave Giles a nod as they slowly exited the library. She ensured Cordelia made it to her car before walking Xander and Willow home.

XXX

Angel knew Buffy wasn't pleased with him, and he couldn't blame her after seeing the aftermath of Dru's entrance to town. He was relieved when the watcher answered the phone and told him she was still out. It's better to let him be the messenger.

He reentered the room where he had left Dru and Darla. They were sitting on the couch, murmuring before falling silent as he walked in. Angel finally asked what had bothered him since he'd stepped onto the train. "Has she said where Spike is?"

"I miss my Spike," Drusilla murmured.

Darla shook her head and looked back at Drusilla. "Where is William, darling?"

Wide, sad eyes looked up at them. "The ice and the sun stole him away, bit by bit, until there was no more of him left for his princess."

"Did he dust?" Angel asked in confusion.

"Silly daddy, my boy is a mean, bad dog. All the other puppies tremble in fear as he feasts upon them all," she told him with a mad giggle.

Darla nodded, half understanding. "So he's living it up somewhere else."

"In over a hundred years, he has never left her side. Why would he now?"

"My William grew tired of his dark princess. Doesn't want her anymore. Red and green ate him up. Gone, gone away, he 'as." Darla and Angel exchanged another befuddled look before Darla shrugged. They were both decades out of practice at deciphering Druisms. She looked towards the window. Dawn was still a few hours off, but she was tired of the psycho babble and reached for an excuse to put the rest of this off until the next night.

"Come, Drusilla, let's find a room," Darla commanded as she grasped Dru's hand and pulled her up with her. Angel didn't argue as they left the room. His past mixing with his present was something he'd never wanted to happen. It was only going to mix things up with Buffy even more. He had never wanted her to know that side of him. With Drusilla in town, how long could he hide it?

XXX

It was dark and cold, not that the cold bothered her, and she moved slowly forward as she sought a light source. Just because she lived in the dark didn't mean she didn't love the warmth of a good fixture's gold glow. Electricity was worth waiting centuries for.

It felt like she had walked on for years before a crack of light appeared in her black world. It looked like a fissure, some sort of tear in the world. A giant clawed hand reached through and pulled on one of the edges of the seam as though it were trying to pry it open. The light illuminated enough that she could make out shadows around her. Some faces were lit up as they moved closer to the light. She saw the little blonde bitch of a Slayer, her face determined, body poised for battle. The redhead friend, nervous and scared. The lanky, annoying boy looking nervous, and the watcher solemn and weary. Other people she couldn't make out were wandering closer and closer to the rip.

She felt a presence at her side, then two, and then three. She knew that she should know them, but only a vaguely familiar feeling resonated from within her. Light suddenly engulfed the world, so bright that everyone was washed away in it, no more visible now than they had been in the dark. A dark foreboding set every nerve in her body on fire.

Darla's eyes flew open, and she groaned in irritation at another night of ruined sleep. She didn't remember having such vivid dreams prior to her second death. She rolled over, pulled a pillow over her head, and drifted back off as she creatively threatened the Sandman the entire time.

XXX

The next evening, Giles and Buffy met the vampires in the library. Buffy had sent her friends home so that she could decide whether Drusilla was a danger to them. Her first thought upon seeing her was that Darla had undersold the vampire's insanity. Her second thought was that she was beautiful. Dark-haired and fair-skinned. She floated as she danced around the room. A green haze of jealousy surrounded her as she watched Drusilla press herself up against Angel, who shifted uncomfortably but didn't push the woman away.

Drusilla's dark eyes met Buffy's, and the Slayer was a little surprised to see the venom that dwelled within them. A scowl marred the vampire's otherwise beautiful features as she tore herself away from Angel and sinuously walked towards the Slayer. Buffy stood her ground and held her stake tightly as she got closer. The vampire took a deep breath, capturing her scent, as soon as she was close enough, and the Slayer wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Thief," the vampire hissed at her. "Shining and glowing and stealing the night. They whispered to me, they did. Drinking our tea and eating all our crumpets. Little Alice will follow my white rabbit through the looking glass. Choose the wrong one, and the house of cards will. All. Fall. Down," she seethed before whirling away and prowling through the library.

She spoke in riddles that had even her family looking downright confused. Buffy and Giles had no hope of keeping up with her. The Slayer turned subtly to her watcher and raised an eyebrow. He responded with a bewildered shake of his head.

Giles cleared his throat as his eyes shrewdly followed Drusilla's graceful movements. "Right," he said awkwardly. "She- uh- doesn't know where her paramour is?"

"She claims that the ice and sunshine stole him away, and he left her," Angel said.

"Can't imagine why," Buffy muttered as she watched the dark beauty.

Angel slowly shook his head. "No, you don't understand. Spike was by her side for over a century. No matter what or who Drusilla did, he was there for her. He only had eyes for her. I never understood that about him. Dru was his one weakness. He would have died for her. For him to leave her alone...it makes no sense."

Darla shrugged. "Everyone has their breaking point, Angelus. Even William. Besides, can we really say we know him anymore? It's been decades."

"Do you know how long they've been apart?" Giles asked in interest.

Darla scoffed. "Getting a straight answer out of Dru is like trying to stay dry in the sea."

"So that's a no, then," Buffy said waspishly. "Great. So we have an insane-o girl here, who might I remind you just massacred an entire train of people, no bead on her Slayer-hungry ex and no new leads on what any of this has to do with my dream."

Angel could feel the frustration coming off of her in waves, and he stepped closer as though to comfort her but stopped at the cold look she sent his way. "We'll keep Dru under control, Buffy. She'll do what we tell her to," he assured her, trying to comfort her the best way he knew.

"Because that's how you made her?" Giles shifted uncomfortably and became very interested in the ceiling. Darla smirked wickedly, and Angel looked like a kicked puppy. Buffy felt a faint stab of guilt as she saw the hurt and guilt flash through his eyes. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just stress-filled, Buffy."

Angel nodded sadly. "I understand. Dru won't kill again. You have my word."

She conjured a tired smile, and Angel walked over to collect Drusilla, tossing Buffy one last glance before walking out the doors. Darla lingered momentarily, silently appraising Buffy, who raised a defiant eyebrow. The vampire grinned again, her condescending eyes flitting over her. Her words floated back to her as she swept out of the room. "Finally starting to catch on, aren't you sweetheart?"

Johannesburg, South Africa

October 1997

"We will do this?" she asked in that strong accent as she got into her stance. Spike looked her up and down in surprise.

"Anna, luv," he greeted. "Long time, no see."

She loosened her stance when he made no move to mimic her. "My watcher killed me for you."

He nodded, eyes flashing yellow. "And I killed him for you."

She nodded, giving him a slight smile as though she not only accepted his act but was, at least in some part, grateful for it. Her face turned solemn with a warning. "Beware the sunshine, Spike."

He tilted his head. "Let me guess, it will swallow me whole?" he said, finishing the threat haunting his dreams.

"Yes. From the outside, in. And it comes from the inside and out. It will hunger for all," she said cryptically. "They're coming."

He shot her a slight grin. "Don't suppose you could dumb that down for me, pet?"

"No," she said bluntly.

"Right then." He looked at her from beneath his lashes. "Wanna end this dream on a high note then?" he asked seductively.

She regarded him for a moment before that rare smile graced her face, and she dropped back into her defensive stance. "First this."

He mimicked her. "If the lady insists," he obliged.

Spike awoke from his dream feeling almost sore, as though he had fought and fucked Anna again. Memories of her, their fights, and their brief lapse together occasionally found themselves at the forefront of his mind. If he really thought about it, he could trace the beginning of his and Dru's self-destruction back to that time in Iceland. It hadn't been the first time she had cheated on him, not by a long shot, nor would it be the last. It had, however, been the first time he had accepted the advances of another woman. A Slayer, no less. What's more, not even after all the fighting and groveling to get back into Dru's good graces once they had reunited did he ever feel regret. He'd had a Slayer in every way he'd ever dreamed of.

That had been the beginning of the end for them as he slowly realized that he could quite possibly deserve better than what his beautiful, insane, dangerous love could give him. He sighed and reached over a woman's body for the bottle of scotch laying not too far away from where he had fallen asleep. He kept having dreams featuring visits from the ghosts of his bloody past, and it wasn't even quite Christmas time. They always told him the same thing, 'The sunshine will swallow you whole.' Sometimes, he could almost swear he glimpsed them on the street, reminding him they were waiting when he closed his eyes again. He groaned and threw an arm over his face. He was going to need another bottle.

Sunnydale

October 1997

His eyes squinted against the sun, and he looked at his hand in wonder as it didn't burn. Only to jerk back seconds later as the flames rose up and started to gently lick his fingers. His eyes searched desperately for shadows to hide in. Unable to find any. Unable to find the sun, that was the cause for his agonizingly slow immolation, just white light. The world was so bright that shadows seemed to cease to exist. Then it flipped, and he was suddenly encased in the dark.

He saw himself, the gypsy's cursing him with his soul. He saw Drusilla. So beautiful and young. So desperate to confess away her otherwordly sin and serve her god as penance. He saw himself stalking her, toying with her, ruining her. He flinched away from what he had once been. Her ruined form appeared before him with a wicked smirk and red lash marks still dripping blood down them. "Do you want to play, Daddy?" she asked with a devilish innocence that only she could portray. His perfect masterpiece. He wanted to fall at her feet, beg her forgiveness, and hurt her a little more.

And then he saw her. She was a beacon in the dark, a white light that brought shadows back into his world. She stood there with a weapon in hand and a hard look on her face. When she looked at him, he felt like she was looking through him. Disgust was clear in her eyes as they moved from him to his childe and back. A figure he could not make out stood by her side, but it felt familiar. There was another presence there, too, so old and powerful. Standing between him and his Slayer as though not entirely sure which direction it was going. That's when he realized he wasn't quite sure which direction he was going either.

He awoke with a gasp, jolting straight up in bed. He'd been having dreams since the night of Darla's resurrection, but this was the first time it changed. He wondered if it had something to do with how Buffy looked at him that night. He left his room and went into the kitchen to get a drink. Darla was in there looking troubled. She caught his eye, and he wondered if she was having strange dreams, too. He might have asked her if he hadn't been trying to avoid talking to her when not necessary. She could too easily drag him back into the dark, even with his soul. She had done it before.

"Sweet dreams?" she asked knowingly before walking out of the room without a backward glance. Well, guess he had his answer after all.