Charmed: Elizabeth Turner

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

Born with a sense of otherness, Elizabeth 'Buffy' Turner navigates her dual nature as a half-demon alongside her brother Cole, training rigorously to harness her powers while yearning for a life beyond servitude to the dark forces shaping their destiny.

5. Chapter 5: What's My Sleuthing Part 2

Chapter 5: What's My Sleuthing Part 2

November 25, 1997 – Tuesday

Cole's Apartment

Leo followed Phoebe down the dimly lit hallway leading toward Cole's apartment, the sense of urgency palpable in his every step. "Phoebe, we shouldn't even be here. Belthazor…" he cautioned; his voice tinged with anxiety.

"Can wait," Phoebe interrupted, her determination unwavering. "Cole can't. Leo, he will die without your help."

"Then he should be in a hospital," Leo insisted, frustration creeping into his tone.

"He won't go," Phoebe retorted, her pace quickening.

Leo sighed deeply, his brows knitting together in concern. "Phoebe, I cannot heal mortals, you know that," he said firmly. "Not unless they were hurt by evil. It's against the rules."

"So, break the rules. You've done it before," Phoebe urged, her voice softening as she realized the weight of what she was asking. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I just, I can't let him die, Leo."

Leo paused, torn between duty and compassion. "You shouldn't be asking me to do this," he said, his voice filled with quiet anguish.

"I know, but I am," Phoebe replied, her eyes pleading with him as they reached the door to Cole's apartment. They stepped inside to find Buffy helping Cole to sit down on the couch, his face pale and drawn with pain.

Leo's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. "Who is this?" he asked, his gaze shifting to Buffy, wary of the stranger in the room.

"Elizabeth Turner, I'm Cole's sister," Buffy replied, her voice steady and firm. "But you can call me Buffy. I assume you're the doctor?" she asked, her eyes briefly scanning Leo.

"That's right, Buffy," Phoebe interjected, answering for Leo, who nodded in affirmation.

"I was just changing the sheets in Cole's bedroom. If you need me, I'll be in there," Buffy said, turning to walk back into Cole's bedroom. She closed the door behind her, leaving it open just a crack, her vigilance unwavering as she kept watch for any demons that might shimmer in to attack Cole while Leo tended to him.

As soon as Buffy was out of sight, Leo moved over to Cole and sat beside him on the couch. He carefully removed the bandage from Cole's wound, revealing the deep gash underneath. Holding his hands over the injury, Leo concentrated, summoning his healing powers. Golden sparks began to emanate from his hands, but instead of the usual warm glow, the energy seemed erratic and unstable.

"Leo?" Phoebe's voice was laced with concern. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," Leo replied, his face contorted with confusion and effort. "Something's not right." Suddenly, an invisible force blasted him away from Cole, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.

"Leo!" Phoebe cried out, rushing to his side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Leo groaned, sitting up slowly as Buffy came rushing out of the bedroom, her eyes wide with alarm.

"I heard the sound of something falling," Buffy said, her gaze darting around the room.

"I tripped," Leo lied quickly, trying to downplay the incident.

Phoebe turned her attention back to Cole, her worry palpable. "Cole, it's okay. You're okay now," she said softly, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Buffy's eyes fell on Cole's wound. It was partially healed, the edges of the gash knitting together, but it was clear that Leo's attempt had been incomplete.

Summers Home

Cordelia couldn't stop pacing. As Xander sat glumly in a chair, she walked back and forth across the cellar floor, arms clamped about her chest, nerves ready to explode. The dim light cast elongated shadows, her frantic movements turning the space into a disorienting dance of darkness and light.

"Think you could sit down or change your pattern or something?" Xander asked sarcastically, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife. "You're making me queasy."

"Because you're just sitting there." Cordelia turned on him, her eyes flashing with frustration. "You should be thinking up a plan."

"I do have a plan. We wait. Buffy saves us," Xander said, his tone dripping with forced nonchalance.

"How will she even know where to find us?" Cordelia demanded, her voice rising with each word.

Xander gave a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair with a weariness that seemed to seep into his very bones. "Cordelia. This is Buffy's house. Odds are she'll find us."

"What if she doesn't?" Cordelia burst out, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. "I'm supposed to just waste away down here with you? No, thank you." She moved quickly toward the stairs, her footsteps echoing sharply in the confined space.

Xander leapt up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Checking to see if he's gone—" Cordelia said, her hand already reaching for the doorknob.

"That's brilliant. What if he isn't?" Xander asked, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation.

Cordelia's eyes were blazing, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and determination. "Oh, right. You think we should just slack here and hope that somebody else decides to be a hero. Sorry, I forgot I was stranded with a loser—"

"And yet," Xander broke in, his voice cold and cutting, "I never forgot that I was stuck with the numb-brain who let Mr. Mutant into the house in the first place!"

"He looked normal!" Cordelia shouted, her voice echoing off the cold, stone walls of the cellar.

"What—he was supposed to have an arrow and the word 'assassin' over his head?" Xander shouted back, his face flushed with anger. "All it took was the prospect of a free makeover, and you licked his hand like a big, dumb dog!"

"You know what?" Cordelia's voice lowered now, becoming icy cold, her eyes narrowing to slits. "I'm gone. I'd rather be worm food than look at your pathetic face—"

"Then go. I won't stop you," Xander said, his voice hard and unyielding.

With tempers flaring, Xander and Cordelia moved closer, their anger pulling them together like opposing magnets. They were standing toe to toe now, their faces only inches apart, and both of them were seething with fury, their breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

"I bet you wouldn't," Cordelia threw back at him, her voice dripping with disdain. "I bet you'd just let a girl go off to her doom all by herself—"

"Not just any girl," Xander retorted, his tone deliberately patronizing, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're special."

"I can't believe I'm stuck here spending what are probably my last moments on earth with you!" Cordelia exclaimed, her voice breaking with a mixture of exasperation and desperation.

"I hope these are my last moments! Three more seconds of you, and I'm gonna—" Xander started, his voice rising to match her intensity.

"You're gonna what?" Cordelia challenged him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Coward!"

"Moron!" Xander bit back, his voice sharp with pent-up frustration.

"I hate you!" Cordelia spat out, her words laced with venom.

"I hate you!" Xander shot back, his own anger fueling the fire between them.

Furiously, they paused, their emotions swirling out of control like a stormy sea. Then, in a sudden, reckless impulse, they grabbed each other wildly and began to kiss.

Bodies pressed together, lips burning with a mix of fury and desire, they kissed with a passionate intensity that bordered on madness. It was a kiss born from years of love and loathing, tangled in a web of unresolved emotions. The room seemed to pulse around them, the very air charged with electricity as they surrendered to the moment.

They kissed without restraint, their fervor consuming them completely. Time lost its meaning as they kissed desperately, their hearts pounding in sync with each frantic touch of their lips.

At long last, they broke apart, both gasping for breath, their bodies still tingling from the shock of their own actions.

And then, as if jolted by an electric current, they leapt apart, putting distance between them as if their connection had burned them.

For a long, tense moment, they stood apart, staring at each other with wide-eyed disbelief.

"We so need to get out of here," Xander finally muttered, his voice hoarse with emotion, already moving towards the stairs.

Without hesitation, Cordelia bounded up the stairs, her hands shaking as she ripped the tape from the door. "He's gone," she announced with a mix of relief and disbelief, her voice trembling. With that confirmation, they bolted from the cellar.

They managed to make it through the kitchen, the tension thick in the air as they hurried into the dining room. But just as Cordelia followed Xander through the doorway, the serene moment shattered. Hundreds of slimy worms suddenly rained down on them from above, catching them completely off guard.

Shrieking in terror, Cordelia bolted out the front door and into the yard, her panicked footsteps scattering worms in all directions. She was covered with the vile creatures, their slick bodies wriggling over her skin and through her hair, sending waves of revulsion and fear coursing through her.

Xander rushed to her side, his own horror momentarily forgotten as he desperately tried to brush the clinging worms off her trembling form.

"Help!" Cordelia screamed; her voice raw with panic. "Help me!"

Thinking quickly, Xander dashed to a nearby garden hose. With frantic hands, he twisted the nozzle, cranking the water pressure up as high as it would go. With grim determination, he aimed the powerful stream straight at Cordelia.

This time, Cordelia's shrieks pierced the air, her movements wild and frantic as the relentless water pounded against her. She flailed her arms, hopping and twisting in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the clinging worms. Her clothes and hair became drenched, the cold water soaking through to her skin, but with each passing moment, the worms were washed away.

As the last of the wriggling invaders were flushed from her body, Xander swiftly shut off the hose. Without a moment's hesitation, he took Cordelia by the arm and hurried her towards her car, their hearts still racing with the residual shock and fear of the unexpected onslaught.

Cole's Apartment

Buffy walked out of the kitchen, her footsteps light yet purposeful, carrying a glass of water that shimmered in the soft kitchen light. Her concern for Cole was evident as she approached him with gentle care.

"Here you go, Cole," she said softly, offering the glass to her brother.

"Thanks," Cole murmured gratefully, his voice still rough with the remnants of pain. He accepted the glass from Buffy's outstretched hand, his fingers tightening around it as he brought it to his lips. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"You're lucky to be feeling anything right now," Phoebe remarked, her voice tinged with relief as she hovered nearby, her eyes fixed on Cole with a mixture of worry and affection.

"Yeah, I know," Cole responded, briefly glancing up at Leo with a nod of acknowledgment. "You must be one hell of a doctor."

"He is. He's the best," Phoebe affirmed proudly, her gaze shifting between Leo and Cole with admiration.

"I owe you one," Cole added sincerely, his gratitude evident in his eyes.

"Forget it. Phoebe, can I talk to you out there?" Leo interjected, motioning towards the front door with a slight tilt of his head.

"Go ahead, Phoebe. I'll take care of Cole till you return," Buffy offered kindly, her attention shifting from Cole to Leo as she reassured Phoebe.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Phoebe said with a gentle smile, leaning down to kiss Cole's forehead before she and Leo stepped out into the hallway, the door closing quietly behind them.

"I think the Whitelighter suspects, Cole," Buffy remarked quietly, her expression grave as she leaned closer to her brother, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cole's brows furrowed in concern; his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he processed Buffy's revelation. "Suspects what?" he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Buffy hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "That you're not entirely... human," she replied, her tone cautious yet filled with empathy.

Cole's grip tightened on the glass of water, the coolness of the glass a stark contrast to the warmth of his palms. His gaze flickered briefly to the closed door where Phoebe and Leo had disappeared, his thoughts racing. "Does Phoebe know?" he finally asked, his voice barely audible.

Buffy hesitated, her expression softening with empathy. She could see the turmoil in Cole's eyes, the fear of being exposed, of losing everything he held dear. "Not yet," she replied gently, her voice a soothing balm against the storm brewing inside him. "I think that's what the Whitelighter wanted to speak to her about out in the hall."

Cole nodded slowly, digesting this information. He knew Phoebe deserved to know the truth, but the consequences of revealing it weighed heavily on him. His heart raced with uncertainty, torn between protecting her and risking their fragile peace. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Out in the hall, Phoebe looked at her brother-in-law with furrowed brows, concern etched in the lines of her face. "What's the matter?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

"I think we should get out of here now," said Leo, his tone urgent and serious.

Phoebe nodded in agreement, her own apprehension growing. "Whoever's after him could come back. Maybe take his sister with us?" she suggested, her mind already racing through possible dangers.

"That is not what I'm talking about. You saw what happened in there," Leo said, his voice low and troubled.

"Yeah, you healed him," Phoebe replied, trying to grasp the severity of the situation.

"No, Phoebe, I only healed part of him. That has never happened before," Leo explained, his expression grim.

"Well, maybe it's just because he's weak," Phoebe offered optimistically, trying to find a logical explanation.

"That is not the reason," Leo insisted firmly. "I can heal mortals completely. There is no other explanation. He is not who you think he is. And if Buffy is truly his sister as you've been told, she is not who you think she is, either."

Confusion clouded Phoebe's features as she struggled to comprehend Leo's words. "No. I don't understand," she admitted quietly, a knot of worry tightening in her chest.

"They're demons, Phoebe," Leo said gravely, his voice heavy with the weight of revelation. "For all we know, Cole could be the demon that you are trying to vanquish. And Buffy could be the hybrid that Krell told Prue and Piper about. The one that straddles the fence between good and evil. The one that is both demon and Slayer."

"That's ridiculous," Phoebe exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief as she shook her head in denial.

"Think about it," Leo urged, his tone steady and insistent. "Okay, both Belthazor and Cole are hurt, they're both on the run. You saw where Cole's wound is. It's in the same place where Piper cut the flesh from Belthazor."

"No, I don't believe it," Phoebe insisted, her brows furrowing with stubborn defiance.

"You have to believe it," Leo said firmly, his gaze unwavering as he tried to impress upon her the gravity of their situation.

"No, I don't, Leo. I don't. Maybe you should just go," Phoebe suggested, her voice faltering slightly as uncertainty crept into her words.

"No way I'm leaving you here alone with him," Leo declared, his protective instincts kicking in without hesitation.

"I have the potion, don't I? Just go," Phoebe insisted, her voice growing firmer as she pointedly gestured towards the vial of liquid in her hand.

Reluctantly, Leo nodded, knowing Phoebe was capable of handling herself but still torn by the danger that lurked within their midst. With a resigned sigh, he shimmered out of sight, leaving Phoebe standing alone in the hallway, grappling with the weight of Leo's revelation.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Phoebe returned to the apartment, her footsteps echoing softly on the floor. She found Cole and Buffy sitting on the couch, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Everything all right?" Cole asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he looked up at Phoebe.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Phoebe replied with a forced smile, her words ringing hollow even to her own ears. She couldn't shake Leo's words from her mind, the unsettling doubts gnawing at her as she tried to maintain a façade of normalcy.

Abandoned Factory

Drusilla was wasting away, a shadow of her former self. Spike couldn't ignore the toll it had taken on her—her once lively eyes now sunken and haunted, her delicate face drawn and pale, her hands like fragile, white skeletons.

He approached her now with a mixture of tenderness and concern, settling quietly on the edge of her bed. Gently, he stroked her brow, feeling the icy chill of her skin, coaxing her back to the waking world.

"Ah," Drusilla's voice drifted out in a haze of confusion as she struggled to focus on Spike's face. "I was dreaming—"

"Of what, pet?" Spike asked softly, his voice a soothing presence in the dimly lit room.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her words trailing off dreamily. "We were in Paris. You had a branding iron…"

Spike chuckled softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I brought you something," he said gently, hoping to ground her in the present moment.

Drusilla nodded faintly, though her gaze seemed to drift past him, lost in a world only she could see. She stared at the spot where Spike had been, not quite registering that he had momentarily left the room.

"And there were worms in my baguette," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room, a testament to the fractured reality she now inhabited.

She looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion, as Spike suddenly reappeared in the room. This time, he wasn't alone—his presence was accompanied by a tall, imposing figure who was bound and tightly gagged, a helpless captive in Spike's grasp.

Spike's smile spread slowly, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Your sire, my sweet," he announced with pride.

"Angel?" Drusilla's expression brightened with recognition and delight. She watched with fascination as Spike roughly threw Angel into a corner, his bound form landing with a thud against the cold stone.

"The one and only," Spike confirmed, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Now all we need is the new moon tomorrow night. Then he will die, and you will be fully restored." He moved eagerly back to Drusilla's side, assisting her up from the bed and holding her close to him. "My black goddess," he murmured reverently, pressing a kiss to her delicate hand. His lips trailed slowly up her arm, his touch adoring and possessive. "My ripe, wicked plum. It's been—"

"Forever," Drusilla whispered, her voice filled with longing and adoration. She smiled now, drawing Spike closer with an intensity that matched his own. Their lips met in a ravenous kiss, consuming and primal.

Angel couldn't bear to watch. Turning his head away, he felt a tumult of emotions raging inside him—shame and disgust for what he had done to Drusilla in his dark past, loathing for what she had become under his influence, and the helpless realization of his current plight. Fear gripped him too, mingled with a terrible resignation as he contemplated the inevitable fate that awaited him.

At last, Spike and Drusilla drew apart, their gazes locked in a shared moment of intense connection. Drusilla fixed Spike with a coquettish stare. "Let me have him," she purred, her voice tinged with anticipation. "Until the moon tonight."

Spike's jaw tightened visibly in annoyance at the request. Though distant, Angel and Dru shared a tumultuous past that once set the Old World ablaze—a history Spike couldn't entirely erase from his mind. Reluctantly, he nodded, unable to deny Drusilla anything she desired.

"Alright then," Spike finally agreed, his voice low and commanding. "You can play. But don't kill him. He mustn't die until the ritual."

"Bring him to me," Drusilla commanded, her voice carrying a hint of dark amusement.

With a swift motion, Spike yanked Angel off the floor, gripping him roughly by the neck before thrusting him towards Drusilla. She fixed Angel with a slow, cunning smile, her fingers delicately caressing his face with deliberate intent. Spike stood behind her, his eyes alight with sadistic enjoyment as he watched Angel squirm in discomfort.

Refusing to meet Drusilla's gaze, Angel struggled against her touch. But Drusilla, with a sudden, forceful gesture, grabbed his chin and forced his head around, compelling him to look into her eyes—eyes that still held a glimmer of the allure and madness that once ensnared him so completely.

Streets of San Francisco

Prue and Piper trailed behind Krell as he navigated the dark, narrow alley, his senses locked onto Cole's scent. The air was thick with the pungent odors of the city, but Krell's keen nose could still pick up the faint, metallic tang of blood.

"I can smell his blood; he's close," Krell growled, his eyes darting around the shadows.

"Where?" Piper asked, her voice tense with urgency.

"Get your potions ready," Krell instructed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

"You know, it's too bad that he's such a bad guy because he could really come in handy," Prue remarked, her tone laced with a hint of regret.

"Don't push it," Piper warned, her eyes scanning the alley warily as they continued their cautious advance.

As they moved deeper into the alley, Krell stopped abruptly in front of a pile of discarded boxes. With a swift motion, he swept them aside, revealing a homeless man huddled beneath them. The man looked up, startled and confused.

"Vanquish him," Krell commanded, his voice hard and unyielding.

"Hey, what's going on?" the homeless man exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear. "Who are you?"

"It's a trick," Krell snarled. "He's in his human form. Throw the potion."

"I don't know, Krell. Don't you think he would've picked a better human?" Prue remarked, casting a sympathetic glance at the homeless man. "Oh, no offense, honey."

"None taken," the homeless man replied, his voice tinged with weary acceptance.

Krell's impatience flared as he snatched the potion from Piper's hand. "Hey, easy!" Piper cried out, but Krell had already hurled the vial at the homeless man. The potion shattered on impact, but nothing happened, leaving the man standing bewildered and unharmed.

"And you call yourself a Zotar," Piper muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

Undeterred, Krell's eyes caught a glint of something familiar. He bent down and picked up Cole's coat, sniffing it deeply. "Where did you get this coat?" he demanded, his voice a growl of suspicion.

"I didn't do anything," the homeless man stammered, backing away slightly, his eyes wide with fear.

Krell's patience snapped. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against a nearby fence, the metal rattling loudly. "Tell me!" Krell snarled, his face inches from the man's.

"I just found it," the homeless man admitted, his voice trembling. "It was just lying there."

"Leave him alone," Prue intervened, her voice firm and commanding as she stepped forward. She grabbed Krell's arm and forcefully pulled him away from the terrified man. "He's not your enemy."

"Yeah," the homeless man said, his voice tinged with both relief and lingering fear.

Without warning, Krell unleashed a surge of electricity, zapping the homeless man. He convulsed in pain, his cries echoing off the alley walls. Reacting swiftly, Prue lunged forward and tripped Krell, breaking his focus and stopping the assault.

"Thanks, lady," the homeless man gasped, his voice shaky as Prue stepped protectively in front of him.

Krell's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Touch me again, witch, and I'll kill you," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

"You had no reason to hurt that man," Prue retorted, her eyes blazing with righteous anger. She glanced over her shoulder at the homeless man. "Run," she commanded, and without hesitation, he took off down the alley, his footsteps echoing in the distance.

"I'm a demon. It's my nature to hurt people," Krell declared, his tone cold and unapologetic.

"Yeah, and it's in our nature to protect them," Prue shot back, her voice firm and unyielding.

"He's a pathetic wretch. His life means nothing," Krell spat, his disdain evident. "If you'd let me torture him, we'd know where he found the coat."

"Whatever it takes," Prue affirmed, her voice resolute.

"That's right," Krell agreed, though his tone carried an undercurrent of doubt.

"Well, from here on out, it's going to take doing this our way," Prue insisted, her gaze unwavering.

Krell let out a derisive laugh. "Ha, then we will fail," he scoffed. "Because your morality cripples you. It blinds you from doing what must be done."

"There are better ways of getting answers out of people, Krell," Prue countered, her eyes flashing with determination. She bent down and picked up the coat, examining it closely. "Think Phoebe could get a premonition from this?"

Krell's eyes narrowed as he considered the suggestion. "How long ago did the Triad send Belthazor?" Prue asked him, her mind working through the possibilities.

"Two months ago," Krell answered curtly. "Why?"

Prue turned to Piper, holding up the coat. "Does this look familiar to you?" she asked.

Piper frowned, studying the garment. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because Cole has one exactly like it," Prue revealed, her voice heavy with implication.

"Cole? You think Cole is…" Piper began, her eyes widening in realization.

"Belthazor's human form," Prue confirmed, her voice steady. The pieces were falling into place, and the truth was becoming increasingly clear.

Sunnydale High

Giles paced restlessly in front of Kendra Young, his mind racing as he processed the news she had brought. The air in the library felt charged with tension and curiosity. Kendra had approached Giles with a serious demeanor, declaring herself to be a Slayer.

"Your Watcher is Sam Zabuto, you say?" he asked, scrutinizing this new Slayer with keen interest.

Kendra seemed strangely subdued in Giles's presence, almost subservient. Even her voice held a touch of reverence as she answered his question. "Yes, sir."

"We've never met," Giles continued, his tone contemplative. "But he is very well respected in the Watchers' Council."

Kendra nodded but remained silent, her posture rigid and formal.

"What are you called?" Giles asked, shifting his focus back to her.

"I am the Vampire Slayer," Kendra replied with unwavering conviction.

"I meant your name," Giles clarified, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"Oh." Kendra nodded again, her expression earnest. "They call me Kendra, only. I have no last name, sir."

The formality of her speech and her demeanor struck Giles as both intriguing and slightly disconcerting. Before he could probe further, the library doors creaked open, and Willow stepped inside, her face brightening with a welcoming smile.

"Hey—" Willow began, her voice cheerful and filled with warmth.

Before she could finish her sentence, Kendra moved with lightning speed, her stance shifting into a defensive posture. She advanced on Willow; her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Identify yourself!" Kendra ordered, her voice sharp and commanding.

Giles quickly intervened, stepping between them with a calming gesture. "Kendra, this is Willow Rosenberg. She is a friend of my Slayer," he explained, his tone soothing but firm.

"Friend?" Kendra demanded, her brows knitting together in confusion. She looked annoyed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I—I don't understand."

"Kendra," Giles said patiently, his tone gentle yet firm. "There are a few people, civilians if you will, who know my Slayer's identity. Willow is one of them. And they also spend time together. Socially."

Kendra was taking all of this in, her eyes widening as she tried to reconcile this new information with what she had been taught. She understood the words being said, but the concept was alien to her, clashing with her strict training and upbringing. "And you allow this, sir?" she finally asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

"Well," Giles stammered, searching for the right words to explain. "You see—"

"But the Slayer must work in secret," Kendra broke in, her voice insistent. "For security—"

"Of course," Giles interrupted, nodding in agreement. "With Buffy, however, it's . . ." He hesitated, clearly struggling to find the appropriate explanation. "Some flexibility is required."

"Why?" Kendra asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to understand this deviation from the norm.

Before Giles could respond, Willow interjected, her voice light and cheerful in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension. "Hi, guys," she said quickly, smiling brightly. "What's going on?"

Giles seized the opportunity to steer the conversation in a new direction. "It seems that somehow, another Slayer has been sent to Sunnydale," he explained, his tone measured.

Willow looked from Giles to Kendra and back again, her brow furrowed with confusion. "Is that even possible? I mean, two Slayers at the same time?"

"Not that I know of," Giles replied, his voice tinged with perplexity. He took off his glasses, gazing down thoughtfully. "The new Slayer is only called after the previous Slayer has died—" His head snapped up suddenly as realization dawned on him. He shoved his glasses back onto his nose. "Good Lord," he mumbled. "Buffy technically did die."

"She was only gone for a minute," Willow reminded him, her tone urgent and slightly panicked. "Would that have been long enough to call the next one?"

"Clearly, it doesn't matter how long she was gone," Giles concluded, his voice steadying as he pieced together the implications. "She was physically dead, causing the activation of the next Slayer."

"Your Slayer… died?" Kendra's eyes widened, her usually composed demeanor slipping as she tried to process this revelation.

"Yes, she drowned," Giles explained, his tone somber. "But she was revived."

Kendra's expression grew even more bewildered. "Wait since Buffy's part demon, could drowning actually kill her?" Willow wondered aloud. "I mean, Buffy has said she's an upper-level demon, which requires a potion made of her flesh to actually kill her."

"I don't know, Willow," Giles replied, shaking his head slightly. "How Kendra here was actually called is a mystery. Maybe because Buffy drowned, whatever calls the next Slayer believed she was dead, when in reality she was unconscious until Xander revived her."

"Your Slayer is half demon?" Kendra asked, her voice a mix of shock and curiosity.

"Yes," Giles confirmed, sighing. "It's a complicated story, and one that's not widely known. Buffy's unique lineage grants her extraordinary abilities and resilience, but it also brings a host of complications."

Kendra's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—confusion, awe, and a hint of skepticism. "I was trained to believe that Slayers are mortal, human. This is… unprecedented."

Willow stepped forward, her voice softening as she addressed Kendra. "Buffy is unique in many ways, but she's still a Slayer at her core. She fights the same battles, faces the same dangers. Her demon heritage just adds another layer to her strength—and her challenges."

Kendra nodded slowly, absorbing Willow's words. "I see," she said finally, though her tone was cautious. "This is much to take in."

"I understand," Giles said gently. "We, too, needed time to process it. When Buffy revealed that she was part demon, it was a shock to us as well. She had been hiding this part of herself since being called as the Slayer and hadn't told us at first for fear it would put us in jeopardy."

Kendra absorbed Giles' words, her mind swirling with questions and realizations. She decided to file it away for later, perhaps for a time when the other Slayer was present to explain more. For now, she refocused on the immediate concern. "I was sent here for a reason. Mr. Zabuto said all the signs indicate that a very dark power is about to rise in Sunnydale," she said, bringing them back to the pressing topic of her arrival.

"He's quite right," Giles admitted, his expression growing grave. "I'll need to contact him."

Cole's Apartment

Buffy sat next to Phoebe on the couch, glancing occasionally at the closed bathroom door where Cole was still inside. The tension in the room was palpable, with unspoken concerns hanging heavy in the air.

"Too bad Leo had to leave like that. I didn't really get a chance to thank him properly," Cole remarked as he emerged briefly from the bathroom, running a hand through his damp hair.

"He knows," Phoebe replied, her voice reassuring.

"He knows what?" Buffy asked, curiosity piqued as she watched Cole disappear back into the bathroom.

"He knows how grateful you and Cole are," Phoebe answered, her eyes subtly darting towards Cole's briefcase. She opened it, only to find it empty.

"Oh. Good," Cole called out from the bathroom, his voice echoing slightly in the small space.

Phoebe's gaze then shifted to the drawer of the nearby table. She opened it, only to find it empty as well. Buffy, noticing Phoebe's unusual behavior, furrowed her brow in mild confusion. "What are you looking for?" she asked, her tone casual but inquisitive.

"A pencil and a piece of paper," Phoebe lied smoothly, a practiced smile on her lips. "I wanted to write myself a little note."

"Right in front of you by the phone," Buffy said, pointing to the small desk in the corner.

Phoebe laughed, trying to mask her nervousness. "Thanks."

"Still, I don't know how he did it. I'd sure like to know what his secret is," Cole said, returning from the bathroom and drying his hands with a towel.

"I'll bet," Phoebe muttered under her breath, her eyes flickering with suspicion.

"Sorry?" Cole and Buffy asked in unison, looking at her with puzzled expressions.

"Uh, nothing, never mind. Hey, don't you think you should lie down and rest, Cole? I mean, you are still hurt," Phoebe suggested, her tone laced with concern.

"He can't," Buffy interjected quickly. "He's still got those people that did this to him to deal with."

"Yeah, and Cole won't tell me who they are, huh?" Phoebe said, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice as she subtly reached into her purse.

"I really can't," Cole said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

"They don't have anything to do with that case you're working on?" Phoebe asked, her tone casual as she carefully pulled out a small vial of potion. "The reason I ask is because when that DA investigator came by today, he was asking me about it, and I realized that I really didn't know anything."

"What are we going to do?" Piper asked as she, Prue, and Krell walked through the front door of Cole's apartment building, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.

"We're going to vanquish him," Prue said firmly, her jaw set with determination.

"We're going to vanquish Phoebe's boyfriend?" Piper asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and concern. "That's going to cause some problems."

"If you hesitate, he'll kill us all," Krell interjected coldly, his eyes glinting with a ruthless resolve.

"Excuse me, we're having a private conversation over here," Piper snapped, irritation bubbling to the surface as she shot Krell a warning look.

"You know, I cannot believe I let him out of that demon trap when I caught him," Prue said, shaking her head in frustration. "What was I thinking?"

"Prue, we don't know anything for sure yet," Piper said, trying to keep a level head as Leo orbed in, his sudden appearance startling them all. "Leo, what are you doing here?"

"I didn't wanna get in between you guys, but I didn't know what to do," Leo said, his face etched with worry.

"About what?" Prue asked, her brow furrowing with concern as she turned to Leo.

"I think Cole is…" Leo began cautiously.

"Belthazor's human form," Prue finished for him, her voice grave. "Yeah, that's why we're here."

"How did you know?" Leo asked, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Where's Phoebe?" Piper interjected, her voice tense with worry.

"She's upstairs with Cole and his sister, Buffy, apartment seven," Leo replied swiftly, his urgency palpable.

"Tell me you didn't heal Belthazor," Krell demanded, his voice sharp with accusation.

"Well, not completely," Leo admitted reluctantly, his expression clouded with guilt.

"You idiot," Krell spat, his frustration boiling over.

"Leo!" Piper cried out, her voice a mixture of shock and disappointment.

"Phoebe begged me," Leo defended himself, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I didn't know what to do."

"You stay here, we'll fix it," Piper said firmly, her gaze hardening with determination as she exchanged a resolute look with Prue.

Sunnydale High

Xander and a very wet Cordelia trudged into the library, water dripping from their clothes and leaving a small trail on the floor. Both of them seemed agitated and upset; Cordelia was close to hysteria, her eyes wide and her movements jittery.

Willow glanced at Kendra and noticed her tensing up. "Down, girl," she warned softly before Kendra could react.

But Kendra was totally rooted in place, her wide eyes fixed on Xander like a deer caught in headlights. Willow, who used to have a crush on Xander, recognized what might be happening with Kendra. The new Slayer's demeanor was almost shy, something Willow hadn't expected.

"We had a visit at Buffy's house from the Order of Taraka," Xander began, his voice laced with irritation and exhaustion. "We met the king freak of the Order of—" He stopped talking abruptly, noticing Kendra for the first time. He blinked in surprise.

"Forgive me," Giles said, remembering his manners. "Xander, Cordelia, this is Kendra. It's very complicated, but she is a Slayer."

Cordelia wasn't the least bit fazed by this news. She barely even glanced at Kendra as she passed her and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. "Hi," Cordelia flashed a thin smile, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nice to meet you."

"A Slayer?" Xander said with a knowing grin, wishing his best friend was here to witness this. "I knew this 'I'm the only one, I'm the only one' thing was just an attention getter."

"Really, Xander," Willow said, shaking her head in exasperation.

But Xander was staring at Kendra now, totally captivated by her presence. He moved closer to her, his curiosity piqued, but Kendra immediately lowered her eyes to the floor, her posture stiffening. She looked strangely ill at ease and completely mortified by his attention.

"Welcome," Xander greeted Kendra with an attempt at charm. "So, you're a Slayer, huh? I like that in a woman."

Kendra's eyes remained fixed on her shoes, her discomfort palpable. Willow could see the new Slayer was totally flustered.

"I—I hope…" Kendra stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I thank you. I mean, sir… I will be of service."

Xander paused, taken aback by her formal demeanor. He looked questioningly at Willow, who only shrugged, as puzzled as he was. "Good," Xander said, backing away slightly. "Great. It's good to be a giver."

Giles, deep in thought, steered the conversation back to the urgent matter at hand. "This assassin you encountered, Xander. What did he look like?"

Before Xander could answer, Cordelia let out a shriek that echoed through the library. She jumped up, frantically beating at her hair. Another shriek followed as a dead worm fell out and landed on an open book with a sickening plop.

"Like that," Xander said dryly, pointing to the worm.

Cordelia's voice was shrill and shaky, her composure shattered. "That's it! I'm showering." She turned abruptly and marched from the room, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.

Willow eyed Xander with a mix of amusement and sympathy. "You and bug people, Xander," she said, shaking her head. "What's up with that?"

"But this dude was different than the praying mantis lady," Xander insisted, recalling their 'substitute' science teacher from the last school year with a shudder. "He was a man of bugs. Not a man who was a bug." He slammed the book shut with finality, as if that clarified everything.

"The important thing is," Giles continued, his tone grave, "everybody's okay. Still, it is quite apparent that between Buffy's attack last night at the skating rink and your attack today, Xander, that we are under serious threat." Giles's face was lined with worry. "I fear the worst is yet to come. I've discovered the remaining keys to Drusilla's curse. The ritual requires her sire and must take place in a church on the night of the new moon—"

"The new moon?" Kendra interjected, her eyes widening in alarm. "But that is tonight."

"Exactly. I'm sure the assassins are here to kill Buffy before she can put a stop to things," Giles said.

"They need Drusilla's sire?" Willow interrupted, her mind racing with the implications. She remembered Buffy telling her that Angel had sired Drusilla. "You mean the vamp that made her?"

"Yes," Giles replied, his eyes narrowing in concern.

"It's Angel," Willow said, the realization hitting her like a freight train. "Buffy told me that Angel had sired Drusilla." She started toward Giles' office, determination in her stride. "I am going to call Buffy and see if she knows where Angel lives so we can check in on him."

Cole's Apartment

"Is there something wrong, Phoebe?" Cole asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern as he and Buffy stood facing her. The dim light of the apartment cast long shadows, adding to the tension in the room. "Something you're not telling me?"

Phoebe's eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. "Don't you think you have that backwards?" she retorted.

Cole exchanged a puzzled glance with Buffy. "Meaning?" Buffy asked, her tone wary.

Phoebe's lips curled into a wry smile. "You two are the ones with all the secrets, right?"

"Are we?" Cole said, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Phoebe shrugged, her arms crossing defensively. "I don't really know what I'm sure about anymore."

Buffy sighed heavily, her expression softening. "Yeah, I know how you feel," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of sympathy.

"I doubt that," Phoebe said, her words cutting through the air like a knife.

"I think I know what's going on here, Phoebe, and I'm sorry it's come to this," said Cole, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm not sorry about us. You need to know that."

Phoebe's eyes searched his face, looking for any hint of deception. "You never told me where you were from," she said, her tone challenging.

"You never asked," Cole replied, his gaze unwavering.

Phoebe managed a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm asking now."

"We were both born right here in San Francisco," Buffy interjected quickly, her voice steady.

Phoebe's eyes shifted to Buffy, then back to Cole. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to know, Phoebe," Cole said, stepping closer. "I won't lie to you."

Phoebe took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "Who are you?" she asked, the question heavy with implications.

"You already know who we are," Buffy said, stepping forward to stand beside her brother. "I'm Elizabeth Turner, though I go by the nickname of Buffy. And my younger brother is Cole. We didn't lie about that, Phoebe. Those are our names."

"But they're not your only names, are they?" Phoebe asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, the weight of her suspicion pressing down on her.

Before either Cole or Buffy could answer, the front door burst open with a sudden force. Prue, Piper, and Krell stormed into the apartment, their expressions a mix of determination and concern.

"Krell," Cole said, his voice deepening as he morphed into his demon form, Belthazor, while Buffy transformed into Nyxara. A gleaming, wickedly sharp knife appeared in Belthazor's hand, and with a swift movement, he seized Phoebe, pulling her close.

Krell reacted immediately, raising his hand to zap the siblings, but Prue was quicker. She shoved his hand aside, the energy blast missing its target by inches. Belthazor wasted no time; he shimmered out of the room, taking Phoebe with him. A second later, Nyxara vanished as well, leaving the room in a tense silence.

"You let Belthazor escape," Krell snarled, his eyes blazing with frustration and anger.

"You almost killed our sister," Prue shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

"She is dead anyway," Krell replied coldly. "They only needed her to get away."

"I don't think Cole will hurt Phoebe," Piper interjected, her voice filled with a desperate hope. "And I doubt his sister would hurt her either, because it would mean hurting Cole."

"No, but maybe Belthazor or Nyxara would," Prue countered, her tone sharp and unforgiving.

"Then why hasn't he? He's had so many chances," Piper insisted, her eyes pleading for her sister to understand.

"Belthazor just used her until he could get all three of you," Krell said, his gaze shifting between Piper and Prue. "The Charmed Ones. Why he couldn't follow through, I'll never understand."

"Maybe he fell in love," Piper suggested, her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

"That could have been a trick," Prue countered, her eyes narrowing in skepticism. "I mean, demons will do whatever it takes, remember?"

"Glad to see I've had a positive influence on you," Krell said with a wry smile. "I can save your sister if it's not too late."

"Why would you want to?" Prue asked, her suspicion evident.

"I wouldn't," Krell admitted bluntly. "But I'll do it if it's the only way to kill Belthazor and Nyxara. Give me the potion. I can find them and get to them faster alone."

"You already said that you can't track him if he can shimmer," Prue reminded him, her tone filled with doubt.

"But he can't shimmer well," Krell insisted. "He needs time to recharge. Your Whitelighter only healed his human half. And Nyxara won't shimmer far from her brother. Give me the potion."

Prue hesitated, glancing at Piper. Both sisters knew the stakes were incredibly high. The fate of their sister, and potentially many others, hung in the balance.

With a deep breath, Prue handed Krell the potion. The vial glinted ominously in the dim light, a small but potent weapon in their fight against the demonic siblings. Krell took it, his expression a mix of determination and calculation. Then he shimmered out, leaving them alone in the now eerily silent apartment.

"Do you really trust him?" Piper asked, her voice laced with doubt.

"No," Prue admitted. "Come on." She grabbed her jacket and started for the door.

"Where are we going?" Piper asked, hurriedly following her sister.

"Oh, to where demons hide," Prue replied with a determined glint in her eye.

Just as they were about to step out the door, a cell phone started ringing behind them. The sudden sound made both sisters pause. Piper walked over to it, her curiosity piqued. She checked the caller ID. "Someone named Willow," she said, answering the call. "Hello?"

"Who are you?" came a slightly frantic voice from the other end. "Where is Buffy?"

"Buffy's not here," Piper replied, glancing at Prue with a raised eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"I'm Buffy's friend, Willow. I assume since you have Buffy's phone, you know who she is?" Willow asked, her voice filled with a mix of urgency and concern.

"A demon?" Piper replied, trying to piece together the connections.

"Half-demon," Willow corrected quickly. "Look, we need to find her. There's something big happening, and we need her help."

"Why would you need her help?" Piper asked, her curiosity mingling with suspicion.

"Because she's not only a half-demon, she's the Slayer," Willow replied, her voice steady despite the urgency. "Who are you? I'm beginning to think you don't really know Buffy."

"We know her, or rather of her," Piper replied, exchanging a glance with Prue. "But what we've been told is she straddles the fence between good and evil. She could either be a valuable ally or a powerful enemy."

Willow's silence on the other end was palpable. Then, she spoke, her tone softened by a mix of concern and determination. "Buffy has always fought for the good side. It's complicated, but she's proven herself over and over again."

Prue stepped closer, taking the phone from Piper. "Listen, Willow, we're not here to judge Buffy. We just need to understand her better, especially if we're going to work together. Right now, our sister Phoebe is in danger, and we need all the help we can get."

"Alright," Willow said, her voice firm. "I'll explain everything when you get here. Just hurry."

"Where are you?" Prue asked, trying to gauge the urgency.

"Sunnydale High," Willow replied promptly.

Prue's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's about a six-hour drive," she said. "We're in San Francisco."

"Oh, Buffy's still with her brother then?" Willow sounded relieved.

"Yes, she is. Can you tell us about Buffy? We're currently hurrying to rescue our sister," Prue said as she and Piper hurried out of the apartment. She handed her sister the car keys, signaling her to drive.

Piper nodded and took the keys, rushing towards the car with Prue close behind. "Start talking, Willow. We need to know everything you can tell us about Buffy," Prue insisted.

"Buffy was called as the Slayer about a year before I met her," Willow began, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone. "She's been fighting vampires and demons ever since. But since she's part-Slayer, part-demon, she has extra abilities that her demon-half doesn't give her."

Prue and Piper exchanged a glance as they got into the car, Piper starting the engine and pulling out onto the street. "What kind of abilities?" Prue asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Enhanced strength, speed, and healing," Willow explained. "But she's also struggled with her darker side. Being part demon means she has to constantly fight against that part of her nature."

"Does she have control over it?" Piper asked, her voice tense as she navigated through traffic.

"For the most part, yes," Willow said. "But there have been times when it's gotten the better of her. She's always come back, though. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for."

Prue nodded thoughtfully. "And what about her brother, Cole? What's his story?"

"Cole's… complicated," Willow admitted. "He's a lawyer, but he's also part demon. They've both had to deal with a lot of challenges because of their dual natures. But Cole's always been more… conflicted."

"Conflicted how?" Piper asked, glancing at Prue who was taking notes mentally.

"He's struggled with doing the right thing," Willow said. "He wants to be good, especially for this woman, Buffy said her name's Phoebe, but his demonic side often gets in the way. It's a constant battle for him."

Clio Cemetery

"What are we going to do?" Piper asked urgently, her voice tinged with worry as she pulled the car over at a cemetery on the outskirts of Sunnydale.

Prue glanced out of the window, her expression grave. "I don't trust Cole," she admitted, her tone reflecting the weight of their situation. "He's been trying to kill us. His sister, though, she's a different story."

Piper nodded, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "We can't afford to underestimate either of them," she said, her gaze flicking to Prue. "But Buffy hasn't shown the same hostility as Cole. Maybe there's a chance we can reason with her."

"Maybe," Prue conceded, though doubt lingered in her voice. "But our priority right now is finding Phoebe and stopping whatever plan Belthazor and Nyxara have in motion."

"I still can't believe Leo healed Cole," Piper muttered, frustration evident in her voice. "He may have just handed them the advantage."

Prue sighed, her mind racing with possibilities. "We'll figure it out," she said firmly. "We always do."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Can we stop with the shimmering all over the place?" Phoebe gasped, steadying herself against the cold stone of the mausoleum. "I'm going to vomit."

"I had to lose Krell," Belthazor explained, catching his breath as Nyxara shimmered in next to him.

Phoebe's temper flared. She elbowed Belthazor in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. With quick, practiced hands, she retrieved the potion from her bag.

"And now it's time to vanquish you," she declared, her voice tense with anger and resolve. As Belthazor morphed into Cole and Nyxara shifted into the form of Buffy, Phoebe held the potion ready. "Don't even think that's going to save you."

"I don't. I just wanted you to see who I really am, Phoebe," Cole said earnestly, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I've seen who you really are... Belthazor," Phoebe retorted, her voice shaking with a mixture of betrayal and hurt as she tightened her grip on the potion, poised to strike.

"Wait, wait, we won't hurt you," Buffy interjected, her tone urgent and sincere.

"No? It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" Phoebe shot back, her gaze shifting from Buffy to Cole. "Why? Why didn't you just kill me? Why did you have to put me through all this? Was it some sick twisted demonic thrill? Is that what it was?"

"No, that's not it," Cole admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

"Then what was it?" Phoebe demanded, her eyes searching his face for any hint of truth.

"Cole tried to kill you," Buffy interjected, her voice cutting through the tension. "At first, you and your sisters thwarted his attempts, even when Cole and I went back in time to destroy your line on All Hallow's Eve."

"That was you two?" Phoebe asked, her voice incredulous and filled with hurt.

Cole nodded solemnly. "Troxa, Andras—those were my doing. I manipulated events to strip your powers, to make you vulnerable. I had you in my grasp, ready to follow through. But I couldn't. Because I realized I loved you."

"You bastard," Phoebe spat, her anger and betrayal palpable.

"That's the truth, Phoebe," Buffy interjected, her tone gentle yet firm. "Remember the day you first met me? Cole summoned me because he was torn. Follow the Triad's orders or surrender to his love for you."

"This isn't some façade, Phoebe," Cole continued, his voice raw with emotion. "It's who I am. Mine and Elizabeth's father was mortal. That's why Elizabeth and I bleed red, even in our demon forms. Please, you have to believe us. I nearly forgot what it was like to be human, to feel and care. For so long, Elizabeth was the only one I truly cared about. It's why she's in hiding now."

"Why are you in hiding?" Phoebe asked, her gaze shifting between Cole and Buffy.

"A little over a year ago, my human side was called as the Slayer," Buffy explained, her expression serious. "Slayers are meant to be mortals who do what you do, but without supernatural powers. Because of my dual nature, I straddle the line between good and evil. One push and I could go either way. The Triad and the Source knew this, so Cole hid me among mortals for my protection."

Phoebe took in their words, grappling with the tumult of emotions swirling inside her. Love for Cole warred with the betrayal and fear that gnawed at her heart. "This doesn't change anything," she finally said, her voice wavering yet resolute. "Because you both are still demons."

"And we both have done unspeakable things," Buffy acknowledged solemnly, her eyes reflecting the weight of her own past.

"Growing up with Elizabeth, I always felt love for her. But for the longest time, she was the only one," Cole admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "Then you awakened even more of my humanity, my capacity to love."

Phoebe hesitated, torn between skepticism and the longing to believe in Cole's sincerity. "I want to believe you," she admitted quietly, searching Cole's eyes for any hint of deceit.

"Then let me prove it to you," Cole urged, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of vulnerability. "Vanquish me."

"What?" Buffy exclaimed, disbelief coloring her voice as she looked at her brother with concern etched on her face. Before she could react, Krell materialized nearby, his presence a dark omen in the tense atmosphere.

"I should've known you'd come back here," Krell sneered, his gaze flickering between Buffy and Cole with disdain. "You disappoint, Belthazor. You've changed, allowing your weaker human side to cloud your judgment. It's going to cost you your life," he declared, holding up a vial of potion with grim determination.

Buffy's jaw clenched, her resolve hardening as an orb of crackling energy formed in her hand. Without hesitation, she unleashed the energy ball, sending it hurtling through the air with deadly accuracy. It struck Krell square in the chest, the dark figure crumbling into ash and dissipating with a final, echoing cry of defeat.

As the tension ebbed, Phoebe rushed to Cole's side, her heart pounding with relief and fear. "Cole!" she cried out, helping him to his feet. "You've got to get up. Cole, get up!" Her hands trembled slightly as she steadied him, her gaze never leaving his face.

Buffy approached them, her expression a mix of concern and relief. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer now, filled with sisterly concern.

Cole nodded weakly, his eyes meeting Phoebe's with unguarded affection. "Thanks to you," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Well, what kind of big sister would I be if I let you die now?" Buffy said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she looked at her younger brother.

Cole smiled back at his older sister, a deep sense of relief and gratitude in his eyes. He nodded, appreciating the unwavering protectiveness Buffy had always shown him. Their bond was unbreakable, forged through countless trials and the shared burden of their dual nature.

Turning to Phoebe, Cole's expression softened. "Do you believe me now?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and vulnerability.

Phoebe looked at him, her heart pounding. The raw sincerity in Cole's eyes, the desperation in his voice, and the protective ferocity Buffy had shown all worked to dissolve the final walls of her doubt. She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering from his.

In that moment, the chaos of the past few days, the betrayals, the revelations, all seemed to fade into the background. What remained was the undeniable connection she felt with Cole, the love that had blossomed despite the darkness surrounding them.

Phoebe walked over to Cole, her steps slow and deliberate. She reached up, her fingers lightly brushing his cheek. Then, with a tenderness that spoke volumes, she leaned in and kissed him.

It was then that they heard Prue and Piper outside, their voices ringing through the stillness as they called for Phoebe.

Cole and Phoebe broke the kiss reluctantly, the reality of their situation crashing back down upon them. "Elizabeth and I better go," Cole said, his voice low and urgent.

"They'll keep looking for you until they find you," Phoebe warned, her eyes filled with concern.

"Your sisters?" Buffy asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Them too," Phoebe replied, a mix of frustration and worry evident in her tone.

Buffy stepped forward; her expression determined. "Let me go talk to them. If I can't persuade them to let me and Cole go, then I'll come back and you can pretend to vanquish us," she said, her voice steady and resolute.

Cole grabbed Buffy's arm gently, his eyes locking onto hers. "Are you sure about this, Elizabeth? It's risky."

Buffy nodded firmly. "I'm sure."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy shimmered in the middle of the cemetery, the air crackling with residual energy from her sudden arrival. The moon cast a pale light over the tombstones, their shadows dancing eerily in the cool night breeze. Prue and Piper stood a few paces away, their expressions a mixture of surprise and caution. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled the air, adding to the tension of the moment. Buffy raised her hands in surrender, her movements slow and deliberate, the universal sign of peace.

"I understand you have very little reason to trust me," she began, her voice steady yet soft, carrying the weight of her understanding. "Demons aren't exactly your favorite company."

Prue's eyes narrowed, a spark of defensiveness flashing in her gaze. Memories of battles fought and losses endured clouded her thoughts. Piper's stance was equally guarded, her fingers twitching slightly as she grasped the potion in her hand, ready to hurl it at the slightest sign of threat.

Buffy took a deep breath, her eyes sincere and open as she continued, "I'm not here to fight. I'm here because we need to understand each other if we're going to deal with what's coming. I'm not just a demon. I'm also human, just like you. My human half was called as the Slayer. I fight demons too."

Her words hung in the air, mingling with the rustle of the trees and the distant hoot of an owl. There was a vulnerability in Buffy's tone, a genuine plea for understanding. Prue's gaze softened slightly, her defenses wavering. She had fought alongside enough allies to recognize sincerity when she saw it. Still, the mistrust lingered, like a shadow that refused to dissipate.

Piper's grip on the potion relaxed a fraction, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Buffy. "We've heard promises before," she said, her voice tinged with skepticism. "How do we know you're different?"

Buffy nodded, acknowledging the legitimacy of their doubts. "I get it. Trust is earned, not given. But I want to earn it. My brother, Cole, he's trying to change. And you know that I already straddle the fence between good and evil due to my human side being called as the Slayer. We can be allies."

Prue took a tentative step forward, her expression thoughtful. She remembered the times when she had been judged for her powers, when fear and misunderstanding had threatened to isolate her from those she loved. "Allies," she echoed, testing the word. "That's a strong claim."

Buffy met her gaze, unwavering, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and vulnerability. "It's the only claim I can make. Let me and Cole prove it to you. In fact, I will go so far as to say, if we can't prove it to you—" she paused, glancing at the potion clutched in Piper's hand, "—that potion you have in your hand will work on both me and Cole since we share the same blood. But I don't think you will need it. I think we'll prove it to you."

The silence in the cemetery was profound, punctuated only by the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Buffy's words hung in the air, a daring gamble that revealed her commitment and her desperation to bridge the chasm of mistrust between them.

Prue's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—skepticism, curiosity, and a reluctant spark of hope. She studied Buffy, searching for any hint of deceit but found only earnestness in her expression. Buffy stood tall, her body language open and honest, a stark contrast to the defensive posture she had expected from a half-demon.

Piper's grip on the potion relaxed slightly, though she kept it close. Her brow furrowed in contemplation as she weighed Buffy's proposition. "You're willing to stake your life on this," she said slowly, more a statement than a question.

Buffy nodded without hesitation. "Yes. Because I believe in what I'm saying. Cole and I are not just fighting for ourselves; we're fighting for something bigger. We want to make a difference, to show that we can be trusted allies. But I understand that words aren't enough. Actions speak louder."

Prue exchanged a glance with Piper, her sister's face mirroring her own conflicted thoughts. The Halliwells had always relied on their instincts and their bond to navigate the supernatural world. Trust was not easily given, especially when it came to demons.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," Prue said finally, her tone softening. "But it's going to take more than words and a few brave promises to win us over. We've been through too much to let our guard down just like that."

Buffy smiled, a hint of relief breaking through her tense expression. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Just give us the chance to prove ourselves. I promise you won't regret it."

Piper took a deep breath, lowering the potion but keeping it within reach. "Alright, Buffy. We'll give you and Cole the opportunity to show us who you really are. But know this—our trust isn't given lightly, and if you betray it, there will be no second chances."

Buffy nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I understand. Thank you for giving us this chance."

Prue took a step closer, her expression softening slightly as she reached into her pocket. "Here," she said, holding out Buffy's cell phone. "By the way, your friend Willow called. We talked to her a little."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise and curiosity as she took the phone from Prue's outstretched hand. "Willow?" she repeated, her voice tinged with both worry and hope. "What did she say?"

Prue offered a small, reassuring smile. "She wanted to make sure you were okay. She seemed really concerned. We had a brief conversation about... well, about you and Cole. She vouched for you; said you're trying to find a balance between your two sides."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy shimmered into the mausoleum, the air around her crackling with residual energy as she materialized in the dimly lit space. The scent of old stone and dampness filled her nostrils as she took in the sight of Cole and Phoebe waiting for her. The flickering light from the candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of both secrecy and urgency.

Cole, his expression tense and wary, glanced up at Buffy, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. Phoebe, standing close to him, mirrored his unease, her hands clenched together as if trying to hold onto some semblance of calm.

"Cole will have to go into hiding since the Source has bounty hunters out looking for him," Buffy said, her voice steady but tinged with the gravity of the situation. "But he will keep in contact, I promise."

Phoebe's eyes widened with worry, and she took a step closer to Cole, her protective instincts flaring. "Hiding? For how long? And where?"

Cole reached out, gently squeezing her hand. "It's the only way, Phoebe. I can't risk being captured by the Source's hunters. But I'll find a way to stay in touch, I promise."

Buffy nodded, her gaze softening as she looked at Phoebe. "I know it's a lot to ask, but it's the safest option right now. We need to be smart about this."

Phoebe bit her lip, her eyes darting between Cole and Buffy. "I understand. It's just… I hate the thought of you being out there alone, Cole."

Cole gave her a reassuring smile, though the tension in his eyes remained. "I won't be alone. I have Elizabeth, and I may even be able to stay with her for a while. She's got a safe place, one that's well-hidden. As long as I don't try and use my powers too much, the Source's bounty hunters hopefully shouldn't be able to track me."

Phoebe's brow furrowed, her concern deepening as she turned toward Buffy. "Are you sure you can keep him safe? What if the hunters find you too?"

Buffy met Phoebe's worried gaze with a steady, reassuring look. "I've been hiding among mortals for over a year," she said confidently. "Cole cast a spell to ensure that the woman I live with believes I'm her daughter. It's a strong enchantment, one that has held up even under scrutiny. We're planning to put up a ward around the house to cloak it from the Source and his bounty hunters. It's not a guarantee, but it should give us an edge."

Phoebe listened intently, her eyes flickering with a mix of hope and anxiety. "And if that doesn't work? If they manage to break through the ward?"

Buffy's expression grew more determined. "Even if the ward fails, we have other options. We can shimmer to other dimensions. It's a risky move, but it's a surefire way to throw the bounty hunters off our trail. They won't be able to track us easily through different realms."

Phoebe nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Different dimensions... That sounds dangerous."

"It is," Buffy admitted, her voice tinged with the weight of the risks. "But it's a necessary risk. We can't let the Source get his hands on Cole. As long as we stay one step ahead, we'll be okay. I've learned to navigate these challenges. We'll be smart about it."

Phoebe's worry was still evident, but she seemed somewhat reassured by Buffy's confidence. "I trust you, Buffy. Just promise me you'll be careful. Both of you."

Buffy nodded firmly, her touch reassuring on Phoebe's shoulder. "I promise. We'll take every precaution. Cole's survival is our top priority, and we won't take any chances."

She turned to her brother, meeting his gaze with a mixture of determination and concern. "Come on, Cole. Phoebe's sisters are waiting outside for you to say your goodbyes before we leave."

Cole nodded, his expression grave yet resolute. He took Phoebe's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe."

Phoebe nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'll be waiting for you. Just... come back to me, Cole."

With a final nod to Buffy, Cole followed her out of the mausoleum, into the cool night air where Prue and Piper stood waiting. The sisters exchanged solemn looks as Cole approached, their expressions a mix of concern and tentative acceptance.

Prue stepped forward first, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her. "Take care of yourself, Cole. And remember, we're giving you this chance because of Phoebe. Don't make us regret it."

Cole met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting a blend of gratitude and unwavering determination. "I won't. Thank you for trusting me, for trusting us."

With a nod to Prue and Piper, who stood with somber understanding, Cole turned to Buffy as they shimmered out of the cemetery.

Sunnydale High

After leaving Cole safely at her home, Buffy shimmered over to the high school, her mind already shifting gears from the tense events of her brother's predicament to the urgent matters at hand. She pushed open the familiar doors of the library, where Giles and the others were gathered, ready to strategize.

"Okay guys, what's the…" Buffy began, only to be abruptly interrupted as a strong hand clamped around her throat, startling her into a defensive stance.

"Kendra," Giles intervened quickly, his voice calm but authoritative. "This is Buffy."

Kendra, the dark-skinned Slayer with a stoic demeanor, released Buffy immediately, her features shifting from aggression to surprise. "The half-demon Slayer?" she asked, turning to Giles for confirmation.

Giles nodded solemnly. "Yes, Kendra."

"I am sorry," Kendra said, her Jamaican accent softened with genuine remorse. She took a step back, her stance relaxing slightly but still cautious.

"I understand," Buffy replied, her voice tinged with empathy. "You see a demon and your first instinct is to vanquish it."

Giles stepped forward, bridging the gap between them. "Buffy, Kendra is the Slayer that was called when you drowned in the Master's cave."

"Wow," Buffy remarked, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing her features. "Didn't know that just drowning could trigger it. So, what do we have?" she asked, shifting the conversation to the urgent matter at hand.

"We have discovered what Spike is up to," Giles informed her, his expression grave. "He is trying to restore Drusilla to health."

"That's why he sent the Order of Taraka after me?" Buffy said, her voice tinged with both anger and realization. "To keep me from stopping him?"

Willow nodded solemnly, her expression mirroring Buffy's concern. "That's right. We also figured out what Spike needs to restore Drusilla. He needs Angel. And it has to be done in a church."

Buffy's gaze snapped to Giles, her eyes searching his face for answers. "This ritual. Will it kill him?"

Giles hesitated; the weight of his words heavy upon him. Meeting Buffy's unwavering gaze, he spoke reluctantly. "I'm afraid so."

"We have to do something," Buffy choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "We have to find the church where this ritual will take place—"

"Agreed," Giles interjected, his voice firm and urgent. "And we must work quickly. There is only an hour to sundown."

Willow reached out, trying to console Buffy in the midst of their dire situation. "Don't worry, Buffy. We'll save Angel."

But Kendra couldn't hold back any longer, her sense of duty overriding the moment of empathy. "Angel?" she exclaimed incredulously. "Our priority must be to stop Drusilla."

Xander, his frustration boiling over, turned on Kendra with an edge to his voice. "Angel's our friend," he snapped, his words betraying his conflicted feelings. Then, after a moment's thought, he added lamely, "Except I don't like him."

Buffy's patience wore thin, her resolve hardening as she faced Kendra squarely. "Look," she began, her tone fierce yet controlled. "I understand that Angel is a vampire and that you think he should die. But I care for Angel. So are you gonna work with me, or are you gonna get out of my way?"

Kendra and Buffy locked eyes, the tension between them palpable in the charged silence that followed.

"I am with you," Kendra said finally, her voice steady with determination.

"Good," Buffy replied fiercely, her anger blazing in her eyes. "'Cause I've had it. Spike is going down. You can attack me; you can send assassins after me… that's just fine." She straightened, drawing herself to her full height, her stance defiant. "But nobody messes with my boyfriend."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

There was still so much to be done. Night had fallen beneath a full moon, casting eerie shadows over Sunnydale, where a macabre ritual was about to take place. The tension in the air was thick, mirroring the sense of urgency that gripped the Scooby Gang.

"There are forty-three churches in Sunnydale?" Giles asked incredulously, peering over Willow's shoulder as she scrolled through the computer. "That seems a bit excessive."

Willow, her fingers flying over the keyboard, glanced up briefly. "It's the extra evil vibe from the Hellmouth," she explained. "Makes people pray harder."

"Check and see if any of them are closed or abandoned," Giles instructed, his mind racing with possibilities.

Willow nodded and quickly began filtering the search. As Giles carried a large, dusty book over to where Xander and Cordelia were sitting, he couldn't help but notice how tense they both looked. Their chairs were pulled together side by side at the table, yet they seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact. Both sat ramrod straight, their postures rigid. As they diligently searched through a volume of demon pictures, Giles could only wonder at their odd behavior.

"We got demons," Xander said, breaking the silence. "We got monsters. But no Bug Dude."

Giles handed over the book he was holding. "You should have better luck with this. There's a section devoted entirely to the Order of Taraka."

Xander took the book, flipping through the pages with a mixture of impatience and determination.

In Giles's office, Kendra stood by the window, her gaze intently focused on the activity in the library beyond. Her eyes then shifted to Buffy, who was methodically checking and rechecking her weapons. Buffy's face was tight and drawn, betraying the silent panic she felt over Angel's perilous situation.

"Did anyone explain to you what 'secret identity' means?" Kendra asked, her eyebrow lifting in challenge.

Buffy looked up, taken aback by the unexpected question. "What?"

"All of them out there know that not only are you half-demon but also a Slayer," Kendra said, her tone a mix of curiosity and reproach. "I was taught to not reveal that I was the Slayer, that secrecy was paramount." She picked up a crossbow from the table, inspecting it closely with a practiced eye.

"Careful with that thing," Buffy warned, glancing at the crossbow with a hint of apprehension.

"Please. I am an expert in all weapons—" Kendra began confidently.

Without warning, the crossbow fired in Kendra's hand, sending an arrow straight into Giles's lamp. The lamp wobbled for a moment before toppling over with a crash. Startled, Kendra's confident demeanor faltered as she tried to recover.

"Is everything all right?" Giles called from the other room, his voice tinged with concern.

"It's okay," Buffy called back, suppressing a smile. "Kendra killed the bad lamp."

Kendra shot her a look, half annoyed and half embarrassed. "Sorry. This trigger mechanism is different." She paused, then added in a more conciliatory tone, "Perhaps when this is over, you can show me how to work it."

Buffy sighed, the tension easing slightly from her shoulders. "When this is over, I'm thinking of pineapple pizza and a teen videofest—possibly something from the Ringwald oeuvre."

"I'm not allowed to watch television," Kendra told her, a hint of regret in her voice. "My Watcher says it promotes intellectual laziness."

Buffy stared at her, a mixture of disbelief and sympathy on her face. "And he says it like that's a bad thing?"

They both turned abruptly as Xander yelled out to Giles. "Here we go!" he said excitedly, pointing to a page in his book. "I am the Bug Man, coo-coo coo-chu."

On the page was an ancient drawing of the creature now known as Mr. Pfister. The image depicted a round-faced, meek-looking figure, not particularly intimidating at first glance. However, a magnified detail of the drawing revealed the horrifying truth—every squiggle and line formed his wormy composition, a grotesque mosaic of creepy-crawly parts.

Xander made a face, clearly disturbed by the close-up. He ran a finger down the page, summarizing the information. "Okay. Okay. He can only be killed when he's in his disassembled state." He paused, then leaned over to Cordelia, addressing her in an exaggeratedly slow manner as if she were a child. "Disassembled," he pronounced each syllable with emphasis. "That means when he's broken down into all his buggy parts—"

Cordelia, her patience wearing thin, snatched the book from him. "I know what it means, dork-head."

"Dork-head?" Xander retorted, trying to grab the book back. "You slash me with your words."

Their tension was almost palpable, an electric undercurrent that charged the air around them. Willow and Giles exchanged bewildered glances, both completely in the dark about the underlying friction.

Kendra observed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement, then turned to Buffy. "Your life is very different than mine."

Buffy sighed, her eyes reflecting the weight of her past year. "The last year has been different than anything I've known before now. Before my human-half was called as a Slayer, I was just Nyxara. I was just a demon." Her voice softened with the memories. "It was just me and Cole. I had no friends that weren't demons. My human father died around the turn of the century. My demon mother, she might still be alive, I don't know. Cole and I haven't seen her in a very long time."

Kendra listened intently, her usually stoic expression showing a rare glimpse of empathy. "It must have been lonely," she said quietly.

Buffy nodded; her gaze distant. "It was. Until I was called. Then everything changed. Suddenly, I was part of this world, part of something bigger. I had friends, a purpose. It's been scary and confusing, but also... wonderful."

Kendra's eyes softened as she looked at Buffy. "You're lucky to have found that. My life has always been about training, duty. It's... different." She moved slowly about the room, her face grave and contemplative. "My parents—they sent me to my Watcher when I was very young."

"How young?" Buffy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I don't remember them, actually. I've seen pictures, but that's how seriously the calling is taken by my people. My mother and father gave me to my Watcher because they believed that they were doing the right thing for me—and for the world." Kendra paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "You see?"

"Yeah, I do," Buffy said softly. "Even though we come from two different worlds, in a way we're the same. I remember when I was old enough, I was trained alongside Cole to be a demon, to answer to the Source." She looked at Kendra and smiled, a warm and understanding smile. "Now things have changed, for both of us."

At that moment, Xander walked in, grabbing a book from Giles's desk with a casual ease. Kendra instantly froze, her eyes shyly aimed at the floor.

"'Scuze me, ladies," Xander said smoothly, his gaze lingering on Kendra for a moment. "Nice knife."

As Xander left, Buffy regarded the tongue-tied Kendra with sympathy. "I'm guessing dating isn't big with your Watcher either."

"I am not permitted to speak with boys," Kendra admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Buffy's eyes widened with a sudden thought. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Kendra said, her curiosity now mirroring Buffy's earlier.

"There is this guy that owns a bar that serves vamps and demons," Buffy said. "With the right motivation, he sometimes snitches on his customers."

Kendra tilted her head, intrigued. "What kind of motivation?"

Buffy grinned, a spark of determination lighting up her eyes. "Usually a combination of cash and threats. His name's Willy. He's not exactly brave, but he's got his ear to the ground. If anyone knows where Spike is, he does."

The Alibi Room

Buffy slammed Willy into the bar with a force that made the bottles behind him rattle. Kendra paced restlessly nearby, her frustration mounting with every passing second.

"Honest!" Willy insisted, his voice quivering with fear. "I don't know where Spike is!"

Buffy leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing with intensity. "How about Spike's ritual?" she said sharply. "What have you heard?"

"Nothing. It's all hush hush—" Willy stammered, his eyes darting nervously between Buffy and Kendra.

Kendra's patience wore thin. She stopped pacing and glared at Willy; her voice edged with irritation. "Just hit him, Buffy."

"She likes to hit," Buffy informed the bartender, her tone matter-of-fact but carrying a hint of amusement.

Willy held up a tentative hand, desperation creeping into his voice. "You know," he said, swallowing hard, "maybe I did hear something about this ritual. Yeah, it's coming back to me. But I'd—I'd have to take you there."

Buffy let him drop to the floor, the thud echoing in the otherwise silent bar. She grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him toward the exit. "Let's go," she commanded, her grip ironclad.

But Kendra hesitated. "First, we must return to the Watcher."

"Excuse me?" Buffy stopped in disbelief, releasing Willy for a moment. "While we run to Giles, the whole thing could go down—"

"But it is procedure—" Kendra insisted, her voice tinged with a rigid adherence to her training.

"It's brainless, you mean! If we don't go now, Angel could be history," Buffy retorted, her frustration boiling over.

"Is that all you're worried about?" Kendra drew herself up indignantly. "Your boyfriend?"

"It's not all," Buffy shot back, her eyes blazing. "But it's enough."

Kendra looked disgusted, her face hardening with disapproval. "It's as I feared. He clouds your judgment. We can't stop this ritual alone—"

Before Kendra could finish her sentence, Buffy suddenly and without warning morphed into her demonic form, Nyxara. Her skin darkened, eyes glowing with a fierce intensity, and her presence radiated raw power. Nyxara stood glaring down at Kendra, her voice a low, menacing growl. "You can go back to Giles, get reinforcements. Even have them call my house and get my brother," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

Kendra took an involuntary step back, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of fear. She had never seen Buffy like this before, and the sudden transformation was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Nyxara's gaze bore into Kendra's, her resolve unshakable. "We don't have time to argue," she continued, her voice steady and commanding. "Angel's life is on the line. We can't afford to waste a single second."

Kendra swallowed hard, struggling to regain her composure. She knew Buffy was right, but her training and instincts were at war within her. "Fine," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go to the Watcher. But be careful, Buffy. This is dangerous."

Nyxara nodded, her expression softening slightly. "I will. Now go."

With that, Kendra turned and sprinted back towards the library, her mind racing with the urgency of the situation. Nyxara watched her go for a moment before turning back to Willy, who cowered against the wall, trembling.

Streets of Sunnydale

Buffy, after transforming back into her human form, followed Willy through a maze of dark streets. They were in the oldest section of town now, a veritable graveyard of condemned buildings, forgotten neighborhoods, and deserted shops. Shadows loomed large, and the air felt thick with the weight of history and neglect. The moonlight barely penetrated the dense canopy of dereliction, casting an eerie glow on the cracked pavements and crumbling facades.

"How does a demon become part Slayer?" Willy wondered, glancing back at Buffy with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"I have no idea, to tell the truth," Buffy said, her tone reflective and tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I just know my human half was called as a Slayer a year ago. It's like I've been split between two worlds, trying to figure out where I belong."

Willy nodded, though his eyes darted around nervously, clearly more concerned with their immediate surroundings. Buffy could sense his anxiety, the way his hands fidgeted and his pace quickened.

"Look, Willy," she said, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "I know you're probably doing this just to hand me over to Spike. We both know he wants me dead or out of the way. That's okay, I don't blame you. You've got to look out for yourself."

Willy looked back at her, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I'm just trying to survive," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the night.

"I get it," Buffy replied, her eyes softening. "But just don't reveal to Spike when we get there that I'm part demon, okay? It's the only advantage I have left."

Willy swallowed hard and nodded. "I won't say a word," he promised, though Buffy could sense the fear underlying his words.

They continued through the labyrinth of desolation, the silence between them punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant wail of a siren.

Willy led her several more blocks, his steps quick and furtive, until he suddenly stopped in front of an old abandoned church. The structure loomed against the night sky, its weathered stone walls and broken stained glass windows casting eerie reflections in the moonlight. He glanced back at Buffy, his expression a mix of apprehension and guilt, before motioning her to follow him inside.

Buffy found herself in a shadowy vestibule, the once-sacred space now filled with decay and neglect. Her footsteps echoed hollowly across the dusty floor, and her breathing whispered harshly into the oppressive shadows. The air was thick with the scent of dampness and forgotten prayers, an atmosphere that seemed to press in on her from all sides.

Willy guided her forward toward a thick bank of shadows in the corner, his movements becoming more jittery with each step. "Here you go," Willy said, his voice low and trembling. "Don't ever say your friend Willy don't come through in a pinch."

Buffy was right on his heels, her heightened senses alerting her to the presence of danger. Her demonic instincts flared, detecting the unmistakable scent and aura of vampires. She could sense the cold, predatory gaze of Xander's Mr. Pfister, the oily, unsettling presence of the worm-man. There was also a woman in what looked like a police uniform, her stance rigid and authoritative, before they stepped out of the shadows, revealing themselves in the dim light.

Willy turned to one of the vampires with an oily grin, his fear palpable despite his attempt at bravado. "Here you go," Willy repeated, his voice louder and more confident. "Don't ever say your friend Willy don't come through in a pinch."

Sunnydale High

The heavy doors of the library swung open with a creak, and Kendra stepped inside, her presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. She moved with the fluid grace of a trained warrior, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced precision. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, and her expression was one of solemn determination.

Giles looked up from his books, his brow furrowing with concern as he noticed the tense set of her shoulders. "Kendra, what's happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Kendra's gaze met his, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "Buffy has gone after Spike. She is attempting to stop the ritual to save Angel. I've come back to get reinforcements."

Willow and Xander exchanged worried glances. "Is she okay?" Willow asked, her voice shaky.

Kendra nodded, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "She is strong, but she is up against many. We must hurry."

Xander stood up, his face set with determination. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go help her."

Giles quickly gathered a few essential items from the table—books, potions, and weapons—his mind racing through possible strategies. "We need to be prepared for anything," he said, his tone brisk and focused. "Willow, Xander, Cordelia, arm yourselves."

Kendra watched the flurry of activity, her own heart pounding with a mixture of urgency and anxiety. "We must move quickly," she urged, her voice cutting through the tension. "The ritual could be completed at any moment."

Giles gave her a reassuring nod. "We will, Kendra. Buffy is not alone in this."

"Also, Buffy said to call her brother. He is at her house," Kendra added, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

Giles nodded, swiftly moving into his office. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. He picked up the phone, his fingers moving quickly over the dial. Each ring seemed to stretch time, the seconds feeling like hours.

Finally, a voice came through the receiver, deep and familiar. "Buffy?" came Cole's voice, tinged with concern.

"It's Rupert Giles," Giles said, his tone calm but firm. "Buffy has gone to face Spike. She wants you to meet us there."

There was a brief silence on the other end, filled with the weight of unspoken worry. Then Cole's voice came back, resolute and determined. "I'll be there. Give me the location."

Giles provided the details swiftly, his mind racing through the preparations that still needed to be made. As he hung up the phone, he glanced around the office, making sure he had everything they might need for the impending confrontation.

Abandoned Church

The ritual was nearing its peak.

Torchlight flickered through the dilapidated church, reflecting eerily off grimy stained-glass windows that had once depicted serene saints and celestial beings. Shadows crouched in silent benediction across the cold, stone floor, lending the room an air of macabre reverence. As Spike swung the censer, its mystical smoke coiling like serpents in the dim light, he read grandly from the decoded manuscript, his voice reverberating through the hollow space.

"Eligor, I name thee," Spike intoned, his ghoulish vampire visage transfixed, enraptured with the malevolent power of the spell. "Bringer of war, poisoners, pariahs, grand obscenity!"

Angel and Drusilla stood before him, their figures central to the high altar, swaying in a grotesque mockery of a dance, face to face, bound tightly together by thick leather straps. Drusilla, garbed in regal black, tilted her head back, gazing up into Angel's face with an expression both wild and dreamily expectant, her eyes shimmering with unholy delight.

"Eligor, wretched master of decay, bring your black medicine. Come restore your most impious, murderous child," Spike chanted, his voice growing louder and more fervent.

With black-gloved hands, Spike lifted the relic, a sinister cross that concealed a hidden dagger within its base. He stepped up to the altar, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent. A malevolent smile curled his lips as he regarded the bound couple before him. Grabbing Angel's hand, which was bound to Drusilla's, Spike lifted both hands into the air, his voice now trembling with unrestrained passion.

"From the blood of the sire she is risen! From the blood of the sire shall she rise again!" With one swift, brutal movement, Spike plunged the dagger down. The blade sliced through their conjoined hands, binding them with a rush of blood and a supernatural force that pulsed powerfully, frighteningly between them.

Angel let out a tortured scream, his face contorted with pain. Drusilla writhed in exquisite agony, savoring the wound, her body arching with twisted pleasure.

Joyfully, Spike clapped his hands, watching the magic sparkle and lance the air around them. "Right then!" he announced, his voice dripping with triumph. "Now we let them come to a simmering boil, then remove to a low flame—"

He whirled around as the heavy doors behind him crashed open, the sound echoing through the church like a thunderclap. To his dismay, he saw Willy swaggering toward him, dragging Buffy along, surrounded on all sides by Spike's evil minions. Spike stared at them in appalled silence, his eyes narrowing with fury.

"It's payday, pal," Willy announced with a cocky grin. "I got your Slayer."

Spike snapped out of his shock and advanced on Willy, seething with barely contained fury. His yellow eyes glowed menacingly in the dim light of the church.

"Are you tripping? You bring her here—now?" Spike spat, his voice a dangerous growl.

Willy, taken aback, stammered, "You said you wanted her—"

"In the ground, pinhead! I wanted her dead!" Spike bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

While the two of them argued, Buffy frantically scanned the shadows, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes darted across the decrepit interior, searching for any sign of Angel. At first, she thought he wasn't there, but then she spotted the altar with its grisly display. Angel and Drusilla were bound together, their hands dripping with blood, their bodies slumped in a grotesque embrace. Buffy felt sick inside, a cold dread settling in her stomach.

Angel was so far gone; he didn't even know she was there.

"You said there was a bounty on her, dead or alive!" Willy protested, his voice quivering. The nervous sweat glistened on his forehead.

"You heard wrong, Willy," Spike sneered, stepping closer to the hapless informant.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "Angel." Her voice was barely audible, a fragile thread of hope and despair.

In the momentary lull, Spike heard her whisper and followed the direction of her gaze. A sinister grin spread across his face. "Yeah," his voice dripped with false sympathy, "it bugs me too, seeing them like that. Another five minutes and Angel'll be dead though, so I forbear." He paused, his face twisting into a mocking sneer. "But don't feel too bad for Angel. He's got something you don't have."

"What?" Buffy asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

"Five minutes." Spike nodded to the policewoman, Patrice, who instantly raised her gun to Buffy's head.

Buffy grinned, her eyes flashing with defiance. "A gun won't kill me. Hurt like hell, sure. But it won't kill me."

"And why is that?" Spike asked, his curiosity piqued even as he reveled in his apparent control.

Buffy's grin widened as her form rippled, the human façade melting away to reveal her true demonic form of Nyxara. "Since I'm an upper-level demon, you need a potion made of my flesh to vanquish me," Nyxara said, her voice resonating with a deeper, more powerful timbre.

Spike took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he assessed this new threat. Now he understood why Octarus had left so abruptly after bringing Angel to him. Octarus had already known about Buffy's demonic nature. "Interesting," he mused, his mind already racing with possibilities. "But you're still outnumbered, Slayer. And we've got your precious Angel on the brink."

Nyxara's gaze hardened, the determination in her eyes burning brighter than ever. "You've underestimated me, Spike. I've faced worse than you and survived. Besides…" Her gaze flickered toward the door just as they burst open, one flying from its hinges as Kendra executed a perfect handspring across the floor. Belthazor strode in behind Kendra, his imposing figure radiating power.

Before anyone could react, Belthazor flung an energy ball at the policewoman, dislodging the gun so it skidded away across the floor. He turned towards his sister, his eyes filled with concern. "Nyxara?"

"I'm fine, little brother," Nyxara replied, her voice steady and reassuring.

Spike's confusion turned to irritation. "Who the hell are they?" he demanded, his voice rising as his henchmen glanced around in confusion.

Nyxara grinned, a feral light in her eyes. "It's your lucky day, Spike," she said.

Kendra attacked him from behind with a ferocity that left him reeling. "Two Slayers!" she shouted as her punch sent Spike spinning towards Nyxara.

"No waiting," Nyxara quipped, delivering a punch that sent him careening back towards Kendra. The two women moved in perfect sync, their coordinated attacks a testament to their combined strength and skill.

Spike managed to duck just in time to avoid Kendra's next blow, engaging her in a rapid exchange of fisticuffs. Meanwhile, the policewoman regained her footing and headed straight for Nyxara, stilettos popping out from the sleeves of her uniform, gleaming wickedly in the torchlight.

"Ooh, scary," Nyxara said with a laugh, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She effortlessly dodged the first swipe of the stilettos, her movements fluid and precise.

The other vampires closed in on Belthazor, their eyes gleaming with malevolent intent. As they made a grab for him, one of them suddenly pitched forward with an arrow in his back, letting out a gurgled cry of surprise.

Behind him stood Giles, crossbow in hand, his face set in grim determination. Flanking him were Willow and Xander, both armed and ready for the fight.

Xander let out a taunting yell. "Hey, larva boy!" he shouted, drawing the attention of Mr. Pfister, who turned around and fixed Xander with a bland smile.

"That's right," Xander continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm talking to you—you big cootie."

Mr. Pfister started toward him, but Xander was already racing for the foyer. He shut the heavy oak door behind him with a resounding thud, blocking the way.

Immediately, Mr. Pfister shed his human form and collapsed into a squirming mass of worms, slithering toward the door in a grotesque wave.

But Xander and Cordelia were ready. As the worms began streaming under the portal, Cordelia jumped up, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. She had spread a thick layer of liquid adhesive across the floor, and the worms stuck fast, writhing helplessly.

"Welcome, my pretties," Xander gave a mad cackle, reveling in their predicament. "Mwa haa haa!"

Immediately, Xander began stomping on the wriggling mass with fervor. Cordelia hesitated for a moment, then joined in—gingerly at first, but soon with unabashed enthusiasm.

"Die!" Cordelia shouted, stomping her cross-trainers into the adhesive with renewed vigor. "Die! Die!"

Xander glanced down at the squishy floor, the worms slowly succumbing to their assault. "I think he did, Cordy," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

The fierce sounds of battle echoed from the other side of the door, intensifying their efforts. They stomped harder, determined to eliminate every last writhing creature.

Not far from the altar, Kendra was holding her own against Spike. Her speed and agility were impressive, but Spike's raw power was overwhelming. After several crippling blows, she found herself on the defensive, struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, Nyxara was engaged in a fierce battle with the policewoman, narrowly escaping the deadly slashes of her knives.

Nyxara glanced over at Kendra and shouted, "Switch!"

Moving back to back, the two Slayers executed a perfectly synchronized maneuver. As if responding to an unspoken signal, Nyxara grabbed Kendra by the arms, and together they performed a tandem flip. Kendra flew straight into the policewoman, colliding with her forcefully. Nyxara landed right in front of Spike, her eyes blazing with determination.

Spike smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Rather be fighting you anyway," he said, his voice dripping with menace.

"Mutual," Nyxara replied, her tone equally defiant.

The remaining vampire took a swing at Belthazor, who dodged effortlessly. Belthazor's eyes glowed with a fierce intensity as he retaliated with a powerful energy ball, vanquishing the vampire.

Nyxara hurled Spike into the wall with a force that shook the building. The impact left a spiderweb of cracks in the ancient masonry. As Willy tried to slip away through the chaos, Spike's hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar.

"Where are you going?" Spike demanded, his voice dripping with menace.

Willy's mind raced, searching for an excuse. "There's a way in which this isn't my fault."

"They tricked you," Spike guessed, his tone mocking.

"They were duplicitous!" Willy agreed, feigning outrage.

"Well," Spike said soothingly, his grip tightening, "I'll only kill you just this once."

But his attention quickly shifted as he caught sight of Nyxara. She had climbed onto the altar, her hands desperately grasping the handle of the knife embedded in Angel's and Drusilla's hands. Her muscles strained as she tried to free the blade, her face a mask of determination and fear.

Spike roared in fury and tackled her from behind. The two of them crashed to the floor, rolling across the cold stone in a tangle of limbs.

Seeing his chance, Willy bolted. He sprinted past Giles and Willow, who were locked in their own struggle with a vampire.

"Hold him steady!" Willow insisted, her voice firm and unwavering.

Giles held the struggling vampire tightly, his expression grim. With a swift, decisive motion, Willow drove a stake through the vampire's heart. The creature let out a blood-curdling scream before exploding into a cloud of dust, which rained down on Giles.

Willow hastily wiped the dust from Giles's clothes, her eyes wide with the adrenaline of the moment. "Sorry about that," she mumbled.

Willy heard the vampire's final scream but didn't stop running. His heart pounded in his chest as he narrowly avoided colliding with Xander and Cordelia, who were racing in to join the fray.

Beneath the organ loft, Kendra and the policewoman clashed with full force, their movements a blur of lethal precision. Kendra deftly sidestepped the flashing knives, but the policewoman's next move caught her off guard, shoving her hard against a wooden beam. The impact jarred her, and she scrambled to her feet quickly, shaking off the fine sifting of dust that settled on her shoulders. As she glanced up at the loft, she realized the beam was supporting the entire structure, and the whole thing was wobbling dangerously.

In that split second of distraction, the policewoman lunged, her blade slicing through Kendra's arm, drawing a thin line of blood.

Kendra stared down at the torn sleeve of her shirt, her eyes narrowing with anger. "That's my favorite shirt," she muttered, her voice tight with fury. Then, after a moment's pause, she added with even greater indignation, "That's my only shirt!"

Fueled by her anger, Kendra launched a relentless assault, her fists and feet moving in a hail of blows that finally sent the policewoman crashing under the organ loft at the back of the church.

Up on the altar, Spike managed to land a good, hard punch on Nyxara, momentarily stunning her. As she regrouped, he took stock of the situation. His eyes darted around the church, taking in the chaos. He was clearly outnumbered. His decision was swift. He grabbed the dagger and yanked it out, cutting the bonds that held Angel and Drusilla together. Angel crumpled to the floor, barely conscious, while Spike caught the wilting Drusilla in his arms.

"Sorry, dear, we gotta go," Spike murmured to Drusilla, his voice filled with urgency. "Hope that was enough..."

Seizing a torch by the altar, he hurled it towards Buffy's friends. The torch missed its mark but landed on a pile of old curtains, which instantly burst into flames, sending a wave of heat and light through the church.

Spike moved swiftly, carrying Drusilla towards the rear of the church, skirting the growing flames and heading for the organ loft.

But Nyxara had recovered now, her eyes blazing with fury. She sprang to her feet, her demonic power surging. With a fierce cry, she flung an energy ball toward Spike. The crackling sphere of raw power hurtled through the air, aimed directly at his back.

The energy ball slammed into Spike with a force that sent him staggering. Unlike other vampires who would have been obliterated by such a blast, Spike, for some inexplicable reason, did not turn to dust. Instead, he stumbled forward, crashing into the beam beneath the organ loft. A long, low groan vibrated through the air, a harbinger of imminent collapse.

The loft above them gave way with a thunderous crash, burying Spike and Drusilla beneath a massive pile of wood and debris. Dust and splinters flew everywhere, the sound echoing through the church like a death knell.

Nyxara stood, panting, and stared at the spot where Spike had been standing. A triumphant smile spread across her face. "I'm good…" she said proudly, her voice tinged with satisfaction.

"She's good," Kendra echoed, nodding as though to reassure Buffy's friends, who were now gathering around, wide-eyed and amazed.

As the dust settled and the initial shock wore off, Nyxara's demonic form rippled and shifted back into Buffy. With the fire crackling menacingly around them, she turned back to the altar. Her eyes immediately found Angel, who lay motionless, his pale face contorted with pain. Buffy rushed to his side, kneeling beside him and cradling him gently in her arms. She laid a tender hand on his cheek, stroking his face, neck, and hair, trying to comfort him despite the uncertainty of his condition.

"It's gonna be okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's gonna be okay…"

Angel's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused at first. "Buffy?" he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

Buffy's eyes filled with tears, relief flooding her heart. "Yes, it's me. You're safe now."

Belthazor moved in next to her, his form shifting back into Cole. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Let's get him out," Cole said quietly, his voice calm and steady amidst the chaos.

Together, they supported Angel, lifting him with care and heading for the door. The fire blazed behind them, growing in intensity, the flames creeping slowly toward the rubble of the organ loft. As they made their way through the thickening smoke, Giles, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia joined them, forming a protective circle around their injured friend.

The night air hit them like a cold splash of water as they stumbled out of the church, coughing and gasping for breath. The old building behind them roared with the sounds of burning wood and collapsing structures, the fire consuming everything in its path.

November 26, 1997 – Wednesday

Sunnydale High

Outside Sunnydale High, Buffy and Kendra strolled toward the street, the morning sun casting long shadows behind them.

"Thank you for the shirt," Kendra said, glancing down at the borrowed top she wore. It was one of Buffy's, a stylish number that surprisingly fit Kendra well. "It is very generous of you."

Buffy grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, hey, it looks better on—well, me, but don't worry."

There was a newfound ease between them now, a comfortable camaraderie forged through shared battles and mutual respect. Kendra even smiled at the playful insult, her usually serious demeanor softened.

"Now, when you get to the airport—" Buffy began, but Kendra interrupted with a knowing look.

"I get on the plane with my ticket. And sit in a seat. Not the cargo hold," Kendra recited, her voice carrying a hint of exasperated amusement.

Buffy nodded proudly. "Very good."

"That is not traveling undercover," Kendra reminded her, her tone stern but her eyes twinkling.

"Exactly," Buffy affirmed. "Relax. You earned it. You sit. You eat the peanuts. You watch the movie, unless it's about a dog or stars Chevy Chase."

"I'll remember," Kendra said with a small smile.

They paused at the curb where a taxi awaited, the sunlight dappling through the leaves overhead, casting a warm glow around them. Buffy gazed intently into Kendra's face, a mixture of gratitude and understanding in her eyes.

"Thank you," Buffy finally said, her voice sincere. "For helping me save Angel."

Kendra's expression softened into a slight smile, a glint of humor in her eyes. "I am not telling my Watcher about that. It is too strange that a Slayer loves a vampire. Still," she conceded with a playful tilt of her head, "he is pretty cute."

"Well, then, maybe they won't fire me for dating him," Buffy joked lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

Kendra studied her for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "You always do that."

"Do what?" Buffy asked, curious.

"You talk about slaying like it's a job," Kendra replied quietly. "It's not. It's who you are. Just as being a demon is also who you are."

Buffy sighed softly, a hint of vulnerability in her expression. "I guess I can't fight it," she admitted with a rueful smile. "I'm a freak."

"But not the only freak," Kendra gently reminded her, her voice carrying reassurance.

Buffy met Kendra's gaze, finding strength and understanding there. She shook her head lightly and couldn't help but smile. "Not anymore."

There was an awkward silence between them, the weight of their recent battles and shared camaraderie lingering in the air. Instinctively, Buffy moved as if to put her arms around Kendra, seeking to bridge the gap with a gesture of warmth, but the other Slayer stiffened visibly and took a step back.

"I don't hug," Kendra said bluntly, her voice firm yet not unkind.

"Yeah, right. Me neither," Buffy replied quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly with embarrassment. "Hate 'em."

Kendra nodded tersely, then turned to head for the waiting taxi. She paused before getting in, casting a glance back at Buffy over her shoulder.

"Your secret is safe with me," Kendra assured her, her tone steady and solemn. "I won't tell my Watcher or anyone you are part-demon. Tell your brother I said goodbye."

Buffy managed a small smile, touched by Kendra's loyalty and understanding despite their differences. "Thanks, Kendra. For everything."

With that, Kendra climbed into the taxi, closing the door behind her. Buffy watched silently as the taxi pulled away, her gaze following it until it disappeared around a corner, leaving only the lingering echo of their farewell in the quiet street.

---

Author's Note: Cole will probably still shimmer to other dimensions like in canon. But having him able to go to Sunnydale also will get him some time in Buffy chapters also. Also Buffy might show up in Charmed chapters that Cole was not in. After all she still has to prove to Prue and Piper that she and Cole can be good.

Also the reason I went ahead and had Buffy talking to Prue and Piper in the cemetery is to potentially set up a possible pairing. One reviewer had suggested not just Faith, who I had been leaning toward originally, but Prue and Dawn also. Prue is not one I've ever done. I've done Dawn and Faith before. So if I can manage it I will see about Prue and Buffy being paired. Which means I would be saving Prue at the end of the season 3 arc.