Chapter One
Giles sat slumped in his chair, his face buried in his hands. It had been three days since Buffy’s disappearance, and he was beside himself with worry. Her mother was frantic, calling the hospitals and police stations daily. He, Willow and Xander had taken over the patrols, noticing with unease the increase in vampiric activity. But, the most disturbing thing that had occurred, was Kendra’s reappearance. The implications were enormous. She hadn’t spoken to any of them, just helped them slay, cast a sorrowful look at them, and then disappeared. Willow had crumbled against Xander and wept, truly believing that Buffy was gone.
Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he replaced his glasses and rose to go into the kitchen. He filled a kettle with water, finding slim comfort in the mechanics of making tea. He was holding his grief at bay, not willing to believe the obvious.
Angel had been laying low, not seeming to care about his girlfriends’ whereabouts. This just struck another point in the negative column for the vampire as far as Giles was concerned. If he saw the pillock anytime soon . . . With a concentrated effort, the Watcher turned his thoughts away from dusting his Slayer’s beau. He placed the kettle a little to forcefully onto the burner, the crack echoing in his silent apartment.
Sighing, he turned the burner on, and leaned on the counter to wait. He stared dazedly at the blue flame as it danced under the pot. He knew there was something else he should have been doing to prepare his precious tea, but he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it. A knock on his door had him shaking himself out of his stupor.
“Who is it?” he asked tiredly. The voice he heard had him throwing back the bolt and whipping the door open. “Buffy! Where have . . . ” He stopped talking as soon as he saw her. Her clothes were torn and bloody, scrapes showing through the gaps. Her wrists were encircled by scabbed over abrasions, as if she had been hand cuffed and had railed against the restraints. Her left eye was blossoming into a spectacular bruise, as was her left cheek. But the thing that unsettled him the most was the fact that the sad, pain filled eyes that were staring up at him were no longer hazel. They were now a rich gold. Ridges were raised above those eyes, and fangs protruded from between her swollen, bloody lips.
“Dear, lord.” He breathed, backing up a step.
“Giles. Help me.” She breathed, before collapsing in a heap outside the invisible barrier barring her from his home.
Without a second thought he pulled her through the door, whispering the invitation that was needed. He knew he was putting himself at serious risk, but if he could restrain her long enough, he might be able to have Willow perform the curse to restore her soul.
He pulled her over to the couch and placed her on it, making sure he had a stake before going to find some rope. Once he returned to the still unconscious girl, he placed the first aid kit on the coffee table. He then began to tie her ankles together.
“You don’t need to do that.” She whispered through swollen lips. Tears leaked form behind her closed eyelids.
“You’ll understand if I’m a little unsure of that.” Giles quipped, wrapping a towel around her wrists before tying them with the rope. She cracked her uninjured eye at him.
“Giles. Look at me.” She waited until he complied, seeing the grief, anger and fear swirling in his eyes. “You. Don’t. Need. To. Do. That.” She enunciated every word, praying he would get her meaning. When he just checked his knot to make sure it would hold, her tears came in earnest. “Giles.” Her voice cracked on his name, and he looked at her again. “I didn’t lose my soul.” Her voice was a quiet rasp, forcing him to strain to hear her. Disbelief was evident in his face as he REALLY looked at her.
“That’s impossible.” He denied, already knowing that everything he had been told was wrong. He could see it in her eyes. She was still Buffy. A bitter laugh filled the air at his comment.
“Yeah, well. Leave it to me to be different.” Her flippant remark made him flinch as if she had struck him. Her shoulders began to shake as great, heaving sobs racked her tiny frame. Giles immediately gathered his Slayer up in his arms and held her as she cried.
Buffy sat on the edge of the couch, wearing an old pair of Giles’ pajamas. She was acutely aware of the distrustful looks that Xander was throwing her from across the room. He and Cordelia were the first to show up, and he had given her a wide berth, pulling Cordelia with him. They were still waiting for Willow and Oz. The silence around them was thick with tension, but none of them tried to ease it. Therefore, when the knock on the door came, they all jumped as if it were a gunshot.
Giles rose to answer the door, stepping back to allow the red headed witch and her werewolf boyfriend inside. After leveling nervous eyes at her best friend, Buffy was filled with relief when she saw none of the distrust or loathing that she had seen in Xander. Willow took one look at Buffy and knew that her friend was still there. Going to her immediately, she wrapped the Slayer in her arms and hugged her fiercely.
“I’m so sorry, Buffy. If I had known . . . ” she began, pulling back to look at her. Buffy just shook her head, stopping her.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Wills. None of us could have known that sex would cause him to lose his soul.”
“Wow. That must have been some really good sex.” Cordelia said, glaring at Xander when he hissed at her. Buffy just rolled her eyes at the tactless comment.
“No, Buffy. I was researching the copy of the curse Giles had managed to get. It wasn’t the sex.” At her friends confused look, Willow jumped into full teacher mode. “Well, a-according to the translations, Angels’ soul could only be stripped by having one moment of perfect happiness.”
“I reiterate, must have been some really good sex.”
“Cordy!” Xander snapped. “Now isn’t the time for you usual tasteless comments.”
“Oh? But it’s okay for you to sit there and look at Buffy like she’s some sort of leper?” Cordelia arched one perfect brow at her sort of boyfriend, the look she had on her face making him feel like he was the biggest ass on the planet.
“She should have known better than to sleep with him.” He shot back. “He IS a vampire, soul or not. And she’s the Vampire SLAYER. They should all be staked.” A collective gasp rippled through the room, causing Xander to duck his head from the glares being sent his way.
“So, you think I should be staked?” Buffy asked, her words icy. His eyes met hers for the briefest instant, before he mumbled “no,” and looked away.
“E-e-everyone. If you please. Bickering about HOW Angel lost his soul is irrelevant. The fact remains that h-he has. Since Buffy has retained her soul is a miracle in of itself. I need to do research,” he ignored the groans that surrounded him, “As well as help Buffy to deal with her predicament.”
“Predicament?” Buffy muttered under breath. *He says it like I just found out I’m pregnant. * Willow offered the Slayer a sympathetic smile, squeezing her hand in comfort.
“We also need to find a univite spell to rescind Angel’s access to our homes. I suggest that none of us travel alone at night, and if you see him, DO NOT try to engage him. He was one of the most powerful and vicious vampires ever.” Giles reminded them, pausing to make sure his words sunk in.
“Oh, God. My mom.” Buffy said, horror crossing her face. Her mother was unaware and unprotected. She rose off the couch, only to be stilled by her Watcher’s voice.
“Buffy, I will go collect you mother, and we can explain this to her together. Willow, I believe the spell we need is in one of the books that I have upstairs.” Willow jumped off the couch to follow him. They paused when someone pounded on the door. They all exchanged glances before Giles went to answer it, his stake at the ready. Buffy moved to stand behind the door, ready to pounce if it was Angel.
“Kendra?” Giles said, as the tiny, black girl strode through the door.
“I know dat she’s here. Where is she?” Buffy stepped into view, prepared to defend herself against her sister Slayer.
“Kendra, wait.” Giles said, standing between the Slayers. “She isn’t a danger.”
“She’s one of dem now.” Was all the girl said, believing that was enough.
“She kept her soul.” Willow told her, moving to stand beside Giles. Kendra looked between the two, then over their shoulders to Buffy. The blonde Slayer simply nodded her head, knowing there was nothing they could do if Kendra didn’t believe them. She would attack, and Buffy would be forced to fight.
“Dat is unfortunate.” She said, looking straight into the Watcher’s eyes. “He’s coming.” Then she turned on her heel and left a stunned Giles to stare at her retreating back.
*Slayer’s aren’t supposed to know about him. * his mind told him. But Kendra knew. How? Shaking his head, he turned to look at the confused faces of his charges. He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten, and now he had to warn Buffy.
“Willow, will you please call Buffy’s mother and tell her that Xander and Cordelia are on their to pick her up.” The red head looked at him quizzically before moving to do as he had asked. Cordelia and Xander stood to leave, not wanting to miss out on the explanation.
“Go. I will clear things up when you get back. I only want to say this once.” The tale was long and involved, and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. Once they left, he turned to Buffy. “Please sit down. When your mother gets here we’ll talk.”
“What did she mean?” Buffy asked. She knew, by the look on his face that Kendra wasn’t talking about Angelus.
“When your mother gets here.” He insisted, turning toward Oz. “Would you help me locate the books I need?” Oz nodded and rose to follow him, leaving Buffy alone in the living room.
“Well, isn’t this fun?” she quipped, lopping back down onto the couch to wait. Dread filled her as she thought of her mother and how the older Summers’ woman would react to having a vampire Slayer daughter-turned vampire. Hysterical laughter bubble din her throat as she thought about the joke that her life was.
Exceeding the speed limit by a good sixty miles, the black DeSoto barreled down the highway. Billy Idol played at ear drum splitting decibels, but the driver didn’t seem to care. A cigarette smoldered in his mouth as his black lacquered fingers pounded on the steering wheel in time to the beat. Eyes as blues as ice surveyed the road, pushing the car even faster as he spotted a dark object in the distance. With a war whoop that rivaled any rebel yell, he plowed over the “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign, his smile of satisfaction causing the sharp planes of his face to soften for a brief instant.
He slowed considerably as he drove the quiet streets of the small burg settled over the top of a Hellmouth. His platinum head shook ruefully as he thought of the citizens sleeping soundly in their beds, completely unaware of the uglies that stalked their town. And also unaware of the tiny, girl that was chosen to protect them from said uglies. He knew, and that was why he was here.
He drove with straight to his destination, the old mansion just on the outside of town. The lights were blazing from the windows, letting him know that the occupants were indeed home. Turning off the car, he got out and walked to the door. He moved with the power and grace of the predator he was. His black, ankle length duster flowed behind him, giving the illusion of the cape that people expected on creatures like him.
Walking inside, he saw the minions scrambling around as if the devil himself was on their heals. Then he heard the shouting and knew that, indeed, he was.
Pausing at the entrance to the great room, he lit a cigarette off the butt of the other one and callously crushed its remains into the marble floor. He then made sure his trademark smirk was in place before walking in. The scene that greeted him was comic at best. Minions were lined up in front of the Master, heads bowed in fear. The Mistress sat in a chair at the head of the room, looking regal in a snug fitting, royal blue gown. Her dark curls tumbled around her shoulders, reminding him of a time not to long ago. He felt his heart constrict a bit as he gazed at her, taking advantage of not being noticed yet. He had loved her at one time, when he had let the darkness consume him. Shaking off the ghost of the past, he moved his attention to the Master who was still deep in his tirade.
“How did she escape?!” the Master roared, staring down at one of his cowering flock. The light-haired vampire just stared at his sire dumbly, not having an answer. Too bad for him. The Master growled and plunged the stake he had been holding deep into the minions chest. He then eyed the rest of the line, letting them know without words that the same fate could befall them. “You idiots had ONE job. Guard the Slayer. And you couldn’t even do that right. Tell me why I shouldn’t stake the whole lot of you?!” he demanded of the next sorry individual his brown eyes landed on.
*He lost the Slayer* their unseen audience thought. *This makes things a bit more interesting. * He blew smoke out of his lungs, preparing to make his presence known. But at that moment, the mistress’ head whipped toward his direction, her soft lilting voice carrying to him.
“Angel.” She called. He whirled on her, anger etched deep in his face.
“WHAT, Druscilla? I’m kinda busy here.” He growled, his demon surging forward. She wasn’t looking at him, though, her eyes still trained on the shadows where he was.
“Our boy has come home.” She said with delight. Angel looked at her quizzically for a moment, then turned on the direction of her stare. He chose that moment to step into the light, his cigarette dangling from his lips once more. Angel’s face twisted into a sneer as he gazed upon his wayward childe. A hundred years had passed since he last seen him.
“William, my boy. What brings you to our humble home?” the dark-haired vampire’s tone was not in the least bit welcoming. A slow, wolfish smile crossed the younger mans’ face.
“It’s Spike. And it’s good to see you too, Peaches.” Sarcasm dripped from the deep, British voice as he regarded the Master.
“Come back to try to reclaim what’s yours?” Angel asked casually, walking toward the blonde. Spike’s drifted to Dru then back to his pseudo sire.
“Nope. Heard the Slayer was in town. Figured I give her a go.” Rage was the only way to describe the look on the brunettes’ face. Spike found himself jacked up against the wall behind him, the burning end of the cigarette turned toward his face. He briefly wondered when Angel started to move so fast, but quickly dismissed it as the glowing end inched closer to his face.
“She is MINE!” Angel growled, his words low and menacing. Too bad Spike wasn’t easily intimidated.
“Really? Where is she then?” he asked casually. He didn’t scream when the cigarette was crushed out on his cheek. He raised his scarred left eyebrow as the smell of burning flesh singed his nostrils. “Touchy.” He quipped, barely suppressing the mocking smile. Angel looked at him in disgust before dropping him unceremoniously to his feet.
“Stay away from her Spike. I mean it.”
“Whatever you say, Peaches. Whatever you say.”