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Chapter Text

Something wicked this way comes chapter 1

Buffy Summers stood at the entrance of the Bronze, her petite frame silhouetted against the pulsating lights of the nightclub. The scent of sweat and excitement hung in the air, but all she could brood about was Riley, her ex-boyfriend, and the fact that he had left for Belize on “top-secret government business.”

The sight of him in that vampire den wouldn’t leave her mind. Riley… shirtless Riley… covered in vampire skanks… with their hands and mouths all over his -

“Hey, Buff! Are you ready to shake off the gloom?” Xander’s cheerful voice broke through her thoughts. He was flanked by Anya, whose cheerfulness was evident in the way she bounced on her heels.

Buffy forced a smile, trying to hide her discomfort. “Yeah, sure. Just... thinking about things.”

Willow and Tara arrived next, their hands intertwined-- a picture of love and support. “You’ll have fun, Buffy,” Willow encouraged, her eyes sparkling with optimism. “We’re here for you.”

“Yeah, we’ll dance and forget about that... that guy,” Anya chimed in, her tone direct. “He’s not worth your time. If I still had my powers I’d curse him for you. For free, even! Something to do with his issues involving vampires. Maybe I could make it so everything he touches bites him. Since he likes being bitten everywh- ow, Xander, why are you squeezing my hand so hard?”

“Right,” Buffy replied, though her heart wasn’t in it. It was hard to shake off the feeling of abandonment, especially with her history. She thought of Angel, the vampire with a soul who had once been her everything before he left Sunnydale to play Batman in Los Angeles. And now Riley, too, is gone. It felt like all her relationships ended in the same way— with sadness.

The thought of Spike and his twisted crush on her was more than she could bear. Although Mom and Dawnie liked the snarky Billy Idol wannabe.

Maybe Spike grows on people like a fungus. A pale, British fungus that goes through too many cigarettes.

Xander, sensing her mood, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s dance! It’ll be fun. I’ll even show you my new moves. Stole ‘em from that totally recent Travolta movie with all the dancing.” He struck a silly pose, and Anya giggled, rolling her eyes.

“Well, with an offer like that…” Buffy said wryly, trying to muster enthusiasm. But as Xander and Anya headed off to the dance floor, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. Her friends didn’t seem to notice her sudden hesitation.

Willow leaned closer to Tara. “I could go for a little, uh, boogie down too, right now. Uh, boogie’s what they called it back then, right? Wanna dance, Tara?”

“I’d love to,” Tara replied softly, her smile warm.

They took a few steps forward before both looked to Buffy, who hadn’t moved; Buffy pointed to the bar and mimed grabbing a drink. Her friends nodded. They made their way toward the thrumming crowd, leaving Buffy to her gloomy thoughts.

“Ugh,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Focus, Buffy. You’re here to have fun.”

But just as she was about to join her friends on the dance floor, she caught sight of a couple stepping outside the club. A very familiar-looking teenage brunette who had been dirty dancing with a slightly older guy, the scene drawing her in.

Is that Cordelia? I thought she was living the celeb life in LA. Why’s she back in Sunnydale?

Curiosity piqued, Buffy stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her face--shocked to see...to see her one-time friend - scratch that, the vampire - backing the guy up against a wall with a predatory expression.

“Hey!” Buffy called, striding toward them. “Get away from him!”

The guy turned to see the vamped-out face of Cordelia. He screamed in terror before running away.

There was opportunity enough to stake the vampire had Buffy acted quickly, but she was so caught up in staring at the fact that Cordelia was the most stunning vampire she’d ever seen. Her demonic face with its slightly ridged brow, deep golden eyes, and lustrous fangs seemed to enhance rather than distort her features.
“Ugh, quit staring. Rude, much? I’d ask if I had something in my teeth, but,” Cordelia gestured petulantly after her absent would-be victim, “I think my something is over the town line by now. Just like a Slayer to spoil my fun.” Cordelia propped her hands on her hips as she stared at Buffy with malicious interest. She morphed back into her human face.

Buffy’s mind reeled. She hadn’t thought about Cordy since graduation, assuming the other girl must be safe as long as she was far from Sunnydale. Out of sight, out of mind… out of luck, apparently.

“Cordy. I - I’m so sorry. What… what happened to you?” asked Buffy, then mimed having a pair of vampire fangs with her pointer fingers when Cordelia only looked at her blankly.

“Okay, put the fingers away, ew. That’s just offensive. The Master turned me, Slayer, not that it’s any of your beeswax.”

“Huh?” Buffy was starting to suspect she was dealing with Cordelia from a parallel reality. God, I really hope so. It would make it easier if this was not the Cordelia from her world, but a different Cordy who was now a demon who wore her face and memories like a cheap set of clothes.

Although Buffy’s keen fashion sense noted that Cordelia’s actual, tight and revealing, clothes looked expensive. She had just enough time to wonder how many years she’d need to save to afford those stiletto heels before Buffy was struck from behind, sending her several feet into the air.

“Sorry about our plans for a romantic dinner, baby, but the Slayer spoiled it,” pouted Cordelia.

“I won’t risk you in a confrontation with the Slayer, my tigress,” said a familiar voice. Buffy looked up to see a dark-haired man. Angel? But how?

However, his demonic smirk and black leather pants, and the screaming Slayer instincts in her head, told her that it was Angelus and not Angel who had attacked her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Slayer,” he sneered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Things are about to get very interesting.”

Buffy felt revulsion wash over her as Angelus leaned down, capturing Cordelia in a kiss. “Ugh, gross!” she exclaimed, her stomach churning.

“Buffy!” Xander arrived at the alley and took in the sight with disbelief and anger. “I always knew that one day you’d turn evil again, Dead Boy! Wesley and your friends should’ve destroyed you rather than let you sire Cordy. Also, ew, I did not need to see that much tongue.”

“Wesley who? Are you deficient in some way, Harris? The Master sired me, not Angelus!” Cordelia interrupted with an angry snarl.

Xander gaped at her in disbelief. Buffy couldn’t blame him. As far as they all knew, she’d killed the ancient vampire king back in 1997.

“This is Harris here. He wouldn’t understand dimensional travel if you brought over his alternate self and banged their heads together. His brain is in his trousers, tigress,” commented Angelus sardonically. His nasty sneer reminded Buffy of the nightmare that was her junior year. At the time she couldn’t understand why the soul’s departure would cause such hatred for her from Angel.

Rage surged through Buffy, and she stepped forward, ready to confront both Angelus and Cordelia. “That’s rich coming from the guy who just tried to climb down his girlfriend’s throat face-first. And your romantic dinner’s off. I won’t let you hurt anyone. Not tonight.”

“Such a shame,” Angelus taunted, his dark eyes gleaming with malice as he shifted into a fighting stance. I guess if the restaurant’s closed, we can move straight on to the dancing.”

“Let’s do this,” Buffy said in her Slayer voice. Slayer versus Undead monsters.
Buffy felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she squared off against Angelus and Cordelia. Xander stood firm beside her, his face a mask of grim resolve, though she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Stay back, Xander!” Buffy warned, her voice steady. “I can handle this.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to just stand here and miss my chance to punch Dead Boy in his stupid big-forehead-y face all I want!" Xander replied, his bravado faltering slightly as he glanced at Angelus, who wore a predatory grin.

In a split second, Cordelia moved with blinding speed, darting towards Xander. “Now who’s the Dead Boy, huh? Too slow, Slayer!” she taunted as she grabbed him by the neck, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Cordelia, no!” Buffy shouted, her heart racing as she watched her friend struggle against the vampire’s hold.

“Drop your stake on the ground, or I’ll snap his neck like a twig,” Cordelia hissed, her hazel eyes flashing with a mix of enthusiasm and menace. The confidence in her tone was chilling, and Xander’s hands instinctively went to the vampire’s wrist, trying to pry her fingers away.

“Let him go!” Buffy demanded, stepping closer but keeping her stance defensive. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Oh, but I want to,” Cordelia replied, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “Making this dumbass shut up, for once? This is just too much fun! Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how you handle a little-” her fingers flexed, squeezing deep dimples into the muscle of Xander’s neck - “pressure.”

Angelus stepped forward, watching with amusement. “It’s adorable that you think you can save him, Slayer. Please keep trying. It makes it even better when I get to see you fail.”

Buffy felt a surge of anger, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Xander, don’t panic. We’ll get through this.”

“Easier said than done,” Xander replied, his voice strained as he struggled against Cordelia's grip. “I’m not great at being a hostage!”

Buffy took a deep breath, calculating her next move. She had to buy some time. “Cordelia, think about what you’re doing! You’re not a monster—this isn’t you!”

“Oh please,” Cordelia scoffed. “I’m so much better now, being part of the Master’s bloodline, and having my Angel in my bed every night.” Buffy made a face of disgust at Cordelia calling Angelus ‘my Angel.’

Xander gagged. “Oh that is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever hea-”

Cordy snarled and shook him lightly, cutting off his air, her voice rising in agitation as she threw her weight slightly to one hip and growled, “Shut up before I shut you up, permanently! What, you think you’re going to annoy me into letting you go?”

With a sudden burst of resolve, Buffy noticed the way Cordelia was positioned—her focus was entirely on Xander, her own legs unguarded and weight off-center. “Xander, I need you to trust me,” she said quickly.

“Trust you?!” he exclaimed, still straining against Cordelia’s tightening grip. “‘Trust you’! ‘Don’t panic’! Stop telling me to do things that make me wanna do the other thing!”

“Just- keep being annoying!” Buffy shouted.

Xander’s voice was turning into a high pitched wheeze as he met Cordy’s eyes, speaking as quickly as he could. “Annoying? I think I’m adorable. Cordy thought so too once, remember Cor? Huh? Come onnnn. Cordy. Cordy. Cordy. Remember the time under the bleachers when you let me-”

Cordy groaned loudly in irritation, twisting her upper body around and slamming her left hand squarely over Xander’s mouth. There was a split second of silence before she screamed, flicking her hand up and down in disgusted disbelief.

“Did you just lick my hand?! What are you, five years old, you gross little-”

And in the same instant, Buffy dove forward, aiming a swift kick at Cordelia’s legs. The vampire was caught off guard, losing her balance and momentarily loosening her grip on Xander.

Seizing the opportunity, Xander dropped low, slipping from Cordelia’s grasp and rolling away to safety. “Whoa! Nice move, Buff!” he called out, scrambling to his feet.

“Good job, Xand. Some of your best work,” she replied, grinning.

Cordelia snarled, her anger boiling over. “You’ll pay for that!” With a furious swipe, she lunged at Buffy, but the Slayer was ready. Buffy sidestepped, using her momentum to deliver a powerful punch to Cordelia’s jaw.

Meanwhile, Angelus seized the moment, charging at Xander. “You think you can just run away?” he sneered, throwing a punch that Xander barely managed to block.

“Not today!” Xander yelled, countering with a kick that connected with Angelus’s midsection, sending him staggering back.

Buffy spun around just in time to see Xander hold his own against the vampire, a newfound confidence lighting up his face. “I’m not just some helpless victim guy! I’m the most annoying person you know!” he shouted, determination coursing through him.

“Good for you!” Buffy shouted back, focusing on Cordelia, who was regaining her balance. “But don’t get cocky!”

Cordelia rushed at Buffy again, and this time, the Slayer was ready. She ducked and rolled, springing back up to deliver a roundhouse kick that sent Cordelia crashing into the brick wall. The impact echoed through the alley, and Cordelia groaned, momentarily dazed.

Angelus, seeing his lover in peril, turned his attention back to Buffy. “You’re going to regret that, Slayer!” he growled, launching himself at her.

Buffy braced herself, dodging to the side just in time to avoid his punch. “Oh please, I’m looking my biggest regret in the face right now,” she taunted, landing a swift jab to his ribs.

“Is that all you’ve got? You never did know how to work me over with those hands,” Angelus mocked, but there was a glint of frustration behind his bravado.

As the fight escalated, the alley erupted into chaos. Buffy and Xander worked in tandem, their movements fluid and instinctual. Buffy delivered a powerful kick to Angelus, while Xander struck Cordelia with a well-aimed punch, sending her reeling again.

“You two are pathetic!” Cordelia shrieked, wiping blood from her mouth. “You think you can defeat us without the rest of the Loser Squad helping you out?”

“Just watch us!” Buffy retorted, her voice firm and unwavering. She feigned a jab at Cordelia, then swept low, knocking the vampire off her feet.

With Cordelia momentarily incapacitated, Buffy turned to help Xander, who was grappling with Angelus. “Xander, now! We need to take him down together!”

“Right!” Xander nodded, finding his footing again. They coordinated their attacks—Buffy distracted Angelus while Xander barrelled into his legs like a quarterback, using the momentum to topple him.

As Angelus fell, Buffy seized the moment, delivering a series of rapid punches. “You think you can just swagger into our world and terrorize us?” she snarled, each strike filled with righteous fury. “You’re going to learn what happens when you mess with the Slayer!”

But just as victory seemed within reach, Cordelia got back to her feet, her eyes blazing with fury. “We’re not done yet!” she shrieked, attacking Buffy with renewed vigor..

Buffy barely had time to react. “Watch out!” she yelled to Xander, but it was too late. Cordelia charged into him, knocking him to the ground.

“Xander!” Buffy cried, rushing to his side.

“Buffy, I’m okay!” He reassured her, but the fight looked far from over.

Buffy turned to face Cordelia,. “You want a fight? Let’s finish this!”

Angelus, with a sudden burst of speed, grabbed Cordelia’s arm. “The Loser Squad is on the way with reinforcements. So finish this later! We have to get out of here!” He shouted, his voice laced with urgency.

“Coward!” Buffy called after them, but Angelus merely grinned. His soulless eyes were filled with amusement as he and Cordelia fled.

Buffy stood there, catching her breath, her heart still racing. “Did they really just run away?” she panted, disbelief washing over her.

“Looks like it,” Xander replied, brushing himself off. “They’re just scared by the sight of a Xander who can kick some butt. We actually held our own for a bit there.”

Buffy glanced around the alley, taking in the chaos they had just endured. “I can’t believe Cordelia is a vampire,” she said, shaking her head. “She must be dying without a reflection.”

“Yeah, well, at least we’re all okay.” Xander’s voice was steady, but she could see the concern etched on his face. “But what do we do now?”

Just then, the rest of the Scooby gang arrived, Willow and Tara leading the way, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry. “What happened?” Willow exclaimed, her eyes darting between Buffy and Xander. “We waited but you didn’t come back, and then Xander went to look out here when we couldn’t find you, and then he didn’t come back so we came outside. And then we heard shouting! And oh hey, here you are. But you don’t look like you were just dancing out here.”

“Long story,” Buffy replied, still trying to catch her breath. “Angelus and Cordelia showed up, and we... well, we fought.”

“Cordelia? Like, the one from your high school?” Tara asked, her brow furrowed in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Only she’s not exactly the Cordelia we remember. She’s a vampire from another universe, and she was with Angelus. Also from another universe. At least, I think. My head hurts now, and it might not just be the punchy head trauma kind.”

“Great,” Willow said, her tone tinged with concern. “So now we have a vampire version of Cordelia and an Angelus to deal with?”

“Exactly,” Buffy replied, her mind racing. “And they’re dangerous. We need to figure out what they’re planning.”

Willow nodded, his expression serious. “We should call Angel Investigations in the morning. They might know something about this whole alternate universe situation.”

Buffy considered this for a moment. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. They need to know what’s going on, especially with Angelus from a parallel universe in the picture.”

“My brain hurts thinking about parallel universes,” Willow complained, “Wasn’t my vampire self in high school bad enough?”

Anya frowned at Willow for the comment, clearly remembering how the vampire version of Willow appeared.

Tara stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “We’ll figure this out together, Buffy. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thanks, Tara.” Buffy managed a small smile, grateful for their support. “I just... I hate the idea of facing Angelus again, especially after everything he put us through.”

Xander clapped a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be ready this time. We’ll have a plan.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. “Tomorrow, we’ll call Angel Investigations and see what we can find out. In the meantime, I am going home to tell Mom and Dawnie not to let Cordelia or Angel in.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into any more surprises tonight,” she said, casting a wary glance over her shoulder.

“Yeah, because that’s what we need—more Cordelias,” Xander added, attempting to lighten the mood.

Buffy chuckled softly. “Right. Just a regular night out for the Scooby gang. Fun and distractions from the Riley mess, achieved.”

###############################

Spike was not having a good week. After letting her know what her boy-toy had been up to, the Slayer wouldn’t give him a crumb of affection anymore. Was it his fault that the soldier boy was getting his jollies from vampires?

Normally, before the chip, it would have been a simple matter of scoring a hat trick; killing his third Slayer to please Drusilla and to prove to the underworld that he was the Big Bad. Now, Spike had a crush on someone who staked his kind.

Has the bloody chip made me insane? Must be, to have feelings for Slutty the Vampire Slayer. I make Dru look as stable as the Tower of bloody London right now.

The door of his crypt opened with a bang.

“Can’t a bloke get any peace around here?”

“You can rest in peace when you’re all the way dead,” commented a familiar voice out of his nightmares. “Hello William. Ah, but to me, you’ll always be Willie the idiot, the fool for love.”

Spike saw a familiar dark-haired man in a black leather jacket and matching pants, but there was something subtly different about him, and the malevolent look in his eyes confirmed that Captain Forehead had no soul.

He quickly tackled Angelus, taking him to the floor. He hadn’t seen the second figure, too focused on Angelus, until she was already flipping him over.

“Get off my boyfriend!” Cordelia snarled, throwing Spike bodily off her companion, “You freak!”

Bloody hell, she’s a mite stronger than normal! Then Spike noticed that Cordelia had vamped out in her fury.

Hang on a bloody minute, Cordelia’s a vampire? Did Peaches sire her during his current non-soul having state? More importantly, when did the poofter lose his soul? Was it those Wolfram and Hart buggers?
He settled for, “Name’s Spike now, Liam. I don't know how you got like this or what you want, but I don't give a flying fuck either. So, you can turn right back around and get on your merry way back to La-La Land, before I remind you that I'm still capable of inflicting bodily harm on monsters like you both," as he jumped to his feet.

Spike found himself back on his ass when Angelus charged him with an uppercut to the jaw.

“And you can consider that bit of bodily harm self-inflicted. That’s for your disrespect, boy, and for threatening my girl! Don’t expect me to go this easy on you next time.”

“I see that Spike is still the hot-headed moron that you, Darla, and my sire have described,” commented Cordelia, rubbing herself all over Angelus.

The brunette had resumed wearing her human face, “Are you okay baby?”

“Fine, tigress.” Angelus replied. “As if Willie could seriously hurt me. Not that I’d say no to a kiss better…”

Spike, who had gotten up now, shuddered at the sight of the former cheerleader plastering herself all over Angelus.

“Who’s bloody responsible for your transformation, Poofter? Was it Cordelia?” He made an appraising face. “I thought that you were into blondes.”

Spike could detect that his poncy grandsire’s scent was all over the former cheerleader like a second skin, mixing potently with hers. He changed gears once Cordelia’s comments replayed in his mind. “What’s this about bloody Darla? I thought Peaches here destroyed her years back.”

“We’re not from around here, Willie, you simpleton!” commented Angelus, exasperated.

“Yeah, I know. You went off to LA to play at being sad broody Batman without any of the fun, and she-” he flapped one hand towards Cordy, “went off there too, for reasons I neither know nor give a rat’s fluffy arse about.”

“What are you on about, you blithering idiot?” Angelus demanded. “We are not from this dimension.”

“Where the bloody hell have you come from then, cheerleader?” He considered a moment, smirked, and added, “And Cordelia?”

“Elsewhere,” Cordelia said and smirked at Spike’s frown. “Another place like this but different. We’ve done some recon on our alternate selves’ lives after we came over, you know. You wouldn’t like it because over there, you’re the pathetic loser with a soul after being cursed by the stupid Kalderash for eating their favourite girl. Although I heard that it serves you right for helping yourself to things that don’t belong to you.”

“Bloody hell, cheerleader! So, you and Angelus are from a parallel world? Why are you here? What do you want from me? Apart from my world-famous hospitality.”

“Information about the Slayer of this world,” ordered Angelus. “And speaking of hospitality, yeah, a bed for the night sounds like the least you owe us.”

Spike weighed up what to do. On the one hand, Buffy would never forgive him if he sold her out to a monster like Angelus, even one from a parallel reality. He was on thin ice with the Slayer already after showing her what Captain Cardboard had been doing in his spare time.

When he remembered the look of despair on her face when she realized what Cardboard had been doing, his choice was made.

Spike couldn't be another person who would let her down, even if Buffy didn't always treat him the way he wanted. But he wasn’t sure he could comfortably take these two by himself in an all-out fight, either.

Maybe I could rack up some Brownie points with Buffy by finding out more about Angelus’s newest plan.

He clapped his hands decisively. “Right. You can both stay in my crypt, being family and all that.”

Angelus dropped onto the only comfortable seat in view with the air of someone fully intending to outstay his welcome, kicking an ashtray over as he threw his feet up on the makeshift table. “If you don’t have a soul here, then where is Dru? Did she come to her limited senses and dump you or something, Willie?”

Spike sniffed, thinking of more than one woman in his life as he commented, “Some birds wouldn’t know emotion if it came and bit them on the arse."

“Someone sounds cranky in the love department,” giggled Cordelia, while Angelus laughed at Spike’s expense.

##################################

The following morning Buffy hurried into the Magic Box, her mind racing with the events of the previous night. She knew she had to warn Angel and his team about the twisted versions of Angel and Cordelia that had appeared, and Buffy wasted no time in picking up the phone to call Angel Investigations.

After a few rings, the friendly voice of Cordelia Chase answered.

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless. How can we assist you today?"

"Cordelia? Is that really you?"

Cordelia's tone perked up instantly. "Buffy! Hey, what's up? How are things in Sunnydale?"

Buffy hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to start the conversation. "Cordelia, I... I need to tell you about something important.”

Cordelia's voice took on a more serious tone. "What is it, Buffy? What's going on?"

Buffy took a deep breath, her mind racing. "Last night, Xander, and I... we ran into an alternate version of you. But you were completely different being— a vampire, Cordelia. And you were with Angelus."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Buffy could almost feel Cordelia's bewilderment.

"A vampire me? Angelus?" Cordelia finally said in disbelief. "Buffy, what are you talking about?"

Buffy explained the events of the previous night, describing the warped versions of Cordelia and Angelus that they had encountered.

When she had finished, Cordelia let out a low whistle. "Wow, Buffy, that's... that's a lot to take in. I can't believe there are different versions of us out there, and that I'm a vampire in one of them. At least one of them, I mean. Oh god. How many other me’s are there? Maybe I’m the only me who isn’t a vampire."

"I know, it's crazy. But I need to know, Cordelia, where were you last night?"

Cordelia was silent for a moment."Well, last night I was actually here in LA, having a super-fun, head-splittingly-painful vision that led Angel, Gunn and Wesley to save an innocent man from a demon attack.”"

Buffy felt a wave of relief "So you weren't in Sunnydale last night? It couldn't have been you we saw, then."

"No, definitely not me," Cordelia confirmed. "I'm right here in LA, and I can assure you that I'm one-hundred percent not a vampire, and have the tan to prove it. Although the thought of being an immortal, bloodsucking creature is kind of seductive, in a perverse kind of way. Was I a sexy vamp? I bet I looked good. You can tell me."

Buffy couldn't help but chuckle at Cordelia's trademark humor, even in the face of such a bizarre situation.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're safe, Cordy. But this definitely means that the Cordelia and Angelus we saw must be from some kind of parallel universe or something."

"Parallel universes, huh?" Cordelia mused. "I’ve gotta tell Gunn about this, it’s like something from one of those dorky sci-fi shows he watches and thinks I don’t know about. Wow, Buffy, you and your Scooby gang still do live in the weird and wonderful world of Sunnydale’s Hellmouth, don't you?"

Buffy nodded, even though Cordelia couldn't see her. "Yeah, you could say that. And this is definitely one of the weirder things we've encountered."

"Just be cautious out there, Buffy. These evil versions of us sound like bad news."

"Thanks for clearing this up, Cordelia," Buffy said, her voice laced with gratitude. "I'll be in touch should I find out more.”

#######################################################################

Buffy gathered the Scoobies in the back room of the Magic Box, her expression grave.

"Guys, I just got off the phone with Cordelia," she began, her voice low and serious. "She was in LA last night, having a vision that led Angel to save an innocent man from a demon attack. I’m pretty sure she’s telling the truth. They’d have had to travel in sunlight to get over there just to answer the phone, and Vamp Cordy wasn’t exactly full of subtle sneakiness last night anyway.

Xander's brow furrowed in consternation. "Meaning, if our Cordelia was in LA, then who on earth was that vampire version of her we saw last night?"

Buffy nodded, her eyes narrowing. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Cordelia confirmed that she wasn't in Sunnydale last night, which means the undead version of Cordy we encountered was from some kind of alternate universe."

Willow's eyes widened, and she exchanged a worried glance with Tara. "I'm almost positive there's nothing on record about Evil Cordelia since she's not from this dimension. Research would be impossible.”

Buffy nodded again. "Exactly. And not only that, but the Angelus we saw was also from this parallel universe, and was Cordelia’s boyfriend.”

Xander shuddered, the memory of Angelus' malicious smirk (and vigorous use of tongue) still fresh in his mind. "Man, that is one seriously messed up world. So what are we dealing with here, Buff? Some kind of freaky vampire-world takeover?"

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Well, they weren’t big on the This Is My Evil Plan monologue, but I don’t think they came here for our crappy tourist district. Cordelia said that in this parallel universe, the Master is the one who sired her.”

Tara's brow furrowed, her voice soft and thoughtful. "That's... that's really troubling. If this parallel world’s Master was anything like the one Buffy faced in her first year of high school, then the vampires could pose a serious threat."

Willow nodded, her expression grim. "Definitely. We need to figure out how to stop them before they can do any real damage."

Buffy looked around at her friends, her gaze resolute. "That's exactly what we're going to do. We have to find a way to track down Angelus and Cordelia, and put an end to their plans.”

Xander straightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "And I, for one, vote that end should be a pointy wooden one. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get to work."

##########################

Later that evening, an eighteen-year-old petite blonde in a black tank top and combat trousers stood on the hill overlooking Sunnydale, planning her next move against the forces of evil - much like every other night since she’d been Chosen.
There were two guys with the Slayer, alike in that they were the only two she trusted, though outwardly, they couldn’t have seemed more different. One was her Watcher, with his librarian-issue glasses and tweed, and the other was her boyfriend, a punk rocker with bleach-blonde hair.
Cleveland Buffy smiled at her beau.
Spike was different from the hundreds of vampires she had killed, including Lothos, due to his sense of humanity and soul.
They had met in Cleveland, where he helped her slay vampires before their road trip to Sunnydale to destroy his psychotic family.

“So weird. It’s like Sunnydale, but it’s not.”

Giles tutted, squinting to read from a messy page of handwritten notes in the dim light. “I must admit I don’t understand either, Buffy. My best guess would be that the dimensional portal must’ve taken us to an alternate Earth, although I’ve only ever heard theories of such a thing. Quite extraordinary, indeed. Do you feel like doing some reconnaissance?”

“Only if my boyfriend comes with me, Giles.”

Spike smiled, but it quickly fell away as he eyed the dark town below. “Luv, we should get down there. Need to keep our eyes peeled for that sadistic bastard Angelus and his new bitch." He made a face. “For all we know, they’re already peelin’ some poor sap’s eyeballs down there just for chuckles.”

“Ah yes, the Master’s infamous grandchilde, a charming but sadistic monster by all accounts. ‘The demon with the face of an angel’,” Giles recited stiffly, his eyes on yet another page.

“Your bloody Council of Wankers has no idea what Angelus is capable of.”

“I know perfectly well what Angelus is capable of, Spike. He and his new paramour put Jenny into a coma,” reprimanded Giles sternly.

Spike gave a slight nod of apology while Buffy looked saddened. Miss Calendar had been a good woman until she was targeted by Angelus and his new slut on the Master’s orders.

“And he’ll pay for that. I bet he’s capable of dusting just like every other vamp, along with his bitch and then the Master,” said Buffy darkly. “So let’s go make it happen.”

Chapter Text

Something wicked this way comes chapter 2

“I was happy with Dru for over a century until she ripped out my heart, metaphorically, you know. So that’s my story,” Spike lit his cigarette as the vampires stayed inside to avoid the sun’s rays. “So what’s your story? How did you two meet?”

As she sat on her lover’s lap, Cordelia grinned when Angelus launched into their story. His voice faded into the background as Cordelia’s thoughts wandered to the memories of another universe.

She had been a normal and popular teenager, the head cheerleader at Sunnydale High, with hopes and dreams. Sure, Cordelia’s parents hadn’t been the most loving people but they had clothed, fed, and protected her, which was more than some children got.

Like Angelus for example.

He never openly talked about his human days, but from the bits and pieces he did mention, Cordelia guessed Daddy had been an asshole.

Everything changed for her in Sunnydale when the Harvest happened. The Master escaped from his mystical prison thanks to Luke being the Vessel and with the assistance of the ice queen Darla, her childe, Angelus, and the mental case Drusilla.

When Cordelia was reborn, both she and Darla were the favorites of the Master, who prided himself on having the prettiest and deadliest vampires in his court.

That loser Jesse had tried to express interest in her even as a vampire but ugh as if! So good riddance that the Slayer got him.

However, her sire hadn’t been too happy when Cordelia started seeing Angelus, the handsome but arrogant grandchilde of her sire, who was practically a celebrity in his own right.

Although damn, she got a kick out of outranking her wild, gorgeous lover. Cordelia, the former head cheerleader and a young vampire, outranked the infamous Scourge of Europe. Just thinking about it made Cordelia giggle, mainly because there was a hierarchy clause he didn’t know about.

Once a lower-ranking vampire mated with one directly sired by the Clan’s Master, the mate would customarily be elevated to become their equal. Unsurprisingly, it was more to her advantage that this titbit was firmly kept from his ears.

It entertained Cordelia to no end how he remained clueless about that, especially after unliving for so long. Then again, Angelus wasn’t known for his love of vampiric law, especially those laid down by the Master.

Her mate tended to prefer simplicity over complexity, and vampiric laws could be extremely complex. Most of the laws went over her head like a 747, but never mind. She was just a few years old in vampire terms, what could anyone expect? A degree from Stanford Law in the ways of the undead?

“I would’ve liked to have seen the look on the ice queen’s face when you left her for the cheerleader,” chuckled Spike, bringing Cordelia back to the here and now.

Angelus sniffed. “Darla has her toy to play with now. Latest in a series, you know; she’s just trying so hard to,” Angelus gestured up and down his own body, eyebrow raised meaningfully as his hand moved lower, “replace the irreplaceable.” Cordelia huffed and thwapped his bicep.

“Who is the unlucky bloke?” Spike asked despite himself.

“Her latest toy boy is Xander Harris.”

“He was turned a few months before me, not by the Master though. I can say it didn’t come as a surprise, really.” Cordelia grinned. “Not when it involved a gorgeous blonde wearing next to nothing.”

Spike had to wonder at Darla’s sanity as a shudder of revulsion ran from him at the thought of an undead version of Harris, not to mention the mental images of Darla shagging the glorified bricklayer in another dimension, “Feel free to stop there. I unfortunately know Harris. Never saw Darla as the type to go for a wet sack of holier-than-thou pudding like that.”

The vampiress continued, her grin growing ever wider. “Oh come on. If you were over 400, wouldn’t you want to make a booty call on a fresh piece of ass?”

Angelus had a mixture of revulsion and amusement at her statement.

Spike sighed in what he hoped was a very last-word-having manner before throwing his guests some blood bags and turning on the TV to his favorite show.

“Oh, it’s Passions,” Cordelia commented while sipping on her blood bag. “Did they manage to get Timmy out of the well?”

“He’s a doll, for god’s sake,” Spike replied.

#####################################################################

The newly unwelcomed crypt guests had wandered off some time ago to explore the rest of the crypt, claiming daytime soap opera fatigue and a need to occupy themselves until sundown.

He had tried to ignore it for a while. He really had. But the sounds currently coming from his cellar were quite distracting. He could hear the heavy sound of metal scraping against the stone now as well. If Spike knew Angelus, which he did, he was probably using the extra set of chains to restrain Cordelia.

Not that any of the noises she was making sounded like she had a problem with that. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Spike as he decided not to take a quick peek. Buffy wouldn’t like him catching an eyeful of her former classmate shagging her poncy ex, even if they were from an alternate reality.

The sounds shifted to a higher tempo. There was a distant roar from Angelus.

Spike bit savagely into his bag and turned up the TV to drown out the noises from his cellar. It was going to be a long time until sunset.

#####################################################################

Underneath Sunnydale, in a specially built chamber rife with symbols of the occult, a cohort of vampires waited, dressed in black, and all in their game faces. They stood before the throne.

At once, the doors to the chamber opened, and the vampires separated into two lines, leaving an aisle between them.

Six more vampires entered. Five, led by a petite blonde, formed an honour guard around the sixth, escorting him to the throne before they too bowed before their overlord.

The Master sat on the throne. One brawny-looking vampire came forward with a look of great respect.

“Master,” he intoned gravely. “We have failed you in this world. Had the Order not been weak, the Slayer would be food for the worms before she could face you. Yet, we the survivors have remained true to your great vision and with your arrival, the Order will rise again from the dust. I ask that you accept my sacrifice to quell your justified anger at our weakness.”

“Your sacrifice is accepted.” The Master nodded to a petite blonde in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit who rose behind her fellow and staked him. Then he rose to address the surviving members of the Order of Aurelius in this world.

"Sad indeed was the day that the Order of Aurelius fell in this world. Yet, great shall be the day that it rises again, stronger than before, to cleanse the world of its infestation of the living. On that day, humans shall be as they are in my world: cattle to feed the Old Ones. We are reborn this day, my children, to spread and multiply and feed on the sun-dwellers. I shall lead you forth, and the first blood I drink in this world will be that of the Slayer! Now go, my children; feed and grow strong, for soon, the slaughter begins!"

The vampires roared their delight before leaving the Master with his inner circle. A circle, he noticed, that seemed smaller than anticipated.

“Darla my dear, where’s Angelus?”

“He’s probably running late, you know what he’s like,” Darla said, with fond exasperation. “Still has that Irish timekeeping, all these decades later.”

“My Angel is playing with Great-Grandfather’s youngest daughter. Story time, and daisy chains, and all fall down-tch, naughty children,” Drusilla rambled. “They have encountered the nasty Slayer. The stars were screaming it all night.”

“Mm. I don’t speak Crazypants… guess he’s still off having his mid-unlife crisis with that spoiled bitch Cordelia,” agreed a redhead looking like a dominatrix in a black leather outfit.

“Angelus, Angelus, Angelus. Does every conversation always have to come around to that freak, Willow?" mumbled a young dark-haired vampire decked out in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt, black leather pants, and a heavy-browed frown from where he was standing next to his sire.

“Xander, quiet!” hissed the petite blonde angrily, gripping him hard on the arm.

“But Darla…..” protested the dark haired vampire, “What does Angelus have that I haven’t got when it comes to you or Cordy?”

Willow, conscious of her absence from the list, gave her sire Xander a jealous and hurt glare.

“You’re young and naive. So there are things between Angelus and I that you will never understand.” Darla then smacked him around the head. “But being with you keeps me youthful and desirable, especially between the red sheets, Xander,” she concedes, giving him an indulgent smile.

“Grandmother still wants Daddy,” Drusilla sang breathlessly, “While Spike and Spike run around with thoughts of nasty Slayers all inside their heads like a sickness. We shall call the doctor for some leeches, and tomorrow there will be so much blood.”

The Master gave a theatrical sigh. The young were often so impertinent. Angelus, and then Harris especially.

Why did Darla sire these wretched curs? If she hadn’t been my favourite for 400 years, I would be taking her to task on her choice of lovers, the Master thought.

At least Angelus had style. The Irish vampire had been the most vicious creature he had ever met, and at times he proved to be extremely useful, such as the raid on the Bronze for the Harvest. Although his youngest childe, Cordelia was too good to be wasted on a sadistic beast like Angelus. A problem that needs to be corrected in due course once the Slayer and the traitor Spike were dead. One doesn’t throw pearls before swine.

In contrast, Xander was a budding monster on Darla’s leash, and yet to show much aptitude. Although he did sire Willow, who had proved an asset due to her intelligence.

“Leave us!” The Master commanded, “Not you Darla, nor you Collin. We have matters to discuss.”

The young vampires left. Darla turned to her sire, the Anointed One watching closely nearby.

“We need to take care of that traitor and his Slayer.”

“Oh, you are giving me orders now, Darla?” The Master’s amusement was clear, but there was no mistaking the warning in his tone.

As usual, Darla refused to be cowed when she had a point yet to make. "Okay, then, we'll just do nothing while they continue to take us out one by one. First Spike kills Penn in New York alone, and then Buffy takes out Jesse, Luke, Thomas, and Zackery in Sunnydale with the help of that useless great-grandchilde of mine. God, I should tear out Spike’s eyeballs.”

“Frustrating, indeed. But you tend to be one to bring solutions, not problems, my sweet. Do I sense a plan, Darla? Share..”

Darla nodded. “Angelus, Drusilla, Xander, and I can deal with Spike. He and his blonde slut will pay for trying to stop us. Once he’s dust in the wind, the Slayer stands alone and dies alone.”

“You see how we all work together for the common good? That's how a family is supposed to function," The Master remarked to the Anointed One. “And Darla. I knew that your relationship with the stallion would only last a century tops...”

########################################################################

In a hotel in Sunnydale, Spike settled himself in one of the less-than-stellar rooms for an indeterminate amount of alone time. He could hear splashing and clinking and other mundane sounds as his Slayer brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She hadn’t even started on skincare yet. A less immortal man might have several years’ ageing ahead of him before she came to bed at this rate.

Rupert was busy with his books, he supposed, but in any case, the other man was staying in a very separate room, thank-you-very-much. From the bumbling way the Watcher had bid the pair of them goodnight without being able to look him in the eye, he had a feeling that Rupert wasn’t about to risk knocking on their door until morning.

As he had a tendency to do in these times, he drifted. His thoughts always seemed to want to pull him back in time, as if re-reading his story would tell him the next act.

Well. No place to start like the start.

########################################################################

1898. Romania.

"It's not fair!” bellowed the young blond man as he paced like a caged lion about the room.

On the floor a young gypsy girl cowered, sobbing in terror.

"He gets everything. EVERYTHING! He has Darla, yet still he wants Dru. And do you know why?" He leaned down to look the girl in the eyes. She was bound and gagged so she shook her head, blubbering to herself. "Because Drusilla is my Dark Princess, my love, my everything. He cares nothing for her. Hell, that's the whole reason she turned me." His voice changed, becoming tender, "I'd do anything for my ripe, wicked plum."

Spike began his furious pacing again. "And Darla, she's the worst. The old hag doesn't even care for Dru and me; she’s too busy obsessing over Angelus. They've been inseparable the last couple of days, and what does Darla do? Gets him a tasty treat, and leaves me to guard it while she runs off to find Angelus. Gives him a gift, as if she wasn't his Sire, as if he shouldn't be the one worshipping her. Well, it's not bleeding right. That crazy Irish ponce can't have everything." Spike grabbed a knife from the mantle and dragged the woman to her feet. She tried to call for help as she struggled with her captor.

"Now now, none of that. You don't think I'd stick you like a sodding pig with this dagger, do you?"

He cut the ropes that bound her and removed her gag. She started gibbering at him, all tears and smiles and shaky hands. Spike didn't understand the words, but he knew that she was thanking him. Then she ran for the door. Before she could reach it, he was standing in front of it.

"Where do you think you're going, my sweet?"

He ran a finger down her neck as his eyes changed from blue to amber. She screamed, but it was too late. He was on her in an instant, his fangs sinking into her neck. It was a mistake, he knew; the blonde ice queen would hurt him badly for ruining her surprise. But he didn't care.

For once Spike would have something meant for Angelus, the consequences of disobeying his elders be damned.

##############################

There were consequences.

And he was damned.

And over and over again, just as it had the first time, his damnation always seemed to revolve around one woman.

One girl, in all the world.

##############################

1900. Beijing. A city torn apart by the Boxer Rebellion.

The air was thick with the pungent scent of smoke and the echoes of frantic screams as the Boxer Rebellion raged around them. Spike stood beside his lover, the nineteen-year-old Chinese Slayer, Xin Rong, their eyes scanning the chaotic streets. The sounds of rioting and destruction filled the air, a noisy din of violence that set Spike's undead senses racing.

Xin Rong's brow furrowed, her gaze narrowing as she caught sight of a group of figures in the distance. "Do you hear that?" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the cacophony caused by the Rebellion.

It was some sort of uprising against foreign influence, or so Spike had heard. Even with his dedicated efforts to learn his love’s language in the time since they’d met, and to teach her some of his own with the help of her English Watcher, Grainger, it was sometimes hard to discuss more nuanced topics. But for the day-to-day essentials of their partnership - between the two languages, occasional snatches of pantomime, and the thread of intuitive understanding running between two similar souls - they’d found a way to muddle through.

Spike strained his senses, his vampiric hearing picking up the faint sounds of terrified humans. It sounded like the desperate screams of a family, their pleas for mercy ringing out amidst the chaos.

Without a word, the pair charged forward, their movements a blur as they navigated the debris-strewn alleyways. And there, in a small courtyard, they bore witness to a scene of unimaginable horror.

“We’re not intimidated by demons or thugs!” said one of the missionaries to a group of vampires who were tormenting them.

“You know you remind me of my Da!” barked back a familiar voice from out of Spike’s nightmares, “I hated my Da until I tore his throat out.”

Yes, it was bloody Angelus with his daddy issues. Still looking like a rich wanker in his tailored black suit and long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

“I can smell their fear, Angelus!” said a brown-haired male vampire with a sadistic smile who was decked out in a blue waistcoat and trousers, “Where is your God now, missionaries?” Spike sensed the power coming from him. So, not a minion then, but something more dangerous - and was that Drusilla’s scent all over him? He could spot his former love now only a few steps behind the stranger, her dark curls bobbing as she bounced on her heels with barely-restrained giddiness at the suffering to come.

“And you would know all about God turning his face from you, wouldn’t you, Penn? We should drain the piety right out of them,” suggested a familiar voice. Yes, it was Darla, who had gone native in a green Chinese dress with dragons on it, which Xin Rong would’ve called a Cheongsam.

“God save us!” cried out a woman who looked as if she was about to break down in tears.

“We have to save them, William my love,” Xin Rong commented seriously. “Grainger says that Angelus is a monster. And it looks like he has his consort Darla and several others with him.”

“Daddy? We have too many guests at the tea party, and not nearly enough chairs. That horrid William Beast is here,” Drusilla whined.

“Oh bloody hell!” cursed Spike - there went the element of surprise.

“Willie Boy, the years have been kind to you,” Angelus grinned at his grandchilde. Spike recognized the grin all too well; it meant that something horrible was about to happen. “I’m sure we can find a way to fix that oversight.”

Drusilla, her eyes wild and unfocused, let out a deranged giggle. "Ooh, the sunshine's all over you, Spike," she crooned, her fingers twitching as if to pluck the invisible rays from his skin. "Contaminating you, making you soft. Too good to have tea with the likes of us, now."

“Hi, it’s been a while,” Darla greeted.

“Is that all you have to say?” Spike accused. “You staked me out to burn in the sun in Romania!”

“You got over it. You got away. Besides, Angelus and I were doing you a favor. Or are you having fun with that new soul of yours? I should really thank you for taking the gypsy girl, shouldn't I, William? It could have been Angelus.”

“Angelus with a soul?” scoffed Penn, “Ridiculous! As if anyone could cage the Devil himself.”

“Quite so, Penn,” Angelus smirked, “But where are my manners? Penn, this is Willie.” He glanced at Spike, continuing, “Willie, you remember my stories about my childe Penn, I’m sure. Strapping young buck I found in Yorkshire all the way back in 1786? The dour wee Puritan lad, or at least, he was before I knocked the fear of God right out of him.”

Penn had been mentioned only once that Spike could remember. A somewhat indifferent comment Angelus had made about the former Puritan who had been Angelus’s first protégé. It had stuck in Spike's memory only because Angelus had been comparing them as his students. Spike was found wanting, of course, which suited him just fine.

“Still as devoted as ever. He's picked up quite a few of my tricks. It's how we were reunited with each other, actually. Penn has been polishing up my technique to mock God. He wanted to know what I'd been up to. I decided to bring him along to visit China.”

“Is there anything better than a religious war? The panic. The fear in the streets. It’s like picking fruit off the vine.” Darla smirked.
“You are not welcome here, demons!” Xin Rong spoke up."William and I will kill you all!”

“ Well, hello, beautiful. You must be Willie’s latest flame. I certainly can’t blame him for sampling the local cuisine on his travels. And you look like you could whet a man’s… appetite,” Angelus leered at her.

“Cut it out, Angelus. We can get on with the killing without you flirting with the Slayer,” Darla hissed, now morphing into her game face.

“Kill her, Daddy. The nasty Slayer loves my Spike, and all good mice should know when the Queen of Hearts comes home,” Drusilla complained.

Xin Rong, never one to miss an opponent’s moment of distraction, abruptly kicked Angelus in the chest.

“ A little fight in you. I like that.” Angelus giggled, once he regained his balance, “But happy women make a happy home, so I am going to have to kill you now.”

“ You can try, vampire!”

The sounds of the missionaries' terrified sobs echoed through the courtyard, a haunting backdrop to the tense standoff unfolding before them. Spike watched, his body tense and ready to spring into action, as Angelus and Penn closed in on Xin Rong.

Darla and Drusilla then attacked in unison, their movements a blur as they grabbed Spike, holding him in place. He struggled against their iron grip, his eyes wild with a mix of terror and rage as he watched the latest act of this appalling family drama unfold.

“Now, you watch and learn William,” Darla hissed in his ear. “This is what happens when you try to live like one of them.”

“Poor Spike. So lost. Even I can’t help you now,” Drusilla whispered.

Angelus and Penn went left and right to encircle Xin Rong, their malicious gazes fixed upon the Slayer. Xin Rong met their onslaught with unwavering determination, her sword flashing as she blocked their attacks.

Penn, his features twisted in a taunting grin, lunged forward, his hands closing around Xin Rong's arms from behind. He then twisted them backward, crippling her as Angelus went in for the kill.

Xin Rong's eyes widened in panic, her gaze locking with Spike's as Angelus' fingers locked around her throat. "Spike!" she cried, her voice tinged with anguish.

But Spike was powerless to help her, held fast by Darla and Drusilla's unyielding grip. He watched in anguished horror as Angelus, his features twisted in a malevolent grin, snapped Xin Rong's neck with a sickening crack.

Spike's howl of rage and grief echoed through the courtyard, a primal sound that sent shivers down the spines of anyone who heard it. Angelus threw back his head and laughed, delighting in Spike's agony.
"Ah, I never get tired of doing that," he taunted, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "I must say Willie, you really know how to pick 'em." He stepped over Xin Rong's lifeless body, his boot crushing the fragile bones of one hand with a sickening crunch.

Penn, his grin widening, leaned in close to Spike, his eyes glinting with malicious glee, “Sorry about your girlfriend, lad, but Slayers weren’t meant to last for very long.”

Spike's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at Angelus. "You poisonous bastards," he snarled, his voice thick with rage and grief. "I'm going to make you regret this. All of you."

Darla had the usual sarcastic tone in her voice. “Yes, yes, as usual, we look forward to the day. But until then, it is just so much fun ruining your unlife.”

“What about Spike?” Penn asked, “Should we kill him, Sire?”

“Let him drown in his misery,” Angelus hissed. “Remember what I taught you, Penn; why go in for the kill, when causing the suffering is so much sweeter. You know what happened to Holtz proved that. Now, let us get out of here, Darla. This rebellion is starting to bore me.”

The vampires departed with evil smiles, Penn carrying a giggly Drusilla in his arms while Darla and Angelus walked arm in arm together.

Spike remained kneeling beside Xin Rong's lifeless body, his grief-stricken gaze fixed upon her serene features. The weight of his loss threatened to crush him, the ache in his undead heart a constant, painful reminder of all that he had lost.

It was in the midst of this devastating sorrow that Spike sensed a presence nearby. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting the frightened yet thankful gazes of the terrified missionaries.
One of the men, his clothes unkempt and his face shining with tears, stepped forward, his trembling hands outstretched. "Th-thank you," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You... you tried to save us from being murdered… or worse.”

Spike blinked, taken aback by the unforeseen gratitude. In the wake of his crippling loss, the idea that he had somehow managed to offer these mortals any form of help seemed almost foreign to him.

"I..." Spike's voice trailed off, the words catching in his throat. He glanced down at Xin Rong's lifeless body, a fresh wave of misery washing over him. "I couldn't... I couldn't save her from those bloody monsters."

The missionary's expression softened with understanding, and the middle-aged man reached out, placing a hesitant hand on Spike's shoulder. "But you tried," he said, his voice filled with a sincerity that cut through the haze of Spike's misery. "That means more than you know when it comes to your lost loved one."

Spike studied the man, his eyes searching the other's face for any sign of deception. But all he found was an authentic compassion, even in the face of such unspeakable violence and mayhem.

Slowly, Spike nodded, his features softening ever so slightly. "Thank you," he murmured, the words barely audible. In that moment, the weight of his sadness was lessened, if only for an instant.
The missionary offered Spike a sorrowful smile, his hand giving the vampire's shoulder a kindly squeeze. "No," he said, his voice filled with a respect that Spike had not expected. "Thank you for saving my family. May God go with you.”

“ God abandoned me a long time ago,” Spike felt a glimmer of something he had not experienced in a very long time: a sense of purpose, a desire to ensure that Xin Rong's death had not been in vain.

#################################################################

1977. New York City. A city currently living in fear of the Son of Sam.

The rain-swept streets cast an eerie, glistening glow under the flickering street lamps as Spike and Nikki Woods hunted their prey. The air was thick with tension, their senses on high alert as they tracked the movements of the Whirlwind– Angelus, Darla, Drusilla, and Penn. Spike hadn’t seen his grandsire since the Second World War, back when they and Penn had been trapped on a German U Boat with several other vampires.

Spike's jaw was set in a determined line, his piercing blue eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of their targets. Nikki, the formidable Slayer, moved gracefully, her muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. They had been working together as a deadly unit ever since they faced Dracula. Their defeat of that smooth-talking ponce had sent him and his brides fleeing back to Romania in short order, where he no doubt sat licking his wounds to this day.

"They've got to be close," Nikki murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can sense them, Spike. The darkness is thick in the air."

Spike nodded, his grip tightening on the stake concealed in his coat pocket. "Yes, love, I can sense it too. According to Crowley, those bastards have been leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. They’ve gone on their last rampage, if we have anything to say about it.”

The two warriors pressed on like silent wraiths as they navigated the labyrinth of alleyways and side streets. Suddenly, Nikki held up a hand, signaling Spike to stop.

"There," she breathed, her eyes narrowing. "It’s Darla."

Spike followed her gaze and caught a glimpse of Darla's blonde hair disappearing around a corner. Without a moment's hesitation, they broke into a sprint, their pursuit fueled by a strong desire to stop the Whirlwind from harming innocents.

But as they rounded the corner, they were met with a sight that sent a chill down their spines. Darla stood in the center of Central Park, a malicious grin on her face as she gestured to the shadows.

"Well, well, if it isn't the famous Slayer, and my pathetic descendant. You still need someone strong to fight your battles, William?" Darla taunted, her voice dripping with malice. "Still just… so… predictable. What you’ll do. Where you’ll go. Makes it so easy, I swear. Of course I've been expecting you. Boys! Kill them!”

Suddenly, a horde of vampires emerged from the darkness, their fangs bared and their yellow eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Nikki and Spike immediately launched into a vicious battle, their stakes and fists a blur as they fought to fend off the minions.

Nikki was a vortex of grace and power, her movements fluid and precise as she dispatched one vampire after another. Spike, too, was a force to be reckoned with, his vampire strength and cunning tactics proving to be a formidable match for the undead horde.

They really were a horde. Where had Darla found so many lackeys?

Vampire. Stake. Dust. Vampire. Stake. Dust.

For every vampire they killed, two more seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Vampire. Stake. Dust.

Spike could feel the first signs of fatigue setting in to his muscles, supernatural abilities be damned. Did the Slayer have better reserves than vampires did? He had no idea. Spike risked a glance at Nikki’s technique, his Slayer now yards apart from him.

Vampire. Stake. Dust.

Vampire. Punch. Punch. Shove. Kick. Stumble.

As the battle raged on, Nikki found herself overwhelmed, her strength beginning to ebb away. In a moment of distraction, Angelus appeared, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee.

"Hello, Nikki," he purred, his voice dripping with menace. "My, don’t you look exhausted. Time for a nice nap."

With a vicious blow, Angelus punched Nikki to the ground, her head slamming against the concrete with a sickening crack. As she lay unconscious, Darla moved in, her fangs bared in a triumphant grin.

"Pleasant dreams, Slayer," she taunted, before scooping up Nikki's limp form and disappearing into the night, Angelus, Drusilla, and the other vampires in tow.

Spike roared in anguish, his fists pounding the ground as he watched helplessly. The Slayer, his partner and friend, had been taken, and he knew that the horrors that awaited her were unimaginable.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Spike rose to his feet, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. He would not rest until he had found Nikki and made his former family pay for their evil. The hunt was on.

Three days later, the Grand Central station was eerily quiet, save for the faint rumble of an approaching train. Spike's boots echoed against the tiled walls as he descended the stairs, his senses on high alert.

He had to find Nikki. His friend, and teammate. The very thought of what Angelus and his posse might have done to her filled Spike with a fury he could barely contain.

Spike rounded the corner of a platform, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. There, in the shadows, was Nikki, her eyes glowing with a wicked hunger as she drained the blood from a helpless woman.

"Nikki..." Spike breathed, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

The Slayer turned, her fangs dripping with human blood, and Spike's heart sank. This was no longer the woman he had fought alongside. This was a monster, an appalling reflection of the Nikki he had known.

"Spike," she hissed in a menacing snarl. "I wondered when you'd show up."

Spike steeled himself, his grip tightening on the sword tucked away within his coat. "Nikki, what have they done to you?"

Nikki Woods let out a chilling laugh. "Done to me? Darla has given me power, Spike. Power that you could never understand. You, you hold back what makes you strong, but I - I am strong, and free. Ain’t nothing or nobody can hold me back now. I’m the best take on me there ever was." She stalked towards him, her movements fluid and predatory.

Spike's jaw tightened, now frowning. "You're not Nikki. Not anymore." With a swift motion, he drew Xin’s sword, which Grainger had given him, the gleaming blade catching the faint light.

The fight that ensued was a ferocious display of strength and skill. Nikki, fueled by her newfound vampiric abilities, was a fearsome opponent, with her continuous attacks, and her movements lightning-fast.

But Spike, driven by a mix of grief and determination, matched her blow for blow, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The reverberation of steel against flesh echoed through the vast space, and the two combatants danced a deadly waltz, each one fighting to survive.

In a moment of anguish, Spike saw an opening and seized it, his sword arcing through the air and then cleaving Nikki's head from her shoulders.

The former Slayer's body turned to dust and Spike stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The sound of slow, mocking applause drew his attention to the shadows, where Angelus emerged, a depraved grin on his face.

"Bravo, Willie." The vampire sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “But haven’t you learned by now that there is nothing that you have that Darla, Penn and I can’t take away from you? You didn’t learn from losing your Chinese Slayer all those years ago. I wonder if Nikki Woods is enough to get it through your thick skull. She ever tell you she had a kid?” Angelus chuckled at Spike’s stricken face. “No, I didn’t think she’d tell a dirty vampire. And what if we drain the little orphan, just because it would matter to you? Maybe that’s the kind of after-school study that’ll make the lesson stick.”

Spike's grip on the sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "You bastard," he growled at his former mentor. "You won’t touch the child. And you'll pay for this."

“Haven't learned when to keep your mouth shut yet, have you?" Angelus sneered back.

But before Spike could act, a commotion erupted on the platform. Spike turned to see a crowd of people, their faces twisted with rage, descending upon him.

"It’s the Son of Sam freak!" Penn cried out, pointing at Spike, and the mob charged forward, their cries for revenge echoing through the subway station. Spike growled at seeing Penn’s psychotic smirk vanish into the darkness of the southbound tunnel.

Spike cursed under his breath, his mind racing. He had no choice but to flee, lest he be ripped apart by the vengeful crowd. With one last, anguished look at the scattering dust pile that had once been Nikki's body, he turned and fled, Angelus' evil cackling chasing him into the darkness.

Spike's boots stomped against the damp, concrete floor of the subway tunnel as he chased Penn. The older vampire's taunts still echoed in his ears, fueling the burning rage that coursed through his veins.

"You can’t run forever, Spike!" Penn's voice echoed through the cavernous space, dripping with malicious glee. "Face it, you're nothing but a pretender, trying to play at being a hero. You couldn’t save Xin Rong or Nikki! We will drain Crowley and Robin. There is nothing you can do to stop us!”

Spike's grip tightened on the wooden stake concealed in his coat pocket, his jaw set in a determined line. "And you’re nothing but a walking stack of daddy issues in a trenchcoat, you bloody wanker," he growled under his breath, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of his quarry.

Suddenly, Penn appeared in front of him, his fangs bared in a menacing grin. "Nowhere left to run," he hissed, his eyes glinting with a wolfish hunger.

Spike wasted no time, launching himself at the vampire who had helped Angelus murder Xin. The two combatants engaged in a vicious, no-holds-barred brawl, their movements a blur of fangs, fists, and stakes.

Penn was a dangerous opponent, his century and a half of survival giving him a distinct advantage. He blocked Spike's attacks with ease, his own punches landing with bone-crushing force

But Spike was fueled by a righteous fury, his determination to avenge Nikki's murder spurring him on. He refused to be cowed, matching Penn's onslaught with a savage brutality of his own.

The sound of their battle echoed through the tunnels, the din of snarls and grunts accompanied by the occasional snap of bone. Spike knew he had to seize the initiative, to find an opening in Penn's defenses.

With a momentary lapse in the older vampire's concentration. Spike seized the opportunity, driving the stake home with all his might, aiming for Penn's heart, “This is for Xin Rong!”

Penn's eyes widened in shock, his body beginning to fade into dust. "Impossible..." he gasped, as the wind whipped his remains away.

It was a small victory, dusting Penn, especially after what he and Angelus did to his lover Xin Rong in Beijing; but as Spike reminded himself, Angelus, Drusilla, and Darla were still at large while his friend Nikki was gone for good. There would be time to grieve later.

With renewed determination, Spike pushed on, to continue his pursuit of Angelus and the others.

###########################

1996. Cleveland.

Spike watched the dark and empty alley. The young blonde Slayer was carrying herself well as one by one her undead adversaries became dust in the wind. She had started to walk away from the battle scene when he made his move, even though he knew that walking up to the Slayer meant he could meet his final death. The Order of Aurelius had to be stopped.

“What, did you miss the bloodsucker bus? Is your alarm clock as dead as you are? Fresh batteries are your friend, y’know. Then you could’ve died with your buddies,” the petite blonde girl quipped defiantly.

Spike liked her. The same feisty spirit as the last Slayer he tried to help in New York. He couldn’t help but bite back a smile even though the poignant memories of Nikki, Crowley, and Robin caused him pain.

“You bloody think I would partner up with those pillocks? Please!”

If he hadn’t already known the Slayer was so young, he’d have immediately clocked her as a teen from how she rolled her eyes so hard he was surprised it didn’t come with its own sound effect. “Personally, I couldn’t care less what gang you're in, it’s not like there are any good ones. You vamps don’t exactly team up to rescue puppies. Now can we get to the fighting?”

He started circling her, despite himself. “It feels bloody good, doesn’t it? Feels simple.”

She didn’t disappoint, matching him step-for-step, narrowed eyes never leaving him. “You vampire, me Slayer. So yeah. Pretty damn simple.”

“Some things are more complicated than - hey!” Spike yelped indignantly, leaping back as the Slayer made an admirable attempt to put a fist through his face.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the specialest and strongest vampire, yada yada, toooootally different from every vampire I’ve ever met,” the girl cheeked, dropping back into a guarded stance. “And I should care, why?”

“Bloody listen to me, you infuriating girl! I fed on a girl about your age, gorgeous but dumb as a post, because I was jealous of my bloody grandsire. But she was a favorite amongst her clan.”

“Her clan?” asked the Slayer, clearly wondering if the vampire was playing for time or her sympathy.

“Gypsies. The sodding elders made a perfect punishment for me. They restored my soul.”

“What, were they out of boils and blinding torment?”

“When you become a vampire, things become bloody simple. The demon takes your body but it doesn’t get your soul. That’s gone! No conscience or remorse.” His voice dropped, quieter, solemn. “You’ve no bloody idea what it's like to have done the things I have done and care.”

She stared at him for a moment before her guard visibly went up again. “Thanks for the 411, but what do you want from me? I’m guessing you didn’t walk up to the Slayer just to talk about yourself.” She cocked her head, sizing him up, and apparently finding him wanting. “Did you? I mean, was that it?”

He huffed a laugh. “Honestly Luv, I’ve got vamp troubles on the Hellmouth.”

“Well, soul or not, pretty sure I could help Cleveland by dusting you.”

“Not this stupid Hellmouth you prat!” he shot back before he could stop himself. He was fairly sure that she couldn’t know what exactly a “prat” was, but her unimpressed face had him taking on a more conciliatory tone as he continued, “The one in California, a place called Sunnydale.”

He noticed that she suddenly gave him her full attention. It looked like Spike had hit a nerve.

“Why would you need me to go there, rather than stay here and slay vampires?”

“The Order of Aurelius has set up shop there.”

“The what of Who-lius?”

“Bloody hell! Haven’t you learned anything from your Watcher, girl?”

“Haven’t talked to her in about six months,” confessed a sheepish Slayer.

Spike exhaled far more loudly than was necessary for someone who had no need to breathe. He schooled himself and tried again. “You’re used to local idiots, Slayer. The Order of Aurelius is an elite group of killers.”

“And what are these elite vamps planning, exactly? Murder but the rich and fancy variety?”

“Apocalypse and plotting the execution of a heretical descendant.”

“You?”

“Yes, that’s correct, Slayer. It seems that having a soul and helping Slayers is grounds for instant elimination according to that old bastard known as the Master.” And she seemed to have forgotten the apocalypse part, what with the discussion of how they were coming for him now. “Do you even care what happens to the humans in that sodding town?”

“I care!” she mumbled angrily.

“Then prove it.” He eyed her smugly, arms crossed. He wasn’t one to toot his own horn, but he was fairly sure he was a master of psychology after this many years of existence.

Her jaw dropped. “I - prove it? You prove it! You’re the vampire who’s asking me for help instead of already fitting inside a DustBuster!” She raised her stake and wiggled the pointy end meaningfully.

Fuck.

She was a bit of a skeptical one, this Slayer. Perceptive, too. Nikki definitely would have approved.

He’d have to hope that rank sincerity could win over another one. “I can’t prove any of it, yet. The soul, that they’re out to get me, that I care about the people. Not without you coming along for the ride to see it all play out, at least.” He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Speak to your Watcher first, love. I’m sure they’ve got a few dusty books with me in ‘em by now. I’m somewhat known for spending time around a Slayer or two.”

“Fine, I’ll speak to Audrey, and she’ll do the book thing. And if you check out? When do we leave?” It looked like the Slayer had caved.

He smirked. “Glad to have you on the team, Slayer. First, I’m going to train you up a bit, as right now you couldn’t go three rounds with older vampires like Darla.”

The girl was doing that raised-eyebrow-half-smile thing at him again. He found that he quite liked it, even if he was also fairly sure the next words out of her mouth were about to be at his expense.

“Ahh, the all-important training montage. You want me to call you Sensei while I punch things?” she said. He had a feeling he was missing something.

“Not big on karate? You were around in the 80s, weren’t you?” she tutted. “What, are you a kung fu movie guy, instead? Should I call you Xifu?”

Holy hell. And now he was right back to memories of Xin Rong.

He knew she would’ve liked this smart-mouthed girl. He wasn’t sure what she’d think about the age gap, but Xin Rong hadn’t been much older when they met. Would she have wanted him to move on, someday? Could he, after watching her die?

He was possibly getting a bit ahead of himself. The current Slayer appeared thoroughly impatient at his lack of response, and was looking a fair bit more like she might still punch him in the nose rather than receive any romantic overtures.

“Earth to bleachy vamp dude? Yeah, so, fine, not a movies guy. Still need to call you something. What’s your name?” asked the petite blonde.

“Spike. And what’s yours, Slayer?”

“It’s Buffy, but what kind of name is Spike?” Buffy half-smiled at this strange English vampire.

“What kind of name is Buffy, pet?” he smirked craftily at her.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Oh, well, as you wish, darling.”

She remained stone-faced. “Nope.”

“Lovey.”

“No.”

“Ducks.”

She cracked at last. “Oh my god, that is not a real thing you call people in England!” she cackled.

Spike luxuriated in the first real smile he’d seen from this Slayer. He could get used to this.

###########################

Several weeks later, the sleek lines of Spike's beloved Del Soto cut through the dusty roads leading into Sunnydale, the engine purring with a steady rhythm, and Sid Vicious’s cover of My Way blaring out from the car radio. In the passenger seat, Buffy gazed out the window, her expression a mix of curiosity and trepidation as she travelled to a town in California with a vampire she had come to trust despite what Merrick and then Audrey had said about vampires. Spike was different according to Audrey, as he was known to help out Slayers like Xing Rong and Nikki according to the books.

"Slayer!”

“What?”

“I need to refill the tank. Thought that you might want to stretch your legs out for a bit.”

“What time is it?”

“8:30 pm.”

As they pulled into the dimly lit gas station, Spike cut the engine, his gaze sweeping the area with a practiced eye. "Stay sharp, love. Something doesn't feel right." There was nobody at the gas station and he could smell blood.

Buffy nodded, her muscles tensing as she followed Spike's lead, the two of them moving with a fluid grace as they approached the station's convenience store. The moment they stepped through the doors, a chill ran down their spines, and they knew they were no longer alone.

A swarm of vampires, their faces twisted into menacing snarls, poured out from the shadows, their fangs bared and their eyes gleaming with wolfish hunger.

"Looks like we've got company," Spike growled, his own features shifting as he slipped into the game face.

Buffy's fingers curled around the stake in her jacket, her petite body poised for the impending fight. "Let's give them a warm welcome, then."

The vampires charged, their movements a blur of motion, but Buffy and Spike were more than ready. They moved in perfect sync, to an untrained eye it looked like they were dancing to a piece of music only they could hear.

The majority of vampires were soon turned to dust, and the air was soon thick with the acrid scent of vampire dust.

“Aurelius awaits your return, William the Bloody,” growled a bald, dark-skinned vampire in a pastor outfit. “The Master has escaped from his mystical prison, and there is nothing you or the Slayer can do to stop us! You will soon be ash!”

“Angelus sends his love, Slayer,” taunted a burly vampire in a Hell Angel’s jacket before running away.

“Who the hell is Angelus?” Buffy asked once they got back inside the car after refuelling it.

“Ah, well- Angelus is more or less the golden boy of the Master, after his sire Darla, o‘ course." Spike kept his eyes on the road through the narrow peephole as he spoke. “It seems the Master and Angelus have been keeping tabs on me. Control-freak tossheads."
"Pardon?" Buffy almost laughed.
“I’ve never seen eye to eye with the bloody poofter or Batface, you know?"
"Can't imagine why," she joked.
The Del Soto sped down the road, its occupants already planning their next move against the Order of Aurelius that had taken over Sunnydale.

########################################################################

“Spike? Spike! Are you okay, baby?” interrupted a sweet voice jerking Spike out of his thoughts. He turned to see Buffy waving a hand in front of his face.

“Fine, love. Just remembering a few things from my past.”

“Such as?” asked Buffy teasingly, but with a hint of genuine interest and concern for him.

“Getting my soul back… and meeting you.”

“All the good things, then,” answered Buffy, smiling genuinely. “Although you pissed me off back then.”

“I remember, Luv.”

Chapter Text

Something wicked this way comes chapter 3

Angelus unchained Cordelia at dusk, leisurely licking at the bite marks on her throat and chest that he had inflicted. His unlife was looking good so far. He finally had a brilliant, talented vampire in his bed whose passions matched his.

In the past, even after hours of hurting and screwing Darla in whatever bed they found themselves in, Angelus had always felt restless afterwards, as though he still had energy to expend and needed to find an outlet for it. He supposed that was why they had always hunted following sex, Angelus using the thrill of the chase to ease the disquiet he felt. And all manner of obsessions had lasted briefly, never holding his interest after they were finally his.

This was so very different; Cordelia was inventive and passionate and always wanted more, no matter what he did to her. Her introduction into the darker side of sensuality was seamless and thoroughly enjoyable for both of them. Yes, her passions matched his own, perfectly.

“That’s better,” Cordelia grinned now, rubbing at her wrists, “But why did you have to use metal? You know how I feel about chafing.”

He could tell she was teasing again, possibly trying to bait him into more rough handling and no doubt everything that might follow. He opted not to rise to it this time, his voice darkly playful as he replied, “Darling, when you need to restrain a tigress, silk scarves are hardly going to hold her for long, now are they? Besides, I had to borrow these from whatever Willie-boy had available down here. So blame him!”

“Gladly. I’ll blame him for a lot of things. Do you trust Spike?” Cordelia questioned in an undertone, “I know our sources told us that he has a government-issued chip, not a soul here, but the guys down at Willy’s last night were pretty divided on whether or not he should even be allowed in anymore. A couple thought he might even be working for this world’s Slayer.”

Angelus couldn’t help a small swell of pride. Always so perceptive, his girl. He lay back down with her, stroking her arms soothingly as he pulled her close.

“As you know entirely too well by now, I don’t trust anyone. But I also don’t fret about minor inconveniences like him. Besides, even if William did tell the Slayer, she can’t stop what is to come.”

“Peaches! Undead cheerleader!” Spike called, “You have a visitor.”

Well. Speak of the Devil, and he interrupts.

Cordelia pouted, clearly peeved at the idea that further lounging around with her mate was to be put on hold. Angelus held a finger to his lips, calling back, “Who is the visitor, Willie?”

“Oh, well, let me just check the guest book to see what he signed in as. Look at this, it says I’m not your bloody receptionist, screen your own sodding visitors.” There was a pause as they heard thumping footsteps and low voices from upstairs.

“Fine. He says he comes from Batface and is looking for you. You lazy git.”

“My sire is here!” Cordelia smiled, radiant in her excitement. “Now the fun can really begin! He can tear that pain-in-the-ass Slayer apart piece by piece for spoiling our romantic dinner.” She grinned and threw her hands wide. “Slayer confetti. It’s party time.”

This again. He really hadn’t missed having to share his love’s attention with the old man.

“Forget about the Master! You’ve got a card-carrying slayer of Slayers right here, haven’t you? I can bag this one too, and then you and I can pick off the rest of the Loser Squad, all while the old bat is still trying to climb out of his chair,” Angelus growled at her before slamming her against a wall.

“You’re hurting me,” Cordelia purred, eyes gleaming dangerously. “I like it.” His tigress knew by now that fun was always promised when he got all domineering and controlling; she could get wet just thinking about it. He knew her games by now, enough to know she was full of gleeful anticipation that if she just pushed him further, with any luck he might spank her.

“If he is from the Master, we better see what he wants,” Angelus decided, despite himself. “We’ll have enough time for playtime later, Cordy.”

“I will hold you to that, Angelus.” Cordelia was clearly trying to remain stern, but only remained adoring.

The muffled voices from upstairs had been getting louder and more agitated, and finally Spike’s exasperated voice rang out through the hatch again.

“Are you two randy gits still shagging down there? This is not a cheap motel, it’s my home, and it’s not here for any Tom, Dick, and Nosferatu to come and sodding visit you. So pull your bloody pants up and go and see what the Batface wants!”

“We’re coming out! Keep your stupid punk rocker hair on!” Cordelia snapped. After a quick kiss and some re-dressing, they headed upstairs.

“Mr. Angelus; Lady Cordelia. The Master commands that you attend to him at once,” announced the blond minion. Despite his game face, Cordelia clearly recognized him.

“Owen Thurman!” she exclaimed, her tone a masterful blend of fake pleasantry and venom. “Damn, they really scraped the bottom of the barrel when they were recruiting new blood around here, huh. I never liked you very much after you dumped me as a human. Figures you’d have to meet people well over a century old just to find anyone to put up with your Emily Dickinson obsess-o-thon.”

The minion bristled. “Since we’re being honest, I gotta tell you that I considered you a vicious spoiled bitch even before you grew fangs and became one of our Master’s pets, but I have my orders from Him to find you both. So. Time to come to heel, bitch.”

Well. Someone doesn’t understand hierarchy.

“Quit your yapping, that’s a good lapdog,” Angelus mocked as he punched Owen in the face, sending him flying.

“Our Master will hear about this!” Owen snarled after he regained his balance.

Angelus snorted. “Grandpa wouldn’t care one bit that I hit you. I know him very well.” He looked over to Cordelia as he added, “You insulted his favourite, and one higher than you in the food chain. A good dog would take this as a cue to remember your place in the pack, or,” he crowded up to Owen, full of menacing promise, “I’ll have his full permission to put you down myself.”

Owen gulped and nodded. Angelus smirked. “Now. Shall we?”
As they moved off after the minion, he couldn’t help but add in an undertone, “You actually dated that guy?”

#####################################################################################

Spike watched Angelus and Cordelia leave hand in hand, following a bruised Owen. Finally, a chance to leave without them not breathing down his neck. It was time to visit his uneasy allies and get them up to speed.

I better inform the Slayer about this. Never thought I’d see old Batface escape his prison at all, let alone make the long-haul trip from a sodding alternate reality. I can’t picture her being happy about that.
Never liked him even when I was evil, mind you. Too much love for dusty old rituals always made him a humourless git. I wonder if he has his version of the ice queen with him.
Or Dru? His Dru, I mean. I wonder how she reacted to me getting a soul. I mean, him.
This is making my noggin hurt.

#####################################################################################

Arriving in the underground caverns, Angelus and Cordelia were met by the familiar sight of the Master being attended to by his inner circle. It looked like the Master was drinking blood from a young man, who screamed in agony as the others watched on with feral grins.

“Please,” the man groaned, “ Kill me now.”

The Master obliged and then tossed the corpse aside. “He was delicious. The mortal fear of the youth in their prime always does add such a zesty twist to the blood. Thank you, Darla, for your offering.”

Darla grinned, “It was my pleasure, Sire.”

“Angelus?” The Master questioned, seeing that he and Cordelia had finally arrived, “What took you and my Cordelia so long to get here?” Looking them over, his eyes narrowed, voice dangerously quiet as he added, “Where is your offering, boy?”

“The Slayer interrupted our hunt. I only just managed to get away with Cordelia, and then we had to lay low to avoid leading her here,” Angelus replied, stretching the truth a little to try to keep in the old man’s good graces for now.

He had an uneasy relationship with his grandsire. They mostly clashed over Darla in the early days; more recently, they were butting heads over Cordelia instead, with some arguments over Darla’s feelings about the whole thing also sprinkled into the mix. He’d learned over the years some of the tricks to employ not to rile the Master up unnecessarily, which he did put to good use when needed; Angelus still had a temper, though, and too much pride to spend quite as much time bowing and scraping to the Master as the old man probably would’ve liked.

Also, he had always thought that the Master getting his family to handle his catering for him was profoundly distasteful. He was still demanding tribute now, even though he wasn’t locked in a magical cage anymore. I guess that the old bastard can’t go out and hunt, not with that face.

On the other hand, despite his obsession with prophecies and worshipping the Old Ones, the Master was not to be trifled with even without such mystical assistance, being over 900 years old and accumulating more power with every additional decade.

Angelus knew that his grand sire would’ve preferred to see him dust and Cordelia back under his control once the Slayer and Willie were dealt with. But he was ready for it.

“It wasn’t a complete bust. We spent the earliest part of our time in this world gathering some intelligence, Sire,” Cordelia added.

“We learned that there is also a Slayer called Buffy Summers in this world from the regulars at Willy’s bar. Some of them need a shower in my opinion as they reek, by the way. Also, the bar looks disgusting. I’ve never seen so many stains that looked like they might evolve legs and walk away before - not that I would ever complain about any part of fulfilling my duties to you, oh Great One,” she amended quickly. “Anyway, after some gentle persuasion, Willy the bartender told us that, unlike our own Slayer, this Buffy has friends who help her fight. And the Spike of this dimension has a government chip in his head that prevents him from hurting humans, but no soul. I’ll be honest, I still don’t know which side he’s on, but we’ve checked up on him, and so far his whole shtick doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m part of the Good Guy Brigade’.”

“Interesting. Such good work, Cordelia,” the Master replied indulgently. Angelus didn’t fail to notice how all the praise was directed to only one half of the recon team.

“Thank you, Sire,” Cordelia curtsied to the Master.

As they rejoined the rest of the Court, Angelus noticed Darla’s latest toy boy trying to look tough by flashing his fangs at him. Insolent whelp. Darla’s not teaching you manners, boy. He quickly bared his fangs back at Xander.

He scanned the assembled inner circle curiously. The Anointed Brat was sitting at the Master’s right hand, of course, both of them physically and not-so-subtly symbolically elevated above the rest. Down here with Darla and Harris, he could see Harris’s own childe - the redhead that Harris seemed to always make advances towards any time Darla was rightfully pissed with him - and-

“Daddy! You’re back! I am so happy that the mean old Slayer didn’t get you,” Drusilla exclaimed, relatively lucid for once, her eyes glowing with delight at seeing her sire. “We will feed, and we will play.”

“Yeah, Dru. I am back.” Still stinging slightly from meeting Cordelia’s scruffy little ex earlier, he smirked as he brought Dru’s hand to his lips for a chaste kiss.

He fully intended to raise Cordy’s hackles a little; a spark of jealousy from either of them had always been a great way to spice things up occasionally. He just hadn’t anticipated the other powder keg he’d just set a spark to.

A pale hand was now held out expectantly in front of his face.

“Angelus? You should know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting, now; hell hath no fury, et cetera. Or have you already forgotten the time we had in New York?” Darla smiled provocatively at her favorite childe.

“What are you doing! Don’t make me yak,” Cordelia growled, clearly not liking the look in Darla’s eyes or her attempts to frog-march him down memory lane.

“This is between Angelus and I,” Darla hissed, “And what we’ve shared has nothing to do with you.”

“It does if you think you’re gonna ‘share’ your gross old lady STIs with him,” Cordelia snapped. “Which, by the way - over your dead, dusty body.”

Drusilla backed away towards the wall, seeing that the Master’s favourites were likely a moment away from a physical altercation. Many men might have tried to calm them all down at this point. Sick as he was of his sire’s ongoing obsession, Angelus was no longer one of those men.

“You heard the lady, Darla. After 200 years of nothing but you, I became bored of you. And Cordelia is just so… feisty,” Angelus taunted. “You are my sire, not my mate. And I can smell Harris all over you. He certainly lusts after you more than I ever will, even if he’s a weak excuse for a consolation prize.”

Xander growled like an animal at Angelus’s taunts. Pathetic.

"How dare you tell me you're tired of me! I know how to please you like no other woman ever could. After 200 years, I know every inch of your body," Darla snarled, showing the demon with her outrage. Her glowing eyes flicked to Cordelia as she spat, “My darling boy’s obsessions may come and go, but Angelus and I remain locked in an eternal dance that started long before you were born!”

“His dance card’s full, Grandma. Keep your undead mitts off my boyfriend!” Cordelia hissed, now in her game face.

#####################################################################################

His favourite daughters were circling each other, teeth and claws out, ready to tear each other apart over a boy.
Said boy was watching with immature glee from the sidelines.
Drusilla was pouting like a toddler ready to throw a world-ending tantrum.
Darla’s temporarily-forgotten childe was seeking solace (and perhaps a way to make Darla jealous, again), from his own childe, who was soundly rejecting him - something about refusing to be in second place anymore.

Back when he was alive and known only as Heinrich Nest, he had never had children of his own, so it was astonishing how often the Master felt like the patriarch to a family of unruly brats these days.

“Enough!” The Master hissed. The deadly look on his face made the others stop arguing at once. “I have an assignment for you, Angelus. Drusilla’s visions have warned us that our enemies have followed us across dimensions. We lost some of our strongest to them before we crossed over - even Luke has fallen. I want you to track the traitor and his Slayer down and kill them. Bring Drusilla and Darla. Darla, teach your childe to behave, and he can go along and prove to me once and for all whether he serves any real purpose in my Court.”

“It will be done Master. Spike won’t escape this time,” Darla agreed, her tone as much threat as question as she continued, “Isn’t that right, Xander?”

“Yeah, Darla, I would do anything to please you.”

“Spare me,” Angelus scoffed. “But I suppose destroying Spike does serve my purposes just fine. He killed Penn and is a general pain in the ass since he got the soul. Can’t say I see the problem with Luke being dust in the wind, though. Honestly, who cares about that brute, Grandpa?”

I did, you disrespectful wretch.

The Master quickly grabbed his potential victim by the neck and spat out, "You would forfeit your existence to me so easily, callow brat?"

But to his credit, Angelus just kept smirking without fear.

“Not if you want my help to kill the Slayers and the traitor, Nest!” he choked out. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you had hardly any of your heavies lurking around here. I’m betting all of those idiots are now pancake mix thanks to the Slayer and the souled freak.”

Disrespectful attitude aside, he couldn’t really argue with that. The Master sighed before throwing Angelus against one of the stone pillars.

Many of the lower vampires smirked in glee at the normally arrogant Angelus being humiliated like this. In contrast, Drusilla was rattled enough to have reverted back to her usual nonsense, babbling to herself about stars, the moon, and the pixies; meanwhile, both Darla and Cordelia were united for once in their concern for Angelus’s well-being.

“Honey, are you alright?” Cordelia rushed over to help Angelus to his feet.

“Now leave me, all of you! I have other things to contemplate,” the Master hissed at his inner circle. The other vampires took their cue and left, with Angelus giving the Master a disdainful look before Cordelia hit his bicep.

“Your grandchilde is insolent,” the Anointed One remarked as he departed.

#####################################################################################

Later that night, Willow pushed a book toward Anya. "Okay. See if you can find anything on trans-dimensional spells." With that, she handed a book to Anya's boyfriend, "Xander, give Anya a hand with this translation text in case her Greek is a bit rusty."

"What about me?" Dawn asked.

"Hmm… hop on the computer and get online," she told the teen. "Search. Try 'crossing dimensions, dimension crosses,' stuff like that. See if you pull up anything that might give us some clue as to how they might have gotten here. That must give us a way to close off the gap in the reality that they came through."

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Should Dawnie really be involved in researching?” Buffy cut in sharply. “You know how not-PG some of this stuff is.” Eyes firmly on Willow, she pretended not to hear the scoff of teenage disgust at her elbow.
"We don’t entirely know what we’re up against, Buffy, so we need to research to come up with a way to find out how Evil Cordelia and Angelus got here,” pointed out Willow. “And Giles isn’t here to help us look into it, so it’s all hands on deck. Or, you know, on study table. On books? Okay, look, I didn’t think this phrasing through in advance, but you get it.”

“Nuh-uh. Mom and I both agreed to keep Dawn away from all of this. What kind of example would I be setting if I go back on that, huh?” Buffy retorted, arms crossed. “Just keep her out of it, Willow. I’m trusting you on this. I’ll be back in an hour or so once I’ve-”

Willow reached into a box and pulled out another book as Buffy tried to slide away from the Magic Box’s table. "Not so fast, Buffy.”

Buffy sat back down unhappily. "Me? Wills, I'm not Researchy Girl. I'm Kill-Things Girl, and unlike Anya, I can't read different–”

"Don't worry. It's written in English," Tara smirked.

Buffy gave a long sigh and opened the book, looking at the pages. "Ye who holds thy caste –Hey! You said this was written in English!”

"Archaic English," Tara corrected. "Like what Shakespeare used, but still English. You'll figure it out. We need all the help we can get."

Buffy slumped, carefully considering how much of her pride was a suitable sacrifice in exchange for escape from the journals of Shakespeare’s Watcher buddies. "Say, just a totally-my-own idea, maybe Dawnie could get on the Net and look for stuff? She’s way better with the whole research thing than me. You’d hardly even need me if she’s on it. ” So much for my principles.

“Yay! I get to research with the gang?” squealed Dawn, looking pleased. “Thanks sis.”

"Dawnie, this is a one-off so don’t waste it, and remember to do your homework later. Buffy, what kind of example would you be setting if you skived off from research time?” said Tara softly but firmly.

"Oh, fine, use my own logic against me,” pouted Buffy.

"Stick with the book."

Buffy took the book and reluctantly rejoined the table, flicking through the pages of cramped text. Much Ado About Dimensional Travel (or whatever it was actually called) looked about as dull a read as the back of a shampoo bottle. Maybe a few hundred thousand shampoo bottles, length-wise. She face-planted on the open book with a theatrical groan.

“Ahhh, see Buff, isn’t this great? Just like old times with the gang researching together. All we need is to be back in the high school library,” commented Xander.

“Which isn’t there anymore because we blew it up,” Willow pointed out helpfully.

Tara cut in, “Guys, can we get back to -”

All of a sudden, the lights went out.

#####################################################################################

In the ensuing confusion, two blurs of blonde hair and leather charged into the Magic Box taking everyone by surprise.

One of the blurs restrained a struggling Willow while the other threw holy water in Xander’s face, snarling at him nose-to-nose, “Where’s your bitch of a sire Darla?” The smaller figure then slammed Xander against one of the shelves, “What game are you playing with these humans, Harris?” The girl shouted over her shoulder, “Run! All of you! I’ll make sure they can’t follow you!”

“What the hell is going on?” Anya snapped. “Leave Xander alone!”

“Hey! What was that for?” asked Xander, bewildered and more than a little offended. “I showered this morning! And no one gets to manhandle me except -” he looked more closely at the woman who had just slammed him against a shelf with Slayer strength. “...Buffy?!”

“What?” came the answer, in stereo.

Buffy moved closer to the intruder, guard up as she snarked, “There's an echo in here?”

The girl ignored her, full focus still on Xander as she growled, “Yeah, yeah, I’m Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer; we all know each other, you don’t need to name-drop, you idiot. And you and Rosenberg are dust unless one of you can tell me where Angelus and his new slut are, right now!”

“Newsflash, crazy chick! I’m Buffy Summers!” snarled Buffy at her supposed twin, “And you won’t Single White Female me, or stake my friends!” She grabbed the other girl by her shoulder and spun her forcefully to face her.

Whoa.

Time stopped for a moment as the two stared each other down, wide-eyed.

The other Buffy was the first to break the silence. “Why do you look like me? But like, an old me.” She ignored her counterpart’s noise of annoyance as she continued taking in her appearance. “What the hell are you wearing? No one with a brain fights in skinny jeans.”
Buffy restrained herself from biting back about her doppelganger’s apparent lack of interest in fashion. From behind her, she heard Willow gasp as the other intruder released her. As Tara comforted her girlfriend, the intruder spoke up with an annoyingly familiar voice.

“Luv, what are your Slayer senses telling you right now? Check the difference between our versions of Harris and Red and these two, before you do something that you might regret.” Spike suggested.
The other Buffy checked Xander over and released him from her chokehold, backing down, but clearly thrown. “He’s not a vampire. And I can’t sense any other vampires here besides you.”

“Boy, where did you find her, Spike? The doppelganger nut house?!” Xander snarked (only slightly hysterically) to the bleach-blond vampire, who flipped him off.

“I thought that his exes were crazy enough before,” mumbled Anya, before her hair stood on end at the sound of an angry vampire growl.

“No. This isn’t happening,” Buffy said firmly, as she put some lights back on. Seeing the doubles more clearly didn’t particularly help her calm down. “You can’t be me. Spike just… I dunno, made a robot, or got someone to wear a glamour, or something. Which, by the way, if he did that, I don’t wanna know why. If you’re really Buffy, prove it.”

“Yes, who’s President?” offered Anya.

“We’re checking for Buffy, not a concussion.”

“Uh, you guys, from their auras I think that we really are dealing with Buffy Summers. Just not our Buffy, or our Spike,” Tara spoke up in a soft voice. Buffy’s head snapped around, fixing Tara with a panicked stare. “... a-and her Spike has- he has a soul,” Tara stuttered.

Words utterly failed Buffy for once and she sat gaping at her alternate self who was now holding hands with Spike as the two regrouped. Well… there’s a wild difference between us. Did I look that comfortable with Riley or Angel?

It amazed her that the girl could look comfortable with anyone at all. From what she could see, her alternate self couldn’t be more than eighteen years old, but seemed to have come straight from a war zone, what with the scar on her lip and the black combat trousers. She didn’t look like the type whose trust could be won easily.

I suppose her Spike isn’t as hard to trust as ours. What with the… soul-having and all. The other Spike looked less cocky and ruthless, but still powerful. But he was attentive to the other Buffy’s every move. He seemed to be happy to let her mostly take the lead.

“Spike has a soul?” mumbled Dawn in a state of awed confusion., “Like… how?”

“Yeah, I got it in 1898 for stealing Darla’s present for the poofter.”

“Oh, the gypsy girl,” managed Willow after she managed to regain her composure. “That’s what happened to Angel - Angelus - in this world. The gypsies cursed him with a soul.”

“That was the best thing that happened to the both of us,” spoke up the other Buffy, smiling at her lover who put his arm around her shoulder. “Not a curse. A blessing.”

“Boy, am I glad that Giles is not here to see this,” Anya snarked. “He nearly had a coronary that time Willow magicked you two into a relationship. I think he might actually die this time.” She brightened. “Maybe I could inherit the Magic Box.”

“Dear old Rupert, you mean?” asked Spike.

“How do you know Giles?” asked Xander, frowning.

“He's my Watcher,” offered the other Buffy.

“I guess some things never change,” mumbled Anya.

“Some things probably did. I guess we compare Cliff’s Notes of our realities?” suggested Buffy, trying not to think about Spike and her counterpart being in love. It was just too wacky, even for her, although a part of Buffy wondered why she was so angry about it.

It can’t be jealousy that a Buffy in a parallel world made it work with a guy. Even a loser like Spike, right? She’s so young. Did she get it right first time? My first love… we couldn’t have found a way to make it work between us. Angel was too busy being wrapped up in his own internal demons. His desire for atonement was more important than me, in the end. And then Riley didn’t want to play Lois Lane to my Superman. I had to force him to have the operation to flush out the chemical thingies that Walsh pumped his system with.
I just… I’ve never had a guy who was so happy to put me first.

“My mom’s name is Joyce Summers and my dad’s name is Hank. We lived in Los Angeles until I set fire to the high school’s gym to stop Lothos. But then my parents were killed by vampires in Cleveland,” other Buffy said as she began to recap her life story.

“Do you have a sister in your world?” asked Willow.

“No, I’m an only child, although I would’ve liked a sister before this Slayer stuff started.”

Dawn looked down sadly at these revelations, so Tara whispered to her, and eventually, the younger brunette calmed down.

“Well, speaking from experience, a younger sister can be difficult at times,” replied Buffy wisely. “As they read your diaries and ask a lot of inconvenient questions about slaying and boyfriends.”

Dawn frowned at her older sister, “I only wanted to find out why you were acting like a bigger freak than normal.”

“How did you even get here?” asked Willow quickly, trying to stop a spat between the sisters.

Spike answered this time. “Well, Red, we stepped through a portal trying to follow two of the Master’s minions. An absolute bastard called Angelus - who I guess you know something about, then - and his new bitch.”

“Our Buffy already had an encounter with those two,” Willow replied, “and she tried to strangle our Xander.” Xander shuddered remembering the cold feel of Cordelia’s fingers around his neck while she kept him as a hostage against Buffy.

“And you’re all sitting around in a public space anyone can enter, where we could see you through the front window and ambush you?” Cleveland Buffy said, one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “If we’re gonna catch you up on the bad guys, is there a safe house we can get to? We left our Giles at the motel for now, so he should be fine there.”

“How about our house? That’s safe right?” offered Dawn. “Then Buffy can help you figure out how to stop Angelus and the Master.”

“Have you dealt with him and the Master before?” asked Cleveland Buffy.

“Yes, you could say that,” replied Buffy, trying not to think about her history with the two in too much detail. She’d had so many nightmares about the Master drowning her, right up until his bones were smashed with a sledgehammer. Everything that had led up to her being forced to send Angel to hell after her birthday celebrations went horribly wrong... even now she didn’t want to think about that.

“Our Buffy kicked their asses back to hell,” praised Xander. “At different times of course. Angel wasn’t so great at holding onto his soul for long. Then he went to Hell, then he got the soul back, then I think there were a few other fun little incidents where it was out of commission for a while. It’s like a revolving door with him.”

“Soul or no soul, he’s just a vamp with a nasty reputation,” Cleveland Buffy commented, voice quiet. “In our world he killed Ms. Calendar while Cordelia watched. Some sort of special offering to her. They’re as vicious and evil as each other, and every reality would be better off without them.”

“Hey! You might be new here but our Cordelia isn’t like that,” Xander retorted, then conceded, “Although you are right about Dead Boy.”

A part of Buffy agreed with Xander’s comment - at least the first part of it. The Cordelia they knew from high school had been a good friend who helped them despite her complaints.

She turned to Cleveland Buffy, deciding to keep her past relationship with Angel quiet for now. “If you came across to this reality too, there could be others we don’t know about. Can you help us to find the portal so we can see who else came from your world?”

“Okay. We can workshop that tonight before dawn. My Spike needs to stay indoors to avoid the sun, so we need to work around that.”

Buffy watched the two make eyes at each other; clearly some sort of non-verbal couple’s communication thing going on there that she didn’t need to know more about, and that she refused to let herself be jealous of. This is going to be a lot to get used to.

#####################################################################################

Xander hissed in pain.

The pleasurable kind, that his sire Darla was inflicting on him wave after wave, apparently still angry about him acting out; flirting with Willow and cheeking Angelus in front of their Master, who had already criticised his behaviour a few times before. She was refusing to let him touch – had barely let him look at her nude form as fully as he wanted. Her cool mouth ran up his bleeding chest, lapping up the blood that pooled there from her clever hands and mouth. Her icy blue eyes sparkled in glee, laughing at him as she settled over his raging erection. But she didn’t move.

“I hope that you learned something, Xander. I made you for my pleasure, so why do you insist on displeasing me? Why won’t you do your damn job!” she said before kissing his lips hungrily but, despite the desperate bucking of his hips, refused to move.

“Darla, please,” he begged, hoping to have just a little friction.

“I let you sire Willow due to her intelligence, but I won’t be disrespected by you flirting with the redhead or begging for Cordelia’s attentions in front of me. I made you. You are mine. Mine to play with as I like. And I don’t share my toys.”

Xander had honestly cared for Willow since the time he was an all-American teenager. She made him laugh when they were kids, and listened attentively to his complaints about his lack of success with girls as they got older. In return, he had been her protector along with Jesse right up until the vampires took over their town.

Of course, his priorities had shifted after the night Darla jumped him outside the Bronze. Xander had attempted to fight back but Darla easily overpowered him with an amused expression, then the next thing he remembered was waking up in a coffin, and Darla was there to greet him as he broke the surface of the graveyard soil. Everything made perfect sense at last, and a voice whispered inside him that he finally had the power to act upon his resentment towards his parents - his drunken father Anthony, and his pitiful mom Jessica who stood by while his dad tried to send him to some Armenians.

Darla had taken hold of his very existence and, just as she had done with Xander himself, had ripped it open and remade it into something so much better in every way.

Although it was profoundly irritating that everyone around him now seemed overly enamored with Angelus, who reminded him of every jock who had picked on him in high school when he was a pathetic mortal.
I proved that I had the power when I killed the likes of Lance Brooks, Brad Konig, Mitch, and those other losers. Every jock who thought he could do anything he liked, I made sure they all got what was coming to them. And if he doesn’t get his ego in check, Angelus is next. It was fun watching the Master putting him in his place earlier. How could that crazy Irishman treat our Sire like this?

Xander’s eyes glazed as Darla lapped at his blood again and bared her throat to his waiting fangs.

Hesitating for only a second, Xander sank his teeth into her neck and knew that she had finally forgiven him with this sharing of blood. Screaming her name with his release, Xander found himself catapulted into a wash of orgasmic light that was all centered on Darla.