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

Part 61

Empty Places, Part 3


Sunnydale, California

Summers Residence, 1630 Revello Drive - Basement

11:23 a.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Meanwhile, at Command Central, Anya and Andrew were holding a training session in the basement. Potentials were squeezed in everywhere—on the floor, sitting on the washer and dryer.

They were pissed and scared and bewildered. Not over the vineyard attack in the slightest. Andrew stood next to a large easel with a stack of large posterboard cards on it while Anya conducted a lecture. The demoralized Potentials grouped all around them.

Morale was subterranean, like the foe they fought.

"So we know that a battle is coming," Anya summed up. "Ubervamps galore."

Andrew wrote "Ubervamp" on one of the cards and showed it to the home audience with the grace and style of Vanna White.

"And we know the Ubervamps are hard to kill," Anya continued.

Andrew murmured to himself as he scribbled it down, "Hard . . . to . . ."

"But I've been out talking to my old contacts," Anya cut in, "and they've provided some surprising bits of news. Yay for them."

The only person who reacted favorably was Andrew, who continued to work on his posterboard cards, with a dash and dedication that would make Giles proud.

"Ubervamps can, for example, be staked," Anya announced. "Right in the heart—Zing! Poof!—like regular vamps. We didn't know that. Of course," she added thoughtfully, "there's an incredibly strong sternum on these guys, so it's like driving a wooden stake through solid steel . . . but you're all super strong, right?"

"Um…no," a scoffing Molly shot back, annoyed. This had to be the worst teaching session the British Potential had ever had. And she found Anya's teaching efforts to be…lacking, to put it kindly.

"Oh. Right." Anya seemed to remember that the girls contained only the Potential for superstrength. The power of The Slayer didn't belong to any of them, yet. "But the heart thing is still good to know since holy water runs off these guys like they're Scotch-guarded…but guess what, they're not coming out during the day."

Andrew fashioned a lovely sun on the board.

"Also, stay away from their teeth and the claws they use to shed flesh," Anya continued, like she was a teacher giving the world's most awkward lesson to nonplussed students.

With her arm still in a cast, a grumpier-than-normal Rona shifted impatiently, interrupting her. "Okay, you know what? I used to be afraid of the Ubervamp guys. Then the scary preacher blew into town, and now I'm just mostly terrified of him."

"Exactly," Kennedy added, wary and frustrated. "We saw him do stuff . . ."

"Right, well, we're working on getting info on him," Anya told them, "But in the meantime . . ."

Quietly, her fear evident, a despondent Amanda murmured, "Why bother?" Everyone stopped and looked at her. "Nothing works. Nothing will."

That stumped Anya, who began shuffling through her note cards as if answers lay there, when they didn't. There were no answers for what had happened to all of them.

An equally discouraged Vi couldn't help but agree. "Yeah. I mean, I saw Caleb in action." Her pretty eyes looked haunted as she remembered the machine-like Caleb in action, striking and killing without mercy or remorse. "He was, like…unstoppable. Like the Terminator, or something. What if…what if we can't beat him?"

Andrew looked like he wanted to start babbling about 'The Terminator' franchise, but Anya stopped him cold with a warning glare. For emphasis, she subtly raised her hand with the index cards at him, as if threatening to smack him with them. Getting the message clearly, the sci-fi obsessed nerdling shut his mouth and shrunk back in his place.

"Right, well," a flustered Anya murmured as she turned back to the teens, which she saw she was rapidly losing. Flustered, the former Vengeance Demon stopped and looked up from the cards. "Look, I know you're upset."

Then she put down the note cards and said, "I, myself, would very much like to be sitting at the bedside of my one-eyed ex-fiancé right now rather than killing time with you people in this overcrowded and, might I add, increasingly ripe-smelling basement, and I would be if not for a certain awkward discussion he and I, weeks before that annoying crybaby Cordelia girl breezed back into his life…" Anya grumbled that last part bitterly before continuing, "...had right over there on that cot immediately following some exciting and unexpected break-up sex."

The three Potentials who had been sitting on the cot gingerly slid off it.

"I need to give him space," Anya said. "So I'm doing what I can do. Contributing what I can." She smiled genuinely at the girls, trying to buoy their rapidly sinking spirits. "And so are all of you. You still need to have all this information. We can't stop just because something else is trying to kill you, too."

She smiled sympathetically at the girls; Andrew looked quite moved.

"Now, I've got more information on the Ubervamps, so perk up those ears," she said, shifting to a cheerier tone of voice. "They're primal, not like your . . . evolved, intuitive, and attractive demons. These guys are all instinct, so don't bother with the logic or, you know, pleading for your life . . ."

An annoyed Molly tiredly pressed her head against her palms. I never thought I'd think this, but where's Caleb with a knife when you need him?


My life, a solemn Faith thought, sitting on the kitchen counter, eating potato chips. It's been so long since I've gotten to do something like this.

Over the last few days since awakening from her injuries sustained in The First's captivity, Faith had slowly started to integrate herself back into the fold. She had slowly started to reconnect with some of the others. Wesley, in particular.

That had surprised her, somewhat. Yet she found that since she had woken up, he was the only one that didn't seem to walk around eggshells with her, treat her like some kind of broken doll, someone to feel sorry for. Pity her for surviving her traumatic ordeal. Wesley, she found, had been cautious himself around her, probably given their troubled history together. Yet…he managed to open himself up just a little bit, some advice here, a word of encouragement there. Nothing too gratuitous, but just enough to give her something to get a foothold on as she tried to piece herself back together so she could get to the finish line and win this fight. And for that, she was silently grateful to her former Watcher.

Spike, however…that was another story. Since she had woken up, she had gone to active lengths to avoid him. She would ignore his sometimes desperate attempts to talk to her, and when she couldn't, she would give him cold one-word responses: "fine", "yeah," "whatever", "what?, and "sure." She would shy away from his touch, avoid eye contact with him, ignore his knocking on her door when he tried to talk to her, to get her to open up about what happened to her.

That was the thing, however—she did not want to talk about that. Especially not with him.

It hurt way too much, and she didn't want to fall into that quicksand.

So Faith did what she had done best since she was a kid growing up in that screwed-up apartment with her boozed-up mom in South Boston—bury her pain. Dig a hole and throw it in there, cover it up, and move on. Put on her game face and a smirk, never let them see her crack or cry.

I'll be Miss freakin' Congeniality. It's what I do best, Faith thought to herself as she swallowed hard and closed her eyes, lonely as the lovely dark-haired Slayer was. Never let 'em see you sweat. Bend… but don't break. Never break.

Coming in from around the corner, Molly approached her, eyed her bag of chips hungrily, and asked, "Got enough to share?"

"I'll trade you for a carton of cigarettes and some soap," Faith replied drolly. Off Molly's confused stare, Faith merely shrugged. "Sorry. Prison habit."

At that, Molly gave her a small smile and a quiet giggle, appreciating the humor. Faith relaxed some more, glad for someone appreciating her own brand of funny.

As she handed the bag to Molly, Faith raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "Shouldn't you be down at Hogwarts?"

Molly took some chips and came around to face Faith. She handed her back the bag, flashed a most un-Molly-like smirk and said boldly, "Probably."

Faith managed an approving smirk at her. She had to give the rookie a few cool points for that. "All right, skipping out on class! Score one for the chick from across the pond."

Molly beamed proudly, flattered by the 'cool' Slayer's praise.

Then Faith gave her a wry look. "Anya's technique is probably a little different than what you're used to."

Molly wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That's putting it mildly."

"Do you think there are going to be questions about her sex life?" Amanda asked as she came into the kitchen, side-by-side with Vi. " 'Cause I really hope I don't have to study all that."

"For real," Vi added, grimacing as she recalled all the unwanted bits about Anya's past sexual escapades with Xander. "There's 'TMI', and then there's 'My brain hates my ears for making me hear that stuff.'"

"Hey, don't sweat it. The last time she started talking about getting all sweaty with Xander like that, I just reminded her I had him first. Shut her right the hell up," Faith shrugged as she informed them. Then she thought about that strategy further. "Might work less well for you guys."

Faith stifled a chuckle as she remembered that incident days before the attack on the vineyard. Anya had brought up hers and Xander's sex life inappropriately and randomly—as was Anya's nature—in the middle of an intel debriefing.

Not in the mood to hear any of the ex-demon's prattling on about her sexual escapades any more than Cordelia was, judging by the spark of jealousy in the Seer's eyes that she tried to hide by looking away, Faith "casually" wondered aloud if Xander's prowess in the sack had grown since when she took his virginity. She caught a surprised Cordelia stifling a laugh at the shocked and sour look in Anya's eyes, the former Vengeance Demon staring a hole through the brunette Slayer, to which Faith merely coyly smiled at. The end result was a scowling Anya leaving the debriefing in a huff, muttering curses in some ancient demonic language under her breath.

Still, Vi, Molly and Amanda found Faith's tale amusing, the three girls giggling gleefully in appreciation. That made Faith genuinely smile. She had never been one to have many girl friends growing up; and God knew her attempts to do that with Buffy were…unsuccessful in the end. So being able to bond with these girls, who weren't that much younger than she was when she was first Called, gave Faith a sense of belonging.

A sense of being…normal, she realized.

Listening in from the steps, Kennedy quietly eavesdropped in on Faith's conversation with the Potentials. She cared very little for Faith, thinking her nothing more than a slutty counterpart to Buffy, and probably one that was more broken than normal given the state of how she reappeared at the house following her escape. And the haughty boarding school-raised Potential especially held a grudge against Faith for beating her down in front of the other Potentials on her first day in the house. Yet something told her that it would be in her best interests to make nice with the Boston-born Slayer…for now, anyways, Kennedy wryly thought.

"Thing is...what's the point?" Kennedy said, as she suddenly appeared from around the corner, joining in with the rest of the Potentials. "Studying demon hot zones and pressure points doesn't do a helluva lot of good when Preacher Man is out there ready to finish the job he started."

As she kept her face neutral and fought not to flinch at the mention of the psychotic false preacher douchebag who ruthlessly tortured her, Faith also fought not to roll her eyes at Kennedy's entrance. Faith didn't much like this cocky boarding school brat, either. Yet for the sake of the others, she decided to play nice.

The brunette Slayer took Kennedy's words in. "No one's come up with any info yet about the Asshat in Black?"

"No," Amanda told her with an exasperated sigh. "Nothing is working, not research, not Anya's contacts…"

Vi anxiously looked to Faith. "We're lousy with dead ends around here. Everyone's feeling pretty... pointless. We don't even have a place to start."

Faith frowned. The troops were losing morale, she realized. That was never good in war...

Then a returning Buffy called from the doorway.

"Hey, who's here?" the blonde Slayer called out.

Faith and the Potentials went to the front door to find Buffy coming in, a thick manila folder with her, with Fred and Gunn accompanying her. The two had agreed to drive Buffy to and from the hospital earlier in the day to help her save time.

Not soon after, Dawn came down the stairs to join them.

For a moment, the two sisters stood staring at each other awkwardly. Everyone looked at each other with some trepidation, knowing about how both Summers girls nearly tore the house apart a few nights ago in their fight.

"Hey, Dawnie–umm…hey, Dawn," Buffy said hesitantly, catching herself before giving her baby sister a guarded half-smile. She remembered well that Dawn warned her to stop calling her 'Dawnie' during their fight several nights ago.

"Buffy…" a wary Dawn greeted, just as hesitant and not smiling, though silently relieved to see her big sister. The Key was still angry with Buffy for many reasons, especially concerning her involvement in her troubled boyfriend Connor's decision to run away from home, yet Dawn was hopeful for good news from the hospital. "How's…how's Xander?"

"He's…he's doing really well. He's, um, ready to come home, I think," Buffy said, going for the good news.

More awkward silence followed.

Gunn leaned over to Fred's ear. "Awk-waard," he sang quietly, to which Fred chidingly gave him a light nudge with her elbow. Even though, the Texan genius silently admitted, Gunn was absolutely right about the tense scene before them.

Eager to break the uncomfortable tension and wanting to throw both girls a life preserver, Faith gestured to the manila folder in Buffy's hand. "Hey, B. Whatcha got there?"

"Combo deal. Info that Willow and Mister Giles were able to get from the police database plus the intel records that Lindsey managed to download from the Wolfram and Hart servers. Considering the number The Beast and The First's minions did on them, it's a miracle they're still online," Fred replied, taking the file from Buffy and dropping it on the dining room table.

Ignoring some of the appreciative glances that a few of the girls were giving him, the muscular Gunn chimed in, "Files are pretty detailed up until the point where Wolfram & Hart kicked him to the curb for being too crazy for their tastes. Then the files go dark for a 10-year gap. Like the dude just dropped off the map. But we figure, you know, with Caleb's overt religious thang, if we want to learn more about what he's been up to between then and now, we should try finding out maybe where he's been."

A curious Faith flipped through the file, perusing them with her eyes. "Incidents of violence and vandalism connected to California and religious institutions in the last ten years." Faith read it aloud, for the benefit of Kennedy, Vi, Molly and Amanda, "Looks like this gives us a place to start."

Faith began passing the files around among the group, the young heroes all eager to dig into them and get to work.

"Exactly," Buffy concurred. "We start with California. If nothing turns up, we expand the search to other areas. But a guy like Caleb didn't just get in the game. He's been playing for a while. And I want to know where."

"So we look at recent events, see if anything smacks of Caleb's M.O.," Dawn ventured.

"M.O.?" a puzzled Vi asked aloud.

"Modus operandi. It means how he operates. How he works," Molly clarified to the grateful red-haired Potential.

"Right. And if that doesn't work, we'll try something else," Buffy said, still optimistic as she tried to assure the others. "Whatever it takes."

She turned again to look at Dawn. "You...okay to help?" she asked her baby sister, somewhat cautiously. Buffy knew that aside from Dawn's recently-awakened…gifts…she had also become a rather capable researcher in her own right. She was still no Giles or Willow, but the youngest Summers girl was becoming very useful when it came to research. Still, she didn't want to press Dawn if she didn't want to do it. Things had become tense enough between them lately as it was.

Not wanting to dwell on her anger at Buffy or her increasing worry over Connor's disappearance for now, Dawn raised her brows in mock innocence as she drawled, "Well I was going to do lots and lots of homework, but darn all the luck, that's when they canceled school. So it turns out I have the time."

"Good," Buffy said with a relieved sigh, settling on a chair and pouring over the files.

There was a moment, and then Dawn ventured, "Hey, now, what was Xander's mood like, you know, exactly? 'Cause yesterday he seemed more resigned than morose, so I was wondering if he's trending upward still."

Silent, Buffy concentrated on the papers very hard, not really wanting to answer Dawn's question about Xander. Talking about Xander even more was too…painful. And she didn't have time to deal with that pain right now. There was only the time to act.

The First's endgame, The Awakening, was getting closer each day, Buffy gravely realized, the town was emptying in a panic and they still didn't have any answers on this new fiend The First had unleashed upon them. And they needed those answers now.

Unsatisfied by her sister's silence, Dawn pressed. "Oh, and you were going to talk to his doctor about the meds, right, because it seemed like..."

A tensing Buffy kept her eyes trained on the papers, and Dawn finally got the message.

"Or, we could make talk about this later," Dawn quietly added.

"Okay," Buffy answered tightly.

Sensing the growing discomfort from Buffy, Faith quickly jumped in. "Uh, hey, pipsqueak. Why don't you go get some of the stuff you've already gotten from Giles?"

"Fine," Dawn sighed, taking the hint before shooting Faith a mild glare of annoyance at the nickname. "We can cross-reference all of this to Giles' files, see what we get." She thought for a moment, slightly amused, and said, "Plus, I could say 'Giles' files' some more. I'll be right back."

Once Dawn started heading upstairs, Buffy turned to the group at large and tried to refocus her thoughts and their attention on the only thing that mattered at the moment — Caleb.

"Okay," Buffy sighed, "so we're looking for anything that looks like Caleb. His church, his ring..."

"...his ability to render a Slayer useless in just one punch," Kennedy snidely shot back, seeing her opening to take a dig at the Head Slayer in Charge that she had grown to loathe.

In a flash, Buffy could feel the stone-like hand of Caleb slamming against her skull, throwing her entire world upside down with one powerful blow. Reducing the mighty Slayer to little more than a shapely throw rug lying helplessly on the floor while he systematically and ruthlessly went about killing and maiming her friends and allies…

The words and memories cut Buffy more deeply than any knife Caleb had, and the hurt in her eyes told as much.

One could hear a pin drop at the stunned silence that suddenly enveloped the group. Vi, Molly and Amanda all stared in shock at Kennedy, horrified by her casual cruel remark towards Buffy after everything that happened with Caleb. After losing poor little Matthew...

Hiding her urge to smirk, Kennedy innocently pretended to backtrack. "I didn't . . .I don't know why I said that."

Gunn shot Kennedy an irritated glare. He hadn't had much time to interact with Kennedy, but from what he saw, he didn't much care for her. She seemed unusually bossy and mouthy for a girl who had just arrived seemingly the other day. And despite how disgruntled he himself had been with Buffy's decisions of late, he really didn't like the casual potshot the upstart Potential took at Buffy's expense. Judging from the displeased frown Fred gave an uncaring Kennedy, Gunn could see that Fred likely didn't have a high opinion of the girl, either.

"Hey, watch it now…" a scolding Gunn began, his brow furrowed in a scowl as he gave Kennedy a warning look.

"Gunn, no, it's…it's okay," Buffy quietly ground out as she addressed the insolent Potential, although it really wasn't.

Shaking it off, Buffy summoned as much of the Slayer within her to the forefront, taking a deep breath. "You know, I gotta get to the school anyway, pick up the rest of my stuff."

Buffy swiftly got up and moved toward the door. She couldn't get there fast enough.

Faith, shooting Kennedy a black scowl—Not cool, Greenhorn!—followed after Buffy. "B...don't pay Kennedy any attention, you didn't..."

"Faith, it's fine. Don't worry about it," the blonde Slayer said firmly, not wanting to talk about it any further. Then she thought for a moment. Gave Faith a concerned look. "How about you? Are…are you okay? I mean, I know you've had a…I mean, it's been a lot for you lately and—"

"Five-by-five, you know me," Faith quickly replied, flashing a faint smile. She didn't want to talk about what happened to her. Not to Buffy. And especially not to Spike.

Well, whaddaya know? Guess we finally have something in common, after all, Faith silently mused.

Buffy nodded. Faith nodded back.

The two sister Slayers stood in awkward silence, not quite knowing what to say next...

Thankfully, Buffy quickly found a way out. "Hey, um, isn't Anya doing a thing for you guys today?"

Silently groaning, Vi, Molly and Amanda nodded. "Yeah, we were there. We should probably head down there now," Amanda offered graciously, understanding the need for Buffy to hurry things along.

"Okay," Buffy said, approving. "I'll be back soon."

She turned to Faith one last time. "See if you can get everyone started on this stuff in the meantime. Okay?"

Faith gave her an understanding nod. "You got it, B. Whatever you want."

At that, Buffy turned and walked out the front door, hoping the walk to the school would take the humiliating sting out of her reddened cheeks.


Sunnydale, California

Sunnydale High School

30 minutes later


The school was lonely, dark, and deep.

This was the second high school the Hellmouth had defeated, Buffy mused . . . and before that, I burned down the gym at Hemery. If I can graduate, anyone can.

This particular incarnation of Sunnydale High was different. New layout. New lockers. New everything. Yet in some ways, it was still the same.

Not too far from her was the cafeteria where, if she closed her eyes, she could still hear laughter from her lunch table at one of Xander's offbeat jokes during her junior year, Cordelia laughing and giggling as her unlikely boyfriend broke through her 'cool' shield of confidence and poise and found the real Cordy. She could see Willow and Oz smiling at the scene, yet holding hands under the table and playing footsie with one another, lost in their own romantic entanglements. She could remember laughing at the scene, distracting her from daydreaming of Angel, his soulful eyes, his secret smile, doodling his name in her notebook absently and silently wishing her vampire boyfriend could be here with them, sharing in the levity of the moment.

A few steps more, and she could see the library. Similar to the place where she and the gang would often research stopping the latest 'Monster of the Week' during her senior year. She could almost see Giles standing near the chalkboard, lecturing and guiding her and the gang during research. She could smell the greasy steak taco that a bored Faith was crunching down on hungrily as she listened to the debriefing. She remembered rolling her eye at a younger, pompous Wesley's prattling on about some factoid that he and Giles would snipe at each other about concerning its relevance to the case before them. She could feel Angel's cool hand slide under the table and lock with hers, Buffy relishing and taking comfort in his icy, yet somehow warm touch. She could see Oz tenderly rubbing Willow's shoulders as her fingers clickety-clacked away on the keyboard of the computer perusing databases and police records. She could spy out of the corner of her eye the way a few books fell from the book shelves were Xander and Cordelia had hidden in for an impromptu make-out session near the demonology books, prompting Buffy to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

She could see and almost hear the hole open from which the massive, tentacled Hellmouth Spawn had emerged from the depths of hell itself in the library after the Sisterhood of Jhe had tried to open the Hellmouth and bring about Armageddon. She could smell the foul, garbage-like scent of the abomination as she sliced at it with her sword, Angel on the other side hacking at its tentacles with his battle ax, the two of them the only thing standing between it and their friends. And all of them the only thing standing between it…and the world.

It was a graveyard of memories for Buffy. Some good, some bad. All of them unforgettable.

Funny…it seems like a lifetime ago. Literally, Buffy mused absently as she rubbed her arms in comfort. How were things so strange and yet…simple back then?

The answer, she knew, was because of the one thing scarier than anything else the Hellmouth could ever throw at them: the burden of life. The burden of growing up.

Leaving those happy years behind.

Her face prickling, emotions churning, a nostalgic and increasingly emotional Buffy managed to find the guidance counselor's office. With a sigh, she sat down at her desk and looked at her things.

For the longest time, she didn't move. Took it all in . . .

...and then she finally saw a picture of Xander, Willow, Cordelia, Oz, Angel and her. It was taken by Giles at sunset during a carnival near Hammersmith Park in her junior year. All of them with their arms around each other in a group picture.

The O.G. Scooby Gang. The secret heroes of Sunnydale.

They were all so young, so filled with excitement and life.

Herself, before she died and came back twice, and lost her beloved mother.

Angel, her sweet, beloved Angel, before he lost his soul and turned into a killer that she had to send to Hell. Before he came back, haunted and changed, and eventually driven to leave her and this town behind.

Willow, before her addiction to magick. Before she was driven to almost destroy the world.

Oz, before the wolf inside him, forced him to flee the town he grew up in, as well as leave Willow, the woman he loved.

Cordelia, before she became a Seer, before a power-mad Power That Was from the cosmos possessed her body, turned her against her friends and used her to murder thousands, leaving the once-confident and proud young woman an emotional wreck.

Xander…before his eye was…before he was…before, because of her, his eye was…his eye

She picked it up and stared at the faces, almost as if she were gazing at children she had once loved and lost. Oh, God . . .

Buffy could feel the hot tears start to sting the back of her eyes, her lump in her throat beginning to swell and close it. It was too much, just too much . . .

Clip-

Clop.

Clip-

Clop.

...and then a voice drawled from the dark.

Arrogant. Cruel. Condescending.

Southern.

"Aww, now, look. Things don't go exactly your way, so here come the waterworks."

Buffy's eyes widened, her instincts suddenly on alert. She knew that voice. Hated it with every fiber of her being . . .

"Ain't that just like a woman?" Caleb drawled, oozing out of the darkness like so much slime.

Her brief flash of fear quickly overcome by rage, The Slayer took charge, suddenly standing up to face her foe, livid, ready to kill . . . trying her best to ignore that deep in the back of her mind and heart, Buffy Summers was quite terrified.

"Get out of here," she ordered him, ice in her voice and fire in her hazel green eyes. It was a look that would have given many a man and demon pause coming from The Chosen One.

Yet Caleb, unafraid, merely laughed and shook a finger at her. "Now, now, little girl. Manners. Though I do imagine that firebrand tongue of yours has inflamed many a man. Weak as they are."

The meaning behind those words hit Buffy like a splash of ice water, and she felt a spike of revulsion and rage course through her. You unbelievable, misogynist asshole!...

He slowly glided toward her desk, as if he had no worries and plenty of time.

Glancing around as he took in his surroundings, the defrocked mad preacher ventured, "This here's a public school, ain't it? Kind of deserted." He shrugged. "That's only just, I suppose. Folks work so hard at keeping the Lord out, and look what happens in return. God abandons you."

Caleb grinned darkly. "Not that He could do you much good now, anyway."

He likes to hear himself talk, Buffy observantly noticed, filing away that bit of info. He even had turned his back to Buffy, she had noticed. As if he had nothing to fear from her.

As if he knows he could kill me at any time he wants, Buffy realized with a shiver before steeling herself. Fine. Keep talking, jackass. Give me just a little more time…

As the mad preacher prattled on, Buffy slowly, stealthily reached for her desk drawer. Where her stake lay.

But Caleb's ever-watchful eye caught her motion, and he shook his head in a playful, warning gesture.

"Ah-ah-ah! I wouldn't, were I you, sweet pea. Fighting back didn't do you much good last time, did it?" He grinned and moved closer to her.

All at once, the unbidden images of that awful night in the vineyard flashed before Buffy's eyes…

Her strength useless.

Faith getting taken.

All those kids dying around her.

And...and Xander...

"And how is poor, sweet Xander?" Caleb wondered aloud, as if he could read the dark, pained thoughts behind Buffy's beautiful hazel-green eyes. He moved closer to her, wanting to relish the fear radiating off of her. "Let him know he's in my prayers. And any time he's willing..."

He smiled like a jackal as he mockingly wriggled his thumb towards his eye, making squelching sounds to imitate the sound of it squishing through the eye, and Buffy felt a spike of white-hot rage in her veins as she knew what he meant. ". . . I'm more than ready to finish the job."

You son of a bitch! Buffy glowered at the murderous ex-minister, feeling the urge to commit a murder of her own.

Buffy's voice was laced with a low, yet feral warning. "I'm only going to say this once. You go anywhere near Xander again...and I will finish you."

Without warning, Caleb suddenly, violently shoved Buffy's desk, tipping it on its side and out of the way. A spark of anger flashed in his eyes, and Buffy, now shifting her feet in a defensive stance, cursed her heart for how it jumped in fear.

"Mind your manners!" he loudly reprimanded Buffy, as if she were no more than a child who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Taking a moment, Caleb calmed himself, returned his voice to a civil, friendly tone, as if he was talking with a lost member of the Sunday flock even while he slowly closed the distance between them. Relishing the look of fear in those pretty greenish eyes of hers, close enough to smell the vanilla scent of her golden, flawless skin, the corner of his eyes catching how the little blonde whore's perfect breasts took in hurried breaths as she fought not to tremble before his manhood, before his power.

And he loved every second of it.

"Now, I do believe I did warn you once. You're angry... frustrated, scared. I like that in a girl," he smirked coldly as he looked down at the alert, tiny blonde warrior. "You really should relax a little, darlin'. Look at where you are! History's gonna look back at you, at me, at this place, and they're gonna see the glory. Great things are happenin' now, right here. This school, the seal... it's all gonna be a part of the great sweepin' tide of change, and you're gonna be a part of it."

The enthusiasm in his eyes was wild, like he had personally witnessed the coming of the Lord himself, oh, hallelujah. "Now, knowing all that, all of the glory that's coming, why would you wanna miss that? More importantly, why would you want to get in its way?"

Buffy knew that Caleb was stronger than her.

Knew that she didn't know yet what this monster in man's flesh was truly capable of.

Knew that taking him on right here and now was probably suicide.

Yet she had heard this kind of crap from Caleb's filthy mouth before.

From The Master, the vampire king of Sunnydale.

From Angelus, her beloved Angel's murderous dark side.

From Spike, all the times he used to try to kill her when he was evil.

From Mayor Wilkins, the corrupt immortal desiring demonhood.

From Adam, the half-demon, half-human cyborg.

From Glory, the mentally unstable and violent hell goddess from another dimension.

From Warren, the woman-hating, now-fleshless mad genius.

Monsters, murderers, freaks, demons and fallen gods, all foes who were made of the stuff of nightmares.

They all told Buffy the same damn thing before.

That she was nothing. That she was a bug. That she didn't stand a chance against their power. That she shouldn't even try, that she should just lie down and die, give in to the inevitable, surrender to their might.

Yet she beat them all.

Because Buffy Summers lays down for no one, she reminded herself. The Slayer lays down for no one…

So Buffy Summers, The Slayer, took in his words.

Processed them.

Set her jaw.

Straightened her shoulders...and then The Slayer scowled. "Sorry, Preacher Boy. I guess I'm just...ornery."

POW!

And then Buffy hauled back and decked Caleb with a powerful, wicked right hook across his face, staggering him back.

Buffy fought down a smile as she briefly relished how she had briefly knocked this sadist back…

But Caleb did not go down.

Instead, the crazed preacher recovered, stood, and smiled as he tasted a trickle of blood on his teeth.

Then Caleb laughed.

Laughed.

Like he got off on the violence, on the taste of his own blood in his mouth. "Hehe-ha-ha-haa! Oh, I knew you'd be a wild one—!"

Ignoring her fear and his sick ramblings, Buffy's leg shot out to kick Caleb, but he swiftly grabbed her leg, pivoted his body and swung a vicious backhand that knocked her down, the force of it making the seasoned Slayer see stars.

There was nothing standing between them now.

Shaking off the throbbing pain, Buffy desperately kicked at Caleb's ankles, but he easily stepped aside; then the psychotic ex-clergyman grabbed her tightly by the throat, his iron-like hand clamping down like a vice around the tiny blonde's slender neck, before dragging her lovely body up until she literally dangled off the ground, eye-to-eye with him.

"Ah, Slayer. I'm going to find such…sweet…pleasure in taming you," the mad preacher smiled wildly, delighting in the wide-eyed fear he saw dancing in The Slayer's hazel-green eyes.

As she struggled to breathe in Caleb's grip, fear shooting through her and numbing her, Buffy stared helplessly at this remorseless animal before her, holding her life literally in his hands. Just like The First had done to her not so long ago. Who...are you?

As if he read her mind, his knowing, psychopathic grin was the only answer she received.

Without a moment's hesitation, Caleb tossed Buffy's tiny frame through the window.

CRASH!

Glass rained around her as gravity did the rest of the damage. Buffy slammed against the opposite wall in the hallway outside, her momentum putting a huge hole in it and her head taking the brunt of the impact as she crumpled to the floor.

Unconscious.

Out cold and limp.

Caleb laughed as he walked out of the office to the hallway where a prone Buffy lay face down on the floor. Smiled as he hovered, towered over her motionless body.

He walked over to her, used his foot to casually roll and push the helpless Slayer onto her back. As if the most feared warrior in the demon underworld was little more than a piece of roadkill. Calleb crouched down, placing his hands on each side of the unconscious Buffy's face. Studying her up close for the first time.

As much as Caleb hated to admit it, this Slayer was as beautiful as he was told. Quite a fetching prize, Caleb ruefully mused. Blonde hair shining like the sun, generous chest heaving slowly up and down in shallow breaths that escaped her pink-glossed and perfect pair of lips, hourglass figure peeking through her stylish little shirt, sinfully painted eyes closed peacefully. How many men must she have ensnared with those damnable charms? Caleb wondered.

Were he of weaker flesh, he might have been tempted to explore this little tart and all her hidden treasures as his spoils of war as many times and as many ways from Sunday as he pleased…but instead, he steadied himself, took a deep, icy breath and chuckled. Such thoughts were for weak men, Caleb decided, and he was so much more than merely human now.

This was the great power that his master had warned him about? The Slayer? The unstoppable warrior that had bested vampires, demons and gods? Caleb chuckled at how pathetic that notion sounded now. He let his hand drift town around her soft, supple neck and tighten slightly. How easy it would be just to end this little tart right now, he mused. To just squeeze and squeeze until the last gasp of breath left her body for good, or to twist hard once and end the life of the Slayer...with no more effort than it would take for him to open a soda bottle.

It would be so, so easy…

However, at last, he sighed, letting loose of his grip on a sleeping Buffy's throat. "You're just lucky the big boss doesn't want you dead...yet." He smirked. "But it doesn't mean I don't get to have a little more fun with ya."

He grabbed Buffy's limp hand and began to drag the unconscious beauty's lithe little body along behind him across the floor, as if Buffy were some crude depiction of a cavewoman being yanked by the hair by a neanderthal male, dragging the helpless heroine deeper into the dark bowels of the empty school.

"I hear you have this superiority complex of putting yourself on a pedestal. Well, now, little lady…" he smiled darkly as he looked back at the out-cold and defenseless Buffy, "...let's see what we can't do about that."


London, England - One Hyde Park

Frey Residence

Some time ago


BAM!

Angrily, Angel slammed Markus Fray into the wall, his friends and allies looking on in silence.

"Let them go," Angel demanded, his feral, icy tone showing that he was not in the mood to bargain. "Now!"

"I will…in time," Fray replied, unfazed, his cool smile not leaving his refined, older features.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to play games, Fray?" Angel snarled, his temper flaring dangerously, his vampire face dangerously close to emerging. "If anything happens to them, I guarantee you…they'll be finding your body parts all over this city for years."

Yet Fray merely raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid you are in no position to make demands of me at the moment, Mister Angel."

With a wave of his hand, Fray suddenly sent Angel flying to the other side of the room, crashing against the opposite wall.

Recovering quickly, a scowling Angel drew out Hope's Dagger, which flared brightly in his hand in warning.

"Angel!" Whistler said loudly from his makeshift mystical cell. "Stand down."

A confused Angel eyed his old mentor in bewilderment. "What?"

"You heard me," Whistler said, sighing in resignation. "Stand down. Even with the Dagger, I don't think this is a battle you can win. Believe me…we tried."

Yet that wasn't enough to dissuade Angel.

"You have. I haven't," Angel replied, his voice steadfast and resolute, ready for Round 2, not taking his narrowed eyes off of Fray for even a moment.

Yet the Agent of the Powers merely rolled his eyes at his old protégé. "Seriously? He just threw your ass across the room with one hand. Do you really want to see what he does when he uses two hands? Just stand down. For now."

Yet Angel hesitated, holding his combat position fast.

"Angel…please," Cassandra's voice softly implored him from the sword. "Whistler's judgment is not to be taken lightly. If we have to act, we will. But for now, let us wait."

Reluctantly, Angel lowered his mystical sword.

Fray sighed, somewhat regretfully. "I'm sorry, Mister Angel, I really am. This isn't how I wanted things to transpire."

Angel snorted derisively. "Yeah, threatening a guy's friends? Not a great opening offer, just FYI."

"You left me little choice, however," Fray countered bluntly. "Time is running short. And I will not have Walter Kindel escape from my grasp again! Not this time. Not when I'm so close to finally catching that sniveling little worm. Rest assured, you will be compensated and your friends released…if you are successful. But make no mistake, Mister Angel…you will help me capture Walter Kindel. Whether you like it or not."

Angel glared angrily at the powerful wizard, who only stared back at the undead detective impassively, uncompromising and undaunted.

"Markus, please," Alasdair tried to reason with his old friend from his makeshift prison. "I've known you for many years. This isn't you. As feared and powerful as you were, you've always been a man of honor."

Yet Fray shook his head at the archmage, his eyes holding a bit of regret. "I'm so truly sorry, my old friend. But honor will not help get the justice that my family deserves."

"Markus…you aren't a killer. Not of human life. You've never killed unless it was to protect others or yourself, not even in times of war," the wise Alasdair said, his tone sympathetic. "If your daughter Lisa was here…what would you think she would have wanted?"

"She would have wanted to live," Fray replied coldly, a flash of anger in his eyes that Angel saw and knew well. It was the look of a man driven only by revenge. Only by vengeance. He had seen that look before…Holtz.

"She would have wanted to grow old, to watch her daughter—MY GRANDDAUGHTER!..." Fray bellowed in pained anger, "...grow up and have a healthy, normal life! That's what she would have wanted, Alasdair. They had their lives in front of them, they would have inherited the entirety of my fortune when I passed on. They would have wanted for nothing. I…I would have had a family again..."

Fray broke off, his voice growing briefly hoarse from emotion. "And one twisted, disgusting excuse of a human being took them away from me, and he did it in the most vile, cruel way possible. And he did it with a smile."

"With a song in his heart," Angel muttered quietly, guiltily, remembering how his darker half, Angelus, had basked in the death and destruction he had caused.

While Kindel had nowhere near the body count that his other half did, Angel knew full well from looking into the man's eyes that life and the grief of others meant absolutely nothing to a creature like The Home Wrecker Killer.

Returning his gaze back to Alasdair, Fray bitterly continued. "No. No more. I will not let their deaths go unavenged. Every moment Walter Kindel breathes air in this world is an offense to me and my family, to my very soul, and I will no longer stand for it. He dies. Now."

Sighing, Angel tried to reason with the angry wizard. "Fray…doing this…killing Kindel…won't bring your family back. It won't make that pain go away."

Angel's dark brown eyes grew pained, haunted as memories of the past flashed before them. "Believe me. I have some experience with vengeance. It might feel good…for a moment. But the ghosts you have to live with, the cost of taking another life…that will eat away at you. Corrupt you. Little by little. Day by day. Until all you see in the mirror isn't who you are…but what you've done. Trust me. I live with that every day. Well, not the 'looking in the mirror' part, obviously. But the other stuff? I wouldn't wish that on anyone. This is Kindel's MO. This is what he does. Corrupt lives. Destroy them. That's his wheelhouse. That's what he wants. If you kill Kindel…he wins."

Angel hoped his impassioned speech would reach the wizard.

Yet one look into Fray's icy blue eyes told Angel that his heart would not be swayed. "It will be hard for him to celebrate that win…when he's in Hell."

With that, Fray handed Angel the file again. "Here's the file. I'll provide you with a few materials necessary to protect yourself against the rune's powers. You have 48 hours, Mister Angel. Bring Walter Kindel to me alive, save the girl, and your friends will be released and you shall be compensated for your trouble. If you let him escape, or if you fail…then I will have no choice but to kill your friends. And I assure you…their deaths will not be painless."

He stepped closer to Angel, the two exchanging cold, icy glares. "You have people counting on you, Mister Angel. So word to the wise…don't screw this up."


To Be Continued…


Next: The clock is ticking for Angel as he races to stop a serial killer and save the lives of his friends. Meanwhile, out on the streets, a despondent Connor, alone and mentally fracturing, struggles on his own; can Dawn pull him back from the brink? And Spike struggles to reconnect with Faith. What happened to her in her captivity? And can the vampire break through to her and rekindle their once-burning courtship? And Buffy finds herself at the mercy of the monstrous Caleb. What does the psychotic disciple of The First have in store for the Slayer with the Awakening only days away?

More on the way soon! Please read and review!


-Jean-theGuardian