Howdy hey, peoples! Happy New Year To you! Special shout out to Starway Man for his everlasting brilliance as my BETA. Theo, you rule! And of course, big shout outs to Crazymel2008, philly cheese dude, JameSage22, wingster55 (Internet fist pump in your honor!) Alkeni, Keniaia, Lilly Emerald, Nilya2397, teamtiva, angelplysbuffyequals4ever, xxdawnbreakerxx, EmeraldWings90 (Mah girl! I missed you), Geoff, David Fishwick, ashes atmidnightand Angellufy. You guys are the best!

Well, it took me a while, but here's the latest installment. Sorry about the delays, but things as always are hectic; but as I've stated before, this story will be finished, damn it! And as always, feedback is always welcome and encouraged. And for those of you reading (and not reviewing)…why you hurt my feelings, man? Lol jk But seriously, drop me a line, I love new readers!

And now, without further ado, I present to you, the long awaited next chapter of…


Bring Me To Life - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 24 – Uninvited


McAley's Bar and Grill - 20 Blocks from the Hyperion Hotel

Thirty minutes ago


"You seriously can't think that a bloody piss-weak swill like Budweiser is a superior beer to a good ol' fashioned Heineken, can you?"

"Think it? No, I know it, Brit Boy. Besides, what's up with you putting German beer on a pedestal? I thought you British guys hated the Krauts?"

"With a fiery passion, luv, but that don't mean that I can't appreciate a good beer when I taste it!"

Spike and Faith had been going back and forth like this for the last ten minutes, since they'd arrived at the bar about two hours ago. It wasn't a heated argument, though, or anything that was bordering on violence. It was more akin to playful, almost flirtatious, bantering.

A few light steps in this dance they'd been doing ever since Faith had returned to the ranks of the Scooby Gang in a blaze of glory (or at least, a blazing fight where Kennedy had been humiliated in front of the rest of the Potentials).

"Well, what would you know? You actually drink pig's blood, for Christ's sake," Faith smirked as she waved off the ensouled vampire's arguments.

"And yet, luv, I'd rather drink that if the choice was between lard-arse Babe and a bleedin' Bud," Spike smirked back.

"You would," Faith snarked, but with a teasing smile as she finished off the last of her BBQ Onion Ring burger before washing it down with - Spike tried his best not to cringe in disgust - a Budweiser.

The peroxide-blond vampire couldn't help but to be impressed, though. In only a few minutes, Faith had demolished that hefty burger, a large side order of fries, buffalo wings and three beers. From her breathing pattern and the lack of a rapid heartbeat, Spike concluded that this sort of meal was not out of the ordinary for the brunette Chosen One.

And still, she had a body that looked like sin itself, toned and curved and tight in all the right places.

As if she could read his mind, Faith purred in satisfaction. "Gotta love that Slayer metabolism."

"No kidding," Spike replied, not so subtly admiring the view of her generous cleavage peeking through that temptingly white tight tank top of hers that stopped just above her navel, giving him a peak at those fabulously toned abs of hers. And she was clad in low-cut black jeans that made the already-perfect curves of her hips and ass scream to every single male in the establishment, 'Come and get it.'

She wasn't a knockout, Spike mused, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and she still made it seem like she wasn't even trying to be…which only made her all the more hotter.

"So, I got a question for ya," Faith asked nonchalantly.

"Shoot, Slayer," Spike shrugged.

"Well, I couldn't help noticing something back in Sunny-D that got me kinda curious. So I thought I'd ask, what's up with the chains in B's basement?" Faith smirked, her eyebrow raised mischievously. "Extracurricular activity, or what?"

For a moment, Spike thanked the fact that his long-inactive circulatory system made it impossible for him to blush. "Right, uh, that…It wasn't what it looked like."

Faith waved him off, thinking she'd seen the whole dude-in-denial act before. "Hey, I'm not one to judge, fella, to each his own..." The Chosen One smirked at a memory that suddenly rose within her mind. "In fact, when I was 18, this one dude I ran with? He used to dress me up like a schoolgirl and get out this friggin' bullwhip, and then we'd -"

"I got dangerous for a while," Spike cut her off, his eyes suddenly growing serious as he recalled the not-so-distant past when he'd been the First's puppet - the mental trigger that had somehow been implanted inside his head causing him to regress into a vicious killer, without him being able to remember it afterwards.

Faith's smirk faded as she saw how serious her companion was. "Was this before the soul, or after?"

"After. The First kinda had me under its control...but with Buffy's help, I eventually got fixed up alright," Spike assured her with a faint half-smile, as Faith (who had started to tense up) relaxed again. "Just puttin' that out there in case you're feeling dust-happy again after your long incarceration."

"Well, not if you're all repent-y, Blue Eyes...that takes the fun out of it," Faith replied, her smile teasing, but well-meaning.

"Repent-y," Spike scoffed, with an eye roll for good measure. "Cor blimey, luv, you're makin' me sound like Angel."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Faith asked merrily. "He's a great guy, Spike. Smart, noble, brave, forgiving…"

"You forgot dull as a table lamp, wears enough hair gel to be a bloody fire hazard...and he's a complete and utter ponce, to boot," Spike retorted. "And for the record, Slayer, singing that git's praises isn't exactly the best way to win me over."

"Win you over?" Faith drew back, an incredulous, somewhat mocking smile on her face. "And here I thought that you were trying to impress me on this date."

"How'm I doin' so far?" Spike asked in a smooth drawl, his lips turned in a smirk that only he could make cool and hot at the same time.

The smile Faith gave him could make the hairs stand up on a balding man's head. "Oh, I'd say...you're hanging in there, Fang. But then, the night's still young."

Spike could feel the temperature between them leaping up several degrees...until an unexpected buzzing at the base of his skull began humming like an old heater. Something that felt...familiar...

Immediately, Spike turned toward the scaffolding of the bar's second level, searching for that something...yet seeing nothing but the swarms of twenty-something blood bags in tight clothes, smelling nothing but perfumes, colognes, hot wings and lust all around him.

Faith frowned as she caught the troubled look in Spike's eyes. "Hey, you alright? What's wrong?"

After a beat, Spike shrugged off the feeling, turning back to Faith. "Uh…nothin', I guess. Just…had the weirdest feelin' of déjà vu, is all."

Seeing that her date had calmed down somewhat, Faith decided to return to their original discussion. "So, anyway, back to Angel. From the way he reacted after we arrived from Sunnydale, he ain't too happy over how you've crashed his exclusive little 'Vampire-With-A-Soul' club, right?"

Spike snorted. "Yeah, and it's just bloody typical of that wanker. Soul or not, he's always gotta act like some effin' prima donna. You shoulda seen him way back when. Always had to be strutting around like he was the cock of the bloody walk, like he was so damned special..."

"Well, it's not like there's a lotta vamps walkin' around with a soul and a prophecy about them," Faith shrugged as she swigged her beer.

"Yeah, well, that's just - 'ere, hang about, what?" Spike's eyes scrunched in confusion as he caught one specific word in Faith's last sentence - 'prophecy.'

Off his confused look, Faith looked up in winced in realization. "Oh, damn! I wasn't supposed to say anything about that..."

A shrug. "Oh, well, screw it…when I was in the slammer, see, feeling all depressed about everything, all the people I'd hurt and the two guys I'd off'ed, wondering if there was even any point to being all remorseful if there was no way to achieve the whole redemption thing…one day, Angel told me about something he'd learned. It was this old scroll with a prophecy in it about him…what was it called? Shoeshine? Shiatsu? No, wait, it was…oh, yeah, Shanshu, that was it..."

"Shanshu?" Spike frowned, never having heard the word before.

"Basically, the long 'n short of it is this...If Angel saves enough people, prevents the apocalypse, some other shit like that…one day, he'll become human again," Faith said, her face containing a smile filled with hope. "It's like the ultimate forgiveness. Makes ya think - if a guy like that can earn that kind of reward after all the 'X's and 'O's are tallied up on his scorecard…I figure there's also hope for someone like me."

Faith remembered with crystal clarity that day when Angel had confided in her the secret of his pending Shanshu at the Stockton prison. She remembered how her eyes had widened, and how the news had brought the first real smile to her face in a very long time, as she'd cursed the protective glass in front of them for preventing her from wrapping Angel up in a big bear hug. Vampire or otherwise, Angel was the best man that she had ever known, and after everything he'd done for her, after all the good she'd heard he did, she knew that he deserved that reward more than anyone.

But more importantly, the news of Angel's future (whenever it eventually came to pass) had demonstrated to Faith a key lesson, one that had warmed her once-ice cold heart with hope – hope that forgiveness was possible. That redemption wasn't a pipe dream. Even after all the people she'd hurt and killed, after everything that she had done, after all the agonizing remorse she felt as she stewed in her cell…there was still hope.

After all, if Angel could be forgiven, then, maybe one day…perhaps, she could be forgiven, too.

The news, however, brought no such brightness to Spike, who looked shocked, troubled...and also, strangely angry.

"Oh…well, good for 'im, then," the peroxide-blond vampire muttered, looking like he had just swallowed a rancid lemon as he mulled over Faith's news.

Angel...human again? What the bloody hell did the Pouf ever do to deserve that? Spike thought to himself, more angrily than he'd intended. Is there some kind o' divine bonus point system for disemboweling priests that I wasn't aware of? 'Cause if there is, Captain Hair Gel should've been a real boy a few lifetimes ago...

Granted, it wasn't so much the idea that his Grandsire could eventually become human again that bothered Spike, as it was the concept that Angel deserved some kind of reward. After all the drained corpses, mutilated babies, gypsy curses and Acathla's he had left behind in his wake, why was it that he still got to be the favorite son for whatever High Almighties were sitting around on their fat arses on top of the big, fluffy clouds?

Angel got the large swanky hotel, a kid of his own (though he could keep the creepy little sod, as far as Spike was concerned), he had the fake-imitation Scoobies flocking around him like groupies calling him a Champion, and worst of all, he had Buffy and Dawn - and apparently Faith, too - thinking he wore some kind of shiny golden armor around him.

And now, the big ape even had some sparkly prophecy about him becoming human…oh, hell, Spike could already guess just how fast Buffy would drop those lovely, lacy panties of hers for Angel once they could do the coital hokey-pokey without him turning into King Evil. The bloody git had gotten there first, back in the old days, and still maintained a grip on the blonde chit's heart despite everything that had happened over the past seven years.

Spike, on the other hand, had gotten himself probed and violated by Captain Cardboard's toy soldiers, he had been humiliated by having to put up with the Scoobies' insults for years on end - in particular, from that tosser Xander - while having to save the lot of them time and again, he'd gotten his arse royally kicked in order to protect Dawn from that hell-bitch Glory, he had put up with being Buffy's punching bag, then her crying shoulder, then her punching bag again, then her sodding sex toy (although he certainly would never complain about that), then back to a piece of trash in her eyes, he had gone all the way to Africa to have himself tortured just to get a soul for the woman (and become stark-raving bonkers in the process)...and, all for what?

To be shoved onto the back burner while Angel basked in the limelight again?

Well, that just wasn't fair.

Shaking himself away from his musings, Spike refocused on the task at hand - trying to charm dear, sweet Faith. "So, you liking this joint so far?"

As she sent a quick look around her surroundings, Faith gave him a slow, lazy nod. "Not bad, I gotta say. And points for the girl-to-guy ratio, too. After spending the last few years locked up with a mess of female types, I'm sooo past the girl-bonding thing. Guess that's why I haven't been training the Slayer mini-me's back at the hotel; dude, all that estrogen brings back too many bad memories."

"Now, 'ere's where I get a bit lost," Spike said, curious. "I know fer a fact that there's no way a bunch o' overweight guards and some rusty iron bars could have held a Slayer at the top of her game for long. And yet, you waited until Angel needed your help to bust outta jail?"

Faith shrugged, trying to keep her answer nonchalant, despite the growing discomfort she felt recalling the last three years of her life behind bars. "Wasn't all bad. Three square meals, nice weight room, movie every third Sunday - could've been worse. And then there's the fact those Council assholes tried to kill me before I turned myself in."

"Any good movies?" Spike queried, ignoring her comment about the Watchers.

"Last one was Glitter." Off his raised eyebrow, Faith gave him a weary smile. "Okay, so I guess it couldn't have been worse..."

"Gettin' back to my point, luv…you had the power to get outta there anytime you wanted," Spike asked, but with a softness in his probing question. "You coulda made a break for it any time, and no one there could've stopped you, right?"

Realizing that he wasn't about to let this go, Faith swallowed as she met his eyes, trying to keep the haunted feeling out of her own. "I stopped me. I got…dangerous...for a while."

At that moment, it was as if something in the South Boston girl reached out and connected with a similar something within the British vampire. There was a sense of understanding between them - two outcasts, who had done terrible things in their past, judged by just about everyone to be bad, rotten, irredeemable apples...

Two people who were just trying to do the right thing now. Just looking for a place to belong.

And for a moment, just for a brief second, both the Slayer and the vampire wondered if maybe, just maybe…

At that moment, the bar and grill began blaring the familiar guitar riff of an old favorite of Faith's, the song 'Mysterious Ways' by U2. Ever the Irish Bostonian, Faith's mouth slid into a mischievous grin.

"Now, that's what I'm talkin' about," Faith purred as she stood up from her bar stool, grabbing Spike by the hand. "Now, how 'bout you and me show these guys how it's done?"

Spike nearly balked at the suggestion. Like most guys, there were a lot of things he could do without hesitation - dancing, however, wasn't on that list. It was one of the few things he shared in common with his Grandsire. "Uh, no, I don't think so, luv. Fact is, I don't dance."

"Everyone can dance, Spike," Faith corrected. "Some just do it better than others."

Spike wasn't budging. "You can argue the semantics all you want, Hot Pants, but I ain't dancing."

At that, Faith's eyes narrowed. "Okay, listen up, Nuke Hair. I've been stuck in an all-female correctional facility for the last three years, and the last time I had some fun was when I switched bodies with B and let her farmhand ex enjoy his eleven minutes of vanilla lovin'. I'm all dolled up, and this is the first real date I've had in God knows how long. So either you're a-dancing, or I'm a-dustin'. Your call."

Spike felt his hackles rise as he stared into Faith's demanding brown eyes, incredulous that she thought that she could tell him what to do. Him! Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, the Big Bad himself. The nerve, the audacity, the…the outright rudeness!

Definitely my kind of girl, Spike then realized with a smile as he stood up. "Okay, Destruct-o Girl…show me what you got."

Faith's grin was sizzling as she led him out to the dance floor. "Don't worry, Big Boy…I'll try not to hurt you. Too much."

Johnny take a walk with your sister the moon

Let her pale light in to fill up your room

You've been living underground

Eating from a can

You've been running away

From what you don't understand...

Love

There was barely a sliver of light between them as Faith and Spike drew each other close for a dance. He barely had to do anything at all, as he simply held onto Faith's trim waist and watched as she swayed and rocked around in his grip, twirling and gyrating like some kind of shapely top.

It was just like watching her dance this morning - except there was no admiring from afar, wondering what it would feel like to have those amazing hips grinding against him, feel that toned, supple flesh of her ass wriggling against his crotch. Spike didn't have to wonder. He was already there…and halfway to heaven.

She's slippy

You're sliding down

She'll be there when you hit the ground

As Faith slid further into him, her back flat against his chest, his arms wrapped possessively around her toned midriff, Spike felt himself harden, his head swimming with her wild, yet feminine scent, feeling his cells radiate with a heat that was almost unbearable.

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways

"So…is this what you had in mind that night you were in Buffy's body?" Spike murmured into her earlobe.

The brunette Slayer smiled as she met his eyes, half-closed and swimming in lust. "I…may have said a few things about that," she rasped out, shivering as his cool touch teased the waist of her jeans.

Johnny take a dive with your sister in the rain
Let her talk about the things you can't explain
To touch is to heal
To hurt is to steal
If you want to kiss the sky
Better learn how to kneel

"Things like…I could ride you at a gallop until your knees buckled and your eyes rolled up," Spike whispered huskily, his hands sliding across the sensitive skin of Faith's hips. "I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne…"

"And you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more," Faith finished their little trip down Memory Lane, her eyes closed in rapture and her voice sounding breathless as she savored the feel of his fingers sliding over her, as she reached back and cradled his head, her fingers sliding into his frosted blonde hair. "Yeah…I remember…"

"Not the kind of thing a man forgets," Spike murmured as he let his cheek slide down her slender throat, her blood singing a chorus to his ears. "Still think you could pull off somethin' like that, pet?"

Faith's eyes popped open with a wicked glint. "I might have a few ideas…"

On your knees, boy!

With that, the brunette abruptly lurched away from Spike before she jumped onto a nearby table and launched herself up into the air, ignoring the surprised gasps and cries of her captive audience as she landed square onto a table on the second floor, which happened to be pinned down by a tall thin metal pole.

She's the wave
She turns the tide
She sees the man inside the child

Briefly surprised, Spike could only gape as he saw Faith smiling like a Chesire cat, her hips shimmying up and down the pole as she waggled a finger towards him, tempting him to 'come and get it'.

So, he came and got it, following the Slayer upstairs with a massive leap of his own, paying no attention to the shocked 'oohs' and 'aah's of the crowd as the ensouled vampire sought his prize.

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
Lift my days, light up my nights

But just as Spike tried to climb up on the table and continue their sexy tête-à-tête, she shoved him right into a nearby chair. Just as he was about to shout something in anger and building sexual frustration, Faith pressed her finger against his lips, making a 'ssh' sound as she gave him a knowing wink.

With that, she began dancing and swaying to the music against the pole, spinning and twirling around like a strip club dancer as the Chosen One briefly lost herself in the song.

Spike's anger faded as she realized what she was doing. Faith was dancing for him. Granted, her little show was starting to attract a large crowd of the rowdies, horny youths and men wolf-whistling at Faith's lithe form loudly as she gyrated and coiled like a sexy she-snake against that metal pole - and for a moment, Spike wanted to tear all their throats out for daring to intrude on their moment.

But then Spike realized again…this was their moment. This show was for him, and the tossers downstairs were only background noise.

Though Spike had to admit, as he sat there, legs propped up on the table while he watched Faith work, he was starting to become rather envious of that pole as he saw her practically make love to it. The longing and temptation within him were building to a torturous crescendo as he watched her dance to the music.

Every bit the siren. Sex made flesh. Temptation incarnate.

Then without warning, Faith sprung and tackled him from his seat to the ground, crawling up against his undead frame as she torturously dragged her body against his. And as she dug her knee into his crotch, causing Spike to growl in pleasure, he could only process one thought - Screw the damn pole.

"How you like me now, Blue Eyes?" she hissed, her dark brown eyes glowing with a lusty ember.

Amid the loud shouts of encouragement from the drunken, horny men and women and the pheromones radiating off of Faith, Spike fought to keep the primal urge to vamp out under wraps, biting his lip hard to try to suppress the combined sexual desire and bloodlust as the Slayer's perfect, yet disappointingly concealed breasts came into view.

"I think I like you better…like this," Spike growled out as he grabbed Faith's wrists and flipped her onto her back, sliding up against her as she slowly moved backwards towards the railing.

"Nuh-uh, stud. Never forget who's on top," Faith purred as she shoved her way back to the dominant position on his hips. They subsequently played this game until he had backed her against the railing, his hands grazing her hips as his lips slowly moved alongside her throbbing jugular, Faith arching back in pleasure at the sensation.

One day you will look...back
And you'll see...where
You were held...how
By this love...while
You could stand...there
You could move on this moment
Follow this feeling

Through the thick haze of lust, Spike could suddenly sense one of the drunken male patrons move towards him, eager to shove him aside and 'get a piece of that action.' Not even bothering to look up from his place at Faith's throat, Spike rewarded him with a solid, crushing kick to the ribs, sending the competition flying backwards and over a table, doubled over and in pain.

Perhaps not surprisingly, this little outburst of violence only juiced Faith even more. "Let's take this downstairs, handsome."

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright
She moves in mysterious ways

With that, the Slayer gently pushed Spike away before she flipped in an amazing somersault back down onto the first floor, landing on her feet before she smoothly made it to her back, waggling that finger of hers again, tempting Spike to come down and join her.

The British vampire was over the rail before anyone knew it, drawing another round of gasps and shocked shouts from the crowd as he pounced on Faith's prone form like a tiger claiming his prey.

Unbeknownst to him, though, from the rafters - a narrow pair of jealous amber eyes watched Spike and Faith, entwined in each other's embrace, with growing rage…

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright (Love, love)
She moves in mysterious ways (Oh no, oh no)
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright (Move you, spirit, move, making love)

Lifting the Chosen One's leg up abruptly, Faith let out a small gasp of surprise as Spike's hand roamed freely up every muscle in that jeans-clad limb.

"Is that how you like it, pet?" Spike grinned, his eyes smoldering.

Daringly, Faith trailed a hand down his solid chest downwards towards the front of his pants, offering a wicked smile at Spike's surprised gasp. "Why stop there?"

Spirit moves in mysterious ways (Yeah, move, yeah, move, make love)
It's alright, it's alright, alright (You move with it, she moves with it)
Lift my days, light up my nights, love

And so they continued their game, dancing in a way that normal people could only dream of dancing, and in a way that very few on this earth actually could…until Faith ended up limp in Spike's arms, sweaty and fatigued, her arms wrapped around his head as she panted, her breath sweet and sticky and hot, while the undead Englishman firmly clutched her waist. The afterglow of the best not-sex he'd ever had.

Barely acknowledging the crowd's loud applause and calls for an encore, Faith grinned as her eyes met Spike's, the desire in her eyes plain and naked for him to see. "Wanna take this somewhere quieter?"

Spike's smile was wolf-like. "Read my mind, luv."


A few minutes later, Spike didn't remember how they'd ended up in the rear alley behind the bar.

He didn't recall how he'd ended up pressed against the wall with Faith's lips pressing hungrily against his, her hands grabbing his ass and her breasts squished against his frame. And as her hot, sticky and delicious tongue melded together with his own, Spike realized something…he really didn't care.

Faith tasted like wild honey, bitter and sweet and spicy at the same time, the raspberry scent of her hair and the spicy, sticky and thick lust emanating from her making his senses explode, again forcing him to fight his overwhelming instincts to sink his fangs into that sweet throat and see just how spicy that Slayer blood of hers tasted.

Slayer blood…the thought was enough to jar Spike awake, as he suddenly tried to break off their heated embrace, using words like 'Faith,' 'wait,' 'stop,' 'can't' and 'Buffy.'

At the mention of her mystical sibling's name, Faith pulled back, not really surprised…but looking oddly vulnerable. "Buffy," she echoed quietly, with a bitter sense of understanding.

The brunette laughed harshly as she backed away from him. "Of course. Who the hell was I kidding? Dude asks a girl out, fresh from Sunny-D, has a nice talk - one of the nicest I've had in a while - does a little dance, makes a little out with her…and it still comes back to the great Buffy, doesn't it?"

Off her bitter reply, and sensing the hurt that she was barely keeping under the surface, Spike's eyes softened as he tried to explain. "Faith…look, it's not that I don't…it's just…it's complicated, pet."

"Then lemme take a stab at un-complicating it, huh? We both know B was the reason you went off and got your shiny new soul last year, and because you still hold out hope that one day she'll turn those big green eyes of hers your way and say the magic L-word, you don't wanna risk screwing that up by getting down and dirty with the bad Slayer," Faith sardonically replied. "That about sum it up, blondie?"

Spike wanted to object to that, but he just couldn't do it. He knew that deep down, she was right. "Look…I dunno what you want me to say..."

Wrong answer, Spike knew that as soon as he saw Faith's eyes light up in sheer rage. "How about 'I'm sorry for leading you on?' Or maybe apologizing for lying to me, telling me that this wasn't about Buffy when you asked me out this morning? Or wasting my time thinking that you and me were on the same page, when we weren't even reading the same damn book?"

Faith raised her right fist, and for a moment, Spike tensed up - thinking she was going to beat the crap out of him then and there. Instead, she lowered her arm in frustration as the pissed brunette turned those angry eyes to him. "You know what, Spike? You're pathetic! You have all this potential, you could have practically any girl you want, you have one right freakin' here who likes you for who you are, and to hell with the stories I heard about you - and what do you do? You throw it all away, waiting for Little Miss Unattainable to throw you a bone or toss you a scrap of anything that isn't disgust. You're like a lovesick dog dancing for Pavlov, or whatever the hell that prison shrink said the guy's name was. Don't you have any pride? Any self-respect?"

At hearing that, Spike's not-inconsiderable temper lit up, his pride wounded almost as much as his heart, as he got right into Faith's face. "Oh, yeah? Is that right? You think you got me all figured out in that pretty little head of yours? Is that it, then? I've said it before, and I'll say it again now - I'm love's bitch. But at least I accept that. What about you, though? When's the last time you ever had anything you loved? Or maybe they're lucky you haven't, seeing as how, from what I hear, you've got this nasty habit of screwin' over the people who love you."

His clear blue eyes were like drills boring into her soul, and Faith fought not to flinch as she stared into them.

"You heard stories about me? Well, I heard plenty about you, too, luv. Poor little Faith, had no family of her own, dead Watcher, magnet for losers, never thought she was worth a damn, so what does she do? Turns her back on the only real friends she ever had to shack up with the Big Bad, tries to kill Buffy and Angel as well, because maybe afterwards, you wouldn't have to deal with that cold, empty black hole in your chest where your heart should be. Knowing that you could've been loved, that you could've belonged somewhere, but you just couldn't let yourself do it, because that would make you vulnerable, and you couldn't set yourself up for that kind of disappointment, could you? And you stand there with the gall to judge me because of how I love? I'm surprised you even know the meaning of the word."

As soon as he said the words, though, Spike regretted them. Especially as he saw the hurt that flickered in Faith's expressive brown eyes, which suddenly looked down and away in shame.

It felt like she had been punched in the gut, as the Chosen One had been completely unprepared for the verbal onslaught that came from the vampire's mouth. Like he could see all the dirty little parts hidden in her soul. All the dark empty places that she hid away from. That caused her pain. That kept her awake at night when she wondered if there was anyone out there that could ever love her. If she was even worthy of an emotion like that.

Cursing his short temper, Spike clumsily tried to make amends. "Wait…damn it, I…Faith, listen, I didn't mean -"

The young woman cut him off with an upheld hand, Spike watching as her pouty lips formed into a thin tight line, her brown eyes hardening like rock as she matched her gaze to his. What was I thinking, wanting to hang out with this guy? Talk about a complete waste of an evening...

"I think it's safe to say that this date's officially over," Faith coldly spat, turning on her heel to leave, leaving Spike hating himself…

…when suddenly, five Harbingers came plummeting down from the rooftops, surrounding them as they brandished their deadly, razor-sharp knives.

Faith growled as she reached for her favorite dagger within her jacket, the one with a curved handle and a split blade - a tool designed purely for killing. "You guys so picked the wrooong night for this, I swear to God!"

"Oh, no, dearie - the stars, they tell me that tonight's the perfect night for this," came an eerily soft, yet sharp and accented voice.

From just above on the fire escape, down plunged Drusilla, wrapped in a slinky black dress, looking just as pale and lovely and demented as Spike remembered her to be.

In a flash, an astonished Spike finally understood what that familiar 'buzzing' sensation inside the bar had meant, and he cursed himself for not figuring it out before now. Time was, he would have instantly known his Sire was close by.

"Dru." The name fell from his lips in stunned disbelief.

"Hello, dear heart," the mad vampiress grinned, that glazed look in her eyes revealing the sheer depths of her complete insanity. "Naughty ol' Spoike, you've been such a bad kitten. Playing with the other mice while I've been away."

In between keeping one eye on the Bringers Faith regarded this weird broad in strange fascination, before the name 'Dru' finally clicked in her head. Wait a sec...

"Dru?" The Slayer turned to Spike. "Dru, as in 'Drusilla?' That whack-ass vamp chick that Sired you?"

"Yup, that's her," Spike answered warily, never taking his eyes off his Sire. The newly ensouled vampire was fairly sure this wasn't the First Evil masquerading as her again. He had spent enough time in the First's company, while that damn Turok-Han had been torturing him, to tell the difference.

The thing was, Spike hadn't seen Drusilla for a couple of years now, not since his failed attempt to woo Buffy by killing the crazy bint. And yet now, here she was, like a black bolt out of the blue, back in his un-life - as beautiful and deadly and crazy as ever.

Without warning, Drusilla clapped her hands twice and uttered "Gggrr-ruff!" to her eye-less, mouth-less, knife-wielding companions, at which point the Bringers charged the pair of heroes; fully intending to kill them both.

"Oh, bugger," Spike muttered as he and Faith went to work, the dark-haired Slayer instantly battling two of the Bringers while Spike fended off three of the eyeless minions of the First Evil.

Already in a foul mood, Faith wasted no time in pummeling her attackers, ducking one knife-handed swipe from a Bringer before she caught the enemy full in the face with her trademark right cross, following up with a two-footed jumping kick to the chest that knocked it down. She whirled around and caught the other demon - the one sneaking up behind her - with a mawashi geri karate kick to the jaw, then she grabbed the Bringer's right arm, reeled it over her shoulder…

KER-RACK!

The Harbinger grunted in pain as its arm was snapped in two, before Faith decked it with a solid left fist straight between the eyes.

"Not a good day to be a bad guy, is it, Stevie Wonder?" Faith smiled in a feral fashion before she quickly had to defend herself against the other Bringer, who was trying to slice open her jugular.

Spike, not exactly in a pleasant mood himself after his little 'tiff' with Faith, vamped out as he advanced upon his own targets. He had a major score to settle with these blind bastards ever since they'd abducted and tortured him in that damn cave at the First's bidding. And in the ensouled vampire's view, it was long past time to even things up.

As he bobbed and weaved effortlessly under one Bringer's hacks and slashes, William the Bloody smirked in an evil fashion. "Gonna have to do better than that, mate..."

With that, he blasted the First's minion with a brutal uppercut, knocking it to the floor. But that brief opening allowed another Bringer to tackle Spike onto the ground, knocking him down as the third Bringer attempted to drive its knife into his throat, Spike barely catching the deadly blade and holding it only inches away from him.

For her part, Faith plunged her own knife into the slashing Bringer's chest, twisting so the wound wouldn't close, before reeling the eyeless thing in, grabbing its head and twisting hard; the demon's neck snapping like a twig as it collapsed in a dead heap.

Drusilla clapped her hands again, presumably to the other Bringer near Faith that was just getting to its feet. "Fetch."

Faith tensed as she got set for battle, only to be surprised as the Bringer ducked past her and over to where Spike and the other Bringers were fighting…

…leaving Drusilla and Faith. Alone. With only a few feet of space between them.

Faith with her dark, angry eyes and sharp, jagged knife - and Drusilla with her mad, yet predator-like gaze and deadly nails.

Two angry queen bees with their stingers poised and ready to strike.

Drusilla giggled in mad glee, wriggling her fingers like claws. "Can you hear your funeral gongs? Such lovely music…perfect for dancing."

A scowling Faith shook her head, not even bothering to try and understand this psycho. "Then let's mambo, bitch."

With that, Faith unleashed a wild, hard kick that connected with Dru's face, staggering her backwards. She followed up with a fast and furious blur of well-aimed kicks and punches, each harder than the next.

However, with nearly one and a half centuries of experience under her belt Drusilla began to evade the Slayer's attacks, her movements jerky and awkward-looking, but effective no less, as the vampire managed to get in a few punches of her own; one crushing blow rocking Faith backwards and staggering into a wall.

"All good mice should know their place when the Queen of Cats comes home," Drusilla uttered in that soft, accented tone of hers as she advanced on Faith.

Without warning, Faith's leg shot out and caught the vampiress in the stomach, knocking her backwards. Dropping her knife in favor of her stake, Faith glowered in true Slayer-like fashion. "Don't get too comfortable in that straightjacket, Crazy Flakes. This mouse bites. Hard."

With a burst of agility and skill, Faith leapt into the air and delivered a spinning two-footed double kick to Drusilla, which knocked her into the brick wall of the alley. Pressing her advantage, Faith connected with two solid punches to both Dru's face and stomach before she grabbed a handful of the mad demon's hair and slammed her head into the wall, Faith's stake-wielding hand reared back to deliver the death blow.

But the time she used to draw her hand back to finish Dru off cost Faith a second…a second that seemed to last an eternity. And for a vampire as deadly and as cunning as Drusilla the Mad, one second was all that was needed.

In a flash, Drusilla's hand flew to Faith's throat, squeezing in a death grip as she pushed the Chosen One backwards into the opposite wall. Faith, caught off-guard by the move, was too surprised to avoid looking at the two talon-like fingers that Drusilla suddenly raised in front of her eyes.

Spike, who still had his hands full with his own battle, was trying to keep an eye on the other fight even as he kicked the Bringer on top of him off and he dodged the blades of the three others.

He didn't understand what Dru's game was. Why on earth would she have sic'ed all of these blasted blind sods on him while dealing with a Slayer herself? It didn't make sense, unless…

unless I'm not what she came for, Spike realized in sickening realization, especially when he saw Dru's fingers catching the gaze of Faith's brown eyes.

"Faith! Don't look in her eyes!" Spike barked out in warning, trying to free himself of these minions in time to get to the Chosen One.

But out of the corner of his eye Spike could see that his warning was too late, as Faith's thrashing slowly began to cease, a strange, dazed and glazed look appearing on her face.

"Wh…whu…what are you…d-doing to…me...?" the Boston girl weakly croaked out, trying to push Dru's clammy and cold hand off her throat, but something…a binding power…held her in place, numbing her mind and stealing her free will.

The irises in those greenish, catlike eyes widened slightly in unholy power. Staring into Dru's haunting eyes was like being sucked into a black hole - once you got pulled in, there was no way out.

"That's it, dearie, don't fight it," Dru whispered almost lovingly. "Be…in me. Be…in my eyes."

Spike had seen this act too many times over the decades with his Sire. He, better than anyone, knew how Drusilla's hypnotic powers came in real handy when she decided to freeze her victims in place before she killed them. It was a trick that not many vampires could pull off - the only other Aurelian vampire Spike knew of that could do it was the Master himself, his Great-great-grandsire - but for those like Drusilla who could do it, it made them all the more powerful and dangerous.

Sometimes, if the victim was lucky, death came with a simple bite into the jugular. Other times, if Dru felt 'playful', she would use those deadly nails of hers - filed until they were razor-sharp, the nails of her right hand, in particular, were coated with all manner of foul poisons. Sometimes cyanide or arsenic, strychnine, ricin or even botulism, the deadliest of all poisons.

That was why Kendra had died so quickly that night; Dru had been in a strychnine mood, Spike recalled. As soon as the breath-restricting, spasm-inducing poison had entered her bloodstream, the beautiful Jamaican girl had been doomed; that good old Slayer healing might have been able to slow down the blood loss from a slit throat, but on top of the strychnine, there was nothing the Slayer essence could have done to save its host.

Here and now, the horrified Spike could smell what flavor Dru was in the mood for tonight - cyanide. If those nails nicked Faith's jugular and mixed with her blood, Spike knew she would be dead within minutes. She would fall into a coma, that amazing body of hers would shake with the onset of seizures, her lungs would fill with fluid, making breathing impossible and finally, her heart - that adventurous, wild, brave and strangely vulnerable heart of hers - would give out under the strain.

Faith would be just another dead, pretty flower at such a tender young age, like every other Slayer before her.

And at that moment, something inside Spike snapped. He didn't know what it was, but he knew, more than anything, that he'd be damned before he let that happen.

With a loud, animalistic growl, Spike clotheslined the two Bringers in front of him, knocking them to the ground. He let the demon in him fully take control as he reached across to one of the Bringers and his claws literally tore its throat out in one motion, his blood-soiled right hand then reaching up to grab the wrist of the last one, breaking it before he spun the minion around, tore the knife from its grip and viciously slit its throat.

Firmly in Drusilla's thrall, Faith was now completely defenseless, her eyes glassy and dazed, staring at the crazed vampiress as if she was the loveliest thing in the world, swaying back and forth to match the grinning madwoman's movements, like a marionette held up only by her puppeteer's whims.

"It's past bedtime," Drusilla cooed as she reared back her poison-laced fingernails, ready to send the entranced Slayer into the afterlife. "Time for all good girls to say night-night…"

"FAITH!" shouted Spike as he dropped the dead Bringer in his grip to the ground and hurled the knife twirling through the air…

…which thudded through the palm of Dru's hand, just as it was roughly midway to Faith's throat.

Hissing in pain, Drusilla cried out as she clutched her bloody right hand with the Bringer's dagger sticking out of it, staggering backwards.

In a flash, Spike dispatched the third Bringer with a quick, savage snap of its neck before taking a stake in his pocket, grabbing the last one and ramming the wooden shaft under its chin and up through into the brain, killing it instantly. With a burst of vampiric speed, Spike then leapt in front of Faith (now on the ground, but still dazed and effectively neutralized) as he stared at his Sire.

"Not that I mind a little girl-on-girl action every now 'n then, Dru, but... mind if I cut in?" he asked cheekily.

Dru's eyes narrowed in anger over Spike's protective display, even as she yanked the knife out of her hand and let it drop to the ground. "Naughty Spoike…I think I should be very cross with you. Running around with thoughts of nasty Slayers in your head."

"Deal with it, luv," Spike shot back as the infamous former couple slowly circled each other. "So, what's with the Helen Keller platoon? Lemme guess - you got bored, so ya threw in with Big Daddy Evil, then?"

"It's a celebration," Dru declared dreamily. "I can see the party. There'll be a Light…and dancing and hats and tea and songs…a symphony of screaming through the stars. Come and join us, Spoike! Come and see! What fun it will be, what a grand time will be had by all!"

Spike scoffed. "Right, 'ere's the crazy ranting part, right on schedule. Seriously, luv, did I ever miss that - except for the part where I didn't. And as for your bloody party, Dru, sorry but these days I don't do hats. Or tea. And definitely not songs."

"Someone needs a spanking..." Drusilla sing-songed warningly.

Spike grinned in wicked fashion. "Well, since you asked so nicely, Ducks…" Crooking his fingers invitingly. "...come to Daddy."

With sudden and violent motion, he and Dru began trading fierce blows as the alleyway echoed with the sound of their battle.

With a growl, Spike picked up the female vampire and threw her into the side of a nearby dumpster, moving in while she was slumped against the dented metal of the waste bin and rocking her head with several hard, successive and fury-filled punches to the temple.

Spike had no idea what it was…maybe it was the falling out he'd had with his crazy Sire way back when, maybe it was the fight with those damn Bringers just now, or maybe it was just the sight of Faith, who was normally so strong and sure of herself, looking so helpless in Dru's clutches…but for whatever reason, he just wanted to knock Drusilla's block off.

"Just remember, Dru - this is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me," Spike growled between punches.

Unfortunately, Drusilla was somewhat stronger than her offspring - her two extra decades of age granting her a slight but crucial edge in this match, as she grabbed Spike by the throat and hoisted him up into the air. Spike could only wince as he struggled in Drusilla's grip.

"You've been a bad boy, my li'l dumpling," Drusilla smiled maliciously, rearing back her balled fist. "Now Mummy has to dole out the spanking."

"Spank this, bitch!" a female voice called out, causing Drusilla to turn…right into the speeding fist of an infuriated Faith.

The blow sent Drusilla flying backwards several feet, knocking her (and Spike) down to the ground.

Spike looked up to see Faith eyeing his ex with cold, furious eyes, her ample chest heaving up and down from angry breaths, perfect teeth bared in a sneer... and looking rather luscious, if he did say so himself.

"You okay?" Faith rasped out as she offered Spike her hand.

"I'll live," Spike replied as he accepted the offer, making his way to his feet to stand alongside her.

The odds had now shifted significantly. While Drusilla was quite insane, even she knew that without help, taking on both a pissed-off Slayer and an ensouled, white-hat vampire at the same time was suicide. And that simply wouldn't do. She had plans for Spike…and very special plans for this wicked girl that, as the bees in her head were whispering to her said, had wormed her way into her Childe's heart.

"No fair to change the rules of the game in midplay," Drusilla pouted as she got to her feet, before that cold, deranged smile appeared on her face again as she stared at the two heroes. The psychotic gleam in the insane creature's eyes made Faith shiver just a little.

"But don't worry, my sweets…there'll be plenty of time to play later. And such wicked games we'll play!"

With a flick of the wrist, Drusilla suddenly dropped two metallic spheres-given to her by Warren-to the ground, and the alleyway was almost instantly flooded with thick, grey smoke.

The smoke bombs had no effect on Spike, apart from nullifying his ability to see and smell his Sire. Faith on the other hand started coughing and gasping as Spike tried to waft away the fog, her hands automatically clenching into fists for the final confrontation with Drusilla…

…only to find that the insane vampiress had vanished, not a trace of her to be seen after the smoke cleared away.

Spike cursed as he looked around the alley, empty now except for the corpses of the Bringers. "Well…at least that daft bird still knows how to make a grand exit."

Faith shook her head, rubbing her temples as she tried to shake off the effects of Dru's mind control. She almost felt like she was waking up from a three-day drinking binge, her head throbbing and her thoughts still fuzzy.

Noticing her wounded body language, a concerned Spike reached for her shoulder. "Faith, are you -?"

"Back off," Faith swatted his hand away, guardedly keeping her distance, which…kinda hurt Spike's feelings.

Off the vulnerable expression on the British vamp's face, and realizing that he had actually saved her life just now, Faith hastily amended, "Um…I'm fine, thanks." She clutched her head painfully. "Ow! God-damn, what the hell did that bitch do to me?"

Spike pseudo-sighed. "That'd be this thing Dru's got up her sleeve, luv. I'm assuming you read up on her a bit, if you did your homework on me. You know about how she receives visions, right?"

Off her nod, Spike continued. "Well, that's not the only way Drusilla's not like other vamps. She has…gifts."

"Yeah? Well, her presents suck," Faith said, shaking her head as she attempted to regain her bearings.

"They really don't," Spike said with a wry smile. "Even in life, she had psychic abilities. After Angelus turned her, the powers stayed - she has a talent fer getting into people's heads, twisting what's inside, making 'em her playthings. She…likes control. Probably because the Pouf warped Dru's brain so much before he turned her that she likes to re-enact all that."

"So the nut job screws with people's heads," Faith mused. "Like we're toys to her."

"Well, she always did love her stupid dolls," Spike shrugged.

"Keep going," Faith encouraged him. "I need to know everything I can get on Miss Crazy Pants for next time."

"Next time?" Spike scoffed, not believing what he was hearing. "After what just happened? I don't think so. Next time you see her, run the other way. If ya fancy still breathing, that is."

Now fully awake, the slowly building anger blasting away the cobwebs from her brain like a flamethrower, a glaring Faith drew closer to Spike, her posture screaming 'fight.' "Now, I know you didn't just give me an order, let alone one where I run and hide like a little girl. Not even you would be that stupid, right?"

Spike didn't back down. "Dru's too dangerous, woman - believe me, I know whereof I speak. She's already bagged herself one Slayer that I know of - that Jamaican bint with the nice rack and the temper problem, what came before you."

"Kendra," Faith corrected him, having heard Giles and Buffy mention the name of her dead predecessor before.

"Whatever," Spike waved it off. "Point is, with her arsenal? Dru's bloody well out of your league. Out of Buffy's league too, if the way Rupes could hypnotize her way back when is any indication. You'd do well to let either me or Angel handle her; we're the only ones her mojo won't work on."

"I can take care of myself," Faith bristled. "Always have."

"Sure you can, pet. Like you took care of yourself just now? When she had you dancin' like a puppet on a string, before Dru nearly added Slayer number two to her record?" Spike retorted, drawing closer to the angrier-by-the-second Faith. "Listen - Dru's unpredictable, she's crafty and she's got way too many weapons in her bag o' tricks for you to handle. You try 'n fight her like that again, she'll kill you 'til you're good and dead."

"Spare me the warnings, Sid Vampish," Faith scoffed. "I do have a little experience in taking down vamps with killer creds. Ask Kakistos. Or Angelus."

"Try pullin' the other one, Slayer," Spike said mockingly, as he was familiar with both instances. "One Master vamp which you killed only with Buffy's help, and another who you beat by getting high on mystical junk and letting him take a sip of your arteries. Oh, yeah - you're a regular Xena Warrior Princess, you are."

The heat in Faith's glare was almost nuclear. "Screw you, asshole."

As he saw the heat, and the hurt, still burning in her eyes, Spike softened his tone and his eyes. "Look, Faith…I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Faith wasn't buying it. "It's a pride thing with me, Spike. A Slayer thing. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Besides, you barely even know me. What the hell does it matter to you what happens to me?"

As she turned on her heels to go, Spike's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him.

"Hey."

His eyes were hard, yet somehow soft at the same time with an emotion that Faith had only seen directed at her from Angel. Something that looked like…caring.

"It matters," Spike said, his tone gentle enough to tug at the strings of her heart. "It matters a heck of a lot."

The way Spike said it, so softly, so genuinely, as if he really meant it, that was enough to melt the iciness of her glower, if only for a moment. But this was getting way too complicated for Faith's tastes.

Sure...Spike was funny, and cool, a good time to be around, and brave, and he'd saved her life a couple of times in the last 24 hours...but if he was still so hung up on Buffy, then there was no way that she was going to drop THAT level of drama on her head; especially not with a freakin' apocalypse looming over the horizon.

That kind of three-ringed circus of pain might be fine for Angel, Buffy and the others, but she'd rather keep her eyes on the prize. Faith had made it through life so far without a 'soul mate' or a boyfriend or any other attachments, and she had done all right (at least, from a certain point of view - disregarding all the betrayal and killing and years of jail time).

Still, like the old saying went - if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Besides, while Spike was a pretty hot-looking piece of ass, the guy was still a vampire, and it wasn't in her job description to date the enemy. 'Vampire Slayer,' not 'Vampire Layer' and all that.

So, with a soft but firm hand, Faith slowly removed Spike's grip from her arm. "Thanks for looking out for me just now, Blue Eyes, but like I said…it's a Slayer thing. The next time I see that bitch, her ass is mine."

Spike, frustrated, realized that there was no way that he was going to talk her out of this. At least, not tonight. Hopefully, there would be time enough for that later. There was no way he was letting her face Drusilla again alone. Not if he had anything to say about it.

At that moment, Faith's cell phone buzzed with a text alert, prompting her to open it and read the message from Wesley:

EMERGENCY. MEET BACK AT HYPERION ASAP.

Sighing, she showed Spike the message. "Duty calls, dude."

"The man's got a bloody uncanny sense of timing," Spike dryly mused as he looked away for a moment. "Uncanny on how bad it is. You wanna take a cab back, or -?"

Spike had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when he heard Faith's voice call out above him, directing his attention to the roof…where a waiting and saucily grinning Faith called, "Last one there's gotta kiss Andrew!"

And then she began sprinting away, leaping to the next rooftop.

Despite himself, Spike couldn't help but to smile a little bit. "Oh, yeah…definitely my kind of girl."

With undead super-strength he leapt upwards to the roof to catch up with the brunette Slayer, Spike smiling to himself as he caught sight of the spirited twinkle in her eyes, the excited grin on her face that matched his own as they leapt across rooftop after rooftop in a race that few others could ever manage.

The music had ended, true…but this dance between them was far from over.


Hyperion Hotel - Fred's room

Now


Fred sat miserably in the corner of her room, embarrassed at her outburst, furious at Gunn for making her angry enough to rant that way in front of everyone and…and, well, just confused over everything that had happened between her and her former boyfriend during the last few weeks.

It had all been so perfect once, so wonderful…they were just Winifred and Charles. Gunn and Fred. Their bodies, their souls just fit together naturally, like peanut butter and chocolate. Ice cream and sprinkles. Daytime and soap operas. Protons and electrons.

Funny how one little murder - even if it was of another murderer, a serial killer and a truly evil man once you stripped away his pleasant, professorial exterior - could undo all of that so quickly. Funny how a need, a yearning, a demand for payback...for vengeance...could reveal a side of you that you never knew existed.

A part of you that you never knew...never wanted to know...was there.

The heavy knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Fred? Open up. We've gotta talk."

Fred sucked in a deep breath. "Go away, Charles. There's nothing to talk about."

"There's plenty to talk about, and you know it," Gunn replied heatedly. "Fred...we've been avoiding this for weeks. I can't take it anymore. And I know you...deep down, you can't take it anymore, either."

"Well, if I didn't want to talk about it before, what makes you think I want to talk about it now? What with everything that's going on around us?" the woman snapped bitterly.

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do, Fred?" Gunn retorted, a note of desperation appearing in his voice. "Keep on doing what we've been doing and ignoring what's happening to us, until we end up hating each other? Is that what you want? Because I don't want that. I'll never want that. Fred...baby, please. Open up and talk to me..."

'Baby.' He called me 'baby,' a guilty Fred swallowed as tears began to form in her eyes. Even after everything that's happened, even after what I did to…I'm still his baby. He still thinks of me as his girl...

Taking in a deep breath, Fred got herself under control before she slowly stood up and walked to the door, turning the handle to reveal a concerned-looking Gunn standing in her doorway.

Gunn struggled not to gape at the sight of his former girlfriend…so small and petite, the way her dark brown hair flowed down her slender shoulders like a waterfall, the way her soft baby brown eyes glistened and sparkled…it was enough to take his breath away sometimes. He'd often wondered if Fred knew just how beautiful she really was, or if it just escaped her notice as randomly as some ridiculously brilliant quantum physics equation she would just casually throw around like an offhanded joke.

Fred shivered under his intense gaze. The way those battle-hardened, street-wise eyes of his could regard her so preciously, so lovingly…it was enough to make her hate herself. She wasn't worthy of that kind of love from this man. Not anymore. Not after what I did...

Brushing that thought away, Fred motioned him to enter, Gunn closing the door behind him as he did. As he regarded her room, looking exactly as a brilliant yet absentminded genius would keep it - an empty pizza box haphazardly laying on the coffee table, clothes strewn everywhere, numbers and science equations scribbled furiously all over the walls in a rainbow of colors - Gunn bitterly realized how this place, once as much a home to him as his own room, felt so utterly foreign now.

Charles hated it that so much distance had grown between them since Oliver Seidel's murder.

With a heavy sigh, Fred crossed her arms. "Well, you wanted to talk. So, talk."

"Look, I..." Gunn started awkwardly. "I'm sorry about what happened downstairs just now, okay? I guess with everything that's happened lately, I've been a little testier than normal."

"I always thought of it as 'prickly,' actually," Fred offered gently, with a crooked smile. "Like...like an angry puppy, y'know? I never really minded it, to be honest. It's...kinda cute."

Gunn's hopeful smile at her remark only made her feel worse, her smile fading as she looked away. "Don't."

"Don't what?" a confused Gunn asked.

"Don't give me that look," Fred sadly shook her head. "The happy puppy dog look."

Gunn laughed bitterly. "Right. Sorry, I forgot. That's not what a guy's supposed to do with the ex-other-half-of-his-heart-and-soul, is it?"

Every instinct in her mind told Fred to run, because this conversation could not possibly end well. "Charles..."

"No, Fred," the black man shook his head. "We can't avoid talking about this forever. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to keep feeling like this. I hate this!"

"Well, what the hell do you want me to say, huh?" the Texan woman replied heatedly, her voice wavering even as it was rising several octaves. "You think I don't hate this either? Every time I see you walk into a room, all I want to do is hold you, touch you, remember how you smelled when you were holding me…"

"So why don't you?" Gunn asked softly, vulnerably.

Gunn had never liked feeling vulnerable, he simply wasn't used to it; the life he had led since escaping that damned orphanage wouldn't allow it. The only one he'd been able to open up to in the old days was his little sister, Alonna; and even then only in private, where the rest of his crew couldn't see. Growing up the way he did, Gunn always had to be strong and hard like a rock, tucking away his emotions deep into the hidden places of his heart.

Like it or not, it had been the only way he could protect those under his wing, keep them alive for as long as possible.

But then, this shy, sweet, pretty little thing from Texas had a way of bringing things out in him that Gunn had never thought possible…something that was both a blessing and a curse, as of late.

But Charles was willing to take both good and the bad, because no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, smother it back into the dark places within him, all he wanted to do was to have Winifred Burkle back in his arms again.

"Because I don't deserve to!" Fred angrily declared in response to Gunn's question, her brown eyes slitted and filling with tears. "Because I'm ugly inside, Charles! I'm sick! And evil! Why else would I have done what I did with Professor Seidel? There's no other explanation, right?"

Gunn took hold of her shoulders, adamantly shaking his head. "No, Fred, you're not -"

"Oh yes I am! You just can't see it, because you don't want to see it. As soon as I found out that it was that...bastard...who'd ruined my life, not to mention killed those other four students, God help me...but I never wanted anything more in my life than to watch Professor Seidel die! I wanted him to suffer the way he made me suffer, the way he made me hurt. And that moment when I finally got what I wanted…"

Trembling, Fred looked away from Gunn, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I hurt the one person in the world who meant everything to me. I ruined the best thing I had in my life. And I can't ever take it back. Ever." A bitter laugh. "I guess that murderous son of a bitch won after all, didn't he?"

"Only if you let him," Gunn gently offered, turning her face towards him. Please, baby, please don't let him win…

Fred shook her head in disgust as she turned away from him again. "Oh, sure...now it's my choice?"

Gunn stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this conversation wouldn't be happening right now - we might never even have broken up - if you'd just stayed out of it, Charles!" Fred snapped, wheeling around to face him again. "Why couldn't you just take the hint that I didn't want you to get involved? That night, of all nights - why couldn't you have just stayed out of it?"

Gunn's fuse began to crackle and spark with jealousy as he remembered the events of that fateful night. "Oh, but it was alright for you to include Wesley in your little mission? Of all the people that you could've gone to, you went to him? Knowing how he felt about you? Knowing that I knew how he felt about you? How do you think that made me feel, Fred? Knowing that you could go to him and not me? Knowing that I couldn't…"

Face it, Gunn, you can't give her what she needs, echoed the cold and hollow voice of Wesley in Charles's mind from the night he and his former friend-turned-rival had come to blows over Fred.

Ignoring the bitter memory, Gunn finished with a deflated, "...that I couldn't protect you like you needed?"

"You needed to protect me? My Lord, but you're actually serious, aren't you? Charles - maybe you've forgotten, but I survived five years in Pylea, all alone! Did it never occur to you that I didn't need your protection that night? That I was trying to protect you from the consequences of my actions?" Fred shouted, emotion overwhelming her.

"Why did I go to Wesley to give me what I needed, to personally kill the man who tried to kill me? Charles, it was because I knew that helping me take a human life wasn't something he'd lose any sleep over. Because like it or not, that's simply the kind of man Wesley is now. I could see it in his eyes, that night he gave me his spell book and drove me to the university. But you...Charles, you're a hero. An honest-to-goodness hero. Even through all the horrible things that happened during your childhood, after what happened to your family, after everything we've faced together...you're still a good and decent man."

Fred turned away and faced the mirror of her dresser, staring with emptiness at the reflection of the woman she saw there. The reflection of someone she no longer recognized.

"I just...I never wanted you to see me like that," Fred quietly admitted, her voice wavering as tears began cascading down her cheeks. "I never wanted you to see the kind of...monster...that I really am. How much anger, how much...hate was inside me that night. Because if you did...maybe I'd hurt you. Or worse...you wouldn't love me anymore."

Gunn turned his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, fighting to swallow the lump forming in his throat at the sight of his broken-hearted ex-girlfriend.

That night had haunted him for weeks now. Ever since he was a teenager, he had spent his life protecting humans from demons and vampires. He'd lost track of how many people he and his crew had saved in the projects during the old days, some of them as old as Seidel had been.

True, in order to survive on the streets Gunn had to do some things that other people - members of the LAPD, for example - deemed as unscrupulous or unlawful. But those things had never been done at the expense of another human being's life. Never murder. Killing Oliver Seidel, even though many might say he'd richly deserved his fate…that was something that still shook him to the core.

But as black as the mark was that the professor's murder had left on his own soul...Gunn knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it meant that Fred's soul was spared that particular taint. Why can't she see that?

Or maybe I'm the one who just can't accept what she's tryin' to tell me, Charles cogitated, after replaying the conversation in his mind. Maybe it's Angel's old-fashioned attitude rubbin' off on me or whatever, but the idea of Fred wanting the right to be able to personally commit murder? The woman I love wantin' to do that sort of thing, I just don't have no truck with that...

Gunn gently laid his hands on Fred's soft upper arms, slowly turning her around as his dark eyes met her teary brown ones. "Hey...me not love you anymore? Never gonna happen. No matter what. And we're talkin' never, ever and always here."

What? Is he serious? Fred desperately wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that Gunn's brief fling with Gwen Raiden a while back had meant nothing. Wanted to feel like she deserved that tenderness in her ex-boyfriend's eyes.

Dear God, at that moment Fred felt like she would give anything to be able to believe she deserved Gunn's declarations of love…

At that moment, though, even through the closed door they both heard a loud smashing sound from downstairs in the lobby, followed by angry voices.

Off the muffled commotion, Fred and Gunn exchanged worried glances.

"What the hell was that?" the black man asked.

With a silent sigh that bordered on relief over having a way out of this intense discussion with the man she'd never stopped loving, Fred said, "I guess there's only one way to find out."

As they quickly strode to the door to investigate downstairs, Gunn cursed the timing of that noise, muttering, "Explosions, ugly demons, personal drama...damn, if I'd wanted to sign on for this, I woulda gone to Hollywood."


Hyperion Hotel - Darla's room

A few minutes earlier


Connor's face was one of pure focus. Centering all of his attention on the matter at hand. "You sure you're ready for this?"

A determined Dawn stared back, her gaze as level and calm as her voice. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Her boyfriend smirked. "On three, then. One…two…"

A mischievous smile on her face, Dawn beat him to the punch. "Three!"

And then, the pair of intertwined hands tensed and wrenched against each other, as the miracle child and the Key arm-wrestled each other, neither one holding back.

It had been some time since Angel, Buffy and Cordelia had gone on their Jasmine hunt, leaving behind a pensive Connor - still shaken by Cordelia's presence, which served only to remind him of the terrible things he had done while under the Beastmaster's influence - and a worried Dawn, who was scared that without help from the others, that her big sister, her first surrogate big brother and the young woman who had become as close as a sister to her, would all meet a terrible end.

Spike and Faith, meanwhile, had slipped out on their date - which, in retrospect, didn't surprise Dawn all that much, as she had seen the way those two had been brazenly flirting with each other since they got to the hotel. Still, it was something of a shock for Dawn to think that Spike and Faith, of all people, would have hooked up - given how William the Bloody was supposedly still hung up on her big sister.

Darla had slipped out herself for some alone time, returning her focus to figuring out the mystery behind her newly-returned vampiric abilities sans-undead state.

Deciding that she had to take her mind off of things, even for just a little while, Dawn had convinced a slightly reluctant Connor to help her test out her powers. But after effortlessly bending metal objects around her room and lifting heavy furniture like the bed, her dresser and a few chairs over her head -with one hand - got boring, Miss Summers decided that she needed a real challenge. And there just happened to be a super-cute and totally super-strong boyfriend in the room, so…

As their arm-wrestling contest dragged on, Connor was amazed at how strong the slender brunette had become since her supernatural makeover a few hours ago. Sure, she'd fought surprisingly well for a non-powered human last night; but he could tell that her physical strength was only too ordinary then. And now, he was finding that he had to put quite a bit of his own super-strength into his arm just to keep pace with his girlfriend, who looked like she was having a blast instead of locked in a grueling test of physical will and domination.

"Looking a little tired, there, Wonder Kid," Dawn smirked as she gained the slightest of advantages, her arm slowly pushing Connor's arm towards the table. "Ready to give it up?"

Connor's eyes narrowed, flashing a smirk of his own as his nostrils flared with air. "Give it up? No. Turn it up? You bet your cute ass."

A surprised Dawn had only a moment to blush red at Connor's unexpected come-on before his grip suddenly flooded with power, turning the tide of their contest as he took control, overpowering Dawn's arm and slowly pushing her slender limb downwards, only inches from the table and victory.

Realizing that Connor had blatantly distracted her to gain the upper hand in their contest, Dawn smiled wickedly as she thought of a way to turn the tables on him.

Reaching over quickly, the brunette snuck her free hand around the back of his head and drew the guy's head towards her, kissing him full on the mouth. Connor, effectively distracted if not displeased, was completely thrown off his game…long enough for Dawn to take advantage, slamming his hand down on the table to steal not only a kiss, but a victory in the arm-wrestling contest.

A pleased Dawn raised her arms in victory, shouting 'Woo-hoo!' as she basked in her triumph. "Summers wins! Summers wins! And the crowd goes wild!"

"Hey! You cheated!" Connor protested, though he was far from angry, as the taste of Dawn's raspberry lip gloss lingered on his mouth.

Dawn only smiled innocently. "Who, me? I don't know what you're talking about. I think you just can't take the fact that you got your butt kicked by a girl."

A mischievous smile spread on Connor's face. "Oh, I'll show you a butt-kicking. C'mere!"

With that, he quickly jumped up out of his chair and sprang towards Dawn, who was now scurrying away in a fit of laughter as the male teen chased her around the room. "Don't touch me! I'll scream, I mean it, Con! Ahhh! Stop it!"

In one pounce, Connor tackled Dawn onto Darla's bed, the slender brunette squirming in playful delight as her boyfriend began to mercilessly tickle her, his hands and fingers attacking her sides.

"Ahh-hahaha! Connor!" Dawn rasped in between gasps of air, as her lungs exploded with laughter. "Okay! Okay, okay, I give!"

The teenage boy, who felt himself get oddly excited as the pretty girl wriggled and struggled underneath him, grinned wickedly. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"I give! I give, I give, I give, please! Ahh-hahaha!" Dawn cried out in a fit of laughter, tapping the mattress hard with her hands in her pleas for release.

Satisfied, Connor ceased his tickling assault, unable to stop smiling as he watched Dawn giggle beneath him, her eyes closed and her chest heaving up and down in quick breaths. But then an electric-like charge suddenly coursed through him at the feel of her slender frame against his, every part of him immediately standing at attention.

"No…fair…really…ticklish," Dawn panted.

The naughty gleam in Connor's cobalt-blue eyes resurfaced as he eyed his quivering, beautiful prey, grabbing hold of her wrists. "Bad choice of words, Dawn. Especially given your position."

Realizing his intent, Dawn began to squirm again, laughing as she tried to wrestle her way out from under him. "Oh, no! Don't you..."

Dawn broke off as she caught sight of Connor's eyes, blue and piercing and lit with mirth, boring into her own sky-blue irises, suddenly aware of their closeness and her nose filling with that cinnamon-dirt-boy smell that she had come to find irresistible as of late. "…dare…"

Both teens stared deeply into each other's eyes as they lay on the bed, their bodies pressed closely against one another, lost in a haze of hormones and teenage lust…

It was there that Connor made the first move, capturing her lips with a full, heated kiss. It had its desired effect as Dawn eagerly returned it with a searing lip lock of her own, opening her mouth wider as his tongue slowly, almost tenderly slipped into her and met her own.

The gentle moan of pleasure that came from Dawn was enough to drive Connor nearly mad with desire as his hands roamed all over his girlfriend, feeling every soft and firm curve, her overpoweringly feminine scent pushing him even further over the edge as his hands began to reach under her shirt…

"Wait," Dawn rasped out, grabbing hold of his hands. "Connor…we've gotta slow it down a little."

With a look of surprise, and one of hurt, Connor pulled back. "But…but I thought we…"

Remembering the last time he'd looked at her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes and how that had ended up with her fending off that creepy insect demon in the sewers, Dawn made sure to grab his hand tightly…and to hold his gaze on her even tighter. "Connor, it's not you! Believe me. It's just…well, your sniffy sense was right. I'm a…I mean, I've never…"

She sighed, flushing red in embarrassment. "I've never actually...done anything like this before."

Realization appeared on Connor's face as her words hit home. "Oh…you mean the virgin thing."

Blushing ever redder than before, Dawn frowned. "Hey! Tact, much?"

"Sorry," Connor scratched his head ruefully. Suddenly, his smile became more tender as he brushed her hair back from her face. "Well, i-it's okay. I mean, I'm not exactly an expert myself, but I can guide you through the rough spots. We'll take it slow -"

"No, Connor," Dawn gently lowered his hands, her voice soft and her eyes revealing a sort of frightened vulnerability. "You don't get it. God, you look so handsome right now, and I'm sure I'll regret saying this later, but I'm…I'm not ready for this yet. I'm only sixteen. And I…this is…it's just more than what I'm ready for right now."

She sighed, morosely. "I'm sorry. Just…please don't be angry again, okay? I know you're probably really pissed at me right n-mmmngh!"

The kiss Connor planted on her lips caught her off-guard before Dawn could figure out what was going on. When she pulled back, she saw how her boyfriend's expression was, miraculously, the opposite of angry. There was even a little seedling of a smile on his lips.

"I'm not mad," Connor smiled gently. "I think I get it. You're scared. It's like…a big step, I guess. But I'm thinking that maybe if I wait around long enough, play my cards right...then maybe one day, you won't be so scared anymore. And then, who knows?"

If Dawn were a cartoon character, this would have been the part where hearts flew around her head and the screen behind her turned pink. For it was at that moment that Dawn knew...she was completely and totally in love with Angel's son. Smiling in relief, the young woman snuggled in close to her boyfriend, sinking further into his embrace as his arms wrapped around her midriff.

"Best boyfriend ever," Dawn grinned happily as she closed her eyes and savored the contact.

With a smile that had become more frequent to him in the last few days than it had in his entire life, Connor leaned his head against hers. "Well, you're not too bad of a girlfriend yourself," he grinned, before frowning. "Besides, it would have been a little weird getting…intimate…here. I mean, considering what happened here. Or at least, what I think happened here."

Off Dawn's puzzled expression, Connor elaborated, "I'm not entirely sure, but from what I can smell, I think this is most likely the place where I was…conceived." He finished that statement with a disturbed look on is face.

Dawn gaped. "Are you serious?"

Connor shuddered. "Believe me, I wish I wasn't."

At that, Dawn giggled. "Wow…that is weird!"

His fingers reached up and idly played with a strand of her hair. "'Freak' weird or 'Oreo cookie' weird?"

Off his smile, Dawn grinned as she reached up and cupped his chin. "Cookies. The second one. Now, stop talking and give me some sugar."

Giggling, the two lovebirds began kissing again…until the door opened, and Darla, Molly, Vi, Amanda, Anna and even Matthew began making their way in.

"Hey, you guys! We were just - whoa!" Vi's bubbly greeting was cut short as she spotted the pair kissing.

Abruptly, the young couple broke apart and jumped off of the bed. "Damn it, Vi, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Dawn huffed in annoyance, her cheeks burning crimson.

"Sure. Have you ever heard of locking the door?" Vi retorted with a sly grin, before she placed her hand on her head in overdramatic flourish. "Or were you guys too lost in each other's eyes?"

Amanda, eager to play along, decided to jump in, playing the part of Connor. "Oh, Dawn, I just get so lost in your beautiful blue eyes - that I almost forgot to do that sexy broody teenage hero thing I do!"

Vi, doing her best Dawn impersonation, pretended to swoon in Amanda's arms. "Oh, Connor, my darling, you're the only one who understands how hard it is being the Slayer's sister. Hold me in your strong, masculine arms - you cute, pouty-lipped Superboy!"

As Anna and Matthew burst out laughing, Molly only rolled her eyes, despite a small smile at her friends' antics. "I swear; the two of you have the combined maturity of a croissant."

As Connor flushed red, Dawn scowled playfully. "I'm spitting in both your plates during breakfast tomorrow! Just so you know."

Darla frowned. "Dawn, when I told you two to get a room next time? This wasn't exactly what or where I had in mind."

Dawn swallowed. "Oh! Uh, right…I'm sorry, Darla."

The former vampiress waived off her apology. "No apology needed. But I trust that you know how to act…responsibly."

The undertone of what she meant was not lost on Dawn, who nervously swallowed and nodded, thinking back to how close Connor and she had come to losing control a few minutes ago.

"Mom! Geez, humiliation much?" a flame-cheeked Connor bit out tersely, having picked up that new slang from hanging around Dawn and the girls yesterday.

Deciding that she had made her point, Darla's gaze softened, returning to the task at hand as she looked at Dawn. "So. How are you feeling? Is there any change?"

Dawn blinked, before she understood that Darla was referring to her newly-awakened Key powers. "Oh, uh…well, so far, it's pretty safe to check off super-strength on the list of 'Dawn's New Makeover.'"

"We heard about that," Vi jumped in. "Are you alright, Dawn?"

"What kind of powers do you have?" Molly asked.

"Did it hurt?" Amanda inquired.

Dawn scratched her head. "Um, well, in order: yes, I'm fine, still figuring that out, and no, but it kinda tingled."

"Wait, so does everyone here have super-powers?" a confused Anna asked. This was getting way too

hard for her to understand.

"Seems that way," Connor shrugged.

"We don't," Vi said, indicating Molly, Amanda, Matthew and herself.

"Then again, I could be wrong," Connor admitted sheepishly.

Dawn eyed Anna in curiosity. "By the way; what are you still doing here, Anna? Not that I don't like you, but I kinda figured you'd have gone home by now."

Anna shrugged. "I tried calling home a few times, but there's no answer. Then I remembered…my parents were scheduled to leave town today. Business trip thing. And after everything that's happened," she looked down slightly. "I guess I just didn't want to be home alone right now."

Connor looked away in shame, knowing that was mostly his fault. Dawn, sensing his discomfort, squeezed his hand in reassurance, before she returned her gaze to Anna. "I get that. Don't worry, I figure you can stay as long as you like; I'm sure Angel won't mind. And heck, the way Buffy keeps forgetting who's who among the Potentials? We could tell her you're one of the future Chosen crowd, and she'd never even question it!"

Anna smiled in relief. "Thanks, Dawn. That means a lot."

Matthew took a step forward, eying Dawn with childlike curiosity. "So, it's really true, Dawn? You have super powers now?"

Dawn shrugged, with a smile at the little boy. "Watch this."

With that, she walked over to the nearby desk, and effortlessly heaved it up over her head in a one-handed balancing act, drawing looks of awe and surprise from her audience.

Without so much as a pulled muscle, she set it back down onto the ground. Scanning the room for something, Dawn's eyes rested on a lamp.

Connor watched his girlfriend closely, unsure as to what she was planning. "Dawn? What are you -?"

"Ssh! Not now, Connor, I'm trying to concentrate," Dawn waved him off. She knew that there had to be more to her than just strength now. But she hadn't yet discovered anything else yet.

Except…except that green light show that had erupted from her eyes and mouth, when Insect-thing had had Connor at its mercy.

But how did that work? She was only able to access the deadly beam after she'd thought that Connor would die. The fear, the despair that it created within her. The idea that another person close to her world would be lost, like Buffy and Tara and her mother…because she wasn't strong enough. Because she couldn't help them, no matter how badly she wanted to.

Dawn's eyes began to flicker in that deadly jade hue.

Because she was too weak and frail and useless to count for anything else. Because she was never strong enough, like Buffy or Angel or Spike. Because she was never enough. But she had to be. She needed to be. Because if she couldn't do this, with everything on the line, then Buffy, Angel, Spike, Connor, everyone…she would lose them all. And it would be all her fault. Because she wasn't strong enough to save them. But she had to. She just had to!

Dawn gasped as the power suddenly flooded through her, her eyes and mouth aflame in glowing green energy as that deadly light burst forth from her head once more, striking the vase. Enveloped in the energy, the lamp's molecules shifted between thousands of dimensions at once - before it suddenly exploded, sending shards of ceramic pottery flying across the room like shrapnel.

The others only had a moment to duck as they dodged the sharp fragments, barely avoiding serious injury.

Off the stunned faces of everyone in the entire room, Dawn offered a sheepish smile. "So, uh…anyone wanna arm-wrestle?"

At that point, nearly everyone gave the Key a nervous smile before they started backing away slowly.

Matthew, however, eyed Dawn enviously. "That was so cool!"

Pleased by his compliment, Dawn smiled. "Thanks, Matt." Smirking, she turned to Connor. "I even beat Superboy here in an arm-wrestling contest, y'know."

"No way!" a stunned Matthew exclaimed.

Connor rolled his eyes. "Might want to tell him that was only because you cheated, Dawn?"

"Eh, you say potato, I say po-tah-toe," Dawn smiled impishly. "And you say cheated, I say used my feminine wiles. Same diff."

"Can you guys do it again? It would be wicked cool to see," Matthew urged them eagerly.

Connor smiled at the boy. He was so young, and yet he had still managed to retain a part of his innocence even in the wake of his parents' violent deaths. It made Connor feel somewhat protective, the way a big brother would look at his little brother.

"Maybe another time, kiddo," Connor teased as he ruffled the boy's red hair playfully. "You can referee to make sure Ms. Feminine Wiles over here actually plays by the rules."

Dawn playfully stuck her tongue out at Connor, which drew rueful laughter from her boyfriend.

Darla shook her head, becoming more concerned that Dawn was letting her power go to her head. "Dawn, I thought we talked about this. Just because you have the power now doesn't mean you can use it to show off for your friends. You're part of something much larger now."

Dawn wearily sighed. "Oh, come on, Darla, you're not gonna go all Uncle Ben on me, are you?"

The blonde woman raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Uncle what?"

"Spider-Man reference. 'With great power comes great responsibility,' and all that," Dawn explained. "They asked, I showed. It's no big deal."

"Not until someone gets hurt, anyway," Darla reminded her, a hint of sternness in her voice as she gestured around the room at the lamp fragments. "Gifts like yours are a huge responsibility, and until you can control them, you'd be better off reducing the showboating and practicing your control with myself, Spike and Faith, just as we agreed on earlier today."

"Alright, I get it," Dawn sighed. "I'll wait until we start training, then. Geez, I was just trying to have a little fun."

"I know you think that I'm being a wet blanket about this, Dawn, but I'm trying to teach you something," Darla patiently explained. "You're not like other people now. Things have changed. And depending on how you handle these new powers, that could mean the difference between whether you hurt people or protect them. And believe me, the last thing you want on your conscience is the burden of knowing that someone got hurt or worse because of you."

The beautiful blonde woman looked down for a moment, images of her bloody past flashing in her mind's eye. "When that happens…you'll never be able to take that back."

A heavy sigh escaped Dawn's lips. "You're right, I know. Okay, okay, I'll be more careful. I guess the last thing we need around here, given what's happening, are any more nasty surprises."

As if on cue, a loud shattering sound came from downstairs, startling everyone.

"What the heck was that?" Vi asked in confusion.

Suddenly, both Darla's and Connor's noses flared with new scents. Angel's familiar scent of leather, cologne and hair gel indicated his return, and the scents of vanilla and lavender shampoo meant that Buffy and Cordelia had returned, as well.

But there was also another scent, a fourth, that troubled Darla deeply. It was the smell of Dior and expensive silk. A smell that belonged to an enemy from her past. An enemy that was supposed to be dead and cremated, as of several weeks ago. No, it's not…possible…

"It can't be," Connor muttered in surprise, realizing the familiarity of that smell.

"Connor?" Dawn asked, growing worried. "What is it?"

At that, Darla took command. "Connor, Dawn, come with me. The rest of you head back to your rooms, and don't come out until one of us comes to get you."

"Darla, what's going on?" Dawn asked as the three of them began heading for the lobby, leaving the normals behind to obey orders.

The blonde woman's troubled expression did not escape Dawn's notice. "I think I know, Dawn…I just hope I'm wrong."


Hyperion Hotel - Lobby

A few minutes earlier


"Lilah," Angel said, his eyes narrowed in steely iciness, his voice a low, cold hiss laced with fury and disdain.

"Angel," Lilah smugly grinned as she sauntered forward into the hotel lobby amidst the shocked heroes.

Her every step was filled with a kind of regal haughtiness, Buffy could easily see that. Like the woman thought the very ground she walked on wasn't good enough for her. And while her Slayer-sense wasn't going ballistic, letting her know that this person was neither vampire nor demon, there was something about this brunette during the thirty seconds she'd been here so far that made Buffy want to throttle that arrogant poise right out of her expensive designer shoes.

"What's the matter, ace?" Lilah purred, clearly enjoying every moment of this, even as she faced Angel's stony glare and several stunned faces. "Didn't think you were the only one who ever got to come back from Hell around here, did ya?"

At that Lilah stopped, clearing her throat loudly. "Speaking of which, could I possibly get some ice water?"

"And you are…?" Buffy asked, her eyebrow raised.

The petite blonde Slayer having caught her attention, Lilah's eyes twinkled in fascination. "Well, well…so this is the infamous Buffy Summers. Angel's 'One-Twue-Wuv.' Your reputation precedes you, as it should. I believe my company's files refer to you as 'The Deathless Slayer'…you know, on count of how you keep kicking the bucket and popping back up again like a masochistic bowling pin?"

Buffy's patience with this woman was beginning to fade fast, especially as the deceased lawyer's eyes began appraising her, none-too-disguised disdain etched in them.

"Though I've gotta say…I thought you'd be taller," Lilah smirked, regarding the Slayer's tattered appearance. "And the whole 'Sigourney Weaver-Circa-Aliens Part 1' look definitely isn't working for you, sweetheart."

Buffy stiffened as she offered Lilah a terse look. "I don't know you, lady, and yet already, I'm pretty sure…I don't like you. Which is bad for you, because things I don't like? They generally tend to get pummeled into grease stains."

"If only it was that simple right now," Angel tersely told Buffy as he walked towards her side, eying Lilah with a cold stare. "This is Lilah Morgan. A lawyer at Wolfram & Hart…well, she was, up until she bled to death in our hallway a few weeks ago."

Neither one noticed how a wide-eyed Cordelia tensed up at the mention of Lilah's death…or how Wesley's eyes looked down and away for a moment.

Buffy's eyebrows raised as she suddenly recalled that name, mentioned to her by Angel when he'd recounted yesterday all of Angel Investigations' exploits and trials over the last few years. "Wait a minute…Lilah Morgan? As in 'evil lawyer' Lilah? Wesley's Lilah?" Dead Lilah?

As Angel nodded, Lilah put her hands to her chest in mock flattery. "Why, Angel! Can't stop talking about little ol' me, huh? Well, can't say I blame you. I've always made a lasting impression on people. Or, in your case, un-people."

Buffy suddenly scowled, thinking that she saw right through the obvious ruse. "Okay, now I get it. Nice try, Casper, but this act is getting really old," she said bitingly.

"Meaning what?" Lilah asked nonchalantly.

"Meaning that I've had enough of your little pop-in, pop-out games," Buffy angrily snapped, looking to the others. "What, don't you guys get it? It's obviously the First. Again. How else would a dead woman that's not a vampire be here?"

Angel, however, knowingly shook his head. "It's not the First."

Buffy gaped at him. "Of course it is! Look, I know it can be very convincing, but -"

"Tell me something, Hot Stuff," Lilah's smug voice drew Buffy's attention as the newcomer stepped near an old vase near one of the hotel's pillars. "If I was the First Evil, then how could I do…this?"

With that, Lilah gently pushed the vase off its supporting column, sending it crashing to the floor in a loud, shattering explosion of noise.

Buffy was effectively thrown for a loop. "Okay, fine. That pretty much kicks my theory out the window," the Slayer shrugged, knowing that if this was the First, it would not have been able to make physical contact with anything that way.

But all this still made no sense to Buffy. From what she heard, this Lilah Morgan's death was as non-mystical as you could get, and she knew the rules; no mystical death, no resurrection. Yet, here she was; all walking and talking and annoying. How? And why?

"What are you doing here, Lilah?" Angel demanded, his tone calm, yet edged with a deadly menace.

"She's not here," Wesley said, his voice drawing all eyes on him. "It's not her."

With a confused stare, he quietly muttered. "It can't be..."

It couldn't be. Every rational thought within the brilliant mind of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce told him that Lilah was dead. He knew that; her throat had been torn open by the Beastmaster's bone knife, not long before the team had found her corpse being drained by Angelus; her lovely body already growing stiff in the early stages of rigor mortis, her slender throat caked with leaking blood, those stunning, crafty green eyes - eyes that could also look softer and more expressive than many would have ever realized, except him - forever wide and blank in a lifeless stare.

Lilah's heartbeat and breathing had ceased, he had checked several times, and the massive loss of blood she'd sustained from both vampire and Beastmaster made resuscitation impossible. And, of course, there was the final coup de grace…when he'd beheaded her lifeless body, at the time thinking that she might have been Sired by Angelus.

Wesley desperately held on to that logic, clinging to it with every grasp of his being, as right now, it was all that was keeping him from completely losing his mind.

And yet, throwing all logic and rational thought into the trash compactor, there Lilah stood. Right there in the lobby of his former friends' hotel, looking every bit as lovely and conceited as she ever did.

"There's a signed dollar in your wallet that says different," the dead woman simply replied, yet with an atypical softness in her tone as she addressed her ex-lover.

Yet those soft, raspy words - spoken with a sense of tenderness - felt to Wesley as if that damned dagger had just been plunged into his own heart, each syllable adding another cruel twist to a wound that was still open and raw.

Wes felt a tidal wave of illness sweep over him as he turned away, muttering desperately to himself, "It's a lie."

"-lah. It's a 'Lilah,'" Lilah quipped in self-satisfaction at her cleverness. Yet her smirk faded as she saw how crestfallen Wesley looked. Deciding that she could not convince the ex-Watcher to accept the truth, she turned and looked at the only one who could do that - Angel. "You're the one with the preternatural senses. You tell him."

With a heavy sigh, Angel turned sympathetic eyes towards Wesley, knowing full well how this unexpected visit must have shaken his old friend right down to the core. This is all we needed right now, I swear...

"It's true, Wes. It's her," Angel said at last, knowing full well that Lilah was really here - and how she was here. He just didn't have a clue as to the 'why' yet. "I can tell by the scent - you can't fool a vampire that way, with a ringer of some sort."

At that moment, Gunn and Fred came bolting down the stairs, followed by Darla, Connor and Dawn.

"We heard the crash," Gunn called out hurriedly, before he caught sight of their unannounced visitor. "What's the emergen-whoa!"

"Omigod," a stunned Fred quietly muttered as she caught sight of Lilah's smirking form.

"No way," Connor breathed, stunned. Dawn only stared in confusion, having no clue why everyone was so surprised over some lady having arrived and standing in the hotel's lobby.

Darla's face was filled with visible surprise, and a slight hint of apprehension. "Lilah," she said, almost questioningly.

Catching sight of Darla, the dead lawyer's smile grew wider. "Well, well, well! Hello, Darla. I guess it's true what they say - you really can't keep a good woman down. No matter how many times she gets killed around here."

Darla scowled, regarding the former lawyer coldly. "What the hell are you doing here? And, more importantly, why aren't you dead?"

Lilah scoffed. "Hello, pot? This is kettle. You're black." She smirked at the blonde woman as she and the others slowly made their way down the stairs into the lobby. "What's the matter, Darla? Afraid that I'm stealing your thunder as the Comeback Queen from the Dead?"

"Um, actually? I think that's sorta my title," Buffy chimed in.

Eying Wesley's tense, increasingly stiff and brooding figure, Darla fought down her sense of sympathy and an odd surge of jealousy and returned her focus on the dead woman. "Lilah, what are you doing here?"

"I believe the appropriate term is...unfinished business," Lilah knowingly replied, as cocky as ever.

At that, Lilah's gaze trailed over to Lindsey, who was staring at his former colleague with interested eyes. The look of recognition on the dead woman's face was tempered by amusement, and a slight hostility born of old rivalry.

"Speaking of which," she purred. "Look who came crawling back to LA. What happened, Lindsey? Got bored pushing candy at your little shack in Podunk or wherever the hell you were, so you showed up to get a piece of the action? Or were you maybe hoping the Senior Partners would take you back into the fold, if you just begged them hard enough?"

Lindsey offered his ex-rival a cocky smirk, not in the least surprised as to how she could be here after hearing the tale of her demise. "Lilah. Wish I could say it was good to see ya, but then you could always smell B.S. from a mile away. And as I recall, begging was always more your field of expertise. It's probably why the Senior Partners picked me over you to run Special Projects, right before I quit the firm. Guess they needed someone with balls."

Lilah sneered, "Oh, believe me, bucko, I've got bigger balls than you could ever dream of."

The Midwest native smiled cheekily, and then shook his head. "Nah. Way too easy."

With a disgusted shake of her head, Lilah turned away from him - Cocky bastard, if only I had the ability to vaporize him - only to catch sight of a scowling Kate.

"Detective Lockley," the female lawyer greeted and smiled her almost predatorily. "Or is it former detective these days? How's life playing den mother for a bunch of castaway kids treating you? I bet your dear old dad would be so proud."

Kate's blue eyes went diamond-hard as she eyed Lilah with pure contempt. "Go to hell, bitch."

Lilah shrugged, giving her an infuriating smile. "I have. It's overrated."

"Wait, I don't understand…how is she back? I mean, the woman was dead," a confused Fred wondered, not in the least happy to see their old enemy back among them.

"She's still dead," Angel tersely responded, slowly circling Lilah with his ever-watchful eyes; to which, he gave her credit, she didn't even flinch at.

"Vampire?" a stone-faced Gunn asked, tensing for possible battle.

"Eww. Please," Lilah shuddered, as if the very thought repulsed her. "Angelus drank from me, true. But, like with most men, it was a one way street. I was dead already."

Turning to Wesley, she gave a small smirk. "Besides, my Wesley made sure I'd be spared... just in case."

At that, Lilah tugged at her scarf and pulled it down, revealing the red-ringed scar from her recent decapitation, which had been done by Wesley's own hands.

Darla watched as Wes looked like he was about to be sick. His piercing blue eyes fell to the floor, horrified by the sight. The blonde felt the urge to go towards him, to squeeze his hand in comfort, but restrained herself. It was not her place to do so.

Yet that knowledge did nothing to banish the urge to throttle Lilah, as the beautiful auburn-haired woman smiled at Wesley with something akin to tenderness. "It's okay, lover. I never felt a thing."

Wesley's eyes hardened as he met Lilah's again. "I'm sure that's true," he coolly replied.

The double meaning of those words was not lost on Lilah, who felt a stab of hurt inside her as she slowly pulled back her scarf. Guess absence really doesn't make the heart grow fonder, on occasion.

"Man, I don't get this. If she ain't alive and she ain't a vampire...then what in the hell is she?" a puzzled and somewhat frustrated Gunn asked.

"I'm just a messenger. That's all. They'll be sending me straight back to hell once I'm finished here," Lilah shrugged in her detached manner.

"Who's they?" Buffy asked, suspiciously.

"Wolfram & Hart," Angel said, recalling his posthumous meeting with Holland Manners two years ago; as he'd attempted to head for the head office to destroy the Senior Partners, during their 75-year review of the LA branch of the firm. "The contract she signed with them…it extends beyond her death."

"Standard perpetuity clause, I'm afraid. Should always read the fine print," Lilah sighed in resignation.

"Standard what's-it?" a confused Dawn blurted out.

"Perpetuity. As in, eternity? Infinity? Time without end? Whatever you wanna call it, it's a contractual obligation trademarked by the shamans and mystics of Wolfram & Hart," Lindsey explained to them. "It's only given to high-ranking employees. Basically, once you sign a contract like that you get a salary almost beyond belief, plus earthly power and influence only below that of the Circle of the Black Thorn - but your soul is permanently bound in servitude to Wolfram & Hart. That way, the Senior Partners keep valuable assets under their thumb and at their disposal, at their discretion. Anytime they want. Forever."

Willow turned and looked at Oz as they took that in. "Wow. That…sounds like it sucks," the redhead muttered.

"Not very pleasant-sounding, no," Oz concurred simply.

Wesley had to take a moment to sit down, as he struggled to comprehend what he'd just heard. Lilah. His dead lover. Someone he had come to care for, no matter how much he didn't want to. Sentenced to be trapped in service to the Wolf, Ram & Hart. Forever.

The concept made Wes sicker and angrier than he could have ever thought possible.

Lilah merely shrugged. "Hey, I knew the risks when I signed on. Though I was hoping my trip to the Other Side would've come later rather than sooner."

At that, her green eyes trailed to Cordelia, who was still rooted in place, barely able to comprehend that Lilah Morgan - who had died by her own hand - was standing right there, only a few feet from her.

"And I believe I have you to thank for that," Lilah dryly said. "Well, sort of anyway."

"Oh, God," Cordelia uttered, feeling a wave of nausea and shock flooding her system, all of her sins staring back at her, taunting her. "Lilah, I -"

"Tell me something, Cordelia. Have you ever heard of M theory?" the lawyer interrupted the former seer. "No? Then how about you, Mr. Harris? According to my information, you used to be a sci-fi geek - and proud of it."

"Lady, I was a lot of things in high school. And I heard the term somewhere, but I don't recall where exactly right now," the still-bruised and battered Xander replied guardedly.

"Anyone else?" Lilah beamed. "How about you, Mr. Wells?"

"Uh, well," Andrew stammered, as people turned their attention to him. "The way I heard it on TV and the comics, M theory is short for the 'multiple worlds' theory, right? That our Earth is only one of many parallel universes, within a, uh, larger multiverse - containing infinite dimensions where anything which can happen, does?"

"Very good, Mr. Wells!" Lilah congratulated him cheerfully. "You know, I don't know why that Skip character insisted that you just sort of Forrest Gump'ed your way into all this. You totally contribute, in your own feeble manner!"

"Mind if I ask where the hell all this is goin', Dead Woman Walking?" Gunn demanded, wishing it was as simple as just using his axe on Lilah to get rid of her.

"Of course not," Lilah said, turning to face Cordelia. "You're special, you see. In all the multiverse, there's only one Cordelia Chase like you. And every time you look in the mirror, you're staring at her."

"I, I don't..." Cordelia stammered, even as Xander limped closer to her.

"Okay, let me try to dumb it down a bit for you," Lilah said generously. "Like Skip said a few years ago, you make decisions every day. Throughout your life, the choices you make define you. Plus there's always the, how shall I put this, road not travelled. Except in an alternate reality, the road was travelled. Every single choice you could ever make, it all happens to a different version of you in an alternate reality.

"I mean, remember how Skip showed you what your life could have been, roughly fourteen months ago?" Lilah went on. "Well, in one reality, Cordelia Chase did become a TV star - even though she eventually committed suicide after the show was canned, and her career totally tanked. In another reality, she died after refusing to become half-demon during her birthday. In yet another, she went crazy trying to claw her eyes out after Angel failed to beat that clown Vocah, and that Cordelia ended up a drugged vegetable. There are also quite a number of realities where she was killed in Sunnydale - either becoming a vampire, or the Bride of Frankenstein, or eaten by that idiot Machida..."

"Like Gunn said, what's your point?" Angel demanded coldly, as he didn't like this little trip down Memory Lane one bit.

"Uh..." Xander said, amazingly he had somehow figured it out by now. Once a sci-fi geek, always a sci-fi geek. "Maybe we should just change the subject -"

"Figured it out, have you, Mr. Harris?" Lilah said approvingly. "Good for you! But just to make it clear to your ex-girlfriend - someone you never made it work with any reality, by the way - there's only one Cordelia Chase that's alive and awake anymore, throughout the entire infinity of the multiverse. Her. She's either dead, in a coma or a vampire in every other dimension out there. In other words, she's become the ultimate fifth wheel in the story of life! I just thought she'd like to know that - given the role she played in my murder, a few weeks back."

"Lilah..." Cordelia meekly started to say.

"Is this the part where you say 'I'm sorry'?" Lilah replied mockingly. "Well, sweetie, there are some things that 'I'm sorry' just can't fix. Just a little free advice, you know?" She smirked. "I'm just saying…speaking as one murderer to another."

Those icy, cruel words - just like in her dream last night - finally pushed the already-frayed Cordelia to her breaking point, her stomach beginning to wretch and her guilt becoming overwhelming. At that moment, she bolted out the front door, needing to get away from here as quickly as she could.

"Cordy, wait!" Xander called out, taking a moment to shoot a poisonous look at Lilah before he limped after the distraught Seer.

Lilah was thoroughly pleased with herself. "Gee, wonder what crawled up her butt and d-aack!"

In a flash, her words were cut off as a livid Angel, in a blur of fury, pinned Lilah up against a nearby wall by the throat, his grip like steel as it clasped around her windpipe.

Buffy was startled, rarely ever having seen Angel this pissed. Although a part of her was mildly interested in seeing him rip this evil bitch's head off, for all the mind games just now.

"I'd say you've worn out your welcome; but then, that would imply that you were ever welcome here in the first place, Lilah," Angel snarled quietly, his voice dripping with menace.

"Hey…watch the head…it…comes off…kinda easy," Lilah rasped in his grip.

"Well, if you want to keep it where it is? I suggest you get to the point, and then get your dead ass out of my house," the ensouled vampire coldly replied.

"Love to," she gasped. "If you…stop…squeezing…windpipe…"

"Angel," Wesley called out, somewhat eager to get this reunion over with. "Lilah can't talk if you don't let go. Let's hear her out, before the Senior Partners lose all patience with her and she gets sent back to hell."

Despite the urge to take Lilah's newly reattached head and play a round of dodgeball with it, Angel reluctantly released his grip on the dead woman's throat. He knew that Wesley was right; if Lilah was here, it was for a reason. And now, more than ever, they needed answers.

"One minute," Angel tersely bit out. "That's all you have to get to the point. No more mind games, no more snarks, and no more catty observations. Tell us what you know, and then get gone. That's the deal."

"And I suggest you don't waste time, lady," Buffy replied, her eyes narrowed as she backed Angel up. "We're kinda on a schedule here."

Tenderly rubbing her neck, Lilah cleared her throat. "Right. Forgot you superhero types aren't much for the small talk."

After a beat, Lilah sighed. "In a nutshell…it wasn't originally supposed to happen this way."

"What way?" Angel spat out.

"All this," Lilah gestured in general around her. "Everything that's happened in this branch of the multiverse, since your brat over there made his choice regarding that idiot virgin sacrifice girl. The Sunnydale people showing up here…that Power's premature birth…all of the First's surgical strikes against its enemies…all of it unexpected, but still leading up to the First Evil's big endgame."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy rolled her eyes. "The First is after Jasmine's body to become corporeal, and then it's gonna lead its Army of Darkness or whatever in a whole global Armageddon thing."

"We already know all this, Lilah," Angel shrugged dismissively, thinking he was about to hear nothing new.

Which was why Lilah's sardonic laugh surprised him. "Are you kidding me, pal? You really think the Senior Partners would have sent me here for something that, well, bush league?"

Buffy felt a sense of dread come over her as she heard those words. "Bush league?"

Giles's face was troubled as he walked in closer. "What are you saying, Ms. Morgan?"

"I'm saying that, like always, you people are missing the bigger, nastier picture," Lilah sighed in dramatic fashion. "You really think the First would have spent all that time and resources just to get some fleshy threads and play a live action version of 'Risk?'"

"Ooh! I love that game," Andrew piped up, only to be silenced when Anya's admonishing hand smacked him upside his head. She did it with a bit too much strength, too; because the ex-demon could not help wondering whether or not there was an alternate reality out there where Xander had made the right choice last year, and where she was Mrs. Anya Harris right now.

Ignoring them both, Lilah continued, "You're thinking too small, people. Global level's big, but it's still small potatoes compared to the real plan."

"And that would be what?" Buffy asked, impatiently. "Get to the point, okay? I've never had much of an attention span; and quite frankly, lady, you're starting to bore me."

"Spit it out, Lilah," Angel demanded, tiring of the lawyer's games.

"In short…the First is going to erase all of existence," Lilah replied. "Every galaxy, every star, every planet, every demon dimension, every alternate reality. Every living species, heck, every single-celled amoeba…all gone in a flash. And it's all going to happen about three weeks from now."

There was no need for words among the now-stunned and the horrified crowd.

That smug grin once again appeared on Lilah's pretty face. "Oh, wait…is my one-minute time limit up already? Or do you want me to keep going?"


TBC...


Next: Jasmine falls into the clutches of the First...what horror is the Origin of All Evil planning?

And to save the universe, will Angel and Buffy make a deal with a deadly foe?


Well, that's all for now. More to come later; and remember: like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter...oh wait, I don't have those yet (shrugs) ...and take care, Spike Your Hair!

-Later!

Jean-theGuardian