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Chapter Text

Tento di Cruciamentum (Latin for “test of torture”) was a rite of passage practiced by the Watchers Council to test the Slayer whenever she lived to see her 18th birthday. While some of the more conservative members of the Council considered it a time-honored rite of passage, other Watchers considered it a brutal, antiquated practice, Rupert Giles describing it as an "archaic exercise in cruelty."

London, England, Spring 1999

Quentin Travers, the head of the Watchers Council-the organization which governs the Vampire Slayers, was silent as he watched his colleagues begin taking their seats, waiting for the meeting to start. It had not even been a full year since the Watchers Council had needed to gather together for a meeting with such particular news to be imparted. Quentin didn't like to think of how many meetings of this nature he'd sat through in all of his years on the Council. The number was quite staggeringly high, and over the years he'd developed a wall separating his emotions from the work he did.

His thoughts turned to the Vampire Slayer this meeting was centered around: Buffy Summers. Quentin had eventually been impressed by the girl after she'd been Called. Miss Summers had answered her Calling at the age of fifteen-years-old, and had survived her first year quite well. Even death in her second year had not managed to keep her from fulfilling her duty. Miss Summers had been the first Slayer to ever be revived after death. This had earned her a unique place in their long, long history.

Despite her resuscitation, Miss Summers had been dead long enough that the mantle of being the Chosen One had been passed on to a Potential named Kendra Young from Jamaica. The Council had then made the decision not to inform Miss Summers' Watcher, Rupert Giles, that a new Slayer had been Called. Rupert had well documented how temperamental the girl was. She was an American, after all, and they didn't want to give her another reason to fight against her duty. She was still a Slayer, still the Chosen One. The world had been that much safer with the addition of a second Slayer. It was ironic that the Slayer who was next in line after Miss Young would turn out to be even more obstinate and less willing to follow orders than Miss Summers.

In fact, in Quentin's opinion, Buffy Summers was one of the best Slayer's since Sineya-the First Slayer. He'd had such high hopes for the girl, despite her tenacious tendencies to flout the rules and do things her own way. He couldn't argue that even with her less-than-obedient attitude, she still yielded results that were more than satisfactory, which was all that mattered in their business, he supposed. Miss Young, a very studious and nearly hyper-obedient Slayer, under the guidance of her strict Watcher, Sam Zabuto, would've been quite the contender to match Miss Summers' record. It was such a shame they never had the opportunity to find out.

The more Quentin thought of Miss Summers, the more of her more impressive feats came to mind. With barely two days' notice, she had foiled the Harvest, the ritual that would've seen the Master, a vampire formerly named Heinrich Joseph Nest, to rise from his mystical prison beneath Sunnydale and open the Hellmouth months sooner than he did. She had survived The Three, the deadly warriors the Master had sent after her as well as assassins from the Order of Taraka William the Bloody, otherwise known as Spike, had contracted to kill the Slayer. Not to mention her myriad other triumphs in their fight against evil. It was truly amazing all that she had accomplished in her tenure as the Slayer.

When everyone was finally seated, Quentin pulled himself from his reverie. It was time to start the meeting, and putting off unpleasant news would not make the situation any better. There was too much to be done to entertain delays due to sentimentality. Not that he entertained the counterproductive emotion often anyway.

Quentin took a deep breath as he looked around the faces of his colleagues.

In the reserved and detached tone of a true Brit, Quentin informed the Council of the reason for their gathering.

"Buffy Summers is dead."

Sunnydale, California, December 25, 1998 

A peaceful calm that Buffy Summers had not felt in years settled over her as she walked along Main Street hand-in-hand with Angel. They were marveling at the cotton ball-like snowflakes falling down around them. It was a truly miraculous sight to behold. Up until that morning, even after all she'd seen and experienced since becoming the Slayer, Buffy wasn't sure that she'd believed in honest-to-God miracles. She went to high school on a Hellmouth, there were Hell dimensions, she had been to one, and so had Angel. Logic dictated that if Hell existed, then surely Heaven did, too. There was that whole thing about "cosmic balance" in the universe. It was a topic which would usually make Buffy roll her eyes when brought up because to her it just sounded like a crock-a lie people would tell themselves and others to make them feel better.

But not today. It wasn't a philosophical conversation Buffy was interested in having at this precise moment, but she knew at some point it would be something to discuss, if only to better understand the why of it. It couldn't be a coincidence that the same day Angel was hell bent on committing suicide by sunrise was the day snow so thick it would block the sun would fall in Southern California. In fact, Buffy refused to believe it. Clearly, there was an entity (Buffy would send it a fruit basket as a thank you if she ever found out who or what it was) that wanted Angel alive just as much as she did. She also refused to believe the First Evil and its claim that it had brought Angel back to kill her and release Angelus again. The Big Bad's always liked to talk a big game, rarely living up to their boastful claims, in her experience.

Buffy decided to shut her brain off and just enjoy the pleasure of holding hands with Angel again. She let the happiness stemming from such a simple action wash over her. It was nice to just be after the turmoil of the past few days. Buffy had faced Vampire Kings, witches, a humanity-burning demon, insane vampires, and a plethora of other nasty, evil beings, and yet she had never been more scared than when she thought Angel was really going to succeed in committing suicide; that he really would let himself be turned into ash by the sun. There was nothing on this Earth, or any other dimension, that could scare her more than the prospect of losing Angel. Again.

Later, after reassuring Joyce and the Scooby Gang plus Faith that everything was okay now (as okay as anything ever is in Sunnydale) Buffy made her way to the mansion. After their walk through town, Angel had gone home while Buffy went off to be the responsible daughter and friend by checking in with the others. Faith shrugged, said "Cool" followed by her staple "Five-by-five" then took off for God knows where-not that Buffy cared all that much at the moment. She was too preoccupied with thoughts of Angel, of Angel and her, and what the future might look like. After all the pain they'd been through, they could finally be them. 

Take that, Spike! she thought with smug, and perhaps a little malicious, glee.

Of the others, Willow had lived up to her best friend role and was the most supportive. She had offered to call Xander so Buffy wouldn't have to deal with the vitriol he would spew in his jealousy and not-so-passive-aggressive comments. Giles had given her a look when she'd gone to him that said he wished she would make a different choice, but knew it was a lost cause and had begrudgingly accepted the situation for what it was. To her eternal appreciation, he had said that they would continue to look into Angel's reappearance in their dimension. If they could learn more about it, then maybe they would be prepared for the First Evil ('First Evil.' Hah! Delusions of grandeur, much?) to ever come back to torment Angel again. If it did, they would be ready.

No one messes with her boyfriend!*

Boyfriend. Just thinking the word filled Buffy with a giddiness she hadn't been prone to exhibit, or feel, really, in the last year. Not since her 17th birthday, to be exact. Buffy pushed those thoughts to the back recesses of her mind. She didn't want to think of those dark, dark months. Now was a time to celebrate and bask in the happiness, and she meant to do just that!

Angel built up the fire to ward off the chill the snow had brought to Sunnydale. He had parted ways with Buffy a little while ago in town so she could tell everyone they didn't have to worry he was going to "lose it" anymore. Not that Giles or Xander would be all that worried in the first place. At least Giles had an extremely good reason to hate him. Xander's hatred was nothing more than his belief he was Buffy's spurned lover. What the idiot didn't understand was that he'd never been a contender for Buffy's heart. That didn't stop him from being an immature boy and world-class ass, though.

Buried very, very deep in Angel's mind was the feeling of regret that Angelus had not killed Xander instead of, or in addition to, Jenny Calendar. Even Angelus had thought Xander was the worst possible friend ever, and that he didn't deserve to even call himself Buffy's friend. Which is why his soulless counterpart had decided he would kill Xander around Valentine's Day last year. Not only would it fulfill his tradition of cruelly taunting his victims, but it would also, in Angelus' words of course, 'Remove the heartless jackass from Buffy's life.' Angelus might be an evil bastard, but he wasn't wrong on that score. Angel couldn't exactly disagree with that particular sentiment, either. (Not that he would ever admit to it.) Telling the boy to grow up would only create more problems for Buffy, so it was best to keep his mouth shut when it came to his feelings about Xander.

With that in mind, he hoped that Buffy's mom and friends would accept the news that they were together again with grace, even if they didn't agree and weren't happy with it. Angel didn't care what any of them thought or felt about him and him and Buffy, but he knew their approval meant a lot to Buffy. And her life was already complicated enough, he didn't want to add another stressor. But staying away from each other was no longer an option. Angel would surely break without her at his side if the First Evil ever came back for another go at him. He would stake himself before he allowed Angelus to be freed again, giving the monster the opportunity to either kill Buffy like in the vision-dream from the First Evil or leave her alive to terrorize her and the others like last year. Angelus had always delighted in creating new levels of cruelty for his victims, and Buffy and the Scooby Gang had been the most exhilarating game of his undead life.

Angel sighed heavily. After the turmoil of the last few days, his strength-emotionally and physically-was depleted, and he sagged against the wall next to the fireplace. Buffy had said she would only be gone an hour or two, so he decided to rest until she got back. It would be nice to actually get some sleep and feel rested after waking. He made his way to the bed, his eyes getting heavier with each step. Angel was barely coherent by the time he collapsed face first onto the soft mattress. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. His mind was blissfully silent, finally allowing him a peaceful rest.

When Angel woke, he wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but he actually felt rested and his previously chaotic mind was finally quiet. He would've attributed this to the 'Christmas miracle,' but he was fairly sure that it had more to do with the warm body snuggled up against him. Buffy was curled into his side and sleeping deeply. Angel wondered when she'd arrived because he couldn't recall turning over, or Buffy crawling into bed with him. They both had obviously needed the sleep and took great comfort in each other's presence to have slept so soundly.

Buffy's light floral scent filled his nostrils, and Angel breathed it in. It was one of his most favorite scents in the world. She was always so worried that being the Slayer didn't allow her to be a girly girl, but he disagreed. Buffy was one of the most feminine females he'd ever known. And honestly, she didn't even need to try. The girls of his human life basically made a career of primping and preening. Layers of powder and perfume to mask the smell of body odor that was the product of not bathing daily. It would be another century before daily bathing became a common practice, and that was only available for the rich and upper-middle classes. Most people didn't have time or could afford to take a hot bath every morning, so trying to mask the smell was the best that could be done until wash day, if a person even bothered in the first place.

And don't get him started on the cosmetics! Christ, they were a fright! Lead-based creams painted onto the face making it ghostly white. Pomade different shades of red applied to the lips in the "rosebud" shape. Rouge dabbed onto the cheeks in either round or triangle shapes. And then wigs piling hair as high as three feet and also powdered white. And can't forget the damn "beauty marks," pieces of velvet or fur temporarily glued to the face. It was all so ridiculous! Angel was glad that Buffy had not copied those historical fashion trends when she'd chosen her Halloween costume last year.

If things had not literally been falling apart, he would've had time to truly appreciate the magnificent sight she'd made and been stunned speechless to see her in that dress. But they had, and he'd been truthful later that night. A gown or sweatpants, it didn't matter; Angel would always think her beautiful. And maybe Buffy didn't personify the traits of "femininity" by society's standards, but she did to him. Unfortunately, one of the things Angel, to his great mental disturbance, very much had in common with Angelus was that he thought Buffy was sexy as hell when fighting. Maybe it was wrong, but, damn, did he like to watch her whale on a demon or vampire! The intoxicating scent of the endorphins flooding her system, the increased heart rate pumping all that hot, delicious blood…

The mental fantasy that was just getting started inside his head was cut off when the beautiful creature in his arms began to stir. Angel looked down to see eyes the same shade as sage blinking sleepily at him.

"Hi," she said, her voice rough from sleep.

Angel smiled at her. He always thought Buffy was adorable when she was first waking up. "Hey," he said in reply.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked, stretching her body out alongside his, working out some of the kinks.

He shook his head. "No clue. I haven't been awake long, and I didn't want to disturb you."

He should probably think about investing in some items to make the mansion a little more homier, like clocks. Maybe some rugs and statues and vases to give the place a little culture, like his old apartment. Buffy would probably like a mirror or two as well, he thought as he focused his attention back to the young woman he loved more than anything.

"Well, I feel a lot better, and you look way better, so I'm guessing it's been a while." Buffy sat up and Angel copied her movement, stretching his limbs out as well.

She was right. She looked as well rested as he now felt.

Buffy looked at him warily. "You know this isn't going to be easy going forward, don't you?"

"When has life ever been easy for us, Buffy?"

She grimaced, but it smoothed out when Angel brushed some hair away from her face with a tender touch. "I know, and Mom, Giles, and Willow have accepted that we're going to be together again. Xander is another matter entirely, though, and while I don't give a damn that he disapproves, he's still my friend."

Angel desperately wanted to point out several instances where that was not an entirely accurate statement about Xander, but felt it wasn't the right time to argue against it. It probably never will be. He sighed. If only the universe would be kind enough to remove Alexander Harris from their lives permanently. What a day to rejoice that would be!

Wanting to reassure Buffy, though, Angel said, "We'll just take it one day at a time. Hopefully, with enough time, Xander will come around." Doubtful, but Angel wanted to try to be optimistic for Buffy's sake.

Buffy narrowed her expressive, green eyes at him. "You don't really believe that, do you?" She then smirked at him.

He shook his head, chuckling softly. He never could fool Buffy for long. "Let me put it this way: I want to believe that."

Buffy's amusement morphed into sad understanding. "That's probably the best we can ask for right now." Angel nodded his agreement. She quickly rallied her spirit in true Buffy fashion and smiled brightly. "But we have each other, and we'll face whatever comes our way together," she said, extending her hand.

Angel didn't hesitate for a single moment, immediately taking her hand and entwining their fingers. "We will." His smile was as wide as Buffy's. He then raised her hand to press a kiss to the back like he'd been raised to do, before leaning forward and sealing their pledge with a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Foolishly, Angel and Buffy both believed that the universe would finally grant them some semblance, however small, of happiness in this hard, cruel world for everything that they had endured.

If only the universe were that kind.

Chapter Text

January 22-23, 1999

Buffy’s senses were assaulted as she slowly came back to awareness. She was so disoriented and her memory felt so scrambled that she had no idea what had happened to her; she didn’t even know where she was, but she could tell she was lying on her back. What she did know was that there was something different about her-fundamentally different. There was an instinct that wanted to say it was something wrong, but she dismissed the notion as soon as she had become aware of it. The voice inside her head that was always there to make the distinction between right and wrong was just…gone. And it felt freeing. 

The odor of decay with a mustiness of abandonment mixed with newly laid brick and mortar pervaded her nostrils. She had always had a keen sense of smell-a Slayer gift, but it had never been like this. It was so enhanced it was nearly unbelievable and also overwhelming. Her hearing was the same. She swore she could hear the termites feasting on the rotting wood, all manner of insects and mice skittering around everywhere. There was also a rapid beating sound and whoosh-whooshing, and a few other sounds she couldn’t quite place. 

The deep humming of a song that sounded vaguely familiar prompted Buffy to finally open her eyes. The lighting where she was was dim at best and yet she could see as clearly as if she were outside in the bright Southern California sun, all open skies and no structure to offer any shade whatsoever. It was amazing! 

Still on the floor, Buffy slowly turned her head to the right, and the sight before her was shocking. Joyce Summers, her mother, was sitting in a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs, and gagged. She obviously couldn’t speak, but that didn’t stop her from trying, she desperately pulled at her bonds, but there wasn’t much give. There were wet and dried tear streak trailing down her cheeks and her eyes were filled with nothing but pure, horrified panic. 

“You’re awake. Good. We’ve been waiting, haven’t we, Mother?” 

Approximately 24 hours earlier

Buffy was once again asking why the universe was such a fickle bitch as she walked home from Angel’s mansion on Crawford Street. He had offered to walk her home, but she had declined, knowing that she would be poor company, lost to her thoughts as she was. She wanted to rant and rage, and demand for someone, anything, to explain why this was happening to her. After everything she’d been through, what had she done to deserve this? Had she not earned some kind of break? 

Of course not, she thought as she huffed in annoyance. That would make life too easy. That made Buffy scoff. No rest for the weary, and all that, she thought peevishly. 

For the last three years, Buffy had resisted, pushed and pulled at her Calling as the Vampire Slayer. She had reluctantly accepted her duty as the Chosen One, and did her best to protect those she had been Called to protect. She had even died for them! How many times had she whined that it wasn’t fair that her life wasn’t normal? How many times had she wished she was not the Slayer? How many times, especially when Kendra had been Called after she’d died meant her ‘destiny’ had technically been passed on, had she been tempted to tell the Watchers Council to go screw themselves? That chance was finally upon her… and she balked at the notion that she might actually get to be a normal girl?! What was wrong with her?!?! 

Buffy kicked at a rock in her path. The distance it traveled, or didn’t travel, made her scowl. Her Slayer strength was gone. Without it, that meant Buffy couldn’t take down the football team’s entire defensive line while hardly breaking a sweat. The next time something attacked the school or the Bronze, she could run away with everyone else instead of running towards it. She could stay home, paint her toenails, and drool over magazine pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, and Johnny Depp instead of wandering cemeteries looking for disturbed graves or stumbling across demons stealing dangerous artifacts (items that should’ve been destroyed or never made in the first place! Seriously!) from mausoleums. Neither assassins nor bounty hunters would be sent after her. She wouldn’t constantly have a target painted on her back. 

What else had Buffy gotten over the years for being the Slayer? She had died, for one. She was labeled as “unstable” and a “troublemaker.” She’d been kicked out of school in L.A. and Sunnydale. Her parents had divorced. Their marriage had already been on the rocks before she'd been activated, but Buffy suddenly getting into so much trouble all the time had exacerbated the problems, and they’d finally called it quits. Classmates and friends had died or almost died because of her-Angelus targeting Theresa and Jenny Calendar because of their connections to Buffy came to mind. A bounty hunter had attacked her at school and Oz had been shot because of it. Her mom had unwittingly been in danger several times, too. How many times had Giles, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia almost not made it out of a situation alive because they were helping her or were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Jenny hadn’t made it. Neither had Kendra. 

One of her oldest friends had tried to serve her up on a silver platter to her enemy in exchange for eternal life. Even though Buffy understood that Ford had had brain cancer, was scared and didn’t want to die, it didn’t negate the fact that he’d been happily willing to barter her life for an undead one for himself; either unaware or uncaring that his new existence wouldn’t be him anymore. The thought of his betrayal still stung. 

Then there were the numerous injuries she received on almost a nightly basis. How many times did a fight leave her bruised and sometimes bloody or with multiple bone fractures? She may heal fast, but that doesn't mean it doesn’t hurt when she’s initially injured, or sore for the length of time it would take a more severe wound to heal. 

Let’s see. What else was there???

Oh yeah, Buffy had had to kill her boyfriend! She’d sent Angel to a hell dimension to save the damn world-again. She’d endured months of emotional, sometimes physical if they actually engaged in a fight, torture because Angel had lost his soul. And just when she could’ve had him back, she’d had to shove a sword through his heart and watch as he was swallowed by Acathla’s vortex. She’d saved the world, but at the cost of the love of her life. It was the cruelest of cruelties. 

Her mom had also kicked her out of the house when Buffy had been forced to reveal the truth to Joyce in last year. And what had happened after she came back? Her friends had treated her like dirt (especially Xander!) and her mom’s friend had condescendingly scolded Buffy like a little kid with a hand caught in the cookie jar for running away. Buffy couldn’t help but secretly be a little glad Pat wasn’t around anymore when she would acknowledge her vindictive thoughts. 

She had felt like none of them understood what she’d been going through, and hadn’t even tried to understand. They’d just wanted to dismiss her pain and chastise her, pretending that it hadn’t been a big deal she’d killed Angel and that taking off after had been selfish and childish of her. She’d like to know how they would've dealt with the same circumstances. Would they have taken it well? Hadn’t Giles suicidally confronted Angelus after Jenny died? Even though Spike and Drusilla hadn’t joined the fracas, Giles never could’ve won that fight. 

It annoyed Buffy to this day that they couldn’t separate Angel from Angelus. She didn’t know why it was so hard for them to understand that it had been Angelus, not Angel, who had killed Jenny. They just didn’t want to understand, she’d finally realized. Giles was the person most equipped to know that the soul inside Angel made all the difference, and he was not responsible for Jenny’s death, yet Giles chose not to see past that. It was Angel who was there, though, and with the same face as her killer, so it was he who faced the brunt of their anger. And Xander, as usual, was leading the torch and pitchfork wielding mob against him. She didn’t think he’d ever experience a growth in maturity. 

It felt like things had finally started falling into place, especially since Christmas. It might have been shaky ground for a while after Faith had first shown up, but Buffy finally had someone who could watch her back and didn’t have to worry that they couldn’t keep up. It also felt like her mom was more understanding and supportive of her Slayer duties. She didn’t have to worry about sneaking in and out of the house anymore or getting into trouble and grounded for fighting because Joyce knew it was necessary, that people would die if she didn’t. She was also getting along with her friends and Watcher better than ever since her return. Life is actually pretty good right now, or it had been, Buffy thought bitterly. 

All of those things were good, yes, but the best thing was that Angel had somehow (it really didn’t matter how to her) been brought back from Acathla’s hell dimension. He had his soul, he was sane, and most importantly, they were back together. It had been excruciatingly painful trying to stay away from him, but that was over now. They had stopped fighting their feelings and admitted they should be together. It was an extremely unconventional relationship, what with their limitations and all, but that didn’t matter to Buffy. She just wanted to be with him, in whatever capacity possible. Although, she did have a selfish hope buried in the deeper recesses of her heart that someday they might be able to find a way around the part of the Gypsy Curse that kept her and Angel from being fully intimate on a physical level. 

Buffy’s reverie was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. It turns out that her instinct to help that was born out of her years as the Slayer was not entirely gone, for she was spurred into action the moment she’d heard the panicked plea. 

“Help! Help me! Plea-” 

Buffy had just rounded a tall hedge to see a man yanked through the front door of a house. It slammed shut, cutting off another cry for help. Her arrival had taken several seconds longer than it normally would have. Already there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and she was winded. All in all, not her usual response to battle, showcasing even further she was not the Slayer anymore. Despite this disadvantage, Buffy was still resolved to help. 

With a bravado she didn’t feel, Buffy burst through the door, intent on doing her best to rescue the poor soul inside. It was never to be, however. As soon as Buffy crossed over the threshold, she was beset upon by not one, not two, but three vampires. Without her Slayer strength, or even a weapon (the difference that would’ve made was negligible against those odds), she was no match for the supernaturally strong, soulless fiends. It was truly tragic how little time it took for her to succumb to the deadly attack. There was panic then pain and a sort of fading, everything slowed down, and then finally, nothing. She let go and allowed the blissful darkness to take her. 

This is the story of how Buffy Summers, one of the greatest Slayers in history, died. Again. Only this time, there would be no one coming to revive her. She was well and truly gone. 

The world would never be the same. 

Chapter Text

Sunnydale, California, mid-to-late May, 1999

Giles stared in horror as Buffy, his Slayer and the girl who had become like a daughter to him, revealed her true form. 

“Hello Giles.” Her words had a lisp as she spoke around the sharp and elongated teeth, and the smile she gave him was cold, a preview of the cruelty she promised to inflict. “Do you like my new look?” The vampire with Buffy’s body struck a pose, then she lunged. 

“Aargh!!!” 

Rupert Giles lurched awake with a jolt from his nightmare. He frantically patted at his neck, feeling for blood and puncture marks. Finding none he sighed in relief. His vision blurry from a combination of lack of sleep mixed with copious amounts of hard liquor, clumsily grasped a bottle, his second? third?, of whiskey. At least he thought it was whiskey. He might’ve finished that off and started in on the brandy. It could even be the gin for all he knew, as he’d lost track several glasses ago. He blearily looked at the bottle, unable to read the label even though he’d focused, or attempted to, on the small letters. 

The hell if I know, he thought, pouring the liquid into his glass without a care that some splashed over the sides. It was of no import of what the bottle contained, however. It was alcohol, and it would continue to keep his mind blissfully empty, scattering even his impressive ability to compartmentalize and calmly think through a crisis. The only problem with that notion, however, was that he was not facing a crisis. Oh no, it was a calamity. And it was not just Giles who was affected by this travesty, it was the whole bloody world. 

“The Earth-hic-is-hic-doomed,”* Giles slurred, then barked out a laugh that was completely devoid of any humor. It was the type of laugh that would send cold chills down the spine of anyone unfortunate enough to have heard it. It was definitely warranted. 

Giles’ worst nightmare had come to life just as it had two years ago when the Hellmouth had made young Billy Palmer’s nightmares a reality as well as the nightmares of other residents of Sunnydale. Those nightmares-Willow’s stage fright, Xander’s killer clown, and Cordelia’s transformation into a nerd with bad hair, were even more laughable than they’d been then. Even Buffy’s fear that her dad blamed her for the divorce and wanted her out of his life had been minor. 

His first nightmares had been as absurd as his students’. Getting lost in the stacks and then losing the ability to read, both child’s play when compared to stepping into that magically nighttime-during-the-day graveyard and seeing a gravestone with Buffy’s name on it. It was a sight that had cut him to the quick (and was now a reality). It meant failure, and it was the greatest fear of every Watcher Giles had ever met. 

And then when Buffy had “risen,” seeing the features-the heavily ridged brow, the fangs and other crookedly sharp teeth, and yellow eyes, all indicating her vampirism, had actually nearly given him a heart attack. The relief felt by all when Billy had woken up and everything went back to normal… Well, let's just say no one was more relieved than Giles and for a reason he’d kept to himself. Once the nightmares were over there had been no need, so Giles had felt it was best not to reveal the Council’s policy when it came to “assisting” vampires. A policy that had been a result of Angel’s involvement in Buffy’s life. To say the Council had been unhappy that the vampire, despite having his soul and working for the side of good, is an understatement. Travers had been particularly smug when Angelus had been released last year. It was the ultimate I told you so moment Travers had been waiting for. 

“Smug bloody bas-bastaarr-” Giles slurred, too drunk to finish speaking coherently. 

It was this subject of Angel reverting back to his natural evil sate that reminded him of an earlier conversation with Willow.  

Who the bloody hell knows hours ago…

The sun was high in the sky-the safer time of day-and Giles had just arrived at the Rosenberg residence to cast the spell to disinvite vampires. He’d already done his apartment and Willow’s house was next before heading to Xander’s. Buffy’s vampire counterpart had cleverly wrangled an invite to all three of their houses, even though Xander’s had not been a regular location where they would convene. 

Willow had just called for him to come in, as her parents were gone, when Giles had rang the doorbell. She was frantically shuffling through a stack of papers, while periodically looking into a box, and muttering to herself in a tone too low for Giles to understand what she was saying. 

“Willow,” Giles said. She didn’t seem to hear him, only poked through the items in the box. “Willow!” Giles said louder. 

“Stones, stones…got the stones. Bones, bones…don’t have those,” Willow continued to murmur, sifting through the box’s contents. “Incense and candles…have plenty of those,” she said with a small giggle that sounded too airy for the tragic circumstances they now found themselves in. 

“WILLOW!” Giles shouted, grabbing the young girl’s shoulders and swinging her around to face him. 

The redhead’s gaze seemed to focus on him, finally. “Oh! Hi Giles.” Willow’s eyes were wide-too wide, and her smile was reminiscent of the rictus grin. 

“Willow, what are you doing?” Giles asked, concern for his student lacing his tone.  

She gave him a look like he’d just asked if she remembered how to get on the computer. “I’m gathering the ingredients for a spell, what’s it look like?” she asked indignantly. 

“I can see that, but-” 

“I need animal bones. Do you have animal bones?” Willow cut him off, her tone frenetic. 

“Y-yes, I do, but which spell, Willow?” Giles asked, a sense of foreboding creeping down his spine. 

“Why, the Ritual of Restoration, of course. If you have the bones, then all we need is an Orb of Thesulah. I have everything else.” She returned her attention to the box of supplies. 

“Willow,” he said, his heart breaking. He scolded himself, he should’ve realized beforehand that Willow would want to cast the Gypsy curse on Buffy. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry, but we can’t restore Buffy’s soul.” Giles was surprised when Willow’s expression didn’t fall at his words, delivered in such a painful tone it would cause even the most hardened warrior to flinch. 

Willow nodded at him. “I know the Orb is hard to find, but eBay deals in nearly everything. I’m sure we can find one there. The only issue might be the price, but I’m pretty thrifty with my allowance, so if you chip in, I think we’ll be able to manage it. And depending on where it ships from it can be here in just a matter of days. And then we’ll have the first Vampire Slayer who’s a vampire. The vampire Vampire Slayer! Isn’t that funny?” Again Willow laughed, but this time there was hope in it. The hope of a person wanting to change an unfavorable outcome, but also the hope of a young girl desperately just wanting her best friend back. Giles knew that desperation only too well. First with Jenny, and now with Buffy. 

Giles prepared himself to administer the death knell on Willow’s hope. “It’s not about the Orb, Willow, I’m sorry.” 

“Whaddya mean?” Willow’s wide hazel eyes pleaded with him not to dash the hope she desperately clung to. Unfortunately, Giles was about to crush her world entirely. 

Giles took a deep breath. “When I spoke with Travers about the situation, he informed me that the Watchers Council vehemently and adamantly will not allow Buffy to be re-ensouled. There will be dire consequences if we try it.” Giles did not tell Willow what those consequences would entail (a visit from the Watchers Council Special Operations team, to be exact), as he did not want to scare her even more at this particular moment in time. 

“What?! Why?” she nearly shouted at him. 

He sighed, and took off his glasses to clean them with the handkerchief he always carried in his pocket. “Because it is the policy of the Watchers Council to not assist vampires. It became a rule after Angel,” saying that name left a sour taste in his mouth. “Began helping Buffy, long before they became a couple. That’s why Kendra was so against helping Buffy to save Angel instead of focusing on defeating Spike and Drusilla. And they would not have approved of us trying to curse him again last Spring; not after Kendra was killed and Buffy had finally accepted that she would have to kill him.” Giles put his glasses back on, and steeled his nerves to look at Willow. 

Tears had welled in her eyes, her lips trembled, and her voice cracked as she said, “But we-no, the world needs a Slayer, Giles. Faith was evil before she fell into that coma, and if we can’t curse Buffy to have her mostly back…then no one is safe.” 

He touched her shoulder in what he meant to be a comforting gesture. “I know. I honestly can’t even try to tell you what’s going to happen now. 

Giles did know, though. The Special Ops team would be deployed to “eliminate” the obstacle in the way of turning any one of the Potentials in the world into a full-blown Slayer. And it would be one hell of a surprise when Collins, Weatherby and Smith showed up in Sunnydale and the ‘Jane Doe’, who’d fallen into a coma after being stabbed, disappeared from the hospital altogether with no one the wiser until she was long gone, especially with no one even noticing her departure. It would be quite the mystery for some time yet, to the Council’s chagrin, as it did not appear Faith had awoken before she went missing .

“But-but why would the Council want to leave us so-so vulnerable ?” 

Another sigh. “Well, it was realized that it was far too…easy for the curse to be broken and the soul to be lost, and thus reverting the vampire to its evil, killing nature. And we’ve learned, painfully I might add, that Buffy and Angel couldn’t be kept apart; not even a hell dimension could permanently separate them.” Oh, the irony, Giles lamented to himself because they were all surely in a hell dimension now. 

Willow shook her head at him, tears tracking down her cheeks. “No, no, no,” she said over and over again. “ I’m not part of the Council, I can curse her.” Willow crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out stubbornly. “ They can’t tell me what I can or can’t do !” she added defiantly. 

Oh, Willow, Giles thought, a heavy sigh escaping him as his heart broke further. Now he had to tell her about the Special Ops team. He couldn’t risk her trying to cast the curse anyway. 

“Willow, if you even attempt to find an Orb of Thesulah, or the Council becomes aware by the smallest hint we’re trying to curse Buffy, we will all die.”

Willow paled, but Giles continued so that there was no possibility she would misunderstand how serious his warning was. She needed to know what the consequences would be. 

“There is an elite team of three men that is a part of the Watchers Council. They are charged with handling morally ambiguous missions such as interrogations, kidnappings, assassinations, and smuggling. They've never had a contract on a human that I know of, but in the world of international sorcery, things get... complicated. 

“The Council would’ve preferred if Jenny hadn’t successfully translated the lost ritual. They would want to eliminate all who have helped cast the curse, or know how it can be done now that it’s been rediscovered. You, me, Xander, Oz, even Cordelia won’t be safe in Carpinteria.” 

Giles began cleaning his glasses again. 

“I’m positive this would be a time when the Council would suspend their morality ethics and have the team target humans. They would deem it an acceptably evil act for the greater good.” 

“That-that’s just…I don’t know what that is,” Willow said, her tone incredulous. 

Giles replaced his glasses and could see that she looked like she might vomit. He agreed with that sentiment wholeheartedly. 

“So sh-she’s,” Willow’s voice cracked, “she’s really lost to us?”

His tone soft, Giles said, “I’m afraid so.” 

And so Giles just held Willow as she broke down, letting her pour out her grief in agonized sobs, biting his lip as he attempted to keep a tight rein on his emotions. He didn’t try to whisper or make shushing noises of reassurance for they would only be false platitudes. It would not be okay. It would never be okay ever again. 

January 25, 1999

Happy : feeling or showing pleasure or contentment

Relief : a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress.

Pride : a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired

Grief : deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death

Regret : a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done

The happiness and relief Giles felt was so intense that he almost felt lightheaded. The Cruciamentum was over, and Buffy had passed the vigorous testing of her skills. His Slayer was alive! After years of hearing the censure in the voices of his colleagues after it was discovered he’d dabbled in dark magic in his youth, he, Rupert Giles, could add his name to the list of Watchers whose Slayer passed the Cruciamentum! 

It had been over twenty years since he’d left his “Ripper” days behind him and he still had to endure that stain on his reputation. Giles wouldn’t deny how terrible the business with Eyghon had been-both times. Quentin often took great delight in reminding him that it was his, as if Ethan, Philip, Diedre, and Thomas had not also participated, arrogance which led to the death of his friend Randall when they failed to exorcise Eyghon from him, and then the deaths of Philip, Diedre, and Thomas not quite two years ago. But now he was redeemed. Buffy had survived against all odds, especially as nearly everything that could go wrong during a Cruciamentum had gone wrong. 

Not only had Zachary Kralik, an insane vampire who’d been a serial killer before he’d been turned, escaped his bondage before he was meant to be let loose, he’d also killed Blair and Hobson, the two Council members Quentin had brought along to prepare Buffy’s “arena” and turned them into vampires. The most unexpected occurrence was that Kralik had abducted Buffy’s mother, and tragically, had been killed by the vampire before Buffy had killed Kralik after she’d dealt with Blair and Hobson. 

Giles very much regretted that Joyce had died. She had been a lovely woman and wonderful mother. He also felt a certain amount of guilt, as it had been he who had administered the organic compound that had caused Buffy to lose her Slayer powers. Thankfully, Buffy did not know this because he feared she might blame him for her mother’s death. She would likely feel betrayed that he was responsible for her lost powers and then had lied to her, telling her he had no idea what was happening to her. He couldn’t deny that she would be correct, but Giles was just following his orders from Quentin to uphold the tradition of the Cruciamentum. 

Giles had spent the last few days worried sick. Angel had called, saying that he’d not heard from Buffy since she’d left his mansion the night prior to his phone call. He had already checked the Summers’ house, Buffy wasn’t home, nor was she with Willow. Giles had then called Xander, that was a bust. Although it had been a long shot he’d even called Cordelia. Not one of them had heard from Buffy. 

When Buffy still had not shown up at school or even called to let them know she was okay, then realizing Joyce was also missing, Giles knew something was wrong. He and the Scoobies plus Cordelia (she’d made it clear she was no longer a Scooby since she and Xander were no longer dating, but she still wanted to help because she did care about Buffy, too) had went on high alert, none of them objecting when Angel joined their search. The sun had just set on the third day when Buffy had shown up at the library, their “home base” for their search. Giles had been going out of his mind in his worry. He’d even risked his job when in a private telephone conversation he’d told Quentin he was going to tell Buffy about the test and his role in it when, or if , they found her. Apathetic as ever, the man had just said that Giles would be fired from the Council if he did, and he would be replaced as Buffy’s Watcher before he began to arrange his return to London, apparently assuming Buffy had been lost. 

She was clearly traumatized by her ordeal. It had been bone chilling to listen as she detailed how a lunatic vampire had stalked her on her way home from Angel’s. He’d let her get to safety inside her house, just taunting her because he wanted the Slayer to discover his cruel game. Kralik needed her to go home to find that her mom had been abducted by the Polaroids he’d left on the front porch. Buffy said she’d then stocked up on weapons, stakes and holy water before she went to the address written on one of the snapshots. Giles had lightly admonished her when she said she was too shaken up to call him or any of the others for help, that all she could think about was saving her mom. She said she was lucky because she managed to kill one of the vampires with her crossbow, before finding the corpse of another man. 

There had been no sign of the stalker vampire before Buffy had found her mom bound to a chair and gagged in a small room by herself. It was Joyce who had saved her daughter’s life at the cost of her own. She’d had just enough time to tell Buffy about his psychotic behavior and how he needed pills to “treat” whatever illness he purported (vampires did not need medications to treat illnesses. It was simply a delusion carried over from his human lunacy), to suffer from before Kralik had darted into the room and snapped Joyce’s neck right in front of Buffy’s eyes. She’d run then, as the vampire followed at a sedate pace, laughing all the while, telling her about his “problem with mothers”. By the time he’d caught up to her, Buffy was waiting for him with his bottle of pills and a glass filled with holy water. When his psychotic episode hit him he’d momentarily abandoned his pursuit for a handful of pills and then chugged nearly the whole glass of water he didn’t know was blessed, burning himself up from the inside out. 

Understandably, Buffy had not been herself upon her return. She was still in shock, her pallor very pale and her skin cold as ice. Buffy had said she would figure out what to do the next day; that she was not ready to contact the police or her father yet. Giles understood her request for a little time before they would have to deal with the human authorities. He had been slightly hurt when she’d declined his offer to stay at his home in favor of Angel’s, but he knew Angel was once again a permanent fixture in their lives, and it was only natural she would want the solace of her vampire boyfriend’s presence. 

The ringing of the telephone broke Giles from his reverie. 

“Hello?” 

“Congratulations, Rupert. You get to join the very short list of Watchers whose Slayer survived the Cruciamentum.” The gravelly monotonous voice of the head of the Watchers Council greeted him over the line. 

Giles took a deep breath, calming himself so he didn’t begin yelling at the man who obviously had a heart made of ice. “Yes, I’ll just pop open the champagne while Buffy grieves for her mother and two other families grieve the loss of their loved ones, too, shall I?” he said dryly. 

There was a harrumph followed by, “There is no need for dramatics, Rupert. Of course Mrs. Summers’ death is a tragic accident, and Blair and Hobson knew the risks, as did their families.”

“I’m sure that will be sufficiently comforting,” Giles said, not bothering to moderate his derisive tone. 

“Hmm, yes, well, the Council is here for anything Miss Summers may require, of course.” 

“Of course,” Giles repeated. The line went dead. 

Sanctimonious wanker, Giles thought as he replaced the receiver on the cradle. 

Giles decided to have a nightcap before going to bed. He poured two fingers of brandy into a tumbler, and threw it back quickly, feeling like he deserved the burn of the liquor as it made its way down his throat. He poured another finger, then lifted his glass in a toast to Joyce Summers, the most recent casualty in the fight against evil. 

He took a sip of the liquor this time, and silently promised that he would always look after Buffy in her mother’s absence. 

Chapter Text

Angel snapped from unconscious to conscious in an instant. He was sitting in a chair, his wrists and ankles tied with thick rope to the arms and legs-tightly, he might add. So tightly, in fact, that he could not pull himself free. His eyes popped open and roved around his surroundings, hoping to get an idea of where he was. The last thing he remembered was walking by the Espresso Pump in town on what was becoming to feel like a futile search for Buffy, then the nothingness of unconsciousness. She had not been seen or heard of since the evening of the 21st, her birthday, after heading home from his place, and no one knew where she was. And what was worse was that her mother was now missing, too. Angel didn’t have a good feeling about what was happening, whatever was happening. He hoped his captivity had something to do with Buffy because he just didn’t have time to deal with another crisis, he thought, thoroughly annoyed with the situation he now found himself in. 

His heightened senses told him he was alone. It was also very dark, so he changed into his demon form, allowing his superior vampiric eyesight to take in his surroundings. It was a shock when he realized he was back in the apartment he’d lived in before he’d lost his soul and therefore moving into the factory, or ‘Evil Central,’ as Buffy had once called it, to his amusement. (He felt no humor now.) The room looked nothing like it had before his demon had been loosed from its chains. The artwork, the pottery and statues were all gone. The myriad texts, all old and rare, that he had taken such meticulous, reverent care of were nowhere in sight. The creature comfort items (i.e. recliner and refrigerator) were gone as well. 

The little offset he could see still had the bed frame, box spring and mattress. What’s more is that the bed was made, disturbingly, with white sheets and maroon pillows and blanket-just like before he’d lost his soul one year plus a few days ago. Angel didn’t know why but this felt like a bad omen. He pulled at his wrists again, but still he could not get loose. Who tied these damn knots? With another few tugs he realized that it wasn’t the knots, not even the extra thick rope that had been used, but it was his body which was weak. He could actually feel the ache of strain in his muscles, which only happened after a prolonged fight, as vampires were preternaturally strong, so they didn’t get tired as quickly as a human would. What the hell is happening??? 

Angel stopped struggling with the ropes and sat still. He let his face morph back into his human visage, and closed his eyes. Okay, calm down, he thought, taking deep breaths. (He may not need the oxygen to survive, but breathing was still an important step in meditating and finding one’s center.) Think through this logically, he instructed. He was in his old apartment. He was tied securely to a chair and his body was too weak to pull himself free. This meant that whoever had snuck up on him had to have done something other than just knock him out because he didn’t have a headache or could feel a sore spot of impact anywhere. He must’ve been injected with something. Maybe a high caliber tranquilizer-one strong enough to weaken even a vampire. 

The questions were why and who. Why was he being held hostage in his old apartment and chemically weakened? Who wanted him in such a state? To torture him? To kill him? He would just have to wait and see because he could not pull himself free, so he let his posture relax and closed his eyes, resigning himself to wait…

Roughly an hour later Angel snapped to attention again when the door swung open. He switched into his “game” face, waiting for his assailant to come through the door. He slumped in relief when Buffy walked through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” she said in a sing-song voice as she switched on some lights. Angel let his face go back to normal at the sight of her. 

Angel’s relief was short-lived, however. He knew immediately that something was wrong with his love. His extra-sensitive ears picked up on it right away. There was no light thumping coming from her chest cavity, the sides of her neck didn’t flutter with a heart beat. Her skin also had a deathly pallor, no flush to her cheeks, and there was no warmth emanating from her body that he could always feel,either. 

The facsimile of his girlfriend grinned at him, clapping then rubbing her hands together excitedly. “So, I have good news, and better news! Which would you like to hear first?” 

Angel’s horror prevented him from speaking. This didn’t seem to bother the demon in front of him. She just continued in that sing-songy voice and stood in front of him. 

“Well, my mom is dead, and I’m the one who killed her! So, yay, no more parental concern to deal with. Also, I’m a vampire, in case you haven’t guessed.” Angel let out a garbled sound of pain. “Oh, I can see that you have. Excellent, no need to explain that , then. Aaaaand I don’t have a sire because I killed him, too! There was a lot of killing going on after I woke, or well, ‘rose,’ I guess you’d say. I didn’t feel like ruining my track record as an only child, so I disposed of my two ‘siblings.’” She paused for a breath. “And my sire, boy! was he crazy! I’ve already dealt with one insane vampire, and I really didn’t want to have to contend with one as my sire for eternity. Ugh! That would so be a drag!” The vampire rolled her eyes. 

Tears had welled in Angel’s eyes during the vampire’s speech. Angel knew he should not let the fiend see them, that it was a weakness it could exploit, but he couldn’t help it. The torment he’d suffered after his soul had been returned to him both times was nothing compared to how he felt now. It didn’t feel like the remorse bogging him down, oh no, that was a paper cut compared to this. The love of not just his life, but his existence, was gone. Replaced by a thing with her body, her voice and mannerisms, her memories. All Buffy, but not. His Buffy was gone.

Unless…

Was he not proof that a vampire could regain its humanity? His soul had been returned to him-twice! Angel sobered as he felt the flicker of hope begin to figuratively beat within his chest. He still had contacts all over the world. He was certain he could find an Orb of Thesulah somewhere. Maybe all hope was not lost just yet! 

He needed to get out of here so he could talk to Giles. Angel didn’t bother to wonder if Buffy’s Watcher and the Scoobies were aware that Buffy had become a vampire yet. He had probably been unconscious long enough that she could’ve revealed herself to them by now, likely to taunt them, as many vampires seemed to do to their closest family and friends upon rising. (Or kill them, as he had.) 

And so Angel gathered his mental strength, and prepared himself to play whatever game Buffy’s demon counterpart wanted to play long enough that he could find a way to subdue her until he could contact Giles, and they get what they needed to ensoul Buffy. He never could’ve imagined a life with Buffy as a cursed vampire, but he would live with it if it meant having her still with him, even if she was now undead. And he knew the guilt of killing her mom would be great, but he would help her through it. After all, she had helped him cope with his century’s worth of crushing guilt. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” vampire Buffy said, wagging her finger back and forth in front of his face. “I can see those wheels turning in your head, my creature of the night boyfriend. I know what you’re thinking, and it won’t work.” 

“Oh? So, you’re a mind reader now?” Angel asked, nonplussed. He just needed to let her believe she was in charge. She was still young, and Angel had centuries’ worth of life experience and interacting with all types of personalities. 

Vampire (although she had not shown her true face yet) Buffy grinned. She leaned down a little so they were at eye level with each other, then adopted a contemplative expression, exaggeratedly tapping her index finger on her chin. “You’re thinking that if you make it out of here, then you send out the Bat Signal and the Watcher and Scoobies can come to the rescue with the Ritual of Restoration in hand. A mystical orb here,” she tilted her head to her right, “some runic stones there,” head tilting to her left, “some chanting and black eyes and BAM!” she smacked her hands together. “Whaddaya know? Buffy Summers is the second vampire in history to have a soul!” She straightened up, and put her hands on her hips, adopting a smug smirk as she looked down at him. 

“Or I could be trying to decide if I should stake you or behead you,” he deadpanned. Angel only received a grin for his empty threat. 

“Tsk, tsk, Angel,” vampire Buffy said, again waving that damn finger in front of his face. “I know that you would neeever harm a single hair on this body ,” she said, running her hands down the side of her body suggestively. “Not until you had no hope left at all that you could get your precious girlfriend back. Well, it’s. Not. Going. To. Happen.” She punctuated each word by tapping the end of her finger to the tip of his nose. It was beyond demeaning. As much as he wanted to growl at her in displeasure at her condescending attitude, he didn’t dare. He couldn’t risk upsetting the demon. Not if he wanted to get Buffy’s soul back in place. 

“And just how do you plan to stop it?” he asked. “Did you destroy the spell’s instructions? Kill Willow, the only person to successfully cast the curse in a century? You know Giles won’t rest until you’ve been ensouled.” (He didn’t know about the Council’s rule.) “And I’ll stake myself before I let you roam free in Buffy’s body, killing and becoming the antithesis of everything Buffy stood for,” he said, conviction in every word. Angel would do it. If they could not return Buffy’s soul, he would stake her vampire counterpart and then himself. Angel would rather see what Hell awaited him upon his death than live in a world where Buffy was not. 

Vampire Buffy smirked at him, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, Angel, Angel, Angel,” she said, sighing, then adopted a sad, vulnerable persona. “I’m practically an orphan now. A troubled teenager from a broken home, an absent dad, mom now dead, there’s no way I could be expected to be the same now that my mom’s gone, especially for the people who will know the truth. I lost my Slayer powers and a basket case vampire kidnapped and killed my mother. I was so lucky he was crazed, otherwise I wouldn’t have survived my dangerous rescue mission.” The vampire had made herself cry by this point. 

Angel narrowed suspicious eyes. “You’re planning to pretend to be Buffy. Why?” 

“Because, my vampire boyfriend,” she said, sitting herself sideways on Angel’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He wished he could throw her off him, just being this close to her made his skin crawl. “It will be more fun if they don’t know I’m not their pet Slayer anymore. It gives some wiggle room to think up how to mess with them without them knowing it was actually me all along!”

Aaaaand you’re going to help me.” This was said with a grin and a cheerfulness only the sadistic experiences when devising new methods of covert torture. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I sure as hell won’t be helping you,” he said glibly. 

Vampire Buffy shrugged. “I guess I should’ve been more specific. Angelus is going to be my partner in this.” Her grin was feral. 

“Not gonna happen.” 

She shrugged again. “We’ll see, lover.” 

Angel scoffed. “True happiness is about as far away as Neptune. I don’t see the curse breaking anytime soon, so, sorry, lover, you’re outta luck.” 

“Oh, I’m confident I’ll get you to choose to lose your soul. But that,” she stood, “is going to have to wait a little while longer. The gang is probably extra wigged, so I need to go put out that fire,” vampire Buffy said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t go anywhere,” she taunted. 

“I’ll count the seconds until you return,” he said, tone as arid as the Sahara. 

The demon shook her head. “Sorry, can’t risk that.” She then pulled a syringe from her back pocket. Quickly, she removed the cap and jammed the needle into his neck, pushing that plunger down. The substance cold as it seeped into his muscle tissue. His vision began to turn hazy, and he felt as if he’d been submerged under water. 

The last thing Angel saw was the evil grin on vampire Buffy’s true face.

Chapter Text

A more than familiar bitter jealousy settled in Xander’s chest as Giles drove him home after dropping off Willow. The relief that Buffy was okay after her ordeal the stupid Watchers Council had put her through was already fading (as it so often did). Giles had sworn him, Willow, and Cordelia to secrecy about his part in the test. Angel had gone on another solo search for Buffy, as if he were the best option to find Buffy, so he didn’t know about the test, either. That was a good thing because Angel wouldn’t have been able to keep a damn thing from Buffy, especially something this sensitive. Angel would tell Buffy in a heartbeat that he didn’t have something of this unpleasant nature, if it would help to distance Buffy from her friends again.

Dead boy had been doing that since the moment they’d met. Coming to Buffy all tall, dark, and mysterious and warning her about the Master and the Harvest. Giving her jewelry that she’d worn all the damn time. Popping up every now and then to give a warning or offer a little bit of help with the next Big Bad they were dealing with. Angel may have been able to fool everyone, even Giles, that he was a good guy, but Xander had known all along that Buffy’s ‘friendship’ and then relationship with the vampire would come back to bite (pun not intended) them all in the ass. And oh how right he’d been, he thought, feeling every inch vindicated when Angel turned into Angelus.

Life had started getting back to normal after Angel was finally gone, but not for good, as they would all find out. The previous summer without Buffy had been hard. It wasn’t easy trying to keep Sunnydale vampire-free without the Slayer. Giles had been gone for a lot of it, flying or driving here and there when he’d gotten a lead on a girl who might be Buffy. Disappointingly, it always turned out never to be her. Mrs. Summers had been a wreck, constantly calling, wanting to know if either he or Willow had heard from Buffy yet. Every time he told her no, it made his heart harden just a little more and his hate for Angel to intensify. The vampire was dead-swallowed into a freaking hell dimension, for crying out loud! And yet even in permanent death he was still ruining Xander’s life! Buffy had killed him, and yet she’d still acted like the damn world had ended, taking off for God knows where, only her mom getting a goodbye note. (Finding out that Willow had accomplished the spell and it was Angel, not Angelus, whom Buffy had to kill made no difference to Xander. In his opinion, the vortex disappearing with Angel inside it meant it was a done deal.)

The summer had only gotten worse after Mrs. Summers told them Buffy had run away. There was watching the romance bloom further between Willow and Oz while his love life seemed to be crashing and burning. Again. Not a word from Cordelia even though she’d ditched her friends after the love spell gone wrong last Valentine’s Day, and they were technically still a couple after school had let out. At least, he’d thought they were. Their first meeting had been so awkward that Xander hadn’t been sure where they’d stood and then he had a front row seat to Willow pining for Oz before finding out he’d purposefully not graduated so he could spend more time with Willow, even if he was stuck in high school for an extra year. And then there was-

“Xander!” Giles’ loud voice pulled him from the quagmire of angry and self-pitying thoughts.

When he looked to his left, Xander could see from Giles’ extra annoyed expression that he must’ve been trying to get his attention for some time now.

“What?” he asked defensively.

Giles huffed, irritated. “I need you to focus, Xander. These next weeks are going to be very difficult, for all of us, not just Buffy. When the police get involved to investigate Joyce’s…murder, we can’t have any slips of the tongue. Buffy’s already had enough problems with the police after what happened in the Ted debacle and then Kendra’s death last spring. We can’t give the detectives a reason to be even more suspicious of the circumstances surrounding Joyce’s death. Do you understand me?” Giles gave him a stern look between keeping an eye on the road.

Xander felt like he was being cornered. “Hey, I’ve been at this for a few years now, Giles, I know the drill. Give me a little credit, G-man.” He kept his tone nonchalant despite his own irritation.

He received a glare for his “G-man” nickname.*

“I’m just saying that when the situation gets tense, you-you tend to say, brusquely and usually insensitively, mind you, what’s on your mind without thinking about the consequences, which are often incendiary.”

Affronted, Xander asked, “When have I ever done that?”

The responding look was long. Xander shrugged, and fortunately, Giles moved on.

“I just need you to promise me that you’ll be more circumspect with what you say going forward.” Giles sighed the sigh of a man overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry, G-ma-iles,” he corrected at the sharp look. “I got this.” Xander would have to look up what ‘circumspect’ meant when he got home.

“Good.” Giles nodded, his tone decisive. And just like that their conversation was over. The rest of the drive to his house was silent.

Xander let his mom know he was home. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, it’s not like his parents were ever overly worried about him. One would think with the abnormal deaths and murder rate of Sunnydale, parents would be extra cautious about their childrens’ whereabouts. Apparently Xander’s parents either felt he could take care of himself or they didn’t care as they ought to. If the former, it was an ego boost, if the latter, well, let’s just say he wasn’t all that surprised.

Throwing himself onto his bed face first, Xander just laid there feeling sorry for himself (as usual, despite the fact that he was not the one who had just lost his mom and hadn’t spent the last few days in emotional turmoil because he thought he’d just lost his entire identity). Sulking over a situation that didn’t revolve around him, making it about how he was the injured party, was certainly Xander’s specialty. So, true to form, his mind circled back around to the pity party he’d been throwing for himself before Giles had interrupted. He was now free and clear to return to the mope fest.

Xander remembered how happy he’d been (about a millisecond) before it had turned to anger when Buffy had showed up when she’d come back from LA. He’d buried the feelings until they’d boiled over at the Dead Man’s Party that had been an unexpected twist to the hootenanny they threw for her. He’d been so pent up with anger that he’d yelled at Buffy, not just on his behalf, but her mom’s and Willow’s, too. But when the zombies attacked, he was right there and had Buffy’s back-like he always did.

“Does she remember that?” he asked aloud to no one. “Of course not,” he scoffed.

“Xander, honey, are you okay in there?” his mom called through the door.

“Fine, Mom!” he yelled back.

Now where was he???

Oh, yes, the reasons why his life sucked and was ruined by Angel and Buffy’s relationship.

Finding out Angel was alive and back and Buffy had been hiding it had made Xander feel betrayed. And seeing her kiss him had only stirred that always-below-the-surface jealousy, whipping it into a frenzy. He’d been excited to share with the others his news about Angel’s return; practically frothing at the mouth to confront her. And oh, how satisfying it had been to finally let loose just a fraction of what he’d been holding inside that day in the library. It was glorious! Too few times had he had the nerve to voice his opinions, opinions he didn’t believe to be as harsh or as much of a problem as Giles had stated. The tightly wound Brit was just exaggerating, Xander was sure.

Willow had ended up in that coma because of Angel. If she hadn’t been trying to re-ensoul Angel, she wouldn’t have been in the library when Angel’s goons had come for Giles. And who was it who got her to wake up when she wouldn’t? Him, Xander, had told Willow he loved and she began to stir. But whose name had been on her lips? His? Her oldest friend, the guy always at her side? No, no it was not. It was Oz’s, her werewolf boyfriend, who Xander felt was too much of a danger for Willow.

It had felt like a slap in the face and it had been disheartening to observe their blossoming relationship. Xander had felt as if his feelings hadn’t been taken into account. He’d finally admitted he loved Willow, and it was like she brushed him aside, even going as far as to want to try the Gypsy Curse against his objections, even going as far as to literally send him into the vampires’ nest to let Buffy know she was trying again. It had felt so good to change Willow’s message from ‘I’m trying to curse that fiend again’ to ‘Kick his ass!’ The small glimpse of Buffy fighting Angel had been wonderful. He wished he could’ve seen her shove that sword through his heart and watched as the vortex swallowed Angel into Acathla’s hell dimension.

Back to his feelings for Willow and dating Cordelia at the same time. It hadn’t been easy trying to balance that emotional burden, especially after he and Willow had kissed before the Homecoming Dance. Knowing that she was struggling just as he was had made him feel better. And then of course it had all gone and blew up in their faces when Spike had kidnapped them for his stupid love spell to make Drusilla love him again. They could’ve been a second away from death, he was already hurt with that head injury, so Xander felt they could’ve been given a break for the kiss they shared. But noooo, Cordelia had to go and get all extra offended, as if they weren’t in a life and death situation, running up the stairs, making them collapse and impaling herself on the rebar. Oz had kept his head, but not Cordelia. Oh no, the Queenbee of Sunnydale High had to make the situation all about her!

What sucked even more is that Oz eventually forgave Willow, and they were back together, and seemingly stronger than ever while Cordelia pretended he didn’t exist, even going as far as to return to the shallow bitch she’d been before they’d taken their relationship public. It wasn’t fair! Willow and Oz mending their break up and Buffy and Angel getting back together at Christmas just wasn’t fair! Especially when Cordelia had revealed some of his family problems, things he’d told her in confidence, instead of forgiving him.

Shallow, heartless bitch, Xander thought.

Wanting some validation (that he didn’t deserve) Xander grabbed his phone and dialed Willow’s number. He was so glad her parents had gotten her a private phone line so she always had access to the web. At night she would switch the cord to her phone, which she kept on low volume, so she didn’t have to worry about her parents catching her on the phone at 3 AM on a school night.

Xander was worried she wasn’t going to answer when he continued to hear just the ringing.

“Hello?” Willow’s sleepy voice finally came over the line.

“Hey Will,” he said.

“Xander? Is something wrong?” she asked, her voice becoming more alert.

“No…..Well, nothing more than it already is,” he reassured. He heard her sigh of relief.

“Oh, good.”

There was silence.

“What did you need to talk about then?” she finally asked.

Xander sighed. “I’m just worried about Buffy. She just lost her Slayer powers, and her mom.”

“I’m worried too, but Giles said her strength will come back soon, and as for her mom’s death, we’re here for her. She won’t be alone dealing with this.”

“I know,” Xander replied, letting out another sigh. “I just think she should’ve gone home with you, or Giles,” instead of Angel, he finished mentally.

“Xander.” He heard the admonition in her voice. “Buffy and Angel are back together now. You need to accept that. Buffy needs us now more than ever. We can’t let squabbles from the past creep back in to complicate everything and make it more difficult, especially right now,” she said sternly.

“I know, I know,” he said, caving in, the fight leaving him. For now, at least.

“Listen, I’m really tired. If you want to talk more about this, we can do it tomorrow.” Willow yawned.

“Yeah, alright.”

“G’night, Xander.”

“Night, Will.”

Over at the Rosenberg house, Willow replaced the receiver back onto the cradle and snuggled back down into her bed. The warm body next to her rolled over to face her.

“Everything okay?” Oz asked her.

Willow smiled at her boyfriend in the dim moonlit room. “Yeah,” she said, finding his hand under the covers and entwining her fingers with his. “Xander thinks Buffy should be with me or Giles tonight, but I think she’s with who she should be. Just like I am.” She felt Oz squeeze her hand. She gave him a mischievous grin. “Besides, the bed might be a little crowded with the three of us.”

Oz chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’d mind having you a little closer,” he said, leaning forward so he could kiss the tip of her nose.

She giggled. “I wouldn’t either, but this really isn’t the time for awkward sleepovers. We need to be well rested so that we can help Buffy through these next few days. They’re going to be really hard for her, and she’s going to need us.”

“You’re right,” Oz agreed. “Let’s just sleep.”

Willow rolled over and pressed her back to Oz’s front. His arm snaked around her middle, and she began to drift off to sleep, pleasantly warm from his shared body heat. She was grateful more than ever that Oz had agreed to try again at Christmas. She had missed him so much, it had felt like a part of her was missing without him. They still had yet to do that thing** as she had phrased it at Christmas, but she didn’t care. Oz had snuck into her room a couple times a week since they mended their relationship, but only to hold her-with clothes on, regrettably.

She remembered her conversation with Buffy from a year ago. Ironically, it had been right around this time. They’d been talking about how Angel and Buffy taking the next step in their relationship seemed like it would happen soon, that the kissing and heavy petting were no longer enough. Willow finally understood that simmering desire in a way she’d never experienced before-not even for Xander. This realization just drove it further home that she was meant to be with Oz and her dalliance with Xander had been a huge mistake, a mistake she regretted deeply.

It would happen for her and Oz when it was meant to. Willow was sure about that. And with that last thought, she fell asleep, snug and happy in her boyfriend’s arms.

Chapter Text

Late January, 1999

The vampire that was now the soulless version of Buffy Summers grinned as she left Sunnydale High’s library. She walked at a human pace, not wanting to inadvertently give away the game so soon. That would just spoil the fun. And she had so many ideas swirling around in her undead brain. So many in fact that she couldn’t even settle on which she wanted to enact beyond fooling Buffy’s friends and letting Angelus back out to play. The anticipation of going toe-to-toe with him was thrilling. But first, she needed to get him freed from his cage inside Angel and she needed Angel to do just that. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be worth it. 

Concealed by darkness Buffy took off, running through the shadows faster than she ever had. The speed, the strength, the heightened senses of vampirism was incredible! Strong wasn’t an apt descriptor! She felt more than strong, more than just powerful, more than she’d ever been as a Slayer. And all of those feelings that had bogged her down before were gone. The weight of her responsibility, the longing to be a normal teenager followed by the guilt that she was letting the people she was meant to protect down. Without that pesky soul and conscience to hinder her, it was like she could finally think and act like the teenager she was. An evil, blood-drinking teenager, but a teenager all the same. 

The feeling that was most prevalent now was hunger. She had not fed since she’d slaked her thirst for the first time with Buffy’s mother. That had been an ironic twist of fate, she thought with a disturbing grin. Joyce had had to accept that she was a Slayer, and she’d also had no choice but to accept that she was a vampire too; Buffy hadn’t given her a choice. The horror on Joyce’s face and the fear in her eyes after Buffy had awoken had been oh so satisfying. Buffy would never forget it, pleased she would have that memory for eternity. Just one of the perks of her new state of being.

Buffy allowed her senses to spread out. She got a whiff of a human in the nearest cemetery, so she slowed down to approach her next meal. To her great delight the person she found just happened to be someone she knew: Scott Hope. She grinned, licking her lips before she plastered a neutral expression on her face and stepped up next to her disappointment of a boyfriend from last Fall. 

“Hello Scott.” 

The young man in question jumped about a foot and his arms flailed in response. “Ahh!” He took a couple of deep breaths. “B-Buffy,” he sputtered, holding a hand over his heart as he looked at her. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! You could scare someone to death.” 

“Mmm, doubtful.” She shrugged. “Not like that, anyway.” Scott clearly didn’t understand the double meaning behind her wordplay. Buffy both sighed and rolled her eyes internally. 

“H-how are you?” Scott asked. Although his voice had become more normal Buffy could hear that his heartbeat was still thumping loudly and quickly, and she could smell the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was delicious. No wonder vampires liked to scare their prey before they devoured their meal. 

“I’m right as rain,” she replied. “How are you?” It was polite to return the solicitous question, of course. 

Scott looked at her a little funnily. No doubt due to her chipper, full-of-life tone that he’d said she was missing when he’d broken up with her. She smiled at him, dropping her human façade just enough to be unsettling, but not making it obvious there was something off about her. He immediately averted his gaze. 

“I’ve been alright. Wasn’t it your birthday a few days ago?” She hummed in affirmation. “Happy belated birthday, then.” 

“Thanks. It wasn’t quite the party I was expecting, but it was still killer. It’s practically tradition now,” she said with a nod to no one in particular. Once again Scott didn’t catch her double entendre. 

Scott nodded. “Good, that’s good.” He then seemed to forget he was not alone as he looked back down at the gravestone in front of them. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. God, how had she completely missed the fact that Scott’s people-pleasing and nice guy attitude was so shallow and self-involved? Oh, well. It was water under the bridge now. She then took a look at the marker Scott kept returning his attention to.

Peter Clarner 

May 14 1981 - October 20 1998 

Beloved Son 

A plan formed in her mind and her mouth widened into a diabolical grin, excited to try her hand at taunting her victim before going in for the kill. That was one thing she regretted about Joyce’s death. It had been too quick. She’d been too hungry to ‘play with her food.’ (Plus, she had a sire and two vampire ‘siblings’ to stake.) Buffy forced herself to be patient this time. Practice makes perfect, after all! 

“You must miss him. Debbie too,” she said, tone full of false sympathy. 

“So much.” He sighed. “There are still days I can’t believe they’re just gone. Life just hasn’t been the same since Pete and Debbie died.” 

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “It gets easier. You just need to give it time. Eventually it’ll become bearable.” Buffy remembered what it was like when her living self had gone through Angel losing his soul, and then after she’d killed him. It was a surprise that even though she was now evil and lacked a soul that Buffy still felt the deeply painful heartache; it didn’t seem to affect her like she thought it would (she wasn’t repulsed by the notion of feelings as Angelus had been). Angel had told her just after Christmas that the reason Angelus had been so fixated on her was because the demon in him remembered how she made him feel human - an unforgivable offense (eye roll). And yet at the same time he still loved her, which one would not think possible for a creature without a soul. Vampires may not possess a soul but they can still love in their own twisted way. Spike and Drusilla had been proof enough of that.  

Buffy broke the silence that had descended upon them. “You know, Scott, I never did thank you.” 

“Oh? What for?” he asked, startled at the interruption, eyes full of confusion when he made eye contact with her again. 

“For being friends with this guy.” She pointed at the headstone. 

Scott furrowed his brows. “Why would you thank me for that?”

Buffy shrugged again. “Because if Pete hadn’t experimented with chemicals and altered his physiological makeup to become some kind of half demon or whatever monster thingy he was, and then tried to hurt me, my boyfriend probably would’ve remained a feral creature, killing things indiscriminately, just trying to survive after he miraculously came back from a hell dimension.” 

Scott’s eyes widened to a comical degree, confusion mixing with questioning her sanity followed by a touch of fear. “Right,” he said, totally wigging and taking a couple steps backwards. “Uh, I-I’ll, uh, see you at school,” he said, slowly edging away from her, tone uneasy. “Good night, Buffy.” 

“But the game isn’t over yet,” she said, pouting. 

“What game?” he nervously asked.

He again smelled absolutely delicious as his adrenaline kicked up several notches. Buffy took a deep breath, savoring the aroma his body emitted. She transformed into her demonic visage, but didn’t look at him directly just yet. “The game isn’t over until you’re dead,” she said with a slight lisp, her tone neutral - like she was simply stating they would need umbrellas if it started to rain, not as if she had not just announced his imminent death. 

“That’s not funny, Buffy! What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted at her, voice quivering with trepidation, his heart rate spiking.

“Oh, Scott,” she said, sighing over-exaggeratedly, shaking her head back and forth in mock disappointment. “I’m not trying to be funny, I’m deadly serious. And as for what’s wrong with me is that I’m free; free to finally be who I am without the yoke of responsibilities that never should have been thrust upon a teenage girl strangling me. The instinct to protect you vanished the moment my soul left my body. The voice inside my head telling me that I shouldn’t hurt you because you’re a human has been forever silenced. The urge to feed from you, to drink until every last drop of blood has been drained from your rapidly dehydrating body to nourish my own is simply overwhelming.” 

Buffy took a step in his direction, and finally faced him directly, allowing him to see her demonic form. Scott yelped at the sight but seemed too petrified by terror to make a run for it. (Not that he would’ve gotten very far if he did try to.) 

An eerie quiet settled around them. Neither Buffy nor Scott said a word. She grinned at him, making sure to show every bit of fang she could. His face twisted into abject fear, and his fight-or-flight response finally kicked in as he prepared to flee. 

Buffy pounced. 

The last sound heard upon this Earth by Scott Hope was a blood-curdling scream before it was abruptly cut off into a gurgle. She drank deeply, slowly, moaning as she satiated her hunger, taking the time to savor the experience. The blood was hot as it flowed over her tongue, filling her mouth with its sweet taste, having lost most of the metallic tang usually associated with blood. Spike was right when he’d said humans were walking around like Happy Meals with legs. 

When there was no more blood to be had Buffy relaxed her hold and Scott’s limp body fell at her feet with a muffled thud. She licked at her lips, smacking them in satisfaction. “Mmmm.” She looked down, studying the prone body of her classmate and ex-boyfriend, his dead eyes staring, unseeing into the distance. It was beautiful. Buffy wondered who would find him. If she had the time she might’ve taken him back to the school, or maybe the Bronze for an elaborately staged reveal, but she had more important matters to see to. He would just have to be discovered at the grave of his deceased friend, so unoriginal. Hopefully she could add a little flair to her next meal.  

Buffy nudged the body with her foot. “Farewell, Scott Hope,” she said, rather cheerfully, then disappeared into the night. 

Angel yelled out his frustration as he frantically tugged to and fro at the ropes restraining him. He’d quickly shaken off the grogginess from the drug when he awoke again, but he was still too weak to break free. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she (his brain would not allow himself to refer to the vampire by the name of his girlfriend) had drugged him and left. The demon wanted to let Angelus loose, and he feared what would happen if she succeeded. However, it was not for the reasons one might assume in their particular circumstances. 

The thought of roaming the world with Buffy, albeit an evil vampire Buffy, unburdened by the remorse brought about by his soul, feeding and killing for sustenance and pleasure was tempting, so very tempting; more tempting than he’d like to admit. And Angel knew how wrong it was to feel that way, which is why he’d decided earlier that if he couldn’t defeat vampire Buffy, then he would commit suicide, and he would succeed this time. He didn’t want to be around to watch as she became the anathema of who she’d been while human. He had a feeling that the chaos and destruction they could wreak would be so much worse than his century with Darla (then Dru and eventually Spike); he didn’t want to unleash something worse than the “Whirlwind” on the world. 

Determined, Angel pulled at the ropes, still to no avail. Next, he began to struggle to where it was like he was hopping in the chair. The legs hit the ground with screeching clacks , until finally he built up enough momentum that he could propel himself backward, crashing into the wall behind him, smashing the chair to pieces. Angel only took a moment or two to realize that his strength had returned enough that he was finally able to tug himself free. Standing, he crossed the room in three long strides and jerked the door open, nearly wrenching it off its hinges. Before he could even take one step over the threshold, he was hit square in the chest and went flying through the air, back inside the room. The crack to the head against the wall was enough to leave him dazed. The blow was hard enough that it took time for his vision to clear once again, finally recognizing that it was her crouching down before him, expression amused.

“I should’ve realized you wouldn’t give up trying to escape, huh?” She grinned at him. 

“You should definitely know better than to think I’ll be down for long. If I’ve been taken down in the first place,” he retorted, letting his head rest against the wall, concentrating on ignoring the pain and focusing on the vampire before him. 

Vampire Buffy laughed and leaned forward. “You are one hundred percent correct about that, lover,” she purred in his ear. 

This was his chance! Angel grabbed at her forearms, preparing to shove her away from him when her palm pressed flatly against his already sore chest, pushing him into the wall so hard he could feel the pressure on his rib cage. Some would break if she exerted just a little more pressure. Broken ribs to a vampire hurt nearly as much as it did when that happened as a human. He was not looking forward to having to nurse cracked ribs, or maybe even a punctured lung, if he managed to extricate himself from this current predicament, so he let go of her arms and relaxed, letting the tension leach from his body. 

Feeling his surrender, she smiled, thankfully, not pushing harder against his chest. “Good vampire boyfriend!” she said mockingly as if she were praising a dog having just learned a new trick. 

Angel couldn’t help the growl that escaped him. This only seemed to add to vampire Buffy’s entertainment. With a wicked gleam in her eyes she straddled his lap, settling herself comfortably. 

“Now that we’ve established that you’re not free to leave, let’s have a little chat before we move on to the…main event.” 

“Oh, yes, let’s, please do,” Angel said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, absolutely done with being polite. 

“I’ve been thinking, and I know, that seems like a dangerous concept, but I’m much smarter than I’ve led everyone to believe these last three years. It was just easier, you know, if the teachers and my parents didn’t expect great grades on my assignments anymore after I became the Slayer. And the dynamics with Giles and the Scooby Gang were quite specifically nuanced. Giles is the knowledgeable adult about all things supernatural and well, adult stuff. Willow, the brilliant student whom we can also turn to for exceptional answers and maybe cleverly figure out what a missing piece might be in our plans and so on, using her computer hacking skills to help, yada, yada, yada.” Her tone was one of exasperation. “And of course Xander has to be the smart-mouthed half clown, half brave fighter.” She rolled her eyes. “Cordy is the snarky queen bitch, half-friend, half-enemy, so that left me to fulfill the role of the mostly literate teenage girl stronger than the average human, who’s nearly always nice and needs lots and lots of help to survive the big bad world full of monsters and algebra homework.” She frowned. “Oz was late to the party, so he doesn’t really have a roll beyond a supporting actor when it’s research time, I guess.” 

“I know you’ve been hiding your intelligence from your friends just so you could feel like you have a certain role within the group.” He raised his head so he could look at her. “But it sounds like you’ve got some resentment issues going on there. Maybe you should see a shrink. Too bad Freud’s dead. He would’ve just loved you,” Angel said flippantly, hoping to throw her off her game. 

She laughed. “Ugh, I wasn’t too fond of my last experience with mental health professionals.” She cocked her head to the left, a look of deep contemplation on her face. She suddenly perked up, grinned and said, “At least this time I could eat the therapist or doctor if they annoyed me too much.” She made a hmm noise. “Although, now that you mention it, I think the demons out there with all these grand plans on how to end the world or kill of their food supply would definitely benefit from therapy; teach them to adjust their expectations to something a little more reasonable.” 

Vampire Buffy made eye contact with him. “Take The Master, for example. He wanted to open the Hellmouth to bring about Hell on Earth. One little earthquake and he was stuck in a mystical prison for 60 years, having to rely on his faithful followers for food. And then Drusilla restoring The Judge was just ridiculous. If all the people with humanity were burned away, what would you all have left to eat afterwards? I don’t think there’d be too many humans left after that. I mean, I’m sure people like Hitler, John Wayne Gacy, or H.H. Holmes would’ve survived the giant Smurf’s lightning touch, but they’re all dead.” She threw her free hand up in the air, as if saying ‘what do you do now’? 

“And let’s not forget Angelus’ positively brilliant plan to suck the world into a hell dimension. Wouldn’t the humans have been too busy with the whole ‘perpetual torment’ thing to get down and reproduce? Again, you’re destroying your own food source. What gives?” Her eyebrows nearly disappeared in her hairline at her question. 

Angel would concede that she actually made a good point. “Well, being evil and not having a conscience, can, you know, make you a little impulsive.” It was Angel’s turn to shrug, completely hiding the real reason his demon had embarked on that particular plan. 

“Hmm, well, we’re going to have to change that mentality, then. We have a lot of evil things we need to accomplish here in Sunnydale before we reveal our personality changes to the Scoobies,” vampire Buffy said, her tone decisive, accompanied by a stern nod. 

“Again, there’s no ‘we,’” Angel insisted. Buffy was as stubborn in death as she’d been in life. 

She leaned down so that their noses were almost touching, her beautiful sage eyes still as expressive as when she’d been alive. “Beg to differ,” she said, then pressed her lips against his.

Chapter Text

Late January, 1999

Angel allowed himself to get lost in the kiss, her hands in his hair and his arms snaking around her like a vise. He allowed it because it might be the last time he ever kissed Buffy (her being a vampire be damned at the moment), after all. It was very reminiscent of the kiss they’d shared after his soul had been restored last May. It felt saddening. It felt desperate. It felt like goodbye. The thought brought tears to his eyes, and unabashedly he let them fall. His heart that did not beat was breaking. 

Buffy pulled away from him when she must’ve felt the wetness on his cheeks. “Shh, shh, there’s no need to cry, it’ll be alright,” she cooed softly, caressing his cheek, sounding so much like her living, ensouled self that it only made him cry that much more. Angel knew there was no escaping this, no possibility of restoring her soul. He wanted her, oh, how he wanted her! vampire or not. And he was out of options, and he knew it. He had to admit defeat. It was either take comfort in her or die. He knew making love to Buffy again would cost him his soul and yet there was a part of him that just didn’t care. 

Angel gripped Buffy’s upper arms, but instead of trying to push her away he just pulled her closer, immediately granting her tongue entrance when she let the tip run along his bottom lip. Angel had been with countless women in his 240+ years walking the Earth, women of all levels of experience, and yet it was Buffy, with her shy and inexperienced innocence that made him come undone. It was as if he was a green lad back in Ireland when he’d been a human adolescent (the term ‘teenager’ would not emerge for another 200 years). 

Tightening his hold around her, Angel stood, Buffy’s legs wrapping around his waist, their kisses becoming deeper, more frantic. Like he was being led by a string, Angel walked toward the bed - the bed that had been made up to look exactly like it had been on the night Angel had taken Buffy’s virginity a year ago. It was rather poetic, in a cruel sort of way, in his opinion. Even Angelus, who was closer to the surface than he’d been since Christmas, agreed. Her demon had learned quite well from his own in the arts of cruelty. The possibilities were truly endless. 

Clothes were shed along the way, and they were bare skin to bare skin when he laid Buffy on her back on the bed. He hovered above her, their gazes locked together. All Angel could see in her eyes was love, even as a demon; there was no malice, no cruel amusement - just love. It was at that exact moment that Angel decided that he didn’t care if they had their souls or not; didn’t care that he would become a murderer again. All he knew was that he wanted to spend eternity with Buffy. He didn’t care in what capacity anymore. He just wanted her. Period.

After the spirits of Grace Newman and James Stanley possessed Angelus and Buffy, reenacting their tragic romance and deaths, his demon had come to realize that the soul, lost or otherwise, didn’t matter, he was still in love with her. He had warred within himself between denying his feelings, insisting he wanted her dead, and wanting to turn her so he could have her at his side forever. And that is why Angelus couldn’t forgive her. Buffy Summers, a sixteen-year-old girl, and a Vampire Slayer to boot, inspired a love so deep that even his soulless monster would pledge his loyalty and faithfulness to her. Fidelity was a courtesy he had granted to no woman, not even Darla - his sire, neither in his human days nor after his conversion to the Undead. How was a vampire (not a cursed one) who had only ever been fully invested in himself meant to reconcile that with his evil nature? 

Vampires weren’t supposed to care about that stuff anymore. Angelus and Darla hadn’t understood the love and loyalty James and Elizabeth and then Spike and Drusilla had shared for each other. Angelus had thought the two couples had defied the natural order of their evil lives. Sure, Drusilla had strayed from Spike a few times over their decades together, but it was only with Angelus; her insanity caused her to not want to disappoint her sire, her ‘Daddy.’ (It had always secretly bothered him a little that she'd called him that.) Oddly enough, although Darla was his sire, Angelus had never felt that deep of a connection to her based on ‘love,’ never offering her his fidelity, nor his protection if it came down to him or her when facing a potentially fatal situation, especially during the years Holtz had hunted them. The bond they had shared had not been like the anomalous relationships of Spike and Drusilla and James and Elisabeth. 

Angelus had known it would be an entirely different story if Buffy was somehow turned. That acknowledgment had shaken him to his malevolent core. He hadn’t known what to do about it, so the solution had been to simply suck the world into Hell so he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it anymore. (Impulsive and ridiculous, right?) Well, Buffy was now a vampire, and he was ready to once again be a murderous fiend in love with his soul and apparently soul less mate. Wasn’t life strange?

The first time his soul had been lost, it had been while Liam lay dead beneath the earth as he transformed into a vampire over 200 hundred years ago. The second time, a year ago, Angel had felt like something had literally been ripped from his chest, despite the fact that a soul was not exactly a tangible object. It could be summoned and trapped, yes, but it existed in the ether of the astral plane, not an easily accessible location. On this night, it would be the third and final time the soul would be released from this particular body. And this time, the transition was smooth, unnoticeable. One moment he was Angel, lost in the ecstasy found as he was buried within the body of his lover, the next, he was Angelus, no longer burdened by the conscience and remorse stemming from a soul. 

Angelus grinned as he realized he was well and truly back. His grip on Buffy tightened to the point of pain, only enhancing her pleasure as well as his at hearing her pained gasp. (It surely would not be a surprise that he was a bit of a sadist when it came to sexual encounters, enjoying inflicting pain of the emotional as well as physical variety on his partners.) He was delighted when she tightened her legs around his waist that his circulation would’ve been cut off if he were still a human. It seemed that Buffy as a vampire would welcome the darker aspects of sex. Angelus positively relished all the possibilities now open to them. 

The urge to bite Buffy and finally taste her blood had plagued Angelus for the better part of 6 months when he’d last been out to play. To his eternal chagrin he had not achieved that particular pleasure. The opportunity was now before him, and he did not intend to waste it, especially since Buffy seemed to issue an invitation to do so, if her baring her neck to him was any indication. Angelus transformed into his true face and sank his teeth into her exposed neck.  

Buffy moaned as Angel (he would always be ‘Angel’ to her, soul or no soul) sunk his teeth into her neck. It was the most incredible feeling in the world. She assumed it was when only paired with sex because it sure as hell hadn’t felt like this when the Master had bitten her. Then again, it could have been because she wasn’t in love with him, and that his goal had been to kill her. Angelus was only engaging in an act that served only to heighten the pleasure found in sex. 

One might wonder how Buffy knew that it was now Angelus who hovered over her instead of Angel without looking into his eyes and seeing the absence of the soul, or that Angel had also given no overt indicator whatsoever that he no longer possessed a soul. She knew that Angel had let go of the reins holding back Angelus when his grip tightened. Angel was as gentle as Angelus was brutal, and those differences applied to carnal encounters. Angel never would’ve bitten her, either. If need be, she could order, beg, threaten him with bodily harm, or actually beat him, and he still would not bite her, even if it was needed to save his life. Not unless he was forced. Thankfully this bite was only about pleasure. And boy, oh boy, did it ever deliver! 

After mutual pleasure was found, Angelus flopped onto his side next to Buffy. They both just laid there, eyes closed and basking in their la petite mort . Buffy had been able to enjoy her second time more because the nerves of being a virgin were absent and the feeling of having lost Angel and the world might end thanks to Crazy Pants (a.k.a. Drusilla) with The Judge’s reassembly was also gone. She grinned, thinking about the new wide world of physical love, and wondering what Angelus would be able to show her. 

Angelus ran a finger softly down her cheek, and said, “What are you thinking about that’s responsible for such a smile on your pretty face, Buff?” His tone was husky, only a slight edge in it that she remembered hearing often during her confrontations with Angelus. 

Why was Angelus being so Angel-like with the gentle touches and compliments? she wondered. Buffy opened her eyes to find that Angelus’ milk chocolate orbs were intently focused on her. She could totally get lost in those eyes, she thought dreamily. 

“Angelus,” she said, smiling. 

“Angel,” he replied, brushing some hair behind her ear. 

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want to reclaim your identity. You want to not be Angelus, ‘the one with the angelic face,’ and the Scourge of Europe anymore?” 

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just wanna modernize myself a little more. Besides, you kept calling me Angel last year, and so did Spike and Drusilla, so might as well keep with the trend.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Plus, it’ll help when we’re around your friends so you don’t accidentally make a slip of the tongue and expose us.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, then…Angel,” Buffy said, smiling at her vampire lover. 

“So, my question?” Angel asked.

“Oh, right. Well, uh, I was thinking about soaking in your big bathtub with you and with lots and lots of bubbles.” She looked away from him as she told her fib. 

Angel growled and grabbed her chin to force her to look at him. “Don’t ever lie to me. I’m not your whipped boy toy anymore, so don’t treat me like I am. Got it?” 

His voice was low, and gravely, dangerous, deadly. Buffy loved it. It made her shiver with delightful anticipation. “Got it,” she said, nodding. 

“Good.” He let go of her chin. “Well?” 

If Buffy could still blush her face would be bright red just then. “I was thinking about what your 240+ years worth of sexy times would be like to explore. Like, have you tried all the positions in the Kama Sutra ? Are there any yoga poses that will come in handy? Should we visit an adult toy store to see if anything looks appealing, something other than manacles and chains?” 

Angel’s eyes widened at her confession, clearly not expecting her to be putting that much thought into their very new sex life. He then hummed in thought. “Yoga practically is the Kama Sutra , so yeah, we’ll definitely be exploring that. I suppose it can’t hurt to visit one of those adult stores. I’ve, and so was my ensouled counterpart, been curious just how far debauchery has progressed in this last century. My cursed self wasn’t able to fully appreciate the rise of adult entertainment, so that’s definitely uncharted territory for me.” 

“That makes two of us, then. I never really thought I’d get to have that whole exploring my sexuality after my 17th birthday.” Buffy averted her eyes, looking over Angel’s shoulder rather than looking into his eyes. She was sure he would see her vulnerability. Vampires were evil; they shouldn’t expose a weakness like that. 

“Why?” Angel asked. 

Buffy cleared her throat, feeling her new self-assured confidence waver for the first time since she’d risen from the dead. “Well, when I woke up alone, and didn’t know where you were or why you left or why I couldn’t find you for so long, and then what you said after I found you here…it was cruel, and a bit traumatizing. Not exactly a boost to my confidence with how much I needed to learn about men.” She refocused on him, and smirked, trying to hide the hurt that was still deep in her unbeating heart. 

She was truly surprised at how much of what Buffy had felt as a human had transferred to her evil self. Some things were gone; like the urge to protect people, the guilt over how much she wanted to be normal, the drive to not disappoint her mom, friends, and her Watcher. Now, there was the need to feed, the typical “I want to terrorize people before I eat them” urge, and the desire to settle scores she never would’ve dreamed of tackling in life in the effort to keep as much peace as possible between her friends and family. 

Angel swore under his breath. He looked up and there was genuine contrition in his eyes. His reaction truly baffled her. Buffy was sure he would just brush off her confession with a slightly less cruel quip and want to move on. She never would’ve expected an apology, but an apology was what she got. 

“Look,” he said, only a bit brusque. “It wasn’t just the soul who fell in love with you, Buffy. Love wasn’t a part of my vocabulary, human or vampire. The one person my human self loved unconditionally and completely was his little sister, Kathy.” Angel sat up, and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “I remembered feeling that love, and yet I killed her anyway. She was convinced I was her brother returned to her an angel; it wasn’t hard to get her to invite me inside.” 

Buffy was wholly invested in listening to Angel recount his memories. Angel didn’t talk about his past like this a lot, especially not about his human family. 

Angel sighed, then made eye contact again. “Not having a soul or a conscience doesn’t mean that vampires don’t feel other emotions. We do, they can be muted, or easily ignored or changed, but we do feel. Love was by far the rarest emotion among vampires in my experience. And it wasn’t something I’d feel again for over two centuries. I never thought I’d experience it without my soul, and I didn’t even know it when I did for a long time.” 

Buffy was sure she understood. “You lashed out at me because you didn’t know how to cope with what you were feeling.” She didn’t phrase it as a question. She just knew. This confession was all that human Buffy had wanted to hear a year ago. It was still a balm to the deep crevices in her heart Angelus’ words had caused, finally mending them. 

“Yeah. And I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” He looked away. 

Angel laughed before she could say anything. For a moment she was afraid that his apology really was a joke as she’d expected. It certainly had that malicious flair he’d liked to employ, and she’d become accustomed to and very intimate with it the year before. 

With a vicious turnaround of her own, Buffy threw the covers from her body, intending to get up so she could grab a piece of the broken chair to shove through Angel’s chest. (There was that impulsive reaction Angel-with-a-soul mentioned earlier.) She was about to swing her legs around so she could stand when she found herself flat on her back, pinned beneath Angel, his hands gripping her wrists above her head, pressing them into the mattress. She growled at him threateningly; Angel paid no mind to it. 

“I didn’t laugh because I was taunting you,” Angel said, correctly guessing the source of her sudden anger.

“Then why?” she spat at him. Buffy was completely unaware that her face had morphed into her demon in reaction to her visceral anger. 

“Because being one of the cruelest vampires in the history of vampires, the thought of Angelus, a vampire who regarded torturing his victims emotionally the highest form of art, apologizing to a fledgling for hurting her feelings is unfathomable.” Angel frowned down at her. “There’s just something about you. You’re under my skin, Buff. I couldn’t exorcise you from my dead heart a year ago, and now I don’t even want to try. A hundred years ago I would’ve cut my own tongue out before saying I’d go to the depths of Hell for you and actually mean it, but I would and I do.” 

Buffy’s own dead heart gave a metaphorical throb of love at Angel’s confession. Either he was much better at playing the long game of emotional torture than she ever could’ve realized, or he was telling the truth. She looked into his eyes, searching deeply for any hidden hints that he was lying. To her immense relief she saw only truthfulness. 

It was Angel who made the first move this time, his lips crashing onto hers almost painfully. She could taste blood from where the inside of her lips got nicked on her sharp teeth in several places. It was delicious mixing with his taste as he worked her mouth open, tangling their tongues. Buffy took control and rolled them so that she was on top.

Apparently Angelus didn’t mind being submissive every once in a while. 

Buffy was curled into Angel’s side, tracing indistinct patterns onto his chest with the pad of her index finger. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping. He was just enjoying the quiet with her. The contentment he currently felt had only ever occurred one other time in his entire existence, and it had cost him his soul. That was a non-issue as he’d already lost it. Willingly and happily, he might add. It was only her , the just barely-a -woman Vampire Slayer, to whom Angelus would choose to submit to. 

Best decision I’ve ever made . Well, the best decision after not thinking that following the ‘fine lady’ all alone in a dark alley in 1753 would be a bad idea and not considering she wouldn’t have nefarious intentions when offering to show him - a complete stranger - the world, he thought wryly. If there was ever a moment in his life as a human that would’ve had an electric neon sign blinking “DANGER” above it like some ridiculous animation, it would’ve been this one! He couldn’t complain, not really. Darla had certainly given him a century’s worth of showing him the world and ‘interesting’ and ‘frightening’ experiences just as she had promised. 

“What was your idea?” Angel asked, breaking the silence. 

“Hmm?” Buffy hummed. 

Angel shifted a little so they could make eye contact. “You said you’d been thinking, but our conversation derailed a little and then we were occupied with… other things.” 

Comprehension lit up her face. “Right. I’ve been a vampire for only a few days now, so it’s not like I’ve had time to build a reputation to counter my slaying of demons and all things evil these last few years. My track record of averting the apocalypse doesn’t do me any favors, either.” Angel huffed in amusement, because yeah, her efforts to save the world multiple times doesn’t make her too popular in the evil community. I know yours is pretty impressive, but I think we need a figurehead to rally minions around. Someone with an indisputably evil reputation, and can inspire fear and loyalty. But we are not going to end the world.” 

“Okay, then what is our goal? Just feeding and killing gets boring fast,” he said. 

“Conquest.” 

Angel frowned at her. “Conquest?” he questioned, confused. “I thought you said world domination was too ambitious .” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m not suggesting we conquer the world. We can start with the western seaboard and then go from there.” 

Angel took a minute to mull over her idea. Buffy’s suggestion sounded doable; it made sense to start small, establish the cadre for their cause, then expand. What was that saying? Slow and steady wins the race? 

He nodded. “Who did you have in mind to be the mascot of this endeavor?” 

A Cheshire grin slowly spread over Buffy’s face. “The Master.”

Chapter Text

Joyce Summers sighed as she poured the boiling water into a mug, then dipped the tea bag in and out of the hot water as she leaned onto the kitchen island. The sigh was full of a melancholic feeling with a touch of confusion. Something more than usual was going on with Buffy and she had no idea what. It was her daughter’s 18th birthday - a birthday that was marked as a rite of passage in their society. Buffy could now vote, legally buy tobacco products, get a tattoo or join the military without parental consent if she so wished. Joyce was fairly sure that she didn’t need to worry about the latter three of those possibilities. (At least she didn’t think so.)

However, it was none of those issues that actually worried Joyce. She had hoped that this birthday would be different from the last two. Buffy hadn’t had a normal birthday since she’d turned fifteen. Her 16th had been a rather lackluster event because she’d been getting into so much trouble that Hank hadn’t wanted to ‘reward’ her in the midst of her increasingly bad behavior. He’d felt Buffy didn’t deserve a party. Joyce had disagreed, as Buffy would turn sixteen only once, but her now-ex-husband had overruled her - per usual. 

Last year was even worse. Joyce had hoped that being away from Hank’s negativity meant that they could finally have a happy celebration, even if it had been a few days late. Being a single parent sometimes meant that things had to be delayed, but Joyce was doing her best since the divorce. She had consistently felt like she was failing, but given the revelation of Buffy’s secret identity, it had made her realize that she wasn’t failing as much as she’d thought; the circumstances were just extraordinarily extenuating. She just hadn’t understood what caused her daughter’s confusing and often troubling behavior. Joyce now felt that she’d failed as a mother because she hadn’t realized just how much Buffy struggled with the responsibilities that had been heaped upon her shoulders for years now. Being a teenager was hard enough. Add being a Vampire Slayer to the mix and Joyce didn’t have a clue how Buffy had coped with it all as well as she had for as long as she did. 

Buffy had been so markedly different after her 17th birthday and yet Joyce hadn’t been cognizant of it for a long time. Thinking back, it was plain as day from the moment she’d lit the solitary candle on the cupcake, and Buffy had said she would just let it burn when Joyce told her to make a wish that something had deeply changed, and not for the better, within her daughter. It was like part of the light that made up Buffy had been extinguished. And Joyce had to admit that that is exactly what happened. Learning the truth about the events surrounding her birthday (Buffy had finally told her most of what had happened after the New Year) had reduced Joyce to tears after retreating to the privacy of her bedroom. 

Joyce couldn’t fathom the pain Buffy had felt in the aftermath of her birthday. How had she missed the drastic changes in her daughter’s personality? Angel had become such a sore spot between her friends and her Watcher, especially after Jenny Calendar’s death, that it meant she’d had to suffer in silence. Willow had likely been the most understanding and supportive, but still, Buffy had had to have felt so alone in her heartbreak. The fact that Buffy had been able to hide it from her so well saddened Joyce to her very core. She felt sick every time she thought back on those months with Buffy after her birthday and never once noticed the agony plaguing her daughter. 

Much had changed since Joyce had learned the truth about Buffy’s ‘Calling,’ as Mr. Giles had named it when he’d explained more about what being a Vampire Slayer meant for Buffy. It was after she’d fled Sunnydale after what happened at Angel’s mansion. They didn’t have all of the details then, of course, but they knew enough that the soulless Angel had obviously not ‘sucked the world into Hell’ as planned. Angel’s absence had been telling as well, and while Joyce hadn’t known the extent of Buffy’s relationship with Angel (other than that he’d been her first ), both with his soul and then without, she knew enough that killing Angel, even thinking he’d still been evil, had broken something inside her. (Buffy’s renewed relationship with the ensouled vampire was a worry Joyce didn’t have the emotional energy to devote to worrying about it at this moment.)

And yet, like the others, Joyce had basically dismissed that painful experience of Buffy’s to concentrate on her own anger and hurt in the wake of Buffy’s departure; her abandonment , Joyce had heard Xander say bitterly a few times. Even Pat, the now-dead friend who had never once met her daughter before she’d come back had scolded Buffy like an errant child. Of course, Pat couldn’t have known about the depth of Buffy’s trauma, but it still hadn’t been her place to lightly ‘reprimand’ Buffy. Joyce could admit that now. It has been said that hindsight is 20/20. 

Joyce traded in her mug of cold tea for a glass of wine. It seemed that Buffy’s melancholy had spread out to others now. Wonderful. All the Summers’ house needed now was two moody women. A beleaguered sigh passed her lips, and she stared into the wine she was swirling inside the glass, as if she would find the answers she lacked to all of her questions in the depths of the glass. When none came forth she finally took a sip, then a bigger sip. She finished the glass with the third ‘sip.’ A refill was then needed, of course. The second glass went down much quicker than the first one. 

She was about to pour a third glass when she stopped. It was not a good idea to get overly tipsy on a bottle of merlot, no matter how good it was. The thought of drowning her problems in wine was so very tempting, but Joyce was an adult woman in her 40s; she knew that alcohol would not solve the problems, so she did the responsible thing by putting the bottle away. Joyce then stepped out onto the back porch for a moment, taking in lungfuls of the night air, feeling the chill of it cut through the slight wine-induced fogginess, bringing her to a little more alertness. Joyce stood there a few minutes, staring up at the stars, allowing her mind to just marvel at the beauty of their galaxy - no more, no less. She then turned around, ready to go back inside when everything went dark around her and she knew no more. 

The first thing that Joyce became aware of as she slowly regained consciousness was that the back of her head throbbed painfully. She was sitting in a chair, arms and legs tied down, and she was gagged. She blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear her vision quickly. The room she was in was dim, small and dingy. There was a distinct and strong smell of musty negligence, as if the place had been abandoned for some time. It certainly looked run down as her eyes swept over everything she could see, twisting and turning her neck and torso as much as she could. She didn’t even have the chance to really try to think about who had abducted her from her home when she heard a deep humming that was getting louder and louder. 

When the doorknob began to turn, Joyce had enough presence of mind to scowl. She might be scared out of her mind, but her captor didn’t need to know just how rattled she was. If she could put a brave face on for long enough, she might be able to stall whoever was on the other side of that door until Buffy could rescue her. Joyce had absolutely no doubt that her daughter would find her and all would be well - as it always was. 

Three men - vampires - entered the room. Joyce took a good look at their faces, trying to see if she could recognize any of them, but their vampiric features made it too difficult to discern if she knew their human ‘facades’ at all. She waited for one of them to speak, to maybe offer an explanation of why she’d been taken from her home and tied up instead of just a quick meal. None of them spoke. The tallest vampire was humming “Hey Jude” by The Beatles, though. 

The room was silent except for the vampire humming and the snapping of photos of Joyce from several angles on a Polaroid camera. One of the other vampires would take the Polaroid, fan it then hand it to the third vampire, and he would tape it to the wall. It took time, but eventually all four walls were covered in snapshots of Joyce’s frightened visage. The whole scenario was so disconcerting that she couldn’t maintain her facade of not being scared throughout it all. 

After a time, the vampire taking the pictures gave a handful to the third vampire, who left the room with the other one and neither one returned. The photo shoot continued. Except this time, the vampire began talking at her, the subject extremely disturbing, all the while letting the Polaroids just flutter to the ground. It was a wonder he’d been able to find that much film for the outdated camera. 

An indeterminate time later Joyce sighed in relief when the vampire who seemed to be in charge of the other two finally left the room. He’d been talking her ear off (not that she’d really heard all that much, being terrified and all), rambling about his problems with mothers and how many he’s killed in his human and vampire days alike. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was this crazy as a human after witnessing one of his ‘episodes’ and his frantic need for medication. Surely he was. From what little knowledge she’s gained about vampire culture she’s learned that mental conditions of the human tend to be present in the vampire. 

The adrenaline eventually faded away, and Joyce began to nod in and out of sleep, which was fairly strange considering the situation she was in. She rationalized that she would need her strength when Buffy arrived, so rest was essential. The reprieve was short-lived to her dismay. She could feel she was about to slip all the way under into blissful sleep when the door opened again.

One of the other vampires strutted into the room like he was in charge. Joyce could feel her heart beating in her throat, frightened of what this vampire was going to do because he was looking at her like he might start drooling any minute. An odd thought struck her at that moment: humans really were just food to vampires. 

“Hello Mrs. Summers,” the vampire said in a suave British accent, very reminiscent of how Mr. Giles sounds when he speaks. 

Bound and gagged as she was, Joyce couldn’t exactly return his greeting. Not that she would anyway - kind of a “don’t negotiate with terrorists” mindset is what she had going on in her head at the moment. She’d had the wherewithal to think that she wouldn’t speak to her ‘captors’ if they gave her the chance since her kidnapping. So, like a true Summers woman, she glared at the vampire, hoping her silent defiance would be enough to deter this vampire from engaging with her. 

No such luck, as the vampire leaned his back against the wall, clasping his hands in front of him, and gave her the yellow-eyed stare and jagged-tooth smile of a vampire. 

“Joyce Summers,” he said slowly, as if testing how the vowels and consonants blended together. “I am Blair, Percy Blair, and very recently a former member of the Watchers Council. I’ve been studying your daughter from the moment she was informed of her ‘sacred duty.’” He actually sneered on the last two words. “I was greatly looking forward to seeing that Summers grit we’ve heard so much about, and I must say that I am not disappointed.” He grinned at her continued scowl. 

“Buffy has been the subject of many Council discussions in the last three years. Would you like to know why?” He paused as if he actually expected an answer before continuing. “Buffy has been quite unique during her tenure as the Slayer. She was so young, so immature when she was Called, that there was actually a secret betting pool if she would even survive her first week.” 

Joyce was outraged at the insensitivity of this. Who the hell did these pretentious British people think they were to bet on her daughter’s life ? She made a sound that was clearly a growl to show her disgust at the information. The vampire just grinned again. It was a toss up on whether it was the yellow eyes or the crookedly sharp teeth that was more disturbing. 

“It was quite the surprise that she was still alive a year and some months later, especially since she was such a reluctant and stubborn Slayer. Her second Watcher has had more trouble with her than her first Watcher, Mr. Merrick, who, by the way, sacrificed himself so she could live. He was just one of the first in a string of victims your daughter couldn’t save.”

Joyce shot daggers from her eyes at this - this thing, and she could literally feel her cheeks burn with indignant motherly anger and love. How dare he place such blame at Buffy’s feet! Nobody, not even an honest-to-God superhero, could save everybody in every single dangerous situation no matter how much they tried. Buffy may be incredibly strong and an excellent fighter, but she was still just one girl. Expecting her to always ‘save the day so that everyone can go home safely’ was preposterous. Where was a fireman's ax when you needed one?

“Do you know why we are here?” he asked. Joyce raised her eyebrows at the vampire, conveying her sentiments of I’m gagged, I literally can’t answer, you moron and Please enlighten me. 

He seemed to get the message because he grinned widely at her. “You see, the Watchers Council tests a Slayer on her 18th birthday, providing she even lives that long. My colleague and I have prepared this old boarding house for that test. But first, an organic compound is secretly administered to her by her Watcher, which will strip her of her Slayer powers, and then she is trapped inside with a vampire to test her ability to defeat said vampire with nothing more than her wits and cunning.” The vampire laughed. “It’s actually rather barbaric, don’t you think?” 

Joyce completely agreed even as she felt another frisson of fear race down her spine when Percy Blair trained his yellow eyes on her. It was a sight she knew she would never get used to, hoping she would never have to look at a vampire’s ‘demon’ face ever again after Buffy rescued her. Please hurry, Buffy, she beseeched the heavens, closing her eyes and letting her head tilt back. 

The snapping of fingers brought her attention back to the vampire. He had leaned down, and had changed back into a completely human face. Very softly he said, “How does it make you feel that her Watcher, the one person in all the world who makes the Slayer their number one priority, always doing absolutely everything they can to prepare the Slayer for battle, to help hone her skills so that the odds that she’ll see the next sunrise are higher, is who made her helpless in the first place? How does it make you feel that when Buffy Summers ceases to exist, it will all be because Rupert Giles, her Watcher, her replacement father, will have made it possible?” 

Rage like Joyce had never felt overcame her just then. She reared back like a snake preparing to strike and smashed her forehead against the vampire’s nose, an unintelligible garble escaping her still-gagged mouth. Judging by the painful yelp and the crunching sound, she’d hit her intended target. She barely had a moment to feel satisfaction that she’d hurt him; she was so distracted by the pain she felt in her forehead.  

There was a yell of “You bitch!” followed by a growl, and suddenly Joyce knew she was dead. 

When Joyce came to once again, the first thing she realized was that she was in fact not dead, which was puzzling because the last thing she remembered was the painful success of her headbutt and then snapping teeth and yellow eyes right in her face. She rationalized that if she were dead then her forehead wouldn’t be throbbing as it was. She groaned as she blinked rapidly, trying to gather her wits about her once again. Her vision cleared enough that she could see the vampire leader, Zachary, he’d called himself earlier, leaning against the door, grinning at her. 

“You’re lucky I was coming to get Blair when I did. He would’ve killed you, but I needed his help with the gift that I have for you.” 

Joyce let out a muffled, “Ugh,” wanting more than anything for these damn vampires to just disappear so she could go home. 

Zachary began to clap his hands together in applause for a few moments. “You actually broke a vampire’s nose, Mother. Very impressive!” he said in that airy voice of his. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with her. “Almost,” he then lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “as impressive as Buffy’s attempt to fight us.”

Icy fear shot down her spine and Joyce froze, heart pounding in her chest, eyes wide in terror. Buffy? Buffy was here? Almost? Attempt? What?!?! These thoughts and more raced through her mind. Panic seized her when she saw near Zachary’s feet Buffy’s prone, unmoving body on the floor, pale except for the blood covering her neck where she could see the bite marks, green eyes wide open and lifeless. Joyce struggled with her bonds, trying so hard to get to her baby girl, her screams and sobs muffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Buffy, noooo, Buffy,” she tried screeching through the gag as she made stretching and grabbing motions toward Buffy’s body on the floor. 

Distantly, as though she’d been submerged under water, Joyce could hear Zachary Kralik laughing, asking if she liked his gift. 

Buffy!

No, please, no! 

Not my little girl! 

Oh, god! not my little girl!

Buffy! Nooooo!!!

The night of horrors for Joyce Summers was far from over. 

Cordelia Chase ended her phone call, rolling her eyes as she put her cell phone back inside her purse. She was currently sitting at the Espresso Pump, alone, hand took a sip of her cappuccino as all was well with the world again. Willow had called to let her know that she could stop looking for Buffy because she’d been found. (Willow didn’t need to know that Cordelia had already stopped, her need for a coffee break taking precedence over her missing somewhat-friend. Her friendship status with Buffy tended to change depending on her mood.)

A wistful sigh of thinking of better times was exhaled. Cordelia had not had an easy time of it since her breakup with Xander a couple months ago. There were times it was harder to tell if it was her injury or her broken heart that hurt more. Fear and worry had consumed her when they knew Spike had kidnapped Xander and Willow and it had been so potent. She’d not felt fear like that since she, Xander, Willow, Kendra, and Giles had been attacked in the library when evil Angel was trying to suck the world into a hell dimension. Xander had told her to run, and she did. She’d felt so guilty even though Buffy had told her she’d done the right thing. She’d felt bad after finding out Drusilla had killed Kendra, Giles was abducted, and Willow was in a coma, then worse because she was so relieved that Xander had only suffered a broken wrist and he’d been her main concern. She had often wondered if that made her a bad person. 

She had become increasingly bitter even as her physical wound healed. Cordelia had essentially dropped a nuclear bomb over her old life to follow her heart, choosing to forsake her friends, relinquishing her place in the most popular clique and status as ‘Queen Bee’ of Sunnydale High to be true to her heart and publicly join the nerd-turned-freak group just so she could be Xander’s girlfriend. And what had she gotten for turning her life upside down? Cheated on, that’s what! She was Cordelia Chase! Xander Harris should’ve kissed the ground she walked on every single day to show his gratitude for what she’d done for him. But did he? Of course not! 

How often in their nearly year long relationship did he expend more energy on and concern over Buffy and Willow than her? Cordelia had been patient. She’d been a good girlfriend, she’d listened with barely any complaints as he’d complained that Willow shouldn’t be dating a musician, that he would only hurt her. And that was before they’d found out Oz was a werewolf! Then, if it wasn’t Willow, it was Buffy. Buffy-Buffy-Buffy. Buffy, who was the Vampire Slayer, the one girl in all the world to save the human race from evil blah blah blah, and Xander thought she needed his help? Ha! He usually ended up needing saving, too! 

“Cordelia! Hello!”

Cordelia looked up and groaned internally at who she saw. It was that strange girl who’d been hanging around Harmony a few months ago. Annie? Anne? She couldn’t remember. 

“Hi,” Cordelia said with a bright but fake smile. She didn’t want to be too rude because she was still trying to reclaim her place at the top of Sunnydale High’s hierarchy of popularity, and this Anna seemed to be on her side rather than Harmony’s and beggars can’t be choosers. Unfortunately. But maybe it wasn’t a bad thing Anna was disturbing her peace as she remembered she did need to talk to the odd girl. 

“I’m actually glad to see you, Anna-” 

“It’s Anya,” the girl cut her off, correcting her name, the condescension present in her voice and expression. 

“Anya, right,” Cordelia said with an apologetic smile and tone, pushing her annoyance at being interrupted to the side. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something, and it’s a bit strange."

Anya looked at her curiously, but waited for her to continue. 

Cordelia took a deep breath, knowing that she needed to tread carefully. She was a little apprehensive to talk about this with someone who was pretty much a stranger, especially since the topic dealt with the supernatural. This may be Sunnydale where all things supernatural occur, but there were still plenty of people who didn’t believe in its existence or ignored it, and Cordelia didn’t know where Anya fell on that spectrum. She could just as easily freak her out and then there would be another person who thought it was Xander who’d dodged a bullet on their breakup. 

Here goes, she thought. “I’ve been having these…dreams ever since I came back to school from my injury. And they’ve been weird dreams.”

“Weird. How weird?” Anya asked. She didn’t seem too wigged out, so Cordelia felt confident to keep going. 

“Well, everyone is afraid all the time, and there’s rules that we can’t wear bright colors and a curfew, we all have to be home before dark because there’s…vampires-”

“Vampires, really? Wow!” Anya interjected excitedly. “Tell me more!” 

Cordelia sighed in relief. Anya didn’t think she was insane! She decided to treat this like a juicy story of gossip-mongering - one of her favorite pastimes! She grinned.

“So Xander and Willow were vampires and the librarian and a few other students had formed this, like Scooby gang group to fight them and-”

“As if mere mortals had a chance against vampires!” Anya said with an eye roll. 

“Right!” Cordelia said, not minding the interruption this time. She was really getting into having a conversation between girlfriends like this again. It really had been too long. “Well, there was this-this head vampire, like a-a master or something” (Cordelia did not say that she knew for a fact the head vampire in question was actually called The Master and she’d seen him die once), “and he wanted to take over the world” (Anya whispered “fascinating”) and wanted to use machines to drain humans of their blood, like on a massive scale, just so they wouldn’t have to hunt anymore.” (“So lazy,” Anya said, rolling her eyes.) 

Cordelia laughed at that comment and Anya joined her. 

“I know how crazy this sounds,” Cordelia said, reining her amusement in a little. “And I know you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you about my dreams and what they have to do with you. It’s just that I remember that I’m always wearing your necklace in my dreams, the one you don’t have anymore - that old-fashioned, chunky white gold and emerald flower thing.” She missed the way Anya stiffened at the mention of her jewelry. “It’s just that I keep having these dreams and they feel so real. It’s like I can feel the pain when the Xander and Willow vampires bite me. I feel the fear. And I feel myself die. It’s just so bizarre and such a bizarre-o world, and just dreaming about it scares me. That’s not really normal, is it?”

“I-I don’t-” Anya stuttered.

Cordelia cuts her off this time, completely ignoring Anya’s nervous stuttering. “Hey! Wait a second, you were trying to ‘grant’ my wishes, too! Why would you do that?” she asked, her tone suspicious. Her time living on the Hellmouth kicked in and she finally got the impression that something was a little off about the other girl. 

She also took notice of her other comments and reactions. Anya didn’t seem surprised or look at her like she was crazy after mentioning vampires, even stating that ‘mere mortals’ can’t fight them, like she knew a human would need to be superhuman to fight vampires and that one actually existed. She actually seemed to have liked the idea of humans basically becoming caged cattle for hungry vampires,  but also finding the idea of vampires putting an end to their hunting habits as ‘lazy.’ Then there was her sudden nervousness. Something was not right here. 

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at Anya. “What are you?” she asked, finally listening to her intuition that Anya was not just your typical girl . 

Anya let out a nervous giggle that was obviously forced, Cordelia would know, having had to employ that tactic several times since her involvement with Buffy and the others. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anya said as she stood up to leave. 

Cordelia darted around the table and grabbed her arm. “Oh no, you don’t. You know something and I want to know what it is - right now !” 

“Get off me!” Anya screeched. Cordelia had purposely kept her voice low to avoid attention, but the whole cafe took notice now. Anya took advantage of the silence and eyes on them to shove Cordelia away from her. Shocked, she let go, stumbling backwards a few paces, giving Anya the opportunity to take off. Cordelia had enough presence of mind to grab her bag from the table and was in hot pursuit of the other girl. 

She was rounding a corner into a darkened alley when she slammed into something hard. Hands grabbed her arms to steady her. Cordelia looked up to see Angel. 

“Whoa, Cordelia, you okay?” He let go after making sure she had her balance. 

“I, uh, yeah, I’m fine.” She took deep breaths as she looked around. “You didn’t happen to see a blonde girl running this way, did you?”

“I didn’t, sorry.” 

“Well, damn,” she said under her breath, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She really needed to find out who or what Anya was and what she knew. Cordelia just knew it was important, she just didn’t know why . She sighed, accepting that she wasn’t going to solve this mystery tonight. There had already been enough melodrama for night anyway. She then frowned up at Angel. “Shouldn’t you be with Buffy? Willow told me about Joyce and said that Buffy had gone to your house. Her mom just died, she shouldn’t be alone,” she said, her sense of compassion making a rare appearance. 

“She’s not alone,” Angel just said. 

“Good evening, Cordelia,” Buffy said, materializing out of the darkness at Angel’s side. It was so sudden that Cordelia actually jumped back a little, clutching at her heart with an “Oh!”

Having regained her composure, Cordelia said, “I’m so sorry about your mom, Buffy. Joyce was really nice and a good mom.” 

Buffy just hummed at her, almost as if she either didn’t really hear what Cordelia said, or more like she just didn’t care, which was really confusing. Cordelia knew how much Buffy loved her mom, and this seemingly indifferent attitude was not like Buffy at all. 

“Buffy-”

“Can I have a hug?” Buffy asked, cutting her off.

Cordelia was actually taken a little aback at the request. This was definitely bizarre-o, but she reasoned that Buffy had just lost her mom, so she supposed she had good reason to be acting strangely. 

“I, yeah, of course, Buffy. Whatever you need.” 

After they had embraced, she thought that maybe Buffy had started crying by the odd fluttering she felt at her neck, where Buffy had buried her face. Then she felt the pain, like knives piercing her skin. She was too shocked to cry out. As her eyes darted around frantically, they finally stopped on Angel, standing still, his vampire face smiling at them. 

What is happening? was her last thought. 

Chapter Text

Previously…

Still on the floor, Buffy slowly turned her head to the right, and the sight before her was shocking. Joyce Summers, her mother, was sitting in a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs, and gagged. She obviously couldn’t speak, but that didn’t stop her from trying, she desperately pulled at her bonds, but there wasn’t much give. There were wet and dried tear streaks trailing down her cheeks and her eyes were filled with nothing but pure, horrified panic. 

“You’re awake. Good. We’ve been waiting, haven’t we, Mother?” 

Buffy sat up and quickly assessed the situation, realizing several things at once. One, she was a vampire. Two, any familial feelings of love for the woman in front of her were gone. In fact, she actually felt like killing her. Hmm, that was an interesting thing…she would get back to that thought in a moment. Third and lastly, she just knew she did not like the vibe coming from the vampire grinning maniacally at her standing beside Joyce. She recognized that he was one of the three vampires who’d killed her. She was also pretty certain he was her sire, and that didn’t thrill her, either. Seems like she already has a hefty list of things to deal with after just rising. Oh well, she thought, gotta do what you gotta do, and deftly jumped to her feet. 

“And you are?” she asked, tone deliberately and deeply belligerent.

The vampire clicked his tongue at her. “Manners, little one,” correcting her like an errant child. 

Yeah, I’m going to have to kill him just for the ‘little one’ comment alone. 

“My question still stands,” Buffy said, her voice falsely saccharine, a demure smile playing on her lips. 

He smiled at her supposed compliance. “Zachary Kralik, your sire,” he said, adding a ridiculous bow to his answer, his smarmy timbre really off-putting. 

Ugh. This vamp is definitely dead, sire or not. 

“Uh-huh, and why do you have her here?” She tilted her head in Joyce’s direction without even looking at her. “I’m guessing you were going to use her as bait to get me here, but you managed that without Joyce.” There was a whimper from Buffy’s mom, most likely due to the detached tone and calling her by her first name instead of ‘Mom.’ 

“Yes, Hobson, your brother, by the way, was trailing you, and ran ahead to let me know that luckily for us you seemed to be coming our direction, so the plan changed.” Kralik shrugged. “I’m not a plans written in stone kinda guy.

“And what exactly is your grand plan?” Buffy asked, fighting not to roll her eyes, trying not to sound too annoyed yet, already so done with egotistical vampires and their incessant need to end the world. Come on, people, make these decisions based on good sense! Logical, practical thought processes, how hard is it? 

The only answer she received was a rather drawn out, “Errrr,” making it clear that he didn’t seem to have a plan beyond turning the Slayer. Lame, she thought, sighing internally. “Do you mind if we put this ‘what’s next’ discussion on hold? My stomach would be growling right now if it could.” Buffy was hungry, her need urgent.  

“Oh, of course,” Kralik said, apparently however many brain cells he had left were working overtime on still formulating the next step of his nonexistent plan. He stepped back and gestured that Buffy now had the floor next to Joyce. 

“Do you mind? I’d like a little privacy. This is going to be a mother-daughter bonding moment , I think. It should really be shared between the two of us, you know.” 

Thank god, she thought when Kralik moved to leave. Her annoyance spiked again when he said, “Don’t play with your food,” before he shut the door. 

‘Don’t play with your food’? What kind of vampire was he? Buffy’s experience showed her that vampires loved ‘playing with their food.’ Darla loved to play the innocent (the Catholic school uniform came to mind) and slightly seductive teenager, drawing from her experience as a prostitute during her human days. Spike would torture his victims by driving railroad spikes through their heads before he would feed. Drusilla had a more typical approach by causing pain. So unoriginal, in Buffy’s opinion.

And Angelus, well, he was in a class of his own when it came to playing with his food. It wasn’t just his proficiency with using different objects to create pain but it was his mind games that he loved to play, the ingenuity, the revelry he found in his cruelty was what had made him an absolute master. Buffy remembered them well. Before, those memories had brought nothing but heartache and sadness. Now, she smiled at them, applauding his vicious creativity. Obviously Buffy didn’t know if she would have a shtick or what it would even be if she did. She was looking forward to exploring that subject - at a later date - she was too hungry to do more than what was necessary to satisfy her hunger. 

Buffy’s face transformed and she walked over to Joyce, coming to a standstill right in front of her. She leaned down, letting the woman get a good long look at her, smiling broadly to showcase her new teeth, staring intently with her yellow eyes. 

“Well, Joyce, I think this is the end of the line for us. I’d really love to draw this out a little more, but I’m just too hungry.” She licked and smacked her lips for emphasis. 

Eyes wide, Joyce was silent, not a whimper or sound escaping, shaking her head back and forth frantically. 

“Denial to the end, huh?” she said with a sigh, a little disappointed that Joyce chose not to face the truth, even at the moment before her death. “Well, I guess you’re going out in true Joyce form then, so that’s something for consistency,” she said, shrugging, then lunged and bit down hard into Joyce’s carotid artery on the left side of her neck. She moved her teeth out of the way just enough that she could press her lips against the skin, encompassing the puncture wounds and sucking. The first pull of blood flooded into her mouth and Buffy moaned at the sweet, sweet nectar, delighting in the nirvana she found in the life-giving liquid. 

The taste was not what she had expected. Human’s could only smell blood if there was a lot of it and even so, it had a metallic, coppery tang to it - like a penny. She remembered when Angel had told her he’d smelled blood on the bracelet of the missing Kent Academy student when she’d found it in the cemetery on one of her many nightly patrols last year. Buffy hadn’t been able to see any blood on it, not even when examining it in light, highlighting just how sensitive a vampire’s sense of smell is. It had been another thing that made the differences between humans, even a Slayer with her heightened senses, and vampires glaringly obvious. Another reason why they shouldn’t’ve worked then. That wasn’t a problem now , though. They both were vampires now.

Buffy couldn’t swallow the blood fast enough on the next pull and some overflowed, trickling down the lower part of her face - the iconic twin lines of blood dribbling down each side of the chin. My god, she thought with a moan, sucking more blood down her throat. It was hot and sweet, and she couldn’t get enough. But, as all things must, it came to an end. She could tell because the quantity of blood lessened until it was like she was sucking air through a straw when trying to get the last of the liquid from a cup.

And that was the end for Joyce Summers. 

After drinking Joyce dry, Buffy held the dead woman’s head between her hands, keeping her upright for several moments, just looking down at the woman who had been the mother of her human counterpart. It was not out of regret or sentimental reasons, however. More like she was already mentally scrolling through the options -there were several - of what her next steps were going to be. 

First and foremost, Buffy wanted Angel (a.k.a. Angelus) at her side. In order to accomplish that Buffy would need to convince or cajole him to lose his soul. And of course that was going to be tricky. It was not even a month ago that he’d tried to commit suicide in order to avoid becoming a killer again. It would be complicated, sure, but Buffy was confident she could manage it. 

Second, she needed a cover story. She already knew that her sire was going to get a very big splinter to the heart. Her ‘siblings’ as well. She was so not dealing with them. Which meant she needed an explanation for Joyce’s death. It would need to be believable, plausible enough that it would simply be deemed an abduction turned murder case by a stranger who’d vanished that would be an open file in the homicide department. It would eventually become a cold case that would never be solved considering the fact that there would never be a true suspect and little to no chance the perpetrator would ever be found. The abductor would be nothing but a pile of ash on the floor of the abandoned boarding house called Sunnydale Arms. The true killer would be the dutifully grieving daughter, waxing on about how Joyce was the best mom ever , that even as a single mom these last few years she’d made it work, always supporting Buffy, and being there when she needed her. Gag! It would be annoying but she knew could do it. Acting like a half-ditzy blonde would also aid her. Hiding her smart side had given her a way to wiggle out of helping more during the research process and be the ‘go-get ‘em and knock ‘em dead’ part of the Scooby Gang. She also lied to the whole world everyday about who she really was, or had been, so it should be a walk in the park. 

The next item on her to-do list was to figure out how to pull the wool over the eyes of her Watcher and her friends. Well, former Watcher and former friends. Giles had decades of experience with the supernatural world and Willow, Xander, and Oz had spent enough time in that world to also recognize the signs which would identify a vampire - ice cold skin no matter how hot the temperature, avoidance of sunlight, no appetite for human food, no reflection, an aversion to religious symbols and holy water. She would need to find a way to make sure they didn’t realize she was no longer their friend, their Slayer. She would need to play the role of the human Buffy to perfection. It would be the performance of a lifetime, no doubt worthy of an Oscar, she thought with a grin. Faith was almost a nonexistent problem as she’d not been around too much after the New Year. No one really knew what the impulsive, reckless Slayer had been up to lately, not that Buffy cared all that much, especially now. 

One might ask why she didn’t kill the people in her life like she had just done with Joyce. The answer was simple: it would be so much more fun to toy with them before eating them. And eat them she would! But that was a puzzle to figure out later. Buffy first needed to deal with her most current problems. One: a crazy sire and two vampire siblings who really needed to literally go ‘poof’ into the air. Two: a plausible cover story for Joyce’s ‘murder.’ Three: find Angel and turn him into Angelus once again (preferably before he staked himself or met the sunrise just as he’d threatened on Christmas morning).

Although Joyce was dead, Buffy still twisted her neck, hearing a satisfying crack . She let go and Joyce’s head sagged forward, chin nearly touching her sternum. An idea was coming to mind on how she could spin the situation in her favor. She next went to the door and testing her new strength she gave one sharp kick to the wooden barrier. It shattered, the whole door exploding outward, thousands of pieces of wooden splinters and dust going everywhere. The damage she’d inflicted had been greater than what she would’ve been able to achieve if she were still only a Slayer. Oh, the fun she was going to have! 

“Did you save some for us?” a suave British voice asked as Buffy exited the room with the corpse. 

“Now, now, Percy,” Kralik said in a scolding manner, “the first kill is special and it shouldn’t be shared. I let you have Linus all to yourself, didn’t I?” The vampire said nothing. “Didn’t I?” Kralik asked again, his tone darkening. 

Cowed, Percy bowed his head, and mumbled out an apology. 

Yeah, Buffy was definitely the only vampire who would be walking out of this derelict house. The day Buffy became submissive like that was the day she’d voluntarily and happily drink a gallon of Holy water. 

“Now, we need to-” Kralik started to say before his head began twitching violently, his speech cutting off. “Pills, I-I need my p-pills! PILLS!” 

The way Linus and Percy scrambled around to get a pill bottle and a glass of water for Kralik would’ve been hilarious, but Buffy had things to do and didn’t have time to stop and watch the ensuing mini circus act. She just used the distraction to swipe up a few of the bigger splinters of wood, holding them behind her back, waiting for some semblance of normalcy to reign again. 

Pills swallowed, Kralik began to talk as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “We need to make introductions. This is-”

Buffy didn’t give him a chance to finish. In quick succession and with deadly precision she threw two of the wooden pieces, her vampire siblings disintegrating into dust before they could register what had happened. 

Her sire let out a howl of furious rage. “Stop! I command you to STOP,” he roared, advancing toward her. 

Buffy slammed into Kralik, and he stumbled backwards, finally coming to a stop when his back hit a wall. She was in front of him before he could even blink, shoving her improvised stake into his chest, the wooden tip pressing against his unbeating heart. He froze instinctively, realizing that he would also be dust with just a little more pressure. 

Kralik laughed. “You don’t like to share attention, I see. You could’ve just said so. Now, let me go.” Buffy didn’t budge. Kralik frowned. “We need to work on your obedience. I gave you an order-” He did not have a chance to finish his sentence, tapering off into a sort of gurgle as Buffy pushed the stake forward, piercing his heart, and in a menacing voice said, “I’m done taking orders.” She took a step backward and watched as her sire joined the dust of her siblings, blending with the original filth blanketing the floor of the abandoned building. Dusting her hands off, Buffy made a mental note that she could mark dealing with her sire and siblings from her list. Next order of business - Angel. 

And so, with nary a glance backward, Buffy left the dilapidated house intent on finding her boyfriend, disappearing into the night.

December, 1998, Sunnydale, California 

The Master, as he was now known as, having shed his human name of Heinrich Joseph Nest long ago, stood in a corner of the factory in Sunnydale, California, watching the multitude of vampires working to make the vision he had for the world become reality. It would be the greatest accomplishment of his very long life. And long it had been - over 800 hundred years he’d walked this Earth. Watching the rise and fall of civilizations and kingdoms and fiefdoms, benefiting from the carnage humans inflicted upon each other as they fought for crowns or lands and riches or even ideologies - some reasonable and others utterly ridiculous - or in the name of their gods/goddesses created amusement like nothing else ever could. The entertainment and never ending supply of blood the warring humans provided had been plentiful and so, so glorious. Vampires could gorge themselves nearly every night during the numerous crusades or conquering of new lands, hardly ever drawing the attention of the Vampire Slayer - the supernatural girls the Shadowmen had created to combat the multitude of demons that remained or were created by mutation in this dimension after the Old Ones were gone.

Ah, the Old Ones, he thought fondly, wistfully, saddened that he’d not walked the Earth at the same time, seeing firsthand the hell the Old Ones had made Earth into. Maloker, an Old One and so a pure demon, had created the first vampire after humankind began to rise, somehow getting their hands on powerful magicks capable of banishing the Old Ones to other dimensions and destroying the demons who were left on Earth after the banishment. A demon lord - a demon who was not quite an Old One but still very powerful - named Archaeus later developed his own bloodline of vampires, which the Master was a proud descendant of. 

The first vampires were called Turok-Hans, and they were very, very different from vampires today. They had no human blood and therefore they could not transform their faces in between demon and human. They were deathly pale, bald and humanoid with pronounced brow ridges. Their eyes were clear save for black slit pupils. They had flat bat-like noses, sharpened teeth, pointed ears, and long nails. The Master resembles a Turok-Han more than a human-vampire hybrid. He was pleased to no longer be beholden to either his human visage or his human name. In fact, the Master despises humans, vehemently so. They were nothing more than a food source; cattle he intended to herd, cage, breed, and bleed all for the purpose of feeding vampires. It was a worthy endeavor and one the Master knew would make his sire, albeit indirectly as his sire as Archaeus had been banished before the Master had been reborn, proud. 

(Actually, it would not have made Archaeus proud. The kill was only half the fun; the anticipation of the hunt was what really got the blood moving, so to speak, and the Master’s plan would render the hunt obsolete after the majority of the human population was imprisoned. Essentially, vampires wouldn’t be predators anymore if they always had blood on tap.) 

The Master had had years to think on what he would do when he finally broke out of his mystical prison. His original plan had been to open the Hellmouth and allow all manner of demons to invade this dimension, once again making it their hell. His time trapped in such a small space had taken its toll on the old vampire,the Master growing increasingly listless as the years passed. Eventually he’d lost even his agitation that he could no longer hunt his prey and the loathing that he must rely on his family to bring him food like a helpless cub. It was humiliating that he must be fed like a chick, waiting in the nest for his mother to return with a worm or another form of sustenance. He was the Master, descendant of Archaeus, the ruler of the Order of Aurelius and he had been trapped beneath earth for 60 years due to a damnable earthquake occurring during his ritual to open the Hellmouth. 

The Master disliking his underground prison was ironic since the Order of Aurelius brethren lived below ground, only going up to the surface for food and to sire new vampires, the idea of living among the humans abhorrent. It seemed even vampires were vulnerable to cabin fever. He finally had a small but slightly deep pool dug out and filled with blood, submerging himself, enacting a ritual that would allow him to sleep, eliminating the need to feed. He would not regain consciousness until the ritual to wake him was performed. 

Two vampires suddenly appeared at his side. 

“Bored now,” the red-headed female said, her tone lethargic. 

“Why don’t you play with your puppy?" her raven-haired companion suggested. 

“He hardly screams anymore. Takes the fun out of it when they don’t scream,” she said pouting. 

The Master smiled indulgently at the pair. They were his two newest children, joining his family this past March. They had come at a most fortuitous time. Not long after he sired Willow Rosenberg, she sired Alexander ‘Xander’ Harris - her best friend and now lover. Darla had brought Willow to him just after he’d woken from his sleep, needing to feed as much as possible to regain his strength and satisfy the hunger that had started to claw at his insides. He had savagely ripped into the necks of his first two meals, too hungry to eat in a more civilized manner. Having taken the edge off, the Master was able to stifle his thirst, holding off in favor of studying his next victim. She was young, her hair a fiery red. She was obviously terrified as she was brought before him and yet there was a fierce determination about her. The Master had pinched her chin, looking into her eyes, trying to figure out what was different about her. 

It was the defiance that he’d seen in her eyes that made him decide to turn her instead of just eating and moving on. Her expression clearly conveyed that while she was terrified and likely knew she was about to die (the unnatural faces of her abductors clueing her in), she would not cry and plead with him to let her go. She was silently saying I may be afraid of you but I’m not giving you the satisfaction of hearing me beg for my life. And she didn’t, standing rigid, just glaring at him until he lowered his head to bite her. Darla had been surprised when instead of draining her and calling for the next human he began the blood exchange. The Master had not personally sired a vampire in many, many years, decades even before he’d attempted to open the Hellmouth. He’d been content to allow his children to choose who they brought into the fold. 

Soon after the Master had risen again, he’d lost two of the children who had been with him the longest. His sweet, sweet Darla, and Luke, so strong, so loyal - both taken from him by sheer dumb luck on the side of the humans responsible. Luke’s killer was unknown but not Darla’s. The White Hats, they called themselves. The Master sneered at the thought of those humans. They were the reason his plans had been delayed. Although the Master would never admit to it, it was actually his fault that Luke and Darla were now dead. They had occurred on separate occasions and after he was released from the magical prison. The Master delved into his mind, bringing the memories of before and after his escape to the forefront. 

The Harvest had been a spectacular success, going off without a hitch. Luke acted as his Vessel while Darla and the others, including the newly-awoken Willow, had trapped dozens of humans in their little nightclub, giving Luke and therefore the Master, the ability to quickly gain his freedom. Once free, he had given his family leave to celebrate in however manner they wished, telling them not to bother with concealing their presence or their evil deeds. The humans would know soon enough that they were not alone, that they shared their planet with all manner of creatures, most from their nightmares, others they never could’ve imagined existed. The Master would make sure of it. 

According to Luke and Darla, there had not been a whisper of where the current Vampire Slayer was destroying his brethren of all kinds. If the Slayer eventually did make her way to Sunnydale, the Master was confident that while he alone could kill her, he would have a score of vampires to assist in the battle. Darla was four hundred years old and Luke had a century on her. The Slayer would be no match for them three. So, why should they hide? The Master’s mission to conquer humanity meant that they no longer had to lurk in the shadows, most trying to keep a low profile, not wanting to draw the Slayer’s attention to their location. They were done with that now. Let the Slayers come, let them come one after another after another. The Master and his family would welcome each one with open arms and sharp fangs, always ready to sink their teeth into her neck. 

“Willow, give Xander control, allow him to do the playing while you watch. It can be as entertaining to watch as it is to be the one doing the torturing. He might also think of something to try on your puppy that you have not,” the Master said, his voice encouraging in the way a father would help guide his daughter in a chosen activity. 

Willow’s crimson smile slowly turned into a smirk, the devilish glint in her eyes making the Master proud. Whereas Darla had liked to play an innocent role during her hunts, Willow exuded power - the provocative woman come to dominate. Both of his girls made him so proud. He only wished Darla were still here to see how far her fledgling sister had come since joining the family. Willow was a fast learner and she had natural talent when it came to doling out physical pain. Xander, on the other hand, wasn’t very imaginative and would just do whatever she told him to do. 

“I like that idea,” she said, smiling, holding her hand out for Xander. He returned her smile, took her proffered hand and they disappeared to where the puppy was kept. He hoped to hear screams soon. 

The Master took another look around him; it wouldn’t be long now before his blood plant was operational. He was thinking that…

The Master didn’t have the opportunity to finish his thought because suddenly a demon stood in front of him, having ‘popped’ into existence in the blink of an eye. She was of average height, and she had a regal, statuesque stance and look about her; her hair was dark and curly, gray skin tinged with red and red-rimmed eyes, silvery cuts all over her face, and a symbol carved deeply into the bridge of her nose - all denoted her as a vengeance demon. How the Master loved the chaos those demons could create! And the humans, oh the humans!  they could be as imaginative and cruel as the most evil of evil beings. 

“Master,” she said, bowing deeply, acknowledging and respecting his superiority. It was always good when a demon unknown to him displayed the proper reverence when greeting him. It always put the Master in a good mood. 

“Yes, child of vengeance?” he asked benevolently. 

“You are summoned,” she replied. 

Summoned? Summoned? Who would dare to summon the Master as if he were no more than a common vampire? He would clearly need to remind whoever this person was that he was not a vampire to be summoned. He did the summoning! 

“I answer to no one, ” he said. “I-”

The demon promptly stepped forward, placed a hand on his elbow and before the Master could jerk away from her hold or even blink, she teleported them away. 

Chapter Text

 🎶🎵🎶 “She’ll only come out at night…The lean and hungry type…She’s deadly man, and she could really rip your world apart…The beauty is there but a beast is in the heart…Oh, here she comes…Watch out boy she’ll chew you up…She’s a maneater” 🎵🎶🎵

The new and improved Angel (a.k.a. Angel without a soul) sang under his breath as he watched Buffy walk near an unfortunate, or fortunate, depending on your perspective, woman in a darkened alleyway nearing the Espresso Pump. Watching Buffy stalk her prey, assessing the best way to utilize her abilities as an apex predator, seeing the drive to kill an innocent rather than save them, was better than Angel could’ve ever imagined. She was as graceful as ever, radiating power and just a hint of danger if you looked closely enough. She was an absolute natural. 

Angel knew that Buffy was still figuring out her approach, figuring out how she liked to attract and/or attack her victims and he relished in it. For nearly six months he had wondered, trying to piece together a picture of how Buffy would be as a vampire. He’d told Spike and Drusilla that ‘to kill this girl…you have to love her.’ And love her he did, not that he would have acknowleged it at the time. He’d dreamed of turning her for months, of making her into his image. She would be the ultimate protégé, his greatest accomplishment of his entire lifetime. In time Angelus had come to realize that he in fact did love Buffy without his soul and he’d totally ‘wigged’ as Buffy and her friends like to say and botched the whole damn thing. Then he had been muzzled and locked in a cage—again, spending decades in a hell dimension, feeling all those feelings of guilt and pain of torture right along with Angel. One would think he would’ve thrived in such an environment, but no dice. He’d been affected negatively just as much as Angel; it wasn’t just the pain or guilt making it truly terrible but the yearning for Buffy. Neither he nor Angel could escape her, not even in another dimension. 

Skulking in the shadows behind Buffy, Angel grinned as he recognized that she was about to attack. It seemed she was too hungry for a more intricate method. Angel couldn’t blame her, even after more than two centuries he still vividly remembered the hunger that gnawed at his inside after he’d first risen and the confusion had begun to subside. He had never been hungrier than that first night of his undead existence. This was a time to celebrate and to feast, to gorge themselves on the blood of insignificant humans. God! I love being a vampire! he thought with gleeful satisfaction, the bloodlust rising and rising...

Angel paused, his superior vamp hearing recognizing a familiar voice from not too far away. He cocked his head to hear better. 

…vampires-” That was Cordelia. 

“Vampires, really? Wow!” A voice Angel didn’t know interjected excitedly. “Tell me more!” 

His gut told him this was something they needed to hear. Angel hated to interrupt Buffy’s hunt but he just knew this was important. 

“Buffy,” Angel said quietly, “come here.” 

To his surprise Buffy immediately abandoned her hunt, appearing at his side within a blink of an eye. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“Listen,” he said, nodding in the direction of the Espresso Pump. 

After hearing more of the conversation, Buffy smiled. “I think we need to have a word with my dear friend Cordelia.” 

A slow Cheshire grin spread across his face, a grin full of malicious intent that Buffy mirrored. “I think we do,” he replied. 

In a fortuitous turn of events, Cordelia’s conversational partner ran into the alley where Angel and Buffy were, Cordelia not far behind. They let the other girl, ‘girl’ being a loose descriptor because Angel was certain that Cordelia was right and she was something other , sprint past them; they could track her down later. Buffy melted into the shadows without Angel having to tell her to. She was a spectacular vampire! he thought jubilantly. 

Angel quickly positioned himself so that Cordelia ran straight into him, his hands grabbing onto her to steady her at the abrupt halt to her progress. He smiled, this was going to be fun , so much more than last time. He was about to enter the most entertaining game ever and Buffy would be his teammate rather than his opponent, she would be at his side for all of it! 

The world was their oyster now. 

“Ughhh,” Cordelia groaned as she woke up, feeling like she’d been hit by a bus. It was almost like when she’d woken up from surgery–that fuzziness followed by confusion then pain. Only the pain was localized to her neck instead of her abdomen this time around. She finally opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to dispel the groggy feeling, but her memory was actually failing her at the moment. The room was silent, dim and not one she recognized.

“I really need to stop getting kidnapped and waking up somewhere else,” she grumbled as she sat up. 

The first time was when little Miss Marcie ‘I’m-invisible-and-angry-with-world-and-going-to-take-it-out-on-Cordelia’ Ross took her from the school to the Bronze. Marcie wanted to torture her because she was jealous of Cordelia’s popularity. The psycho had even sliced her cheek with a scalpel before she was to be crowned the May Queen. Then there were those vamp creeps who took her, Miss Calendar, Willow, and Giles so they could be sacrificed to bring that Master vampire back. Next, her supposed-to-be-dead-but-wasn’t boyfriend abducted her so that freakazoid Eric could make her into his Bride of Frankenstein. It still made her feel icky over a year later and she definitely still had nightmares about Darryl. The frat guys didn’t necessarily kidnap her—just drugged her and held her hostage, so that counted in her book. 

While she was thinking about it, she supposed she could also count the other times she’d been held against her will or something really, really bad had happened to her because she lived on a stupid Hellmouth. That night at the Bronze after Buffy came to Sunnydale came to mind first, and a group of vampires—not that she knew that’s what they were at the time—locked them all inside the club for a creepy ritual feeding thingy. Urgh! Amy Madison’s mom had magicked her vision away during cheerleader tryouts. That little boy in a coma made everybody’s nightmares come true. She still had nightmares about her frizzed-out hair and that old-lady-in-the-nursing home outfit she’d been wearing while being carted off to the Chess Club during that “the Hellmouth is extra mouthy” incident. 

And who could forget when Spike and his newly acquired gang of vampires tracked Buffy down at Parent/Teacher Night the year before. She’d been stuck in a closet with Willow, the redhead making fun of her for praying—on her knees and everything!—for hours! Then she and Xander had been chased into Buffy’s basement by that assassin bug guy and trapped there for hours, too! They’d been chased down there again a few weeks later when Xander had had Amy do that spell to make her love him. The spell had, of course, backfired spectacularly, and they almost got killed when every woman in town became obsessively in love with him. Even Drusilla, the nutso vampire, was affected. Xander said she’d offered to turn him into a vampire, too. Cordelia made a face at that thought. Anyone who would want Xander Harris around forever definitely needed to see a shrink, probably several shrinks. She’d also been stuck inside Buffy’s stairway closet with Oz when zombies had attacked during the party to welcome her home from being a teen runaway last August. Then there was Homecoming, when she and Buffy had been kidnapped for that stupid ‘Slayerfest ‘98’ because it was supposed to be Buffy and Faith, not Cordelia. That near death experience was all thanks to their well-meaning friends. Can’t forget that weird dream or not a dream thing, too. She sighed. She really needed to stay the hell away from all the chaos and pain that being around the Buffy Freakshow brought. 

Cordelia looked around and saw she was alone. The room was devoid of all furniture or any signs of habitation, human or otherwise, and the stone floor she was sitting on was cold, cold like the room had no idea what modern central heating was. At least she’s wearing pants instead of a skirt or dress, so that helped with the warmth factor some. 

“Great, this is just great,” she said with another groan. She was fed up, absolutely sick and tired of these bad things happening to her all because of Buffy. Cordelia really, really wished Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale! At this, she was reminded that she had no idea where she was or why she was here—wherever here was. She needed to stop mentally ranting—she could and would do that later—and try to figure out what was going on. 

Cordelia focused on the problem at hand, and took a walk around the room. It was completely made of stone, walls, floor, And once she was safe, she would absolutely rage at the world like she never had before. 

Taking a serious look around the room Cordelia noticed that the room was lit by torches mounted on the walls, which would’ve given the room a nice ambiance if she wasn’t kidnapped and all that. She finally spotted a door, and quickly rushed to it. Cordelia could’ve screamed as she looked it over because the damn thing didn’t have a handle or knob! How the hell was she supposed to get out of here?!?! Hoping that maybe the flickering light from the torches was playing tricks on her eyes or that maybe she just couldn’t see one, she felt all over the door, looking for a means of escape. It was made of wood and it was smooth but not in a modern way of being sealed after the wood was sanded and stained. (Cordelia knew what she was talking about, she sometimes watched those home makeover shows on HGTV with her mom!) Unfortunately, her eyes were working just fine and she hadn’t overlooked a thing. She pushed on the door…it didn’t budge. 

She pressed her ear to the door and knocked on it. The sound was muffled, meaning that the door was thick, very thick. The bareness of the room, the torches in wall sconces, and the heavy door without a handle/knob or even a little barred window made her think of dungeons in old movies. Panic and desperation mounting, she began pounding on the door. The direness of the situation washed over her anew, kicking her flight-or-fight mode into overdrive.

“Help!” Cordelia yelled. “Somebody, please help me!” She paused, hoping that the door would open, and it would be her rescuer rather than her kidnapper. Cordelia didn’t care who. Buffy, Faith, Giles…she would even be happy to see Xander if it meant she was safe. She wouldn’t even mind if it was Oz’s wolfy sense that helped find her, she just wanted to go home. She was scared, she couldn’t remember what happened to her, didn’t know where she was, or why. All things that were scary on their own, but downright terrifying when added together. 

“HELP! HELP ME!!! HELP!!!!!” Cordelia screamed over and over, continuing to hit the door with all of her might. “PLEASE, HELP ME!!!” She cried out, sobs catching in her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

By the time Cordelia finally accepted that no one was going to open the door, let alone rescue her, she was exhausted, sliding down to the cold floor. Her hands hurt, and the cold air on her wet face only made the chill settle further into her body. She crawled into a corner, drawing her limbs into herself for comfort as much as warmth, and fell into a fitful sleep, praying this would all just be a nightmare she would wake from. 

Detective Gregory Stein quickly made his way through the bullpen to his captain’s office. His suspicion that the victim of a fatal car accident in the wee hours of the morning had been dead before the crash even occurred had just been confirmed, a preliminary report had been waiting for him on his desk. As soon as he’d heard the name of the DOA over the scanner was Summers, Joyce, he’d called his buddy at the morgue wanting the details ASAP. The daughter had been connected to two suspicious deaths in the last year, and he was willing to bet that number would now be three. 

Stein wrenched the door open, and nearly shouted as he stepped inside, “Captain, I have it!” He wasn’t deterred in the least that his boss wasn’t alone, he was riding high on the horse of self-righteousness. “I have the proof!” He raised the paper in his hand victoriously before slamming it down onto the desk so hard that everything on the surface rattled. The nameplate actually fell off. 

If Stein had expected a calm response to his over-aggressive action, for his boss to ask him to sit down and explain what he had, he was bound for disappointment. 

The face of Captain Phillip Kelly turned an impressive shade of red. “What the hell do you mean by bursting in here like this, Stein?” he shouted. 

Stein thought it was obvious. Hadn’t he stated so? “The crash—” Stein was cut off by the captain.

“Not this again. I told you to let this go. Now—”

“The proof is here!” he said again, smacking the desk where the report lay. 

A thick vein bulged on Captain Kelly’s forehead. “Watch it, Stein, I’ll cite you for insubordination!” Captain Kelly said furiously, even pointing at Stein for added emphasis. 

Stein was about to unleash a diatribe on the man before him, his superior or not, when a new voice was added to the conversation. 

“Now, now, gentlemen, there’s no need for all this incivility.” The calm voice was incongruous with the tense atmosphere caused by the two policemen shouting at each other. 

To Stein’s surprise, Capt. Kelly didn’t offer any objection whatsoever to his dressing down one of his officers described as ‘incivility,’ which made sense after Stein got a look at who was also present in the slightly cramped room. Stein felt a rock drop into the bottom of his stomach because he was looking at none other than Sunnydale’s own mayor—Richard Wilkins III. 

The room was silent as the mayor replaced Capt. Kelly’s nameplate on the desk before taking a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. It wasn’t until after Mayor Wilkins had refolded the cloth and tucked it away that conversation resumed. 

“Now then, what’s all this fuss about, Detective Stein?” The mayor’s tone was all genteel hospitality. 

Stein opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. He was completely thrown by the mayor’s presence. 

“ Nothing, ” Capt. Kelly said for him, emphatically for Stein’s benefit—a ‘shut the hell up and do your actual job’ reminder. “Stein, here, has a case. The Hart body, found in the graveyard. Isn’t that right, Stein?” 

“Hope, Phil, the name of the body was Scott Hope,” Mayor Wilkins corrected before Stein could. 

He gave the mayor a questioning look because the death of the high schooler had not been made public yet, having only just returned from making the notification to the Hope family. 

Mayor Wilkins must’ve interpreted his look because he then said, “I make it a point to know when the youngest of our population are tragically taken from us too soon. I prefer to offer my condolences to the families personally. There’s been too many over the years. The McNallys, the Martinis, the Klusmeyers, and the Munsons in the last two years alone.” Mayor Wilkins sighed. “The children, they are our future, of course.” 

Stein remembered those cases, but he was confused because Theresa Klusmeyer was the only death. The McNally and Munson boys and Martini girl were in the missing persons department. Neither boy nor the girl had been seen in over a year—just vanished, like people so often did in Sunnydale, Stein had noted in his years on the job, especially since joining homicide. 

“Yeah, Scott Hope,” Capt. Kelly said, interrupting Stein’s reverie. “You should get back to that.”

“Wait just a minute, Phil, your officer must have something important to share. Otherwise, he never would’ve burst in here like a bat out of h-e-double hockey stick,” Mayor Wilkins said, chuckling at the last bit. 

Stein almost gaped at the man. It was like he was shooting the breeze at a garden party, not the homicide department of a police precinct in a town where an alarming number, in his opinion, of people ended up dead in extremely suspicious circumstances or were straight up never seen again. Except sometimes they were. He’d heard of several instances where people swore they’d seen a family member or friend skulking around town some nights. 

“Uh, yeah,” Stein said. He cleared his throat then continued. “Joyce Summers, she died in a—”

Mayor Wilkins cut him off. “Car accident, very early this morning. I’m aware.” Stein did gape at him this time. He nodded at Stein in acknowledgment. “Coincidentally, that’s actually why I’m here. I have an updated report for the cause of death for Mrs. Summers.” He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper.

“Updated?” Stein questioned, confused. “The report is right there,” he said, pointing to the desk. 

“A preliminary report, yes,” Mayor Wilkins agreed. “However, there was a mistake, and Mrs. Summers died due to the broken neck sustained in the accident.”

Stein was already shaking his head. “Lividity had already begun to set in. She was dead before she was placed inside her Jeep. The accident was staged. Someone wanted it to look like she died in the crash. Mrs. Summers was murdered, I know it.” Stein crossed his arms over his chest, taking a defensive stance. 

“Poor Bertie has been overworked lately,” the mayor lamented, “and, unfortunately, his work is suffering because of it. He got things straightened out after a rather large coffee. I was there making sure our city services departments are in tip-top shape. Good thing, too. This mistake could’ve caused unnecessary work for your department and compounded the grief for the family of Mrs. Summers. I offered to bring it over since I wanted to check on the status of Mr. Hope’s case as well.” 

“No, I don’t believe it was a mistake,” Stein said firmly. He would die on this hill, he didn’t care it was the mayor he was contradicting. 

“Stein,” Capt. Kelly growled at him. 

Stein ignored him, his attention focused wholly on Mayor Wilkins. “What about the bite mark on her neck? Or the fact that her body had been almost completely drained of blood? The same goes for Theresa Klusmeyer last year.”

”Miss Klusmeyer died of a freak animal attack,” the mayor interjected. 

“And yet Bertie shared with me that he was pretty sure that happened after she was dead. Those bite marks showed no signs of having bled like you would expect in an animal attack,” Stein pointed out. “Then there’s the other kids you mentioned. They aren’t dead, just missing—as far as we know.” Stein made it clear that he was skeptical of their missing status. “Theresa Klusmeyer’s body also disappeared from the funeral home during the calling hours. And what about all the other bodies that often go missing from the morgue and funeral homes?”

“I’m warning you, Stein!” Capt. Kelly interrupted. He was ignored, Stein was on a roll that he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. 

“The disturbed graves, the sightings of people supposed to be dead, or people who are just never seen again—people who are definitely not the type to just up and go one day without a word or taking even a toothbrush or change of underwear with them! The bodies with bite marks—usually on the neck, right on major arteries—and drained of blood?! The other sightings of unusual ‘creatures’? Or—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!!” Capt. Kelly bellowed. “You’re suspended, Stein, two weeks, starting now!” Capt. Kelly punctuated this with a finger jabbed on top of the desk. Stein opened his mouth to protest but the captain beat him to it. “Keep your mouth shut or it’ll be without pay.” 

As much as Stein wanted to push the issue, he didn’t. He had a family, and he couldn’t afford to not be paid for two weeks. So, he offered no further protest. He simply removed his gun and badge and placed them on Capt. Kelly’s desk before picking up the ‘mistaken’ report, turned on his heel without a word and left Capt. Kelly’s office. The only sign of his dissatisfaction was pulling the door shut behind him so forcefully that the glass rattled. He was too angry to really register that it was probably Mayor Wilkins’ presence that stopped Capt. Kelly from going ahead and suspending his pay as well just for that display of disrespect. 

He angrily left the precinct, determined that he would get to the bottom of this case and the others, even if he didn’t have the resources of the police department at his disposal for the next two weeks. Greg Stein had had enough! He was on a mission to prove that there was more going on in Sunnydale, California than just the natural world dealt with.

Chapter Text

A new chapter is coming soon, I promise!

Chapter Text

Buffy was very proud of herself. She had successfully used hypnosis on her first try. Angel had offered what advice he could even though he didn’t use that technique when he would hunt. Vampires usually picked a particular method to lure and capture their victims. Like Darla, Angelus had preferred to use charm and seduction to reel his prey in. Drusilla liked to play the innocent, I can help you or Can you help me? angle. Spike didn’t give a damn, he just relied on brute strength and had that whole ‘I’m a vampire and I’m going to eat you’ vibe going on when he didn’t torture his victims with railroad spikes to the ears. Buffy didn’t want to limit herself; she wanted to try different approaches and see which she liked best. It was probably going to be a mix ‘n match type thing. 

It wasn’t just anyone who Buffy had practiced her new ability on. Oh no, it was none other than Cordelia’s parents: Gary and Marissa Chase. It had been a necessity, really, with her safely locked away in the basement, to explain away her sudden absence. Despite how not great things stood between the Scoobies and Cordelia, it would be expected to put 110% effort into finding her if she came up missing. So Buffy had had the idea that Cordelia, finally tired of Xander-centric drama and Sunnydale and all the weirdness that came with it, had transferred to a boarding school an hour and a half away to the northwest for the remainder of her last semester of high school. 

The Cate School in Carpinteria, California is where Cordelia is supposed to have gone. The rich preppy school for the rich preppy girl. It was a place she would really fit in—if she was actually transferring there. Her education wasn’t over, however. Cordelia would be learning all sorts of new things, as would Buffy, with Angel at the helm. 

There was going to be religious studies, which would consist of testing Cordelia’s faith, giving her plenty of opportunities to pray. For English they would test her vocabulary, focusing on antonyms for please, stop, no , etc. Although Cordelia had elected not to participate in the school choir at any time in her high school years, she was now automatically enrolled in music class. They would be measuring her ability to project her voice. 

Health classes, of course, were a must. They would be emphasizing on several different topics. There was anatomy and kinesiology. They would be looking into Cordelia’s flexibility and endurance. They would experiment with how well Cordelia could tolerate pain. After he recent injury, Buffy was certain that Queen C’s tolerance was pretty high, but they were going to find out for sure. Buffy was looking forward to finding out Cordelia’s limits. There was always room for the class size to grow, too. That little nitwit Harmony Kendall was who Buffy thought of first to be Cordelia’s first classmate. 

She grinned wickedly at the prospect. Unfortunately, Cordelia would be flying solo for the moment, they had to be careful about deaths and disappearances. Too many too close together would definitely tip off the Scoobies and Buffy didn’t want that. She wanted to be able to play uninterrupted—searching for people she already knew the location of would seriously put a dent in the time she wanted to torture people. And not to mention the time she spent with her vampire hunny, plotting to, you know, make life miserable and terrifying for humans…and learning each other’s body for mutual satisfaction. Buffy was really looking forward to that now that it wasn’t impossible.

Angel could forge handwriting with the best of them, so after finding her diary and studying her penmanship for a bit, Angel wrote a letter to the Scoobies requesting that they not contact her. The letter explained that Cordelia wanted a fresh start for the remainder of the school year, and that she wanted distance from all the weirdness that Sunnydale and hanging around the Vampire Slayer brought on. It was tactless, condescending, and sometimes downright harsh, especially toward Xander. It was so Cordelia! Buffy was quite proud of herself for the contents of the letter. 

“Are you ready to go home? We should tell Cordelia that she’ll be staying with us a lot longer” Angel asked her.

“Yes,” Buffy said with a grin. 

Angel held his hand out to her, she took it and they leisurely made their way home from the Chase house. 

Cordelia furiously wiped tears from her cheeks, huddling further into her blanket. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. How was she in this situation again , and it was Buffy and Angel doing it to her! The hope that Buffy would be coming to save her, as she always had, was gone. She had to hope that Giles, Xander, Willow, and Oz, would come to rescue her. Surely they would, wouldn’t they? Even Xander would be a welcome sight right about now. 

Cordelia had to be honest with herself, though; she’d been awful to the Scoobies since her breakup with Xander, especially Xander. Could anyone blame her, though? She’d changed her whole life for him. She’d given up her popularity and the friends she had complete and total influence over. She’d given up her dignity to walk down the school halls holding hands with Xander Harris and be with the group of people involved in all of the weird stuff that happened in Sunnydale! She’d put herself in more danger by hanging out with the Buffy crowd all the time! 

The door to her dungeon opened and Cordelia tried to shrink into the blanket as much as she could. Evil Angel sauntered inside the room. She was scared, not knowing if she should be more scared if it was Buffy or Angel who came in. She hated being scared! 

“Hey Cordelia,” Angel said, squatting in front of her, “how are you doing?” His tone was conversational, like she wasn’t being held here against her will. 

“I’m just peachy,” she deadpanned. 

Angel grinned; it was unnerving. He held out a bottle of water. Cautiously, she took it. The cap was still sealed, so she hoped that meant it hadn’t been tampered with or anything. 

“Go on,” Angel said encouragingly. 

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him, but she took a sip–it tasted all right. She was thirsty, so she drank more of it. Angel extended a closed fist toward her. When he opened his hand, two white round pills lay there. 

“I’m not taking those,” she said, voice firm, looking Angel straight in the eye, feeling braver than she was. How could she? She didn’t even know what they were. 

Angel just smiled as he closed his hand into a fist once more. “Suit yourself.” He stood. “Let me know if you want it later. I’m sure you will,” he said laughing, walking away. 

Cordelia slumped in relief for only a moment because Buffy entered the room; Angel hovered in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his arms crossed, expression passive. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Cordelia didn’t know, but she figured that right now evil Buffy was the bigger problem to worry about. 

Buffy crouched down in front of Cordelia. “Hiya Cordy,” Buffy said with a grin that was way too wide.

“Buffy,” she answered, tone neutral. She wouldn’t show these two evil vamps any more fear. They would not get the best of her. She was Cordelia Chase, damn it!

Buffy only grinned more. “I thought you might want to know that you’ll be staying with us a little longer.” 

“Oh? That’s great, but how are you going to explain my absence? I’m sure Xander would just love the chance to be my “hero” again,” she said wryly. 

“I’m sure he would,” Buffy said, nodding her agreement, exaggerating her sincerity. “But he’s not even going to know you need a clown in aluminum foil.” 

A ripple of fear shot down her spine. “What do you mean? You can’t just kidnap me and expect others not to notice. Harmony and the others, my parents, and Xander will definitely notice I’m gone.” Xander was Cordelia’s trump card, she tried not to smirk. 

“Oh, Cordy, Cordy, Cordy,” Buffy said with exaggerated disappointment. “Do you really think I would be so careless in taking you prisoner that I would have to head up your search party? I wasn’t that sloppy with my mom.” 

“Y-you killed Joyce?” Cordelia asked, horror-struck. 

Buffy grinned. “I did.” She leaned forward, like she was going to share a secret. “She was my first,” she whispered. She then pulled back. “Scott was my second. He really shouldn’t’ve dumped me right before the Homecoming Dance.” 

“Oh, God,” Cordelia said as she began to sob, abandoning her resolve to remain outwardly fearless. 

Joyce and Scott Hope. If Buffy had killed them, then Cordelia knew there was no hope (no pun intended) for her. Joyce had kicked Buffy out of the house, never really accepting her destiny as the Vampire Slayer. She knew Buffy had felt the pressure Joyce had put on her to be “normal.”  Cordelia also knew she had done much worse to Buffy than Scott had. 

That first night at the Bronze when she’d made Buffy out to be a basket case after nearly staking her. Sure, Buffy had been trying to keep Willow from going off with a vampire, but Cordelia didn’t know that. Could she really be blamed???

“What are you going to do to me?” Cordelia asked in a whisper. 

“Oh, so, so much, Cordy. We’re going to have so much fun together! And there won’t be anybody coming to your rescue this time.”  

“You can’t just make me disappear,” Cordelia said, feeling a new wave of brave defiance. 

“I can’t?” Buffy asked, too innocently. 

“No,” Cordelia said with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

Buffy called out, smiling. “Angel?”

Angel pushed himself from the doorframe, coming toward them. He handed her a piece of paper when he came to a stop next to Buffy. Buffy then handed the paper to her. Cordelia took it cautiously, almost like it would suddenly come to life. Which wasn’t all that preposterous considering that the Hellmouth had made a girl who felt invisible invisible, or brought their worst nightmares to life because of a kid in a coma. A shock went through her because she recognized the handwriting on the paper as her own. She began to read. 

“No,” Cordelia said, shaking her head. “You can’t do this.”

“I already have,” Buffy said, leaning toward her. “You’re mine now.”  

Cordelia shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “No, no, no,” she repeated. 

“Yes, and I’m going to make sure you stay mine. I’m going to make sure you stay here, to do with as I please and without interference.” 

“No,” she said again, shutting her eyes tight, praying that this was all just a nightmare. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real, she kept repeating in her head.

“Yes,” Buffy said in reply. 

Cordelia’s eyes shot open as her legs were suddenly yanked out from her body, straightening them out in front of her. Buffy crouched by her feet. 

“What are you doing?” she yelped out.

“I told you: I’m making sure you stay here,” Buffy answered. 

“H-how?” Cordelia sputtered, terrified. 

Buffy leaned forward, grinning. “You can’t leave if you can’t walk, now, can you?” Buffy mockingly quirked a brow at her. 

Cordelia tried to pull her legs back up to her body, but suddenly Angel was there, holding her legs down, pressing on her shins. She tried to fight, but her human strength was just no match for a vampire’s. Her pant legs were pushed up, exposing her ankles to the cold air. Colder hands wrapped around her ankles. They began to squeeze. It was slow, so gradual that Cordelia didn’t feel anything except the coldness at first. The pain began to creep up on her as Buffy squeezed harder. Twin cracking sounds rent the air and Cordelia screamed, screwing her eyes shut at the pain. Her ankles had just been fractured, she knew. Buffy was right, she wouldn’t be running, much less walking, anywhere.

“Enjoy your stay,” Buffy said breezily, followed by giggles as she left Cordelia’s prison. 

The sound of the heavy door being closed barely registered as she rolled onto her side, sobbing. Please, God, I will do anything if you save me from these monsters. Don’t let them kill me, please, she pleaded with the Christian deity. 

If Cordelia had known what Buffy had in store for her, she would’ve prayed for death instead. 

Hindsight was always 20/20, wasn’t it? 

Hindsight was also karma’s ugly sister and a bitch. 

Karma now had Cordelia Chase firmly in its grasp, and it was not going to let go. It was possible that karma may be overcompensating just a tad when it came to Cordelia’s comeuppance. That depended on who you asked, though. And right now, Cordelia was in no shape to debate the topic with the universe. All she could do was cry until exhaustion and pain rendered her unconscious. 

Cordelia’s worst nightmares couldn’t prepare her for the living hell that was waiting for her. 

She was going to need a lot more than acetaminophen tablets in the future. 

Buffy stood in the shadows of the garden, staring at the lightening sky. Soon, she and Angel wouldn’t be able to leave the mansion to hunt for their next meal. As beautiful as she found the mansion on Crawford Street, it was too far away from the underground tunnels of Sunnydale, and they were just stuck inside the huge house while the sun was out. Buffy longed to move about town more freely. She and Angel would need to find a way to address that. 

She sensed Angel as he walked up behind her, snaking his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her left shoulder. “You did amazing in there,” he said into her ear. 

“A few cracks in the ankles, nothing to be impressed about,” Buffy said, shrugging. 

“It’s not just the physical pain, Buffy. The psychological aspect is important too. It’s about knowing your victim and how to use what you know about them to hurt them the most.”

Buffy turned in his arms, looking up at him, placing her hands on his biceps.

“Like how you used Jenny against Giles and my inexperience with sex compared to your two plus centuries of rolling around in the sheets to make me feel insecure?” she asked, quirking a brow at him. 

“Yes, but to be fair, I wasn’t only rolling around in the sheets,” he said with a lascivious grin. 

“Oh, I know,” she said, grinning back, thinking about their recent performance on the floor. She needed to get her head out of the gutter. As tantalizing as the idea of having sex with Angel again was, she had other important things that needed attention. Mainly, her friends. She was playing the long game here, and she needed to plan accordingly. She needed to make sure she could avoid sunlight at all times and avoid touching them as much as possible. Thank God vampires could eat human food even if it didn’t have any nutritional benefits for them, otherwise it would be hard to play the human around them. 

The person she would have the most trouble fooling was Faith, if she even could in the first place. Buffy had that tingling sense when vampires were near her, so obviously Faith had that Slayer perk as well. She figured that the only chance she would have at remaining undetected in Faith’s presence was to have Angel around as much as possible. Angel was a vampire, ergo, it would make total sense that the vampire radar was going off. That’s why it was important that they have more access to the tunnels. Angel was going to need to plan out how to get to more locations and faster now, and the same for Buffy, too. They had time, though, Joyce’s death being a big help to explain sequestering herself away to grieve . 

Hank was about to become a problem, too. After the notification that his ex-wife had passed away in a tragic car accident, he had magnanimously offered to conclude his overseas business as quickly as possible and be on his way to Sunnydale. It would be a few more days until he arrived, and then they could plan the funeral and lay Joyce to rest. There were more plans in the works from there concerning Hank as well. Buffy had already decided that he would be moving to Sunnydale, and would take a small leave of absence from work to devote his time to his now-motherless teenage daughter. They also needed to sort out ownership of the house. As of now, Buffy didn’t need an invitation, but that could change once they began dealing with the legal issues stemming from Joyce’s death. 

So much to do and so little time. 

“You need to get to a tunnel,” Angel murmured. 

“I know,” she said. She would have to get to and from the school from the basement from now on. She was going to have to start spending a lot more time in the library to help explain why she was getting to school so early and leaving later. She would do homework, so she wouldn’t be idle, at least. Buffy’s grades were about to hit a serious upswing. 

“Make sure you watch Xander’s face as he reads Cordelia’s letter so you can describe it to me in detail later,” Angel reminded her. 

Buffy grinned. “ Oh, I’ll be watching him real close,” she assured. 

“Have a good day at school.” Angel kissed her cheek. 

“The best,” she said, transforming her face, grinning at her lover. 

“The best,” Angel echoed, putting his game face on, too. 

They shared another kiss. Cordelia’s fake letter tucked safely into her purse, Buffy made a dash to the nearest manhole and made her way to school. 

Xander would have laughed at the situation he now found himself in. It was hilarious. Hilariously ridiculous is what it was! Cordelia had left Sunnydale! And without so much as a goodbye except for that hilariously ridiculous letter she’d sent to them. 

To the Slayer, Scoobies, Watcher/Librarian, and Xander, is how Cordelia headed the letter. She’d not even included him in the Scoobies like she had for Willow and Oz. Oh, no! Cordelia had left him the odd man out. Even Giles got an official title. Actually, he got two titles! And what did Xander get? Diddly squat, that’s what! 

Well, that was fine. Cordelia could just go. That was just fine for Xander. In fact, he figured that the rest of the school year would be all the more peaceful for her absence. They wouldn’t be needing to rescue her anymore now, with her gone and all. Yes, it was absolutely perfect that Cordelia was gone. She wouldn’t be a distraction with her bitchy ‘poor me’ aura she liked to project all the time, too. So, there! It was a good thing Cordelia was gone. They didn’t need her snarky comments and less than helpful attitude, anyway. They didn’t need her at all. 

“So, how long before you write a letter to her?” Buffy asked as she sat next to him on the couch in the student lounge area. 

Xander didn’t even bother to look over at her. He didn’t want to look at another girl who had ultimately rejected his romantic overtures. 

“Probably fourth period,” Xander quipped. 

“Seems I was more generous to you than you were,” Buffy said with a small smile. 

Xander looked over at her, confused. “Huh?”

Buffy rolled her eyes as she smiled. “I guessed you’d make it to sixth period at least. Willow guessed you’d already be writing it,” she said, shrugging. 

It rankled that his friends found his reaction to Cordelia’s letter so amusing. Betting on his ability to hold out to write a letter to his ex-girlfriend who just up and left them all. 

“And Oz? What was his guess?” Xander asked, highly annoyed and not bothering to hide it. Why should he? Cordelia had obviously been the most callous to him. Why shouldn’t he let his feelings be known. 

“He elected to stay his mostly-silent self.”

“But he usually agrees with Willow,” Xander felt the need to point out. 

Buffy nodded. “He does,” she agreed. “Giles opted not to make a guess either,” she said in an overly optimistic voice. 

Xander shook his head. “Our G-man just likes to keep his thoughts close to the tweed.” 

“That he does,” Buffy said with a nod. “Those tweed suits of his have more secrets than Area 51.”

Xander didn’t bother to make any comment in return. There didn’t really seem much else to say. 

“You realize that this is an opportunity, don’t you?” Buffy asked quietly.

Xander looked at her then. “How do you mean?” 

Buffy pursed her lips at him, momentarily distracting him. “With Cordelia gone, she can’t cast a dark shadow over your character anymore. People can forget what happened between you two, and stop thinking and talking about you like you’re a walking, talking punchline for cheating on Cordelia Chase .” 

Well, way to not pull any punches, huh, Buff? Xander thought darkly. Could she be any more emasculating? 

“Sure, that's a plus, Buffy.” Xander made sure he didn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice. “Thanks for the reminder, by the way,” he said meanly. 

“Hey,” Buffy said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m just trying to get you to see the silver lining here.”

“ What silver lining?” Xander retorted. “Care to share with the class, Miss Summers?”

Buffy rolled her eyes again. “The silver lining is that this now affords you the opportunity to hit the dating scene again, and without Cordelia’s toxic presence around all the time. Girls can see you again instead of a cheater, Mister Harris.” Buffy shrugged. 

Huh. Xander hadn’t thought about it that way. Granted, it’d only been less than 20 minutes since they’d gathered in the library to read the letter delivered for them, so could Xander really be blamed for still processing Cordelia’s insults toward him? He didn’t think so, so he decided to be grateful that Buffy was thinking ahead for him (as usual). 

“You know what? You’re right,” Xander said, nodding, regaining a small sense of confidence in himself. “There’s plenty of girls to choose from here in good ole’ Sunnydale. I just need to get out there, let them know I’m ripe for the taking.” Xander was beginning to find his stride again. Watch out, girls of Sunnydale, here I come! he thought. 

“Yeah, there’s a lucky girl out there somewhere who needs a guy like me,” Xander said, beginning to preen. “She just needs to know I’m available and dependable.” Buffy coughed next to him. He looked over at her.

“Sorry, dry throat,” she rasped. 

Xander gave her a pat on the back and went back to his planning. “She needs to be able to deal with all the Slayer stuff,” he mused aloud. “We can’t have her go all wiggy on us when we pull on our evil-fighting boots.” He missed Buffy rolling her eyes again. “Amy was pretty cool with all that stuff after she started practicing magic. Maybe I could ask her out once Giles figures out how to turn her back into a human?” Xander said hopefully. 

“Or he could turn you into a rat. You could be rats together,” Buffy chimed in. 

Xander jerked his head to look at her. “That’s not funny,” he said sharply. 

Buffy looked contrite as she nodded, saying, “You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry for suggesting we turn you into a small rodent.” 

“Forgiven,” Xander said, daring to ruffle her hair. Well, he tried to ruffle her hair—Buffy smacked his hand away before he could even touch her. “Come on, let’s get to fourth period, where I’m not going to write a letter. Then we can have lunch out in the courtyard. You’re not getting enough sun, Buff.” 

“Sorry, Xan, but being out in the sunshine, it’s just too…cheerful. I’m not ready for cheerful yet.” Buffy sounded so sad then. 

Xander could’ve kicked himself. He’d totally forgotten that Buffy was still grieving for her mom. They’d not even had her funeral yet. 

“I’m sorry, Buffy. It’ll get better soon,” he promised. 

“I have no doubt about that, Xander,” she replied, smiling at him. 

Good. He’d managed to make her feel better. Xander had done his good deed for the day. Hell, he may have just done it for the week! He carried the feeling of success from this for the rest of the day. See, he was still relevant to the team. 

A figure prowled in the shadows of the night, following a pair of young girls chattering about everything and nothing. The way the stalker moved, all lithe and graceful, was very familiar to Drusilla. It was Daddy–the Daddy who had turned her and given her a higher purpose, not the Daddy corrupted by the soul he was cursed with. Her Spike had returned to her with the tale that Angel had come back from the hell dimension the Slayer had sent him to months ago. How disappointing! It had been wonderful to have Daddy back. 

Drusilla didn’t know how, but she recognized this vampire as Daddy—her Daddy. Angelus had come back out to play! Drusilla’s unbeating heart rejoiced that her sire was free of the Gypsy curse once more. They could be a family, minus Darla, again. Everything in her head was singing again! Drusilla only hoped that Spike would be more amenable to Angel’s presence this time. Although she had enjoyed her two boys fighting for her attention, Spike’s jealousy had become quite tedious, and it had led to Spike allying himself with the Vampire Slayer, their natural enemy; an enemy Spike had already killed two of. 

The two girls Daddy followed stopped, their sense that something wasn’t right finally picking up on their pursuer. 

“What’s wrong?” the blonde girl asked the brunette to her left.

“I… I don’t know,” the girl said haltingly. She looked behind them, but Daddy had blended into the shadows. 

Daddy was playing one of his favorite games: make his prey feel uncomfortable then appear as a charming stranger to make them feel at ease before he struck. Daddy’s game hadn’t worked on Drusilla, she’d seen what he’d been, and wasn't fooled by his angelic face. It hadn’t done much to save her, but she was more than she’d ever been as a human. Daddy had freed her from a life of fear, ostracism, and service to God. She had a higher purpose because of him. Unfortunately, these two girls wouldn’t have the same fate; they were just dinner and dessert. Not everybody could be so special. A pity, really.

“Let’s go.” 

Drusilla could hear the fear in the girl’s voice. Oh, my dears, you’re not going anywhere. 

“Excuse me, do you need help?” Daddy asked, materializing out of the shadows. 

“Oh!” the girl gasped out as she jumped back. The blonde didn’t jump, nor had she even looked behind her. Odd, that. 

“Sorry, Cara, this is the end of the road for you.” 

Drusilla gasped when the petite blonde turned around. It was Buffy Summers, but it wasn’t her because she was a vampire! The yellow eyes, ridged brow, and crooked teeth were unmistakable. A Vampire Slayer vampire! How delightful!

Drusilla opened her eyes to the present. It was time to leave Brazil.

“Spike, my love, we must return to Sunnydale.”

“Absolutely bloody not!” Spike protested vehemently, loudly. 

“Spike,” Drusilla said chidingly and left it at that. Her Spike was back, and he would do whatever she wanted. 

“Oh, bollocks.”

Chapter Text

Giles closed his door, leaning his back against it. He removed his glasses, rubbing at his tired eyes. The sigh he let out was one of melancholy and relief that the day was finally over. It had been long, so, so long…and heartbreaking. The grief of losing Joyce weighed heavily on Giles' heart. He could not imagine the depth of Buffy's grief. For her to be a Vampire Slayer and to lose her own mother to vampires was just horrific—a most tragic twist of fate. He remembered with great sadness how worried Buffy had been for Joyce last February after Angelus (he was getting better at acknowledging that it hadn't been the Angel Buffy loved and who loved her back who had killed Jenny and tortured him) had begun to taunt Buffy by sneaking into her house at night and leaving drawings for her, demonstrating that the threat he posed was as great as ever. He had felt so fortunate then to have found the spell that could reverse a vampire's invitation. It had been just in time to stop a confrontation at Buffy's home, but had been too late for him…and too late for Jenny.

To have found Jenny in his bed, her body arranged in such an unnatural position and her unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling had been the single most worst moment of his life, surpassing the moment he'd regained consciousness in the library and realized that Buffy had gone to face the Master after he'd forbidden her to go. He had been worried, of course. He'd wanted to go after her, but then the Hellmouth had opened, severely cracking the floor of the library, meaning that the Master had escaped his prison and that Buffy must be dead. There had been no time to dwell on it, however, because it became a fight of survival for him, Jenny, Willow, and Cordelia. Vampires were attempting to get into the library, and the very large octopus-out-of-water-like demon with several incredibly long tentacles was attempting to drag them toward the three heads with extremely sharp teeth. They all would have died if Buffy had not killed the Master when she had.

Seeing the Master's death, and then Buffy looking down at them from the skylight had done much to dispel the grief. There wasn't a reason to mourn if she was alive, so he'd tried to mostly block her extremely temporary death from his mind. The only response Giles had given was to drive her harder during their training sessions after her return from the summer break. That had almost gotten her killed, too, because she then began blowing off his orders. She'd even gone so far as to lie to him so she could attend that party at the fraternity house, narrowly avoiding being a sacrifice for the demon the idiotic frat boys worshiped. He'd then tried to be more gentle with her after her return from Los Angeles, especially after finding out that Angel's soul had been restored, but she'd had to kill him anyway. The strength Buffy had demonstrated by sacrificing someone she loved so much to save the world was a strength beyond anything Giles had ever imagined possible in one so young. It was no wonder she'd tried to leave the pain behind in Sunnydale. Only seventeen-years-old and Buffy had done what most adults would struggle to do.

He himself was a perfect example of this. Hadn't he nearly gotten himself killed when he'd gone to foolishly confront Angel(us), Drusilla, and Spike alone after Jenny's death? He'd been so intent on avenging her that he'd not stopped to consider the consequences—the worst being his abandonment of Buffy, leaving her without guidance in her fight against evil once more. Losing her first Watcher, Merrick, had affected her deeply despite how little time they had together. Giles and Buffy's relationship had moved beyond Slayer and Watcher to become more akin to father-daughter, and he'd chosen to enter a fight he knew he'd ultimately lose. It was possible that he would've taken Angelus down with him, but he was still vastly outnumbered with Spike and Drusilla still in the picture. He would have died if Buffy hadn't come for him.

There were so many other instances in the past where Giles should've reacted differently and handled the situations better, but his brain was just too tired to dwell on them. It wouldn't make the present any less painful, so he went about readying himself for bed. Tomorrow was going to be just as grueling, so sleep was needed. He hoped he could get a couple hours in before the tragedy began unfolding.

In all his years in the supernatural world, Giles had done many ethically and morally questionable things. It was always, with very few exceptions, done for the greater good, however. He'd always done everything he could to prepare his Slayer and to protect those (the Scooby Gang, mainly) he's responsible for, to protect the innocent and human life as a whole, and do whatever might be necessary to save the world from evil. He always has and he always will. That was his duty.

One thing he's never done is stage an accidental death for a friend. And despite the tensions that have existed between him and Buffy's mother since her introduction to the truth (the events of what had happened while under the effects of Ethan's enchanted band candy would not be taken into account), that's what Joyce had become—a friend…eventually. Giles had respected her fortitude, too. To be the mother of a teenage daughter and a Vampire Slayer was not for the faint of heart. Joyce certainly had courage. She'd taken an ax to the back of Spike's head without knowing he was a vampire because he was threatening her daughter.

Thankfully, Travers had been good enough to arrange for Joyce's body to be removed from the old boarding house and preserved in a cooler without involving authorities until they could determine what to do with her since Buffy had asked for time before they had to deal with it all. This had been fortunate because Angel had had the idea that they could frame Joyce's death as accidental rather than drug- or gang-related murder or another "animal" attack. Police would still be involved, but they wouldn't be searching for the killer they would never find, at least. Buffy didn't need her name attached to another murder investigation, especially not her own mother's.

He and Angel had sent Buffy home little more than a day after Joyce passed, and went about setting up the narrative they wanted. They rigged Joyce's Jeep, her body inside, to hit a very high speed. Angel, being quite dexterous, had held onto the outside of the vehicle, a hand on the wheel through the rolled down window. Once the desired speed had been achieved, Angel had jerked the wheel then jumped clear of the crashing vehicle. As long as the police ignored (they were usually pretty good at that) the bite on her neck and the early signs of lividity of what little blood had been left inside her body, Joyce Summers' death will be ruled as a vehicular accident. Most likely due to her swerving to avoid hitting an animal darting across the road. Perhaps an opossum, or a raccoon. It would be a tragic yet mundane event. There would be nothing supernatural about the death of Joyce Summers.

Giles sighed, wondering how many more friends and colleagues he would bury before his life inevitably ended. Would it be in the service of the Watchers Council and the fight against evil? In a year? Five years? Ten? A completely mundane event such as a mugging gone horribly wrong? A true vehicular accident? Or would it be a natural cause of death when he was old and gray-haired, too frail to be of any help to his Slayer? Would he outlive his Slayer? Or would he, too, join the ranks of Watchers to have buried their Slayers?

His Slayer had passed the test and survived her Crucible. Giles couldn't be prouder of Buffy. As often as they'd butted heads in the years since he became her Watcher, she had proved that she'd listened to him, that she had learned from her, and that she could survive the supernatural world without her Slayer powers, her wits and her cunning her only weapons she had and needed. How many Slayers passed the Crucible? And how many Watchers' Slayers had survived almost three years (Buffy's death didn't exactly count since Xander had resuscitated her), especially when activated at such a young age as Buffy?

He credited himself with her successes. Buffy was a magnificent Slayer, and he'd played no small part in that. His mentorship had made all the difference in her survival and victories, he was sure of it. Giles went to sleep gratified at Buffy's accomplishments in her career so far.

"And that is the ingenuity of Vlad the Impaler. He took the art of impaling his enemies to new heights. He was truly a visionary in his time."

Buffy raised her eyes from the book Angel had been showing her to look at him. Their eyes met, and Buffy can see the excitement this subject brings to his gorgeous brown eyes. They aren't dead, they aren't vacant windows into an evil being. They dance with delight, mesmerizing her. Suddenly, she didn't give a damn about what Slad the Impayer or Gack the Riddler did to their victims–she just wants Angel. She wanted him and she wanted him now. She may be undead, but her body still rages like a hormone-riddled teenager.

"Angel," she says to get his attention away from the books about famous historical figures known for their inventive methods of torture. (She was looking for inspiration for Cordelia, who was in the basement.)

"Yeah?" he replied, not looking up at her.

Well, that won't do. She growled at him, deep in her throat. To those who were not familiar with the subtle communication of vampire growls, one would assume that Buffy was acting aggressively toward him because she was about to attack. This couldn't be further from the truth. Angel, who did understand the nuances of vampire communication, jerked his head up to look at her immediately. Buffy saw the lust darken his eyes. She tackled him right then and there.

Buffy was ripping his shirt off him before they even crashed to the floor. Angel, always so considerate and helpful, aided her to reach her goal by shredding her clothes away from her body until they both laid on the floor, nude. She grinned, Angel was certainly an eager beaver to sleep with her now that he didn't have that pesky soul to get in the way anymore.

Later, sated and happy, Buffy was snuggled into Angel's side as they still laid on the stone floor, the cold no longer a bother to her being the same temperature as a corpse. She placed a hand over his heart, remembering how just a few days ago her human self would've given anything to feel a heartbeat there. Now, she was glad she felt nothing, as now they matched—no heartbeat, no soul, but love was still between them, they were still the center for each other's world. What had been an impossible dream was now reality. Buffy truly couldn't be happier.

"What's going on inside that head of yours?" Angel asked.

"A few days ago, I told you that I thought my life was perfect until the Watchers Council sent Merrick to me. But if I hadn't become the Slayer, I never would've met you." She paused before rolling over a little more so that she could place her chin on his chest. "It was far from perfect after I came to Sunnydale, but it was more bearable with you in my life, especially after we were together and then after you came back.

"But, now, it truly is perfect. We have each other, and I don't have to try to be perfect anymore; the perfect daughter, the perfect Slayer, the perfect friend, or even the perfect student for that toad Snyder. I really want to kill him."

Angel laughed. "Who else do you want to kill?"

Buffy was silent for a few minutes, thinking it over, assessing all the people in her life pre- and post-Slayer activation.

There were her parents–one was already taken care of. Her dad had canceled their birthday tradition this year. She wanted to kill him just for that, but really, when she thought about it, she wanted to kill him for how he'd treated her after she'd become the Slayer. She had tried to tell her parents about the vampires, that there was a reason she was getting into trouble all the time. Hank had thought her to be experiencing a mental crisis, and bullied Joyce into committing her into a mental institution.

The staff didn't believe her, of course. How could they, when the majority of people who met vampires and demons were alive afterward to tell the tale? She had been there for weeks, being told all the time that she was delusional, or diagnoses, like schizophrenia, were being thrown around to explain her behavior. One nurse said that she was just 'acting out' for attention, which she said was unnecessary due to Buffy being an only child and already a spoiled brat.

Maybe she and Angel could look those doctors and nurses up. They would be looking up many, many people who had done her wrong over the years…

Hank Summers is certainly on her list.

Principal Snyder–already mentioned.

Joyce–dead.

Scott Hope–cheating ex-boyfriend–dead.

Cordelia was in the basement, waiting for Buffy's retribution. Cordy might appreciate some company, Buffy thought, so Harmony and Aura and the other Cordettes (Buffy mentally rolled her eyes at Cordy's clique's name) might join the May Queen soon.

Favorite teacher who forgot her. Mrs. ?

Owen Thurman came to mind. He had wanted to continue to date her because her "dangerous lifestyle" was exciting and made him feel "alive." Well, she could show him an even more dangerous lifestyle now. Maybe she and Angel should look him up.

She wondered if maybe Richard Anderson and Tom Warner could be reached even though they were in prison. They'd drugged her and nearly fed her to a giant snake "god" in exchange for wealth and power. While she could (now) applaud their teamwork and that of their frat house brothers, as well as the longevity of their commitment to Machida, they had wronged her.

Amy Madison had cast that love spell for Xander last year, making all females obsessively in love with Xander. Buffy had come to school dressed in only a little black trench coat and black pumps, with every intention to "seduce" him. She would've had sex with him if Xander hadn't been a decent human being that day and turned her down since she was under a spell. (Xander must've dug deep within himself to find that scrap of moral fortitude.) Amy's a rat in a cage at Willow's house, but she can die all the same. Rat spines crack just the same as a human's.

Faith next came to mind. From the moment Faith Lehane had rolled into Sunnydale, she'd been a pain in Buffy's ass, sticking her nose very far where it didn't belong in Buffy's life. Her friends, especially Xander, had been fascinated by her from the get-go. Xander, obviously, because one: she was a female, and two: she was a Slayer who had no qualms talking about Slaying while naked. Of course, Xander had lusted after her the moment they knew she was a Slayer, him still having that whole 'I have a beautiful girlfriend who ditched all her old friends for me, but I still want Buffy because she's never wanted me back, and if I can't have her then maybe this Slayer will want me' vibe going on. Typical, predictable Xander.

Giles had been too jealous about Faith's Watcher being in England for the Watchers Retreat to do anything other than whine about it–like a teenage girl, which he always discouraged and disapproved of in Buffy. He hadn't even bothered to contact the Council when she'd shown up. If he had, they would've known she was lying, and could've been prepared for Kakistos likely following Faith to Sunnydale.

Faith had flirted with Scott. Buffy may have been against "moving on" at the time, but he was still her non-boyfriend, and Faith was encroaching on Buffy's territory. Even Joyce had been happy about Faith's arrival. She'd naively suggested that Faith could focus on the Slaying so that Buffy could be a normal girl. (Joyce just didn't understand the whole "destiny" thing of being a Slayer. She'd tried to run from it, twice, but evil always, always found her.)

Faith should go on her list, but while that would be a personal score settled, it would only activate another Slayer, and Buffy didn't want that. She mostly knew how to manage the reckless girl. Faith didn't exactly have the most disciplined approach to Slaying, or life, really, making her easier to manipulate. It would be better to know who the (eye roll, everybody knew Buffy was the better Slayer) Slayer is and where she is. Keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer and all that…

Buffy saved the best for last: Willow, Xander, and Giles—her friends and her mentor. What a joke!

Giles has always been so disapproving of her want of a normal life, which was hilariously hypocritical of him and incredibly condescending after learning what he'd gotten up to in his youthful days. He'd also disparaged her lack of knowledge of the supernatural world, wanting her to have been more like Kendra. But Giles seemed to forget that she wasn't like Kendra at all. Her parents hadn't known she could one day be a Vampire Slayer, hadn't given her up before she could remember them, to be raised by a person training her to face death on a daily basis. Her time with Merrick as her Watcher was so short that it wasn't like he'd given her a handbook or anything. It had been a crash course in Slaying 101 and then he was dead, and hello Sunnydale!

Willow had been so shy when Buffy had first met her, so submissive—a complete doormat. And yet, she'd really liked that she was the one people told Buffy to go to for help with her classes. The redhead had clearly been the brains of her original trio of friends, but that wasn't exactly hard when it was Xander and Jesse who she was in competition with. Willow loved being the smartest between her, Buffy, and Xander—the 'children' of the group, that she thought of herself as more or less equal to Giles on the intelligence scale. Buffy had learned early on that Willow didn't like when her status as the most intelligent person of the Scooby Gang was questioned, so Buffy buried her intellect, pretending she needed more help than she truly did.

It was just easier that way. It chafed, though, how she had to hide a part of herself just to fit in with her misfit friends. She hadn't needed to do that in LA. She may have been shallow, and spoiled, much as Cordelia had been upon Buffy's arrival in Sunnydale, but she wasn't dumb. Until the existence of vampires and demons had been made known to her, Buffy had actually been a good student. Maybe not quite on the same level as Willow, but certainly much higher then she'd let on in the last two years. That's not to mention how distracting it is being a Slayer, too. Studying in a cemetery while waiting for a fledgling vampire to rise isn't exactly the best place to strive for academic excellence.

Lastly, there's Xander. Oh, Xander, Xander, Xander, Buffy thought. The reasons Buffy wanted to put him on her list of people she wanted to kill were numerous. He was the worst of her friends, in her opinion. His obsession with her began the first day they'd met and had increasingly become a problem since then. His jealousy over her one date with Owen had been annoying. His jealousy and constant interference in her relationship with Angel was infuriating; and not something she would forgive, not now. She would make him pay for all the times he would put her down and make her feel awful for loving Angel, for trying to punish her for not returning his feelings.

Buffy remembered dancing with him that night at the Bronze, when she asked him if he wished she would thank him for saving his life. She could feel how much he'd wanted her to thank him. It had been delightful to work him up, and then leave him wanting. It had been a stark reminder for him that she would never want him, not really. It had also shown Willow that Buffy still had a power over Xander, despite her rejection, that Willow just didn't have, not even with their own episode of infidelity of a few months past. Buffy had seen that tender moment they'd shared with the ice cream on Willow's nose and Xander pretending like he was going to lick it off. She'd also seen Willow's pathetic attempt to recreate the moment with the foam of her cappuccino at the Bronze before her "sexy dance" with Xander. And to top off the victories of that night, Buffy had provoked Angel's jealousy, too.

"What are you thinking about?" Angel asked, nuzzling his nose against her bare collarbone. "I can practically hear the wheels turning in there."

"What was Vlad's specialty, again?" she asked.

Angel's grin was euphorically devious. "Impalement."

Buffy's brows rose. "Hmm, that might be interesting. What else is there?" Buffy asked as she slid her body on top of his.

"Uh, there's flaying."

"Mm-hmm," Buffy hummed against the crook of his neck, pressing a light kiss there. Angel was becoming very interested in her inquisitiveness. "What else?" She kissed the hollow of his throat.

"The breaking wheel," Angel said as he placed his hands on her back.

"Go on," she murmured against his skin, trailing her lips down his sternum.

"The ra-euh!" Angel grunted as she bit–not hard but not gentle either–at his left pec.

She lifted her head up to look at him, grinning seductively. "The what?" she asked coyly.

"The rack," he said, gritting his teeth as she wiggled her lower half again.

Buffy leaned back down. "What else?" she asked, nipping near his right nipple.

Angel's body jerked, but he said, "Crushing," his tone like velvet over gravel. She could hear his jaw clenching. "Thumbscrews," he added without her prompting him.

Good, he was learning, Buffy thought as she pressed a kiss over his unbeating heart.

"The wooden horse and sawing," he said in a rush, his abdomen quivering as she trailed her tongue down his lower torso.

"What's another one?" she asked. She waited until he answered to dip her tongue into his navel.

"Ha-grr" Angel's growl interrupted his response. "Hanged, drawn, and quar-quartered," he said hoarsely when she did it again.

"That sounds…messy." She pressed a kiss to his pubic bone.

"Buffy," he growled, a hint of danger in his tone.

"Yes?" she asked as innocently as she could, looking up and batting her eyelashes at him.

Angel growled again, a hint of yellow in his eyes. Buffy smirked.

"I decided long ago… Never to walk in anyone's shadows… If I fail, if I succeed… At least I'll live as I believe…" Cordelia coughed, the sound dry from a lack of water. Her voice raspy as she sang out the last few lyrics of the song. "No matter what they take from me… They can't take away my—" Cordelia coughed again. She desperately needed water. "They can't take away…can't take away my dignity." By the time Cordelia finished she was whispering, failing to feel the hopefulness she had hoped to trick herself into feeling by singing Whitney's empowering song.

She was laying on her side, curled into the fetal position, limbs locked into place to dispel the tremors wracking her body from the cold floor. Cordelia couldn't remember a time when she had ever been colder in her whole life. Of all the times she'd been taken and held somewhere against her will, this was certainly the worst.

Why was it always her? she thought as she began to cry. She had been trying to remember what had happened. She knew she'd been bitten by a vampire by the wound on her neck, but she couldn't remember the moments leading up to the attack. But why? Why couldn't she remember? She felt like she should remember, like it was something extra important. Her brain was just too foggy for some reason.

Also, why was she still alive? Was she being held to be a sacrifice? Did the vampire want to save the rest of her blood for later? Eww! Was she bait? Another thought crossed her mind then. Surely she hadn't been forgotten. Who could forget Cordelia Chase? Cordelia was indignant at just the thought of being forgotten. She thought she'd been steadily gaining her popularity back post-Xander break up. Hadn't she? Had Xander and the others dragged her so far down that she wouldn't ever be able to pull herself from geek squad as well as all the weirdness that came from Buffy's secret life and made their classmates avoid her—when they weren't looking to her to save them when they were caught up in said weirdness—as much as possible?

Cordelia was pulled from her own pity party by the heavy wooden door being pulled open. She screwed her eyes shut tightly, withdrawing into herself even more, bracing herself for whatever badness was probably about to happen to her. Hopefully it wouldn't be worse than some of the other times she'd been in this situation.

"Cordelia?"

The voice was familiar, so Cordelia opened her eyes. Upon looking up, she saw Buffy rushing into the room.

"B-Buffy?" she asked, incredulous at her luck, especially since she had just been thinking about Buffy's tendency to come to the rescue.

"Yeah, it's Buffy, Cordelia," Buffy replied as she squatted down beside her.

It was difficult unlocking her stiff limbs, but she did it and sat up with Buffy's help.

"Oh, thank god," Cordelia said, nearly in tears in her relief that came with knowing that she was saved… Except, her body wouldn't relax. It was telling her that something was still wrong.

"Here, Cordelia, let's get you warm." Buffy helped Cordelia lean forward a little so that a blanket could be wrapped around her shoulders. Cordelia immediately felt the warmth the heavy blanket provided.

Angel then came walking into the room, coming to a stop next to Buffy.

"Here," he said, handing something to Buffy.

The room was still so poorly lit that Cordelia couldn't make out what it was. She didn't need to wonder for long, though.

"Drink this," Buffy commanded after unscrewing the lid on a bottle of water, holding it out for Cordelia.

Cordelia snatched the bottle from Buffy's hands, spilling a little in the process. She drank greedily. Water had never tasted so good to her in her whole life. She chugged the water down in a perfect imitation of a college boy at a frat party.

Cordelia took a few heaving breaths once she was done. Buffy took the empty bottle and helped her to stand. Her body ached, but it still felt good to stretch her out.

"Okay," she said, gaining some of her pep back, antsy to get out of this place. "Where are we and who took me? It's not Dracula, is it? Because that would just be so typical Sunnydale if the Prince of Darkness himself stopped by for a visit."

Cordelia laughed. It unnerved her when neither Buffy nor Angel joined in. Her heart dropped into the bottom of her stomach.

"It's Dracula, isn't it?" She pulled the blanket around herself tighter, trying to cocoon herself from the danger she was probably in. Unless Buffy and Angel had already dealt with the famous and thought-to-be a- myth vampire. That's probably why they were here; the danger was gone. Please, God, let them have already killed him, Cordelia beseeched the Heavens.

"We should go." Cordelia made to move toward the door, but Buffy took hold of her arm.

"Woah, whoa, whoa. Hang on a minute there, Cordy," Angel said as Cordelia made to move toward the door, but Buffy took hold of her arm.

Alarm bells were ringing inside Cordelia again. "What? Why? I need to get home. My parents are probably worried sick right now."

"Nope, they aren't," Buffy chirped.

"Uh, how do you know that?"

"Because Buffy called them to let them know that you're at a friend's house cramming for a Computer Science exam," Angel answered.

Cordelia was so confused. "I'm not taking Computer Science this year. I couldn't, not after what happened…" Cordelia didn't finish, realizing that mentioning Miss Calendar's death was insensitive considering the company she was in.

"They didn't seem to know that, or care, when I talked to them," Buffy said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"I don't understand." Cordelia was beginning to feel really scared again.

"Well, there's not much you need to understand right now. I just needed to come make sure that you don't die of hypothermia or dehydration. It would just suck all the fun out of this if you expired on us too soon." Buffy was way too cheerful as she said this.

"Buffy, Angel, what's going on? This isn't funny. I want to go home." Cordelia tried to sound confident and assertive as she met Buffy's eyes, hoping to convey her seriousness about leaving this damn dungeon. Instead, she gasped, because there Buffy and Angel stood, both of them with yellowed eyes, jagged teeth, and bumpy foreheads. Buffy was a vampire! Her feet walked her backward without any conscious thought to do so, until her back hit the wall behind her in the effort to get as far away from Buffy as she could. Unfortunately, it was not very far.

It was then that Buffy and Angel began to laugh. It sent chills down her spine.

"Oh, Cordy," Buffy said, grinning, "we are going to have so much fun together."

Cordelia was paralyzed by the fear coursing through her body as the two vampires walked toward her, both grinning maniacally and giggling.