A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Tale

By

sHaYcH

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all the Buffy stuff. The rest of it is my fault. *snarky-grin*

Content: Gee, I'm so used to putting "alternative" disclaimers on my Xena fic, I guess I'll just borrow from that. : ) I'm planning on including some same-gender consensual snuggling… and maybe a kiss or two as well. If that sort of thing bothers you, or if it's illegal where you live, please find another story to read. For those of you that have stayed around, the action will not go beyond a "PG-13" rating. After all, Buffy is just getting over Angel, and she did/does love him.

Comments, constructive criticism and kudos are welcome at: shaych3@yahoo.com

Mean letters, hate-mongering and all such twaddle will be fed to my cats as a snack.

Note: This story begins right after the closing scene of the episode, "Becoming Part II".

Sunnydale receded into the distance, all of its memories, good and bad, hopefully doing the same. Buffy Summers, slayer extraordinaire, huddled against the wall of the bus. Although surrounded by people, she didn't notice or care. Even if she had been in a crowd of blood-crazed vampires, she would have just huddled further into her navy blue sweater.

Angel... A tear fought to form in already cried-out eyes. She missed him. Of course, she'd been missing him since the night they'd... made love... but this time it was a different kind of missing him.

Then, she knew he was alive, just changed. But there had been a small part of her that hadn't given up the hope that he'd somehow find his way back to her. As each day passed, and as she heard of yet another atrocity committed by the man that once professed to love her, she knew that there was no salvaging the vampire named Angelus; the one who wore the face of her beloved Angel. Buffy Summers, seventeen years old, made the decision that she would have to kill the love of her life.

With her resolve a firm core of steel holding her up, Buffy fought the monster that wore her lover's face. Cruelly, fate dealt her a pair of aces. Just as she had Angelus where she wanted him, Miss Calendar's posthumous spell took effect, bringing back her lover's soul. But it was too late, Angelus' blood had freed the demon, and only Angel's blood would seal the gateway to hell. Buffy would have to continue with her plan and slay her beloved. She kissed him, celebrating his return and saying goodbye without words, and ran him through, pinning his body to the demon Acathla.

Buffy was pretty certain that when the sword slid through Angel and Acathla, it had skewered her heart as well. Tears dampened her collar.

Ancient history, Buff, let it go. You're movin' on now. She sighed. Slayer life was certainly not dull. A sound forced her to look up. Standing in the aisle beside her seat was Whistler, the ratty little demon that had helped her defeat Angel…us. Best if you remember him as the vamp, and not your lover, Buffy. She admonished herself.

"Well don't you look so noble." Whistler said as he sat, fake charm drizzling from his words like water from an old hose.

"Go away, Whistler. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, I'm injured. Here I am, your only friend, and you try to send me away."

"Yup. I don't want, or need friends. Especially friends like you," retorted the young slayer.

"Too bad, cuz you're stuck with me. Since you decided to leave your librarian babysitter behind, someone's gotta look out for you, and sweetie, I'm it." Whistler winked at Buffy. "Don't worry, you're safe with me."

"Oh, I feel so secure," drawled Buffy sarcastically. Whistler just grinned.

"So, where're we going?"

"No place special. I just needed to get away," answered the slayer absently, already slipping back into her own world.

"Sounds like more fun than any one demon can handle to me."

***

Whistler sighed and thumped his head against the faux softness of the bus' semi-padded headrest. He hated being called into active duty. Yet what else was a reformed demon to do? Besides, he owed the big G a favor, and Whistler always paid his debts. He turned his head sideways to look at his charge. Buffy had zonked out against the side of bus, and her snores were wheezing a counterpoint staccato to the rattle of the vehicle's engines. He smiled. At least this one was female. His last charge, while good-looking, had been a guy, and well, Whistler just didn't go for the guy thing. Of course, he wouldn't ever do anything untoward to Buffy -- G would have his head roasting on a platter, but it sure made for some awesome scenery. Besides, he was almost positive that life would never be dull around the mercurial slayer. Whistler sniffed disdainfully. Vampires -- so boring, it was a wonder he hadn't wasted away to ashes, waiting for Angel to make a move. A memory of what life had been like when he was Angel's Guardian flashed in his mind. Who knew that the kid would have turned out like he did? Terribly ironic that he ended up being a Slayer's Guardian. But when G called, you answered.

A tickle of laughter was quickly clamped down upon as he remembered the first time G had put him to work. Becoming the Betty Ford Clinic for Reformed Vampires volunteer was not what Whistler'd had in mind when he'd switched sides. Then again, being the whipping boy for Baal or Ahzmodial weren't exactly Fortune 500 positions either. So he'd accepted the offer, and set about to locate, and then clean up, Angel, the Vampire with a soul.

He had done the best job he could, educating the itinerant vamp in the ways of surviving on the streets. Ways that would keep him from tarnishing his already blackened soul any further. When Angel had proven that he wasn't going to starve, Whistler took him to Los Angeles and let him see Buffy. All it took was one glance, and the vampire was hooked. They continued to work together, Angel growing stronger every day, until Whistler knew it was time for Angel to go and wait.

No one could have predicted what would happen, though, if he'd thought about it, Whistler might have had a minor clue. Angel was head-over-fangs in love with the slayer, and she returned the immortal's affections. Because of the Gypsy curse, Angel experienced his greatest joy -- his love for Buffy. Because of the Gypsy curse, Buffy's first night of true passion paved the way for her greatest horror -- the monster that was Angelus.

Whistler felt bad for Buffy. It's isn't every high school junior's dream to be able to say that they saved the world by murdering their boyfriend. The demon wondered if fate were having another one of her cosmic jokes on the world.

::San Francisco.:: The voice. His voice. G had spoken, and Whistler now had a destination.

"Hey, Buffy, wake up." He shook the dozing girl gently.

"Huh? Oh, Whistler. I guess those prayers that this would all be a bad dream got lost in the ether. What's up?" Buffy finger-combed her hair and rubbed her eyes.

"Did you have any particular destination in mind, or were you just running away from Sunnydale as fast as you could?"

"Uhm, now that you mention it, no. Not really, I mean I had sort of thought about visiting Kendra's Watcher, to return Mr. Pointy." Buffy patted a slight lump under her sweatshirt. "But after that, I had no real idea of where I'd go. Why?"

"How does San Francisco strike you?" Whistler tried to make it sound casual, hoping that she wouldn't smell a rat.

Maybe she was tired. Maybe she just didn't care. Whatever the case, Buffy shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

"Way cool." Whistler smiled. In SF, he would set her up in one of his many apartments, provide her with enough money for food and clothing and get her access to the libraries so she could continue her slayer education. Oh. Yeah. And he'd help her get her driver's license. After that, he'd vanish into the woodwork and let whatever plan G had work itself out. Yeah. That'd work real well for him.

***

Spend three weeks in San Francisco with a teenage slayer, and you will know the definition of Hell on Earth, thought Whistler, as he waved a last goodbye to Buffy, who was happily watering the plants in her newly redecorated apartment. Well, at least she did a bang-up job of cleaning up that dump. Buffy had taken the ex-demon's sparsely furnished "lair" and turned it into a comfortable home for one.

There had only been one really huge row between them, and that had been over the car. He wanted to get her something practical, like a sedan or even a small truck, but Buffy wouldn't hear it.

"No way am I going to drive around in some old granny-mobile. I want one of the new VW's. They're efficient, comfortable and best of all, cute." And she'd crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. Whistler had been about to argue, then decided that it just wasn't worth it. So he bought her a brand new, black VW Bug. She was so tickled with it; she forgot herself and hugged him until he couldn't breathe. The demon returned then hug, then smirked inwardly. Guess there are some benefits to this "guardian" business after all…

The only other bone of contention between them was Buffy's duties as a slayer. Whistler wanted her to start judiciously patrolling the area around the apartment, but again, Buffy wouldn't hear of it.

"Whis, I don't want to be the slayer. That's why I left Sunnydale. Let some other poor schmuck be slime-bait for a while. I just want to be left alone."

"Buffy, there is no one else. You're it, you're the 'slime-bait'. Sorry to burst your bubble but…"

"Look, Whis, if there's like some serious trouble, I'll check it out, but right now, if I start waxing vamps left and right, then Giles will find me, and I am not ready to go back yet. Just give me some time, please? I promise you, if the vamps are here, and they're causing trouble, then I'll slay. Okay?"

"Oh, all right."

"Thanks, Whis, you're a real pal!"

It was now three days after that fateful conversation and Whistler was leaving Buffy on her own. He planned to vanish into the shadows, to allow the ley lines that riddled the Bay Area like cobwebs to carry all of the secrets his dark brethren whispered to themselves when they thought no one was listening, to him.

::Market.:: Once again, the huge voice of G invaded his thoughts.

"Market? Which one? There's gotta be hundreds of markets in SF...." Whistler's voice trailed off as the image of Market Street's brilliant neon lights filled his mind. "Right. Gotcha G." Market would be as good a place as any to start "eavesdropping". He scampered off into the shadows.

***

Buffy was almost happy in SF. After all, she had a groovin' car, a license, a bitchin' apartment, and everything she would ever need. Whistler had even arranged for her to have access to a couple of gyms in town so her slayer skills wouldn't get rusty. Not that she had any desire to go hunting vamps, but still, as he'd argued, kicking the crap out of a bag was an excellent way to relieve tension.

A faint melancholy kept the young woman from attempting to contact anyone in Sunnydale, and even the slightest desire to talk to her mother was squashed by the memory of the look of pure disgust that had played across Joyce's face the last time they'd spoken. Willow was the only one she really wanted to call, and she knew that Willow was the only one who wouldn't be able to keep Buffy's whereabouts a secret. No, she was better off just severing all ties.

Tonight, she would go out and enjoy the pleasures that San Francisco had to offer a young lady. She'd heard of a rather nice dance club, sort of like The Bronze, only more so. Which was cool by her. She could lose herself in the music for a while and just forget.

***

Buffy was dressed to kill... well, maybe not kill per se, but she was damned certain she looked good. She stood at the door to her apartment, trying to figure out what it was that she was forgetting. She took a mental inventory. Purse. Check. Cardigan. Check. Car keys. Check. Stake... she patted the area under her left arm where she had carried her weapon of choice for the past two years, and realized that she hadn't bothered to put on the shoulder harness that Xander had given her for Christmas last year. The harness was a curious thing. Part gun holster, part knife sheath and all Xander -- patchwork bits of leather sewn together semi-haphazardly. But she loved the feel of it -- it was like being hugged by a good friend. A comfort. Now she was without it, and that was too odd for words. So, she slipped back into the apartment, dug through her duffel bag, found the harness, grabbed Mr. Pointy and trussed herself up. Her loose-fitting cardigan covered the bulk of it, and her low-cut gown would assure that any bouncer wouldn't be paying too much attention to any accidental stake exposures.

Midnight Kiss was celebrating a re-opening. Nearly a year before, some gang-banger had popped off a chemical bomb and the nightclub had had to shut down. Then, because it's owners weren't exactly in the clear legally, it had changed hands several times until it came to be in the possession of a mysterious woman named Jezebel. The Kiss was said to be the place to go if you were under 18 and bored. No alcohol was served, drugs weren't tolerated and somehow, a strict rule of peace was enforced. Whistler had heard some great things about the club, and he'd passed those rumors on to Buffy before he'd left.

Buffy paid her cover and slipped into the nightclub. It was, in a word, way rad. A circular stage occupied the center of the club's floor, and around that stage; every manner of human danced, writhed or otherwise grooved to the siren-like voice of a stunningly beautiful woman. The song wrapped around Buffy, drawing her in, allowing her to let go and just flow to the music. Some little part of the slayer noted that the stage revolved ever so slowly, so that everyone got a chance to see the band performing. When the stage came around to where she could see the front side of the group, she noted the name stenciled on the bass drum: XeniX.

The young slayer blinked at the odd taste the band's name made in her mouth, and just kept dancing. Her eyes rolled off of the faces and bodies of those around her and her skin seemed unaware of any contact other than the occasional passage of air. There was a break in the music as the guitarist exchanged his instrument for a fresh one, and Buffy stopped to really look at the singer. Tall, dark and gorgeous... how… usual. She thought, somewhat sarcastically. Buffy watched as the singer stepped off of the stage and into the arms of a short, punked out woman who kissed her passionately. Whoa! Now that's not usual. Oh, wait, this is San Francisco. It's kinda cool though, they look so in love… Almost like me and.... Nope, not gonna go there Buff. Tonight is Fun Night, remember? Then the music started up again, and she let herself drift.

She danced for about an hour until the band played a slow song, which made her think of Angel, so then she went to the bar and bought herself a Diet Pepsi and sat down at a corner booth, away from the music and the dancers. Lurking in the corners is definitely not a way to have fun, Buff. She told herself, draining the remainder of her glass. Resolutely, she rejoined the slew of writhing teen bodies. More fast music, more letting her Self go, until she was so tired, that she ended up propped up against a wall, breathless.

"This works." She panted, feeling the sweat drip down her spine, enjoying the numb sensation that had begun to spread over her body. Once again the music ceased as the band took another break, and once again, the gorgeous singer was passionately greeted by the punked out chick. Buffy's eyebrows rose at the length of the exuberant greeting.

"Does that bother you?" A soft, low voice asked.

"Huh?" Buffy whirled around to face the speaker. It was an Asian woman, perhaps a few years Buffy's elder. Her eyes were the color of coffee beans, which created a unique blend with the light tan skin and dark auburn hair. The woman's simple black jumpsuit was not your typical nightclub wear, but the woman made it seem more elegant than sequins, satin or lace.

"I asked if the sight of two women kissing bothered you." The woman seemed amused by Buffy's confusion.

"Well, no not really. I mean, whatever floats your boat and all, right?" Buffy tried for nonchalance, but the truth was, tonight was the first time she'd ever personally witnessed two women swapping spit so... enthusiastically.

"Excellent. I'd hate for any of my patrons to be uncomfortable in my house." The Asian woman nodded slightly and began to walk away.

Patrons? My house? Whoa... that's... "Hey, you're Jezebel, aren't you?" The young slayer asked the departing nightclub owner. She turned around to answer Buffy.

"Indeed. I am she." Before Buffy could say anything else though, Jezebel had vanished into the shadows.

"Way. Weird," Buffy muttered to herself, unconsciously patting her side. Her stake was still in its sheath, ready to be used.

***

Whistler hated Market after dark. Camera-wielding tourists wandered blithely among the street's "regulars": pushers, prostitutes and panhandlers. But this was where G had wanted him to go, and so here he stayed until whatever G wanted him to see manifested.

He'd been counted among the street's "regulars" for almost two weeks when he finally saw why he'd been sent here.

"You got it man? I'm dying for something fresh." A whiny, nasally voice carried over to his sensitive ears. The demon sighed. More druggies looking for their fix.

"Yes, I have it. Two pints, fresh this morning and, don't you just love this color?" A man's voice, suave and soothing carried over. Pints? Color? What the...? Whistler whispered a "no-see-me" incantation and edged closer to the speakers. He heard someone exclaim softly, and then came into view of the trade about to take place.

A handsome, well-dressed Asian man was holding out two bags of what was obviously whole blood and another man, wearing cast-offs and the scent of death was reaching for them. The well-dressed man snatched the two bags away, to the rag-covered man's protest.

"Ah, ah, ah. You know the drill. First you pay, then you play." He smiled, but his lips held no mirth. The scraggly man was nearly shaking with his need, but he managed to reach into his jacket and pull out a small cloth bag. The Asian nearly dropped the blood in his haste to grab the offered pouch. The little man greedily grabbed the now forgotten blood and began drinking it noisily while the larger one opened the pouch and dumped its contents out onto his palm. A stack of thin ivory sheets clacked softly together as they descended from their silk prison. He counted them. There were 16 cards. Whistler watched as the Asian, not a large man, grew to almost 7 feet in height. The vampire, who had been ignoring his dealer, now cowered back in fear, the second bottle of blood dangling forgotten from his mouth.

"Fool! I said I wanted all the cards in Madame Sung Lee's deck, not just most of them!" A large hand reached down and curled itself around the terrified vampire's neck.

"B..bu..but that's what I got, I swear it!" He finally stammered out. The larger man considered the vampire's statement. Then he nodded.

"All right. I believe you." Then he smiled again. If anything, this time the smile was even more feral, and frightening. Obviously the vampire had seen this look on the man before because he began to struggle furiously. The enlarged man just grinned more.

"Please...please Indigo, let me go!" The vampire wailed. "I got you what you wanted."

"Oh, I know that. And I could let you go, but you know, I really like the taste of a recently sated True-blood." The vampire shrieked and began gibbering as the other man's face changed into something rather... draconic... and began to take small, dainty bites of the vampire. Thirty seconds was all it took for the ...man... to eat his... dinner. Whistler suddenly decided he had urgent business... elsewhere.

But now he knew why he... or more likely, Buffy, was in San Francisco.

The Jin Lung had arrived.

***

XeniX left the stage around midnight, but Buffy wasn't ready to go home. So she curled up in one of the unoccupied booths, drank Diet Pepsi, and ate peanuts. She'd been asked to dance by several very good looking young men and surprisingly, a few young women as well. But she'd turned them all down. The taste of Angel's lips was still fresh on hers, and she wasn't quite ready to let that memory fade. She did enjoy dancing though, and she'd even managed to have a couple of innocent conversations with some of the locals. A shy, Willow Jr. type even gave her pretty clear directions on how to get to the city library.

Not that you'll be going to the library -- because you're not a slayer anymore are you, Buffy? Of course she knew she was fooling herself. She knew that if she were to come across a blood-sucking ghoul, the first thing she'd do is stake the bastard. Then, she'd start looking for information, because no matter how much she tried to fight it, she really did enjoy being the slayer. Sure, there was a downside -- boy, was there a downside -- but she was pretty sure that if push came to shove, she wouldn't just hand over her slayer card and handbook. So far however, she hadn't had to disturb her illusion of being "retired".

Buffy was still enjoying her fantasy when a chill settled over her skin like fine cobwebbing. Automatically, her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for it. It was the vamp. She was sure there was one here, she could feel its hunger, insatiable and demanding, sweeping the nearly empty room, seeking a meal. Skipping over sugar-dazed punks and caffeine-high kids, she found him. Almost hidden by the shadows, watching the room, searching for the lone straggler who wouldn't be missed. His eyes fastened on her, sitting alone in the corner booth.

That's right Mr. Leechboy, think of me as a Happy Meal in heels. Follow me; forget the rest of these yokels. I'm great prey. Buffy slid out of her chair, leaving two crinkled bills on the table for the waiter, and exited out the back of the club, and into an alleyway. She walked slowly, as if she were a little bit overwhelmed by a night of sugar-shocking her system. The chill bay wind carried the vamp's "eau de corpse" musk to her, informing her that her prey was close. The slayer reached into her cardigan, took hold of Mr. Pointy and, just as the living-impaired demon put his hands on her, turned around and drove the stake into his heart.

As his dust vanished into the trash heap, Buffy brushed her hands together and said, "Well, so much for retirement."

"I always found retired people to be very boring." A slightly familiar voice said.

Jezebel, the owner of Midnight Kiss, emerged from the shadows. "I must thank you for taking care of that rubbish." She walked closer to Buffy, extending her hand.

"Yeah, well...I can't exactly say it was my pleasure, but it sure beats a sugar funk." Buffy reached to take the woman's hand, and was shocked into dropping it when she felt the familiar warning jolt she got when in the presence of a vamp. In a flurry of moves, Buffy had Jezebel up against a wall and the stake hovering over her chest. "What the hell do you want with me, leech-bag?" She growled.

"Please re-- uh, 'chill out'. I am no threat to you." Jezebel nervously quipped, her early arrogance gone.

"Why should I"

"Because I'm not really a vampire. At least, not completely."

"Oh really? Explain." Buffy still held Mr. Pointy in her right hand, but she backed off some.

"Well, to make a long story very short, my sires are a vampire and a dragon. I have some of the abilities of both races plus I have the pleasure of being able to 'just say no' to partaking of a pint or two of sanguis humanis."

"What?" Confusion marched across Buffy's face and into her voice.

"I'm not a blood-sucking ghoul, I am Jin Lung." Jezebel clarified.

"Wait a second, I'm supposed to believe that Vamp Lite is better than Vamp Regular?" The young slayer tossed her head, flipping a stray bit of hair out of her eyes.

"Yeah. Great race, less killing," the half-dragon replied sardonically.

"Funny. Re-al funny, Jezebel, I'm so laughing." The stake never wavered in Buffy's hand, and Jezebel could feel its sharp point begin to penetrate the scales above her heart. "Now why don't you give me a reason not to turn you into a dust bunny."

Jezebel Shu-jin thought fast. She could just kill the slayer, but that would definitely go against what her sire had taught her about dealing with humans. Besides, she kind of liked the smart mouthed vampire killer. Or she could just shape-shift, but that wouldn't be fair, and Jezebel always fought fair. Now what was it that I'd heard about this slayer recently? If I could just remember, I think... yes! That's it! Angelus.

"Because Angelus was my father," the Jin Lung answered quietly.

"What?" Mr. Pointy dropped to the ground, forgotten. Jezebel breathed a quick sigh of relief.

"Angelus was one of my sires Buffy. The vampire half. My other sire was a dragon. Unlike a vampire, I have the choice, as I said, in what I dine on." Jezebel smiled crookedly. "And you, Slayer, are not on my menu."

"Buffy. My name is Buffy," Buffy whispered. She still couldn't get over that she was looking at Angel's... child? C'mon Buff, she's just pulling your leg. She doesn't look a thing like him. One side of her was saying. But another side was just as vociferously whispering, Look at her eyes, they're the same color as Angel's. And those lips -- just as full and as kissable as his were. But… I don't kiss girls! A third part of her interjected. Who cares! Her mind responded. It's all academic anyway! Buffy clutched her temples; she was getting the beginnings of a horrid headache.

"Buffy? Are you all right? Did the vampire hurt you?" Jezebel sounded concerned.

"No.... no, I'll be fine. I just have a killer headache. I think I need to go home and lie down," muttered the slayer.

"Not if I have anything to say about it you won't. Come on back to the club. I've got a couch in my office and aspirin you can take. Once your headache's gone, you're welcome to go, but I'd hate to see you get into an accident just because your head hurt too much for you to pay attention." Jezebel carefully guided the younger woman back into the nightclub and to her office. Buffy knew she should just walk away, but something about the striking Asian woman caused her to trust Jezebel implicitly.

The couch was very comfy, and the water very wet, and the aspirin very relieving, and before Buffy knew it, she was dozing. Jezebel watched the slayer until she was breathing in the deep, even tones of a heavy sleeper, then slipped out of the office. Her staff was in the process of cleaning out the mess of Midnight Kiss' successful re-opening and XeniX were just loading their instruments into a van. She smiled at the lead singer and her girlfriend, amused at their half-hearted attempts to conceal their wandering hands. Young love -- If there's ever a time when two rational human beings can act like a couple of hormone crazed, oxytocin junkies, then that's certainly it. Jezebel's attention was caught by a small, trench-coated figure sitting in the same corner booth Buffy had occupied earlier. She approached the stranger.

"May I help you?" she asked politely. "The club is closing."

"I know. I'm looking for someone."

"Who might that be?"

"A girl, about 17, walks, talks and breathes attitude."

"Sir, you've just described half of my customers. Would you be a bit more specific?"

"Listen, her name is Buffy. Is she here or not, because I don't have time to screw around, sister," the man finally snarled. Jezebel examined the man closely. The battered brown leather trenchcoat, dirty fedora and bad attitude could only belong to Whistler, the "reformed" demon. And he was rumored to be the Slayer's new Watcher. Jezebel sat down across from the rather rank smelling demon.

"She's sleeping in my office. Is there a reason to wake her?"

"Yes. I need to warn her."

"About?"

"Lady, its no concern of yours," Whistler growled in annoyance.

"If it has to do with someone I've given Sanctuary, then yes, it is." Jezebel wasn't about to allow Whistler to run the show. He started to stand.

"All right, have it your way. I'll just go and wake her up myself."

"You will not!" Jezebel hissed.

"Wake who up?" A third voice inquired. Both Jin Lung and demon turned to look. It was a sleepy-eyed Buffy.

"You." Both replied.

"Me? Why?" She walked over to the table. "Pee-ew! Whistler my man, what did you do, roll around in a trash can?" The demon sniffed his shoulder, then grimaced.

"Sorry. The alleyways on Market aren't the cleanest."

"Uh-huh. So what were you doing in the alleys? Unless, of course, alleys are your thing -- and if that's the case, I'm not sure I want to know." Buffy plopped into the booth next to Jezebel. A weary hand scrubbed at sleep-deprived eyes.

"I thought you were out for the night," Jezebel said softly while motioning to one of the few remaining busboys to bring something for them to drink.

"Naw. I don't sleep so well these days. It's ok. I woke up and it was quiet outside so I thought I'd better be getting my butt home. Then I saw you guys and got curious." Sodas were brought and they all took a few minutes to drink something.

"Now that we're all caught up, I'd like to have a few moments to talk to Buffy." Whistler interrupted. Buffy looked at him like she'd forgotten he was there and Jezebel gave him a "drop dead, Fred" glare.

"So shoot already, Whis," Buffy finally said, after they'd been quiet for a few seconds. Whistler looked at Jezebel pointedly. Buffy shrugged. "She's cool. Go ahead."

"All right. I wouldn't have bothered you but there's trouble. The Jin Lung are here." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Old news. Tell me something new, Whis." He looked shocked.

"You knew? How could you? I just found out this evening."

"Jezebel told me all about it. She's one of them." Buffy said nonchalantly, while shredding a paper napkin.

"Jezebel?" Whistler now gave the nightclub owner a piercing once-over. "Jezebel Shu-jin, daughter of Mai Jin-t'zu?" Jezebel inclined her head.

"Yes." Whistler buried his head in his hands.

"Oh this is too much," He groaned. "Jezebel... your brother Cain is here."

The half-dragon filled the air around her with hissed curses in Chinese.

"Cain is bad?" Buffy asked.

"Way bad," Whistler replied. "He is disliked and feared by all -- demons because he lies even to them, vamps because he is stronger than they are and all the rest because, well because he's bloody damned scary."

"Fun. And I thought San Francisco was supposed to be a great place to vacation." Buffy threw her napkin bits onto the table and rested her head on her arms. "So what are we going to do about it? I mean, I assume that we're doing something about it because you came here, looking for me and I'm the slayer and all..."

It turned out that all Whistler had thought to do was warn Buffy. Which didn't make the young slayer happy. Giles would have had a plan. Or at least, been trying to come up with a plan, but Whistler just dropped the problem of the maniac Jin Lung into her hands and disappeared like he'd just given her a half-dead skunk. After he left, Buffy buried her head under her hands and groaned.

"Why do I get the feeling that things are quieter at the Hell Mouth?" Jezebel placed a comforting hand on the back of Buffy's neck and gave it a quick massage.

"I'm still here. Cain may be the scariest thing on two legs in this town, but he's still my baby brother." Buffy looked up at the other woman.

"Baby brother? Just how old are you anyway?"

"You should never ask a lady her age... but for the record, I'm 98." Jezebel wrinkled her face into a mock-glare.

"Gee, does that make you a Draco-vamp-a-saurus?" Buffy quipped, lifting her head and smiling a little.

"Ha-ha," Jezebel drawled. The waiter who'd brought their sodas earlier approached.

"Ma'am? Everyone else has gone home... I was wondering if..." he stuttered.

"Get out of here, Nico. Jeff's probably worried sick about you." Jezebel made shooing motions at the young man.

"Thank you ma'am." The young waiter bowed and left. Buffy slid out of the booth.

"Well, I guess that's my cue to scram as well. I've got a bed that probably thinks I've forgotten to dent it waiting for me at home."

"May I offer you a ride?" Jezebel also slid out of the booth, escorting the slayer to the door.

"No, I have my own transpo, but thanks." They lingered at the door, neither really knowing how to end the conversation. C'mon Buff, get your butt in gear and get outta here. Jez don't need some teenage idiot loitering around her place. "Well, thanks for letting me snooze on your couch," She finally said.

"My pleasure. Here's my number." Jezebel handed the slayer an embossed business card. "If you need me, just call." Buffy clutched card to her chest and nodded. Then she walked out into the pre-dawn light of San Francisco, wisps of fog trailing behind her.

Jezebel leaned against the doorway, watching as Buffy vanished into the bay mists, rubbing the tips of her fingers together. The skin still held a tingle from where the slayer's fingers had touched hers in the brief instant it had taken to hand over the business card.

"Be careful Jezebel," the half-dragon whispered. "If you play with fire, you're going to get burned."

***

Buffy was too tired to find another place to hang out, but way to keyed up mentally to go home, so she ended up driving along highway one, letting the early morning ocean breeze rifle the hair around her face. The beetle's dash lights illuminated the interior of the car with an eerie glow, and her cell phone mocked her with its easily hard solutions.

She could call Giles.

Could. Call. Willow.

Or her mom, or anyone and say, "I need help." and she knew, knew that she'd get that help. The point was -- did she want that help. Did she want to face everyone in Sunnydale, and have to tell them about.... Oh face it Buff... you just don't want to see their faces when you tell them that you murdered Angel. Even Xander would flinch. Maybe Giles wouldn't, but then, he'd lost his Jenny to the demon Angelus. And then, then they'd know that you really are an irredeemable killer. As bad as or worse than, the scum you slay. And there was the heart of it. Buffy was terrified, deep, deep down in her soul, that she was nothing more than a killing machine. A disposable one at that, if Kendra were any indication of how many other "chosen" ones there really were, waiting in the wings, hovering around like vultures, should she mess up.

She shifted gears, and the comforting weight of Mr. Pointy thunked against her ribs, reminding her that for now, she was still the Slayer. And that she still had a problem.

"All right Buffy, you've had your pity party, now, what are you going to do about this Cain person?" She'd have to work with Jezebel, if the Jin Lung would consent to informing on her brother. And maybe a few hours in the occult section of the library might give her some clues as well. It wouldn't be nearly as complete as Giles' files, but she'd have to make do. She could also use the computer to hack into Willow's files and see whether her best friend had done any more work on the "Guide To the Things That Go Bump in the Night". With the rudiments of a plan forming, Buffy felt the tension that had been plaguing her all evening drift away, and she headed home.

***

Her dreams were a tangled skein of Angel's maniacally grinning face overlapped with the tender peacefulness of Jezebel's face. Each visage would float around her, wrapping her in strands of sticky emotion, until they were whirling around her at impossible speeds. Curious mutterings filling her ears, rising in volume until they were the shrieks of the damned.

Buffy sat up in bed, clutching the empty air.

The alarm clock was blaring, a wall of sound so incoherent that it actually took several seconds for Buffy to realize exactly what the noise was. She reached out a tentative hand and shut the alarm off, then scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Peering blearily at the glowing numbers, she realized that it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and the library closed at six. Buffy tried to jump out of bed, but the blankets, which had wound around her as tightly as a spider's cocoon, tripped her up, causing her to fall flat on her back.

"Whoof! Guess Mom wasn't kidding when she said that I fight demons in my sleep," she croaked while untangling the mess. She finally got up, got into the shower, dressed and ate a granola bar. Gonna have to go shopping... 'fridge's empty. She thought while chewing on the sticky energy bar.

She was out the door and walking to her car by 4:45.

Surprisingly, the traffic was fairly light as she drove to the library. Thank God for small favors, she thought, stopping to let a mother and her flock of children cross the street. It was 5:37 when she walked in the massive double doors. The temperature-controlled environment was infused with the scent of old books, copier ink and thousands of brands of perfume. Finding the occult section was a quest she undertook with a deep breath.

Buffy scanned the row of computers, looking for someone... ah, there. Her eyes settled on a young man, maybe a year younger than her, surfing the web and looking at pages with pentacle graphics. She walked up to his chair and crouched down to catch his attention.

"Hi. Do you think you could like, help me?" She twinkled at him. He looked from the computer screen, to her, back to the computer screen, and then, in a move so fast she knew it would hurt, back to her.

"Uh, uh, uh, yeah! What can I do for you?" he babbled.

"Would you happen to know where the occult section is? I'm doing a report on comparative theologies and I'm afraid I'm new in town." There, that wasn't unbelievable, was it?

"Sure! It's over here." The young man got up, left his backpack on the chair and escorted her up two aisles, over four and around six until they came to a single shelf filled with everything from Sun Signs to The Darke Lourdes Grimoire.

"Thanks." Buffy dimpled.

"You're welcome. If...if you need anything else, I'm kinda interested in this stuff..." he trailed off as she flashed him a brilliant grin.

"I'll keep that in mind." Her hands had already begun flipping through books and she was already ticking them off as useless. He smiled again, wiped his palm on his cut-offs and extended his hand.

"I'm Joe."

"Buffy." She took the proffered hand and shook it quickly, pulling down a book that had immediately caught her attention. Absently she let go of his hand and began leafing through a hardbound copy of Vampyres: A Lexicon by Dr. Wolfgang Von Helsing. Right there, on page 327 was a short paragraph.

Jin Lung

The Jin Lung are perhaps the most vile of all darque beasts because they, unlike the Vampyre can cloak their evil in shrouds of light. They are tricksters and liars, like their Chinese sires, the Elemental Dragons. The Jin Lung is borne of an unholy mating of said Elemental Dragons and a Vampyre. Jin Lung can grow and age like a mortal, and even walk in the sun, but beware, Vampyre Hunter; they are not human, nor mortal. They are Demons of the Strongest Evil.

"Yeah, yeah... demons shmemons, how do I kill 'em?" Buffy muttered to herself, unaware that Joe was still hovering.

"Kill what?" he asked, trying to peek over her shoulder to read the entry in Von Helsing's book.

"Nothing," she replied, slamming the book shut and heading for the exit. Joe stood in the wake of Buffy's wind and glowed.

"Damn, she's cute," he breathed.

***

After the library, Buffy took herself to a nearby park, found a cozy bench and finished reading about the Jin Lung.

Jin Lung can charm a person into believing that they are on the side of the light, but make no mistake Hunters, they seek only your destruction. Now, if you should come across this most vile of beings, I find it most useful to have many vials of holy water mixed with a drop or two of henbane. A sprig of nightshade around one's neck will aid in turning your scent away from their sensitive noses, and will also instill the Hunter with an immortal's strength.

"Who is this guy kidding?" Buffy asked herself after scanning a few more lines of nonsense. Most of the stuff in his treatise was merely doctored up old wives-tales that even Buffy could recognize as being useless. One thing caught her eye though.

A Jin Lung cannot abide the touch of cold iron. Perhaps it is an inheritance from the Sidhe of Ireland, perhaps it is due to the nature of their blood, but never the less, if you truly wish to destroy one of these foul creatures, plunge a weapon of pure iron into it's heart, and it shall fall.

"Ah-ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew they had to have an Achilles tendon, or something like that!"

"Achilles heel."

"What?" Buffy jumped up, spun and nearly knocked over Jezebel, who had just spoken. The Jin Lung quickly dodged the slayer, sitting down on the bench.

"I think you meant an Achilles HEEL when you said Achilles tendon."

"Yeah, whatever." Buffy backed away from Jezebel a bit, Von Helsing's warnings having gotten to her a little.

"He's wrong you know," Jezebel said calmly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. We are not all evil incarnate. Like I said... we have a choice. Some, like my half-brother Cain, choose to be demonic. Others, like myself, choose another way." The Asian woman crossed her legs demurely, looking at Buffy guilelessly.

"Yeah, and how do I know that's how the score really is? For all I know, you could've done some kind of voodoo hoodoo mumbo jumbo and POW, one slayer, corner pocket." Buffy's hands punctuated the air around her with jabs to emphasize her description.

"You could trust me," Jezebel whispered. Brown eyes bored into green. Buffy shuddered. It was too weird. Here was someone who, in so many ways, was just like her Angel. Quiet. Unassuming. Enigmatic. With one, big, BIG difference. She's a she. Buffy swallowed slowly, letting her eyes travel up Jezebel's body from toe to head. A gorgeous she, but a SHE. You don't do "shes", right Buff? She didn't have an answer for herself.

"Trust you? Yeah, sure. I trust you; you play at "friends" and the next thing I know you're a fuckin' raging demon. No thank you. I need some kind of insurance sister. I won't make the same mistake twice." Jezebel winced at Buffy's words.

"Yes, I see your point, Slayer. All right, if you feel that you must have some insurance, then you shall have it. Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Something that if I lie, you'll know it's a lie."

"Does iron hurt you?" It was the only thing she could think of. Buffy bit her lip. She really, really hoped that Jez was being straight with her, because she was starting to like the Jin Lung.

"Yes."

"More than, say, slicing my thumb with a razor?" Now Buffy was curious.

"Yes. That same slice could kill me, if left untreated." Jezebel's voice was pure sincerity and a little fear as well.

"Would you let me cut you, to prove yourself?" This was the moment. Buffy knew it. Jezebel knew it. There could be no hesitations here, or there would never be any trust between them.

"Of course, if that's what it took to convince you that I'm on your side," Jezebel replied softly. She even bared her wrist and held out her arm. "Any time you want." Buffy thought about it. Thought about the little pocketknife in her handbag that her father had given her so many years ago. Thought about how she'd kept it razor sharp, just in case she ever needed to cut something. Thought about seeing a crimson line stain the perfect amber of Jezebel's skin. Then she looked up, and caught the flash of resigned fear on the Jin Lung's face. It was just like the look on Angel's face when she'd plunged the sword into his stomach.

"I trust you," she whispered raggedly, sitting down on the bench before she fell down.

Jezebel put a hand on Buffy's shoulder and asked, "Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

Buffy jerked away and plastered a smile on her face, "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm great. It's just that... well, sometimes you look an awful lot like Angel and it's major freaky, you know?"

"I think I understand. I am sorry. I know that my sire meant a great deal to you. If there's anything I can do to ease your pain, please tell me and I will do it." Oh yeah, Jezebel, you'd do it... in half a heartbeat... elemental spirits of the realm, she's so beautiful.

"Naw, I'll be fine. It's just a slayerfunk. Tonight I'll go bag a couple of bloodsuckers and be as good as new." Buffy shrugged and half grinned.

"All right. Now that we've got that settled, I'd like to ask you something," Jezebel said.

"What's that?" Buffy perked up, funky mood dissipating.

"Are you hungry? I mean, would you be my guest for dinner?" Jezebel tumbled over the words, hoping that they didn't come out sounding as lame as she thought they did.

"Sure," Buffy chirped. "After all, a slayer's gotta eat too. Just -- no steak tartar or anything like that. I'm not a raw meat and bloody entrails kind of girl." Jezebel laughed.

"No, I was thinking more like pizza and be... ah, soda." The half-dragon substituted the non-alcoholic choice as smoothly as she could.

"Pizza sounds great. We can munch at my place. It's not far from here. And don't worry about the beer... I don't like the stuff anyway. Like Xander once said, who wants to drink duck piss?" They both laughed.

***

The ride back to Buffy's place was filled with light chatter as the women got to know one and other better. A smooth camaraderie rapidly developed, each finding something about the other that they enjoyed. Buffy admired Jezebel's clothing taste; Jezebel admired Buffy's nails, and advanced combat driving skills. It didn't take them long to park, and then they were climbing the steep stairs up to Buffy's place. Buffy was almost to the top step when an unearthly shriek echoed down the hall, followed by sound of a door slamming. Leaping up to the landing, Buffy had her stake out and was patrolling the corridor with wary eyes before the half-dragon had even had a chance to react.

There was nothing there. But Buffy could hear something that sounded like a half-strangled kitten crying at the end of the hall. Cautiously, she approached the sound. Lying at the base of the back wall was a fuzzy orange ball of whimpering fur. The stake clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers. Buffy was on her knees and examining the damaged kitten by the time Jezebel had joined her. It had curled up into her hands and was purring loudly as the slayer searched its tiny, emaciated body for any obvious injuries. Other than being underfed, uncombed and attention deprived, the kitten seemed to be unhurt from its flight down the hallway.

"Hey there little guy. You certainly took a crunchin'... Mr. Crunch. That's what you're name'll be." Buffy smiled absently as her hands continued to cradle the now sleeping cat.

"He's very handsome," Jezebel said seriously, offering a hand down to the kneeling slayer.

"Yes he is, and I need a cat anyway. They're great company. Better than some humans and most undead," Buffy replied, allowing the Jin Lung to help her to stand. Depositing Mr. Crunch into the crook of one arm, the slayer reached down and picked up her stake, then lead the way to her apartment.

When she got the door opened, she turned to Jezebel and asked, "Um, I don't have to like, invite you in or anything do I?"

"Only if you want to," Jezebel replied.

"No I mean, like a vamp..." Buffy mumbled, as another one of the complex's denizens walked passed them. "...ire. Gotta say ok before they wander in and shed all over the furniture."

"Ahh... in that case, then no, you don't have to... I am more like the cat... free to come and go as I please."

"Ok, cool." They went inside.

***

The pizza was a delicious memory, Mr. Crunch well taken care of, when Buffy and Jezebel began to discuss their plans on how to defeat Cain, or Indigo, as he was known to his lackeys.

They were sitting on Buffy's couch, feet up on the coffee table and sipping glasses of iced tea when Buffy sighed.

"I'm gonna assume that I just can't go in and perform mass slayage on your brother Jez, so what I want to know is -- how the hell am I supposed to wax this guy?"

"Half-brother, and I'm not sure."

"Oh. Great. Where's Giles when ya need him? He's the Watcher. He's the one who usually comes up with all the plans. Wait, half-brother?" Buffy queried, then cradled her chin in her hands and sighed. She chewed on her lower lip, thinking.

"Yes, half-brother. He and I do not share the same Vampiric Sire." She replied, then said, "We do have one thing going for us."

"Oh? Who is his 'Vampiric Sire', Dracula? And what's that?" Buffy asked, perking up.

"No, I believe he was known as 'The Master' in this world. As for our advantage, it is this." Jezebel reached down beside the couch and into her purse and withdrew a key.

Buffy shuddered and suppresed the nightmare visions the name conjured up, but saved the information away inside of her, to be used to fuel her desire to Slay, if such a need should arise. She took a deep breath and scoffed, "A key? How's that supposed to help?"

"It is not the key itself that will aid, but the contents of what it unlocks." The half-dragon smiled enigmatically.

"Oh? And just what would that be, Dragon Lady?" Buffy reached out to take the key, but Jezebel snatched it away.

"Dragon Lady?" Jezebel's eyebrow rose. "I think not," she harrumphed hautily. Buffy glared at her, then smiled wickedly.

"I don't suppose you Jin Lung are ticklish, are you?" she asked casually.

Jezebel's eyes widened slightly, then she snorted. "Not hardly." But Buffy had seen the half-dragon's flinch.

"Really? Well let's just find out." And she launched herself at Jezebel, wiggling her fingers furiously when they made contact with the Jin Lung's sides. The key went flying, and a good old-fashioned tickle-fest ensued. A few minutes later, both of them breathless from laughter, Buffy sat back and said, "So you lied to me, did you?"

Jezebel looked contrite for about two seconds, then smiled and replied, "Wouldn't you, in my shoes?"

Buffy smirked and then nodded. "Oh yeah, and I'd keep on lying, straight through the helpless laughter. 'Cuz the world just isn't ready for a ticklish slayer." Both women chuckled at that, then Jezebel stopped laughing and looked stricken.

"The key!"

"The key. What key? OH! That key... I think it went this way." Buffy pointed toward the entertainment center then started to crawl over to the area. Jezebel went in the opposite direction, towards the window. Twenty minutes of frantic searching finally turned up the key. Well, actually, Mr. Crunch found the key, and was quietly batting it around under the coffee table when Buffy and Jezebel had just about given up.

"Gotcha!" Buffy crowed, snagging the precious object away from the indignant kitten. Which then found something more interesting to play with -- Buffy's shoelace. The slayer looked at the simple brass key, turning it over in her hands a few times before handing to the other woman. "Here. What's this thing for, anyway?"

"It opens a box," Jezebel replied.

"I never would have guessed," Buffy deadpanned. "What's in the box, Miss 'I'm-so-mysterious'?"

"A weapon of great power," the half-dragon answered in a deadly serious voice.

"Oooh. I like weapons, they give me a happy," Buffy quipped. Jezebel glared. "Oh all right, what kind of weapon is it?"

"It is an ancient sword of my land. A great emperor ordered its forging. It is a blending of all the elements: earth, air, fire, water, wood and spirit."

"Wow. Sounds like something right out of King Arthur."

"Perhaps so. If it is easier for you to think it like Arthur's Excalibur, then do so. And just as Arthur's sword was forged to slay dragons, so can this blade."

"Cool. Does it have a groovy name, too?"

Jezebel said something that came out sounding like, "hiss-click-growl-gnash-hiss."

"And that means?"

"'Slayer of Dragons'," Jezebel deadpanned.

"Oh. Nice name." Buffy grimaced. "So like, where do we find this dragon killing ginsu knife?"

"It is kept at a secret location, and only one person knows that location." The Jin lung leaned back against the couch and drew her knees up under her chin. Buffy scooted up beside her and mimicked the half-dragon's position.

"And you do know this person, right?"

"Of course. Her name is Sung Lee."

***

Whistler was trying very hard not to just step out and wring the neck of the greasy little vamp he was following. The public restroom floor scraping of an undead nightwalker was taking his precious time in going to the lair of Jezebel's brother Cain. Dark time was burning and Whistler knew that if the idiot vampire wasted any more time in reaching his master's lair, he'd have to wait yet another ten days until Cain chose a new errand boy. Whistler had discovered that Cain had a taste for Vampire meat, and the ranks of the blood sucking undead were thinning quickly as the half-dragon assuaged his appetite.

Cain's latest choice was an ex-greaser named Larry, and Larry took his "Chosen One" status so seriously, that he just had to stop and tell every single low life scum he knew of his promotion. Whistler was clinging to the shadow formed by a building and an old beat up Chevy near the industrial side of the bay, when Larry stopped, once again, to greet a friend.

"Oh, great! Of all the procrastinating, lame-assed vamps in the world, Cain had to choose this one. He knows every single being from here to the backside of never!" griped the demon. Whistler settled against the wall, preparing to stay there for a while. Just as he had gotten himself in a comfortable position, the Chevy's headlights popped on, blinding him.

"What the fuck?" he blurted as two strong arms grabbed him. Then the world went black.

***

Buffy and Jezebel spent some more time chatting and then Jezebel got up to leave.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Buffy. I'll come by tomorrow evening to pick you up so that we can go to Sung Lee's place." Buffy walked the half-dragon to the door.

"Why can't we go in the morning?" asked the slayer as she opened the door.

"Because of what Sung Lee does for a living," replied Jez as she walked out of the apartment.

"What is she, an Avon Lady?"

"No, she's a fortune teller in China Town," answered Jezebel.

"You've got to be kidding," drawled Buffy.

"I never kid a slayer," deadpanned Jezebel. Then she began to descend the stairs. Buffy shut the door and locked it, then leaned her head against the cool wood.

"The things I do for humanity," she mumbled. Mr. Crunch appeared from somewhere and began to weave around her legs, mrrowing and purring at her. Buffy crouched down and scratched the orange tabby's gnarled ears. "Well, at least you won't ask me to kill demons in the morning."

"Mrrow?" Golden eyes regarded her and one paw reached up and kneaded her leg.

"Yeah." Buffy picked up the furball and went to get ready for bed.

As she fluffed her pillows and pulled back the sheet, Buffy couldn't help but imagine what the night would have been like had she invited Jezebel to stay.

***

Liquid dripping onto his forehead and sliding down into his collar finally forced Whistler to crack open his eyes.

"Well, look what we have here," said an urbane voice from somewhere outside of the demon's field of vision. "A slimy, dirty rat." Cain stepped into Whistler's view. "I hate rats." A hand, inhumanly taloned, reached down and lifted the demon up, causing a few drops of the liquid to splash onto the floor. The ground smoked briefly, the caustic effects of demon's blood showing themselves. The change in altitude made Whistler's stomach heave, and rainbow hued lights swam before his eyes briefly.

"Can I drink him boss, huh can I?" Larry the smarmy vampire asked petulantly. Cain spun around, causing Whistler to clamp his teeth down against new nausea and pain.

"Quiet!" hissed the half-dragon man. Larry cringed. Whistler winced. Cain turned his attention back to the demon. "So, rat, why were you following my… assistant?"

"Eat me, Cain," spat the demon. The half-dragon slammed Whistler against the wall and clenched his talons tighter around the demon's throat.

"Wrong answer, hell-slime."

Whistler smirked weakly. "Tough shit, half-breed."

Cain's eyes began to glow an unhealthy shade of red. "You know, rat-man, I've never tasted the blood of a hellspawn before. Perhaps it's time I did." The Jin Lung transformed, sending Larry scurrying for a dark corner. Whistler had a chance to get an up close and personal look at the four rows of razor sharp teeth in Cain's mouth before the half-dragon took his first bite.

The crunch of teeth through bone echoed in the room. Then, the sounds of chewing filled the air. Wisely, Larry the vamp ran off into the dawn, fearing the sun less than he did his employer.

"Ptooey! Too stringy." Cain spat out his mouthful of demon and threw the now unconscious Whistler against the far wall. "Larry? Where are you? I'm hungry." The half-dragon resumed his human form and walked out of the room.

***

It was morning, and Mr. Crunch was letting Buffy know that he was hungry.

"NeOW!" he howled, while batting at her toes, needle-like claws extended.

"All right!" Buffy grumped, tossing back the covers. "I'll make breakfast. Sheesh! You'd think you'd pigged yourself into next week with all the pizza scraps you begged off of Jez and I." The kitten didn't have the grace to look abashed, just pranced into the kitchen, purring loudly. Buffy padded out behind him, and rummaged around the kitchen until she found a saucer and some tuna.

"Ne-OWOWow!" exclaimed the kitten when he smelled the tuna.

"Now don't get used to this stuff cat, 'cuz when I wake up and go shopping, it's kitty kibble for you," admonished the slayer as she set the plate down. Mr. Crunch busied himself with stuffing his face and declined to respond.

Breakfast for Buffy was cereal and coffee. A quick shower and twenty minutes in front of a mirror did wonders to eradicate her sleep tossed look. Before she realized what she was doing, Buffy had dressed herself in her "Patrolling Slayer: Don't Fuck With Me" outfit and was out the door and down the stairs.

Late morning traffic in San Francisco was enough to make even the most patient of folks learn to speak a whole new language. Unfortunately for Buffy, she wasn't that patient. Amid multiple honks, middle fingers and loud curses, she maneuvered her VW through the streets until she arrived at another of Whistler's apartments. This one was in a less desirable portion of the city, but the demon claimed that he enjoyed the "atmosphere".

The slayer took in the piles of reeking garbage, empty-eyed drug addicts, screeching children and shook her head wonderingly.

"Atmosphere, huh?"

Buffy's knock on the battered metal door to the demon's apartment went unanswered. She knocked again, harder.

"Come on, Whis. Get your scrawny butt outta bed!" she yelled, continuing to pound on the door.

"Ya lookin' fer that lil' eye-tal-yan guy?" An old woman, drawn out of her apartment by the ruckus, asked.

Buffy jumped a bit then nodded warily. "Yeah. Have you seen him?"

"Not since yesserday. Chile… wot bu'nis ya got with that one? 'E ain't nothin' bot a layabout."

"He's… uh, he's my uncle," Buffy blurted nervously. "I was supposed to take him out to dinner today, because, uh, it's his birthday."

The old woman smiled toothily.

"Ah, such a bright yung thing y'are. A good'un. Well, I hopes ya finds 'im."

"I hope so too," muttered the slayer as she walked out of the building.

***

Whistler came to slowly, allowing his vision to clear before looking around at his "dungeon". Once the spots and flashes cleared, he recognized that he was locked in some kind of unused office in one of the many warehouses that dotted the bay area. Muffled voices trickled in to the room from a door in the north wall, and he strained to hear what was being said.

"I don't care if the Pope is here, just get those damn cards! I must have the full deck by midnight or all is lost!" The growl was familiar -- Cain.

"But sir, the slayer is here. I saw her myself." Another voice, one the demon didn't know.

"The slayer, huh? Well, if she decides to make life interesting, then I shall just have to expand my diet. Now, GO GET ME THOSE CARDS!"

Cain knows about the kid. I gotta get outta here and warn her… Whistler struggled to rise, and when his body wouldn't cooperate, cursed softly. Cain had, in his taste testing of the demon, bitten off a portion of Whistler's left arm and shoulder. Even though the wound itself didn't hurt much anymore, the loss of the limb threw off the demon's sense of balance. A few minutes of concentration, and Whistler was able to stand, somewhat. Wobbling around the room, the demon began to search for a way out of his prison.

Going out the in door was out of the question, but the window above him certainly had promise. The demon concentrated, drew in his will and reached for the sill. Pulling himself up was fairly easy. Perching on the two-inch ledge not too much more difficult, but opening the window was another story. The window was one of the kinds that required a pull-push motion to open it and the lever in the side was rusted shut. Hoping that he'd be able to make it out before the sound of his escape alerted anyone, Whistler grabbed the handle and pulled on it as hard as he could. With a screel of metal on metal, the lever moved. Then he pushed on the frame. Inch by rusted inch, the window opened. So far, so good. He looked down briefly, then jumped. He landed in a garbage-strewn alleyway, than ran off, heading towards Buffy's apartment.

***

Buffy spent the morning searching all of Whistler's favorite hangouts, but there was no sign of the little demon. It was getting close to when Jezebel was supposed to pick the slayer up, so Buffy decided to go home, shower and change.

What does one wear when one is going to meet a fortuneteller for a sword? Hmm… Buffy stood in her room, towel wrapped around her freshly showered body, going through her closet. There wasn't much to choose from, Whistler had only been able to help so much with the wardrobe, but what she did have was fairly fashionable. A pair of beige Old Navy track pants, a white Gap T-shirt and a vintage cardigan of a soft yarn so blue it looked like a slice of midnight was finally decided upon. Navy blue Keds rounded out the outfit, and Buffy was just tying the laces on the deck shoes when her doorbell rang.

"Coming!"

She opened her door, and there stood Jezebel. Buffy's jaw almost dislocated itself when she saw the Jin Lung. The half-dragon was wearing a pair of black jeans, a dark maroon silk blouse and an ankle-length leather trench coat. Jezebel's hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail and she wore a pair of John Lennon style mirrored sunglasses.

"Ready to go?" asked Jezebel.

"Well hello to you too." Buffy grinned.

"Sorry. Hi Buffy. Are you ready to go? I phoned Madam Lee and she has the box. But I'm worried about her. She seemed rather upset -- she mentioned that something important was missing."

"Yeah, just let me grab my jacket." Buffy reached over, grabbed her coat, stake harness and purse from the stand by the door then locked and closed the door. She fumbled the harness and coat on as the two of them made their way downstairs. Jezebel's car, which she'd parked in front of Buffy's VW, turned out to be a dark blue Saturn.

"Your vehicle or mine?" Jezebel pointed to both cars.

"Yours. I've been driving all day."

"Okay."

***

Unlike Buffy, Jezebel was a defensive driver, always staying just a few miles below the speed limit, breaking for dogs, and always remembering to use turn signals. It drove Buffy nuts. They couldn't get to Chinatown fast enough for the impatient slayer. They drove through a slew of streets that the slayer didn't recognize, and finally reached the section of the city where ancient temples and modern skyscrapers co-existed in a strange sort of harmony. Jezebel parked the car, and they got out in front of a small café.

"Food or sword first?" asked the Jin Lung.

"Food. Can't slay on an empty stomach."

"Gotcha."

***

They sat and ordered. Buffy had to force herself to look at anything besides Jezebel's eyes. Those eyes were dangerous -- they led to a soul that sang out to hers in a familiar key. It was a dance, each young woman occupied with their own thoughts and trying very hard not to step on tender toes. Buffy fought a losing battle with a pair of chopsticks, then reluctantly picked up her fork and plowed through her food. Jezebel, eyes twinkling merrily at the slayer's ineptitude with the eating utensil, said nothing, but picked up her own fork and matched Buffy forkful after forkful. Halfway through her plate, the spices caught up with her and Buffy had to set her fork down and reach for the water, at exactly the same moment as Jezebel. Their hands brushed, and spikes of pure heat raced down Buffy's spine. She flushed, and dropped her hand to the table.

"You go ahead," she said, a bit raggedly. Jezebel looked up at Buffy's tone. The slayer's face was flushed, and she was trying very hard not to look the Jin Lung in the eye.

"Thanks," Jezebel said, and smiled winningly. "Would you like some too? The Szechwan sauce is some fiery stuff."

"Sure," croaked the slayer. Jezebel filled both glasses. Buffy watched the water level in her glass rise, watched the beads of condensation roll down the sides of the glass, then, as soon as Jezebel had moved the pitcher away, grabbed the glass and hung on to it like a lifeline. The water tasted good. It was cold -- cold enough to sooth the heat growing in her belly, a heat that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the woman sitting across the table from her.

What the hell has gotten into me? I've never done the "Ellen" thing before, so why should I start now? Is it because she's Angel's child? … Er, make that "offspring" -- there's nothing child-like about Jez. Buffy flashed the Jin Lung a quick glance. No, it's not the Angel thing… and yet it is. There's something completely indescribable about it. Like Angel. Buffy mentally thumped her palm to her forehead. Great! Just great. Why do I always have to fall for tall, dark and mysterious?

"Earth to Buffy."

"Huh? Oh, sorry about that. Just… uhm, thinking up new ways to slay. It's something we slayers have to do you know."

"Uh huh. Well, while you were lost in mental mayhem, you finished your lunch. Are you ready to go and see Madam Lee?" Jezebel had already paid the check and was fidgeting with a plateful of fortune cookies.

"Ooh! Fortune cookies! It's not Chinese until you've read one of these gems of wisdom." Buffy reached for a cookie, cracked it open and read her fortune aloud. "A lucky man is offered love everywhere he goes. A wise man accepts it. Well. That… was… interesting." The slayer crumpled up the paper and stuffed it into a pocket. "Okay, it's your turn."

"Buffy…"

"Aw, come on Jez… it'll be fun. After all, we are going to see a fortune teller, right?" Buffy gave the Jin Lung her most winsome smile.

"All right." She capitulated, cracked open a cookie and read: "A gift unasked for will find its way to you."

"Cool. Now, we can go." Buffy stood, grabbed her purse, and began to walk out.

Jezebel watched the slayer walk away allowing her eyes to absorb every curve of Buffy's well-developed body. "Well, what do you know… they really do come true!" murmured the Jin Lung.

***

Whistler ran as fast as his legs could carry him, but he knew he was too late even before he got to the apartment. The tracer spell he'd placed on the slayer just before leaving her with the apartment was moving away from him, not closer. About two blocks from Buffy's place, the demon stopped and concentrated. A mental picture of San Francisco formed, with himself as a big glowing blue dot. The "tracer" appeared as a red dot.

"Chinatown. Cool, I could use some chow mein right about now." Whistler turned, walked up to the nearest car, touched the door handle, muttered a quick unlocking spell and hopped in. Three seconds later, he was edging into traffic, his shoulder oozing something acidic onto the leather interior of the Jaguar he'd chosen.

***

It took ten minutes to reach Madam Lee's shop-cum-apartment. The sun was just setting when Jezebel opened the door, sending the chime of bells echoing into the ancient storefront. Heavy jasmine incense wafted through the room, burning sticks sticking out of every conceivable orifice in the room. Red candles also dotted the shop; their wax drippings pooled half and inch thick in places. Artifacts from many dynasties shared space with Precious Moments figurines and McDonald's Happy Meal toys. A thick layer of dust covered everything, except for the table and chairs that sat in the middle of the room. On the table was a crystal globe seated on a dragon pedestal, a red-checkered cloth and a scattering of cards. Buffy skimmed her fingers across the scattered cards. Something felt off about the shop… her "spidey-sense" was tingling. She tried to pick up on what it was, but just then, Jezebel called out.

"Madam Lee? Are you in? It's Jezebel Shu-jin." Jez walked further into the store, pushing aside the hanging curtain of dusty beads that led to a set of stairs. Buffy's senses exploded into full warning mode just as a loud crash sounded from the second floor. Buffy didn't think -- she acted.

Shoving the stunned Jin Lung aside, she raced up the stairs to find an old Chinese woman lying in a crumpled heap near a dark red velvet pouch. The window across from the door was smashed out and the room was trashed. Sounds of battle raced up the stairs, but Buffy was stopped from going to Jezebel's aid by a hand on her ankle.

"Slayer… please. A moment… The cards… Tell the Daughter of Dragons that the cards are gone."

"Cards? Whoa lady, I'm here for a sword." But she did kneel down and check the woman over. Someone or rather, something had slashed through the side of her throat.

"Key… on chain. Use it… on the cabinet." Rasped the dying woman, blood burbling up through her nose and mouth. Buffy spotted a chain around the woman's wrist with a small key attached to it. Near the couch was a lacquered wooden cabinet.

"This must be the one." She snapped off the chain and pocketed the key while racing down the stairs.

***

The traffic gods were tossing everything they could in Whistler's way, but he finally made it to where Buffy's "signal" was stationary. The Jag chuffed to a quiet stop right outside of a small business with "Madam Sung Lee's House of Fortune" stenciled on the window. Whistler stepped out of the car and walked around the front, only to be thrown half way across the street by a falling body. Being sandwiched between the body and a Datsun forced the wind from the demon's body, and he could only gape as a "Mr. Universe -- Undead Division" vamp picked himself up and ran away. The driver of the Datsun honked at him and shouted something unintelligible about his ancestors. Whistler picked himself up off of the hood of the car and headed for the door to the fortuneteller's. His hand was just on the handle, when the door exploded outward, knocking him into the Jag.

"It's just not my day," he whined, as he watched three more undead creeps jump through the now open doorway. His shoulder started to bleed again, drops of acidic blood splotching the Jag's chrome-silver finish. He waited. And waited. Finally, convinced that there were no more projectile vamps coming his way, Whistler headed for the shop.

Inside, he found Jezebel lying in an awkward heap in a doorway cattycorner to the front entrance. Kneeling next to her was Buffy, who was trying to wake the unmoving Jin Lung.

"Cavalry's here," he wheezed, then passed out.

***

The scene downstairs was less than comforting for the Slayer. Two vamps had Jezebel pinned to a wall while a third was doing something nasty with a dagger. Dark red blood ran down the Jin Lung's face, parodying tears as the vamp drew his blade under each of Jezebel's eyes.

"Such pretty eyes you have there, prey. I think I'd like to take them home and keep them for myself."

"I have a better idea," Buffy called from the last step. "Why don't I rip out your eyes and feed them to my cat for lunch." Jezebel slumped forward as the vamps stepped away from her body.

"The slayer!" one of them squeaked, and ran for the door. The other two quickly followed his example.

"Wimps," growled Buffy as she caught Jezebel's collapsing form and laid her down in the doorway that led to what looked like a small kitchen. Jezebel's head lolled sideways, revealing three deep gashes in her neck. "Jez!" screamed the slayer. "Oh shit, not you too!" Visions of all of the innocents she hadn't saved flashed before her eyes as she ripped the sleeve off of her jacket. Using the material to soak up the blood, she chanted, "Come on Jez, don't die on me. Don't you die on me you damned draco-vamp! Come on!"

The Jin Lung just choked on blood, sighed once, and stopped breathing.

"Damnit!" cried Buffy, as she slammed her fist down on Jezebel's chest. "Open your eyes, Jezebel, open your eyes!" She shook the Jin Lung, but nothing happened. Buffy heard a noise at the missing door, but she didn't move. Something blocked the light of the street lamps, but she still didn't stop shaking Jezebel's lifeless form.

"Cavalry's here," wheezed a vaguely familiar voice, then a thump forced her to look up. Whistler -- where the hell did he come from? -- was lying at Jezebel's feet, sans his left arm. The ruined remains of his shoulder were leaking something yellow and acidic, as it was eating through the cheap shag rug under the demon's prone body. Buffy just sat there, the bodies of her two friends lying still in the light of the street lamps and fluttering candles. Whistler was breathing shallowly, so Buffy concentrated on Jezebel. The slayer wouldn't let herself believe that the Jin Lung was dead… after all, she hadn't turned to dust. Of course, she really didn't know what happened to dragon-vampires when they died, but she had to try.

She looked Jezebel over. Amazingly, the wounds had stopped bleeding, and the slashes on her neck had even sealed over somewhat. Cautiously, Buffy placed her fingertips on the undamaged side of Jez's neck. She held her breath -- there, faintly was a pulse.

"Thank you, God. Or, whoever," she whispered. "Okay, Buff, think. How am I going to get these people to safety?" Buffy began talking to herself. She looked around, and then noticed that even though the fortuneteller's had been the site of some serious damage, no one was investigating. "This is too weird." People were walking by the doorway as if nothing were wrong. She could even see some of them averting their eyes and skirting the debris purposefully. "Guess I'm on my own then."

"Buffy…" Jezebel's weak voice grabbed her attention.

"Hey, Jez. You're okay now. The bad guys split." Buffy brushed some of the Jin Lung's dark hair away from her face.

"Madam Lee…"

"Is way dead. There's nothing we can do about it." Grief clouded the Slayer's voice.

"The sword?" Jezebel tried to push herself up, but her injuries robbed her of her balance. Buffy caught the half-dragon as she slipped, and ended up lowering Jezebel's head into her lap.

"I got a key. And who said you could go break-dancing?" Jezebel grinned feebly.

"Sorry. I guess I didn't realize how bad I was."

"Are. How bad you are. You've still got some nasty gashes babe. Speaking of gashes, should I take you to a hospital or something? I mean, I know I can't take Whis… he'll have to fend for himself. But you at least look sorta human."

Jezebel shook her head no, then winced. "Ow. No, no hospital for me either. I'm afraid, that upon close inspection, I would not pass for 'human' either."

"Coulda fooled me." But Buffy looked, just to see if she could tell. Just as she was about to give up, Jezebel shifted, and she saw. Scales. Tiny, soft as silk, scales covered the Jin Lung's body.

"See?" asked the half-dragon resignedly.

"Um, yeah. Okay. Hospital's out. Gotcha. But that doesn't change the fact that you're injured and need help. So how can I help?"

"Nothing is wrong with me that a good meal won't fix."

"Meal? Okay, I think I saw I burger place around here… you weren't thinking about a burger were you?" Buffy's voice dropped away as Jezebel slowly closed her eyes.

"No. I wasn't. Remember when I told you that I have the ability to choose my meals?"

"That would be a yes."

"When I am injured, my choices aren't as… numerous."

"Oh. I see. I think?"

"Blood, Buffy. I need blood to heal." Jezebel's voice held a bitter edge and her lips twisted in disgust.

Buffy almost threw the Jin Lung off her lap. Her jaw clenched. Her hands balled into fists. Blood. Jezebel was going to have to kill someone to heal -- to live. Just like the vamps. So Von Helsing was right all along. They were lying, evil tricksters. Buffy could feel her stake; the edge of it just brushed the underside of her left breast. Her hands itched. She knew, without a doubt, she could pull it and drive straight through Jezebel's traitorous heart. So what if she wasn't a true vamp, the stake was honed to a needle point, it would go through. It would kill.

Or.

Or I could let her go out there and drain some poor sap dry. After all, it would be for the "greater good" as Giles has prattled about so often. Or maybe I could go catch some rats. Or find someone's pet cat -- better yet, Mr. Crunch. The thoughts chased themselves around, until Buffy couldn't see anything but blood.

"No."

"What?" Jezebel gasped at the vehemence in Buffy's voice.

"I said, no. If blood is what is going to fix you, then let that blood be mine."

"Buffy, I didn't say…" Jezebel gasped as the Slayer pulled out her pocketknife --cold iron! -- and nicked her own wrist. The cut was small, but deep and blood welled to the surface immediately. Jezebel could smell the iron and coppery tang of human blood -- iron that she would need to heal the damage to her scales. While it was true that cold iron could and would destroy her, there was something about the death metal that could heal in small doses.

The scent was too much for her over-taxed body. She changed, her vampiric side taking over, growing the fangs needed to ingest the Slayer's unasked for gift. I am sorry, my friend.

When Jezebel's mouth closed on her wrist, Buffy fainted. Or something. Because suddenly, she wasn't sitting in the middle of a ruined shop in Chinatown, she was flying. Racing. Screaming. Laughing. Crying. Orgasming. She was every thought and every feeling in a twenty-mile radius and it was fucking incredible. Better than the high she'd gotten off of some illicit pot that she, Xander and Willow had smoked the year before. Better than the killer's thrill she got when a vamp went to dust under her hand. Better than sex. It was just -- better.

And then, she was sitting in a ruined shop in the middle of Chinatown with a beautiful, sleeping woman in her arms.

"Oh. My. God." Buffy's head fell back against the doorframe.

***

Whistler didn't know how long he'd been out, but it had obviously been long enough for his body to start the necessary repairs. Already, his wounds were sealed over and new flesh and bone were growing to replace the parts that Cain had chewed off.

"Buffy…" He looked over at the doorway. The slayer had the half-dragon in her lap, and the half-dragon was feeding off the slayer. Only Buffy didn't look like she was in pain.

"No, I'd say she looks like she's on the best acid trip since Woodstock. Well, I guess it's up to me to secure this place."

It didn't take the demon long. Calling on some favors from the local house spirits and a few minor demons, Whistler had the shop looking almost as good as new. First, the demons cleared the wreckage from the door, while the house spirits switched the stolen Jag's plates with some plates Whistler had for just such an emergency. Meanwhile, Whistler went upstairs and placed Madam Lee's body in a less gruesome position on the couch. When they were done, Whistler thanked his friends and sat down to wait for Buffy to come out of whatever haze she was under.

***

When Buffy finally got control of her brain, the first thing she noticed was that the shop didn't look like a war zone anymore. The second thing she noticed was the deliciously fragrant smell of food, wafting into the room from the kitchenette. Her stomach rumbled impatiently. Weakly, Buffy scrubbed at her face. She felt like she'd just been through an all night study party with Willow and Xander. She needed to eat, sleep and shower, in whatever order she could get those in. Jezebel stirred, snuggling up to Buffy like a cat, and Buffy felt a wave of such tenderness flow out of her to the other woman that her eyes teared up. Tenderly, she brushed the blood-matted strands of the Jin Lung's hair away from her face, taking the moment to caress the light tan skin that was revealed.

She could feel the scales of the half-dragon's skin, and they were soft and cool, like silk. Jezebel leaned into the touch, and Buffy found herself continuing the caress down the woman's cheek, and into the luxuriant hair, feeling each strand slip passed her fingertips. She brushed over Jez's ear, the shell of it sweeping upward in a gentle point. A soft sigh escaped Jezebel's lips and she opened her eyes to gaze up at Buffy.

"If you insist on petting me like this, I'm just going to have to follow you home. Maybe you'll decide to keep me."

"Hmm… maybe. If I feed you will you chew up my plants and pee on my carpets?" Buffy giggled.

"I am housebroken, thank-you-very-much," the Jin Lung replied archly.

"Well, that's a plus." Buffy stretched, yawning. "Dang, I wish I knew why I was so tired. I didn't do anything." Jezebel, who'd been silently laughing, suddenly sobered.

"I'm afraid that's my fault, Buff. You're probably going to be a little tired for a while… and you might want to eat something soon. I … when you fed me, it was like donating blood."

"Oh. Well, okay. I'm sure I can find some orange juice and cookies somewhere."

"How about chicken and dumplings?" Whistler called from the kitchen. Buffy looked into the room. The demon was standing in front of a stove, stirring a pot of food.

"I didn't know you could cook, Whis," Buffy commented as she and Jezebel got up, using the door frame as a crutch.

"I can't. This was on the stove, I just stirred it around a little." He had tied a red-and-whited checkered apron around his waist and his leather jacket was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. His left arm was almost completely reformed now; just his fingers were missing.

"Is it my imagination, or are you missing something?" Buffy asked.

"What this?" Whistler held up his damaged arm. "You should have seen it an hour ago."

"I think I did." Buffy made a face. "As I recall, it made a salted slug look pretty."

"Oh ha-ha young lady." The demon shook his truncated arm at Buffy. "I'll have you know that Cain himself did this."

"Looks like he bit off more than he could chew," Buffy quipped.

"Maybe he just didn't like what he ate," Jezebel chimed in.

Whistler glared at Jezebel. "Are all you Jin Lung so picky about what you eat?"

Buffy and Jez shared a look. "He spit it out, didn't he?" They both asked, simultaneously. Whistler only snapped his jaw shut and turned around, studiously stirring the food around.

"Perhaps we should retrieve the sword Buffy."

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea, Jez." Then Buffy remembered the fortuneteller's last words. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know who the 'Daughter of Dragons' is, would you?" she asked as they started up the stairs.

"I am considered such, by some." Jezebel replied, cautiously. "Why?"

"Madam Lee left a message for you. 'Tell the Daughter of Dragons that the cards are gone.' Mean anything to y…" Buffy was interrupted by Jezebel's shoving passed her. When she got to the upstairs room however, she stood in the doorway, staring at the body of Madam Lee. Silently, she crossed the room, then knelt next to the dead woman. A low keening wail issued from her throat, and she leaned forward and kissed the woman's forehead. Softly, she chanted something over the body, then retrieved a blanket from the bedroom and covered her over.

Tears streamed openly from her face as she turned to face the Slayer. "We are in deep trouble, my friend."

***

"These are the ones." Greed and reverence tinted Cain's voice as he thumbed through the stack of ivory tiles that his minions had presented him with. "I am very pleased with you all, you have done very well. You shall be rewarded handsomely." The group of vampires preened under their master's praise.

"Thank you, Boss." One of them, a vamp known as Dagger replied. "We thought you should know that the slayer saw us." Cain waved him off.

"It doesn't matter. She can't stop me now. Not when I have the Cards of Fortuna." An evil grin spread across his face as he contemplated the stack of cards, idly stroking them with a carefully manicured fingernail. The vamps just chuckled weakly.

Cain shooed them out, then touched a button on his intercom. "Larry? Prepare the Workroom."

***

"Oh Jez, when are we not in trouble?" Buffy put her hands on her hips and shrugged. "It's nothing I can't handle, I'm sure."

"If Cain possesses the Cards of Fortuna, then there may be nothing that can stop him, for he will control Luck itself." Jezebel's eyes were haunted, as if images of a world at her brother's mercy were flashing before her.

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to kill him before he can use them." Buffy studied her nails, buffing them on her shirt. She was trying to project calm, but inside, she was quivering in a corner. The fear was starting to grow into a dark ball of lead in her stomach, but she refused to let it rule her -- she was the slayer, and she would do what she did best -- slay.

Jezebel's eyes narrowed. She had tasted this woman's blood, she had felt the iron of it course through her body. That intimacy gave her insight into the slayer's mind and she knew that most of what Buffy was saying was an act, a bluff. But she let her have her act, because it might be the one thing that saved them from Cain. "You'll need the sword then." She finally said, holding out her hand. Buffy looked at her quizzically for a minute, then comprehension dawned.

"The key! Right. Here it is." The slayer dug around in her pocket and retrieved the small brass key. Jezebel took it and went to the china hutch in the corner of the living area. Quickly, she used the key to unlock the door and remove a long black lacquer box from inside. She hefted the case over to the coffee table, then reverently opened it. Inside lay a sword, sheathed in an ancient lacquer sheath, silk tassels sprouting from the hilt and a fall of red and gold. The sheath was painted; a cloud-dancing dragon pursued by a leaping tiger. Jezebel reached into the box and pulled out a pair of silk gloves. Drawing them on, she lifted the blade out of the box and presented it to Buffy.

Buffy, awed, took the sword and drew it, slashing it about to test the feel. It was perfectly balanced. She felt she could throw it the same way she threw a stake. It was amazingly flexible, bending and flowing with her slashes and parries and it felt alive in her hand. She was caught up in the song of the sword, moving about the room without even realizing it, until she found herself staring down the length of the blade at a very terrified Jezebel.

"Buffy, could you put that away now, please?" Buffy shivered and sheathed the sword.

"What the hell was that all about?" She asked, handing it back to Jezebel and trying not to shudder.

"The blade was designed to kill dragons, Buffy, and I am, as you know, half-dragon."

"Gotcha. Well, at least I know that I'll have an edge when I'm doing the dance of death with your brother." Jezebel put the sword back into the box, then dropped the gloves in after it, and then closed the lid. Wordlessly, she handed the box to Buffy. The slayer took it, and discovered a handle on the side. They stepped out onto the landing, ready to go back downstairs. Jezebel stopped at the doorway and stared at the covered form of Sung Lee.

"She was a friend to my people. She will be remembered with honor always." Buffy reached out and put her hand on Jezebel's shoulder.

"I'm gonna get the guys that did this, okay?"

"Okay." Jezebel flashed a toothy grin at Buffy. "Let's get something to eat."

***

At first, Buffy had gotten the creeps from the idea of eating a dead woman's cooking, but then common sense, and her rumbling stomach had gotten the better of her. Besides, what better way to honor her than to eat the meal she obviously prepared with love and skill? Buffy asked herself as she forked through her plate.

When they had eaten, they went through the house, checking all the corners to see if maybe, possibly, one of the cards had been left behind, but no such luck was with them. It was nearing ten o'clock when they finally left the building. The car that Whistler had stolen was long gone; spirited away by the same beings that had helped him clean the shop and apartment, so they piled into Jezebel's car instead. Whistler drove, as he knew where they were going, and Buffy and Jezebel rode in the backseat, quietly discussing battle plans.

Several times during the conversation, Buffy yawned, and finally, Jezebel asked Whistler how long it would be before they got to Cain's warehouse. Whistler admitted that it was about an hour away, and Jezebel then insisted that Buffy lay her head in her lap and nap. Buffy didn't resist, just curled up and dozed off.

***

She dreamed. Red blood on snow melted into shards of crimson glass and she felt lost. She floated above a deep well, then she could see herself battling Angel that final day, trading sword strokes and taunts equally, both the words and the swords cutting deep. Then he changed and he was Her Angel and not the monster Angelus, and it was too late, it was always too late. She watched herself kiss her beloved deeply and kill him at the same time, felt again the crunch of bone around the steel in her hand and she whispered, "Angel."

***

"Jezebel…" The name, whispered, was almost unheard, but the Jin Lung heard it and heard the longing in the voice that uttered her name and she shook with the force of it. If Buffy were any other woman, any other person in the world, she would not hesitate to answer the siren's call that her soul heard, but she was Buffy, the Slayer, and Lover of her Sire, Angel. Jezebel refused to dishonor her Sire's memory. She refused to take away from him the gift that was the woman who slept fitfully in her lap. But she did so wish that it were different…

***

The hour passed, and they were slowly prowling through the neighborhood that the warehouse was in. Buffy had wakened and was stretching the best she could to get all the kinks out. Whistler stopped the car.

"There." He pointed through the front window. A block up stood the warehouse. A rather unassuming building, dilapidated and in disrepair, but Buffy could feel the aura of ick oozing off of it.

"Everybody ready?" Buffy asked, opening the box with the sword.

"Yes." "Yup." Jezebel and Whistler replied. Whistler even held up his completely healed hand and wiggled his fingers. Buffy checked her stake; it was still there.

"Okay, you guys get the vamps, I get Cain. Easy as pie. Let's go."

"I think I'm gonna go find something a little more dangerous than my hands first, Buff," Whistler said, and vanished down a close-by alleyway. The two women stood in the shadows and waited for the demon to return. An awkward silence settled around them.

Finally, Buffy said, "When you … got your donation from me, I ah, felt something kinda strange. Good, but strange."

"I know." Jezebel replied. "It was… my gift, I guess, in payment for your blood. I don't know why it happens, it just does."

"Is it something that all Jin Lung can do, or just you?" Buffy asked curiously.

"I think it's just me, at least, I've never heard of any other of my kind's donors feeling that way."

"Well, it was quite a trip." Buffy looked at Jezebel for a moment, then stepped in close.

"It kinda made me feel some things that I never thought I'd feel again," she whispered huskily. Jezebel leaned against the wall behind her, begging it for its support.

"I suspected as much," Jezebel replied uncertainly.

"You know Jez…" Buffy and Jezebel were only inches apart, their warm breath mingling and clouding in the air between them. Sire give me strength! Jezebel pleaded internally, desperate to control herself.

"I've been wondering what it would be like to…" Buffy continued.

"Okay ladies, I'm ready to slay." Whistler reappeared, two hastily cobbled stakes in his hands.

Startled, both young women jumped, then became all business. Silently, they joined Whistler, who handed Jezebel one of the makeshift stakes.

The assault on Cain's lair had begun.

***

Quietly, they edged along the side of the darkened warehouse. Only the shuffling sound of feet through street debris gave them any warning as two vampires materialized out of the darkness. One of them was Dagger, the vamp that had marred Jezebel's face.

"Come to give me your eyes after all?" he purred, waving his blade mesmerizingly.

Jezebel did not respond, instead, she became a blur of motion, diving in low and appearing directly in front of the vampire, her stake driven straight into his heart.

"No. I've come to play 'Dust in the Wind' for you vamps," she said, watching without pity as he dissolved. The other vamp turned to run, but Buffy was there, driving her stake in.

"Well, that was easy. I think I could get to like this slaying thing," Whistler stated nonchalantly.

Both women stuck their tongues out at him.

They made it to a side door, and Buffy gently rattled the handle. "Locked. Okay, we do this the hard way." She kicked in the door.

"Gee Buff, I don't see what was so hard about that," Jezebel quipped as she followed the slayer through the ruined door.

"Bite me, Jez," Buffy retorted.

"Don't tempt me." They shared a look. Whistler coughed warningly, and suddenly, they were surrounded by vamps.

"Why don't we bite you, Slayer? Wouldn't you like to know the heady taste of blood? The lure of immortality?" One of them spoke, a dark, tall vampire, one that almost -- almost -- looked like her Angel. But he wasn't Angel, or even Angelus, he was just some flunky to a two-bit psychopathic half-dragon with delusions of grandeur, and that was something that just ruined Buffy's day. Besides, he smelled like cheap cologne and stale cigarettes.

"No thanks, I'd rather just watch you writhe about in surprised agony," she replied, readying her stake.

The fight was brief and brutal, but Buffy managed to break away from the undead pack and make her way over to a door. One solitary vampire stood before it, almost cowering in the shadow of a potted fern.

"I… I can't … let you pa… pa… pass," he stuttered, slinking into view. Buffy looked at him appraisingly. She twirled her stake in her fingers, tapping her foot.

"Move, or die. I don't care which," she finally said. He moved. In fact, Larry ran so away so fast, that he didn't even notice when Whistler shoved his stake through his heart, he was still running when first his feet, then finally the rest of him, turned to dust.

Buffy looked at the door leading to the main warehouse, thought about checking it, and then muttered, "Oh fuck it," and kicked it open.

Inside, illuminated by hundreds of candles, was the biggest, meanest, ugliest dragon she'd ever seen. The fact that he was the first dragon she'd ever seen didn't even register. On her back, the sword began to hum softly.

"Ah, Slayer. Please, come in, come in," hissed the black and red scaled dragon pleasantly. He gestured, and a table and chair appeared in front of him. "Please, sit down."

"No thank you," replied Buffy, warily.

"I insist." And suddenly, she was sitting in the chair, across from the dragon.

"You must be a hit with all the ladies," Buffy snapped, glaring at the dragon. "Let me guess, you're Cain."

"And you are Buffy, making the introduction part of this little game over. Now, are you going to make idle threats regarding my certain doom, or are you just going to let me eat you in peace?" Cain seemed almost bored.

"Somebody sure chowed down his bowl of courage today," the slayer said, rising. "But I'm not about to be dessert." She drew the sword.

The dragon's eyes widened momentarily then regained their impassive half-lidded state. "Perhaps it is my form that bothers you." And he changed; becoming a handsome Asian man dressed in an impeccably tailored Armani suit. "Does this suit your tastes more?" he asked, bringing a chair from somewhere and sitting down. Buffy just stared at him through stone cold eyes. "No. Well then, how about I tell you your future? I can do that now, you know. In fact, I can make your future, Slayer." He snapped his fingers and a deck of painted ivory cards appeared. They lifted into the air and shuffled, clacking together rhythmically. Then, they floated back to the table and one card turned and laid itself down, face up.

"Look, Cain, I'm not really in the mood for games, so just stand up and fight me. I'd like to take a shower some time in this century." Buffy shuffled impatiently, wanting to get away from the weird hokey magic stuff and back to what she was familiar with -- mass slayage. The sounds of battle from the other room had drifted away and Buffy could only hope that her friends were doing well and that soon they would be joining her.

"Again, I insist." The voice, so smooth and urbane wormed its way inside of her brain until she couldn't not look at the table, couldn't not see the card that sat there, innocently mocking her. The Lovers.

It started as just a memory of a touch. Angel's hand on her back as they walked home one evening, and then, she was there, watching her breath frost the air in front of her as his did not. Felt herself shiver from the cold, and then warm when he wrapped his jacket around her, telling her that he did not feel the chill. Then, they were standing outside of her window, and she was telling him goodbye, and he was kissing her, gently at first, then, with more passion.

Buffy tried to fight it, but the card's pull was strong and she missed Angel so much…

Then it was that night, the night, and he was touching her, exploring her, waking such a tidal wave of emotion and sensation within her she was sure that she wouldn't be able to contain it, and then, he wasn't Angel anymore. He was Angelus, and he was evil and he mocked the gift that she had given him.

She hated him more for that than for anything else.

Cain gestured, and another card landed on top of the first. The Tower.

They hated her. They all hated her because her boyfriend, her Angel, had killed Jenny. Had snapped her neck like a twig, leaving her broken body lying in a parody of a lover's bed for Giles to find. She relived it all. The horror of it, the pain of watching someone she loved more than life itself destroy the lives of her friends, and the horrifying realization that no matter what, she would have to be the one to destroy the beast called Angelus, who wore the face of her beloved Angel.

Again, Cain twitched his fingers, a gleeful grin painting his face madly. Death.

Buffy was fighting Angelus, trading sword blows and insults, each cutting in their own way, wounding the other. He was winning and then he was not, and then, he was Angel again and she loved him and hated herself and was so damn certain of what exactly she had to do.

And she did it.

"Angel…" Again, she felt the slide of steel through flesh, again, she saw the look of shock, horror and betrayal that crossed Angel's face as Acathla swallowed him whole. Despair flooded her. She felt as if her soul had fled her body, following Angel down to whatever hell was waiting for him.

The sword in Buffy's hand began to droop, and she began to sink down towards the floor, dejected, wasted, and useless.

Cain nearly cackled with glee as he made to draw yet one more card, to seal Buffy's fate, when a voice shredded through the room.

"NO!" Jezebel, streaked with cuts and bruises, raced into the room. "You leave her alone, Little Brother." Cain made a petulant face.

"Or what, Sister? You'll have our Sire take away my toys? Your threats don't scare me anymore Jezebel - and neither do you." He drew the card. But Jezebel's interruption had been enough to break through to Buffy.

A sword stopped him. "I don't think so, Cain. Today, I am the author of my own fate, and I say, I want a happy ending." The sword dipped, twisted and with blinding speed, came down and shattered the stack of cards.

Cane gaped. "What have you done?" he whispered, stunned.

"I broke your toys. Now, are you going to fight me, or do I get to chop off your head in peace?" she said with a wicked grin lighting her face.

Cain growled something unintelligible and shifted back to his draconic form.

"You know Cain," Buffy said as she dropped into a fighting crouch, deftly tossing the sword from hand to hand, "size isn't everything."

This served only to enrage the Jin Lung further, who sprouted long, vicious fangs and unfurled his huge black and crimson wings. "I have had just about enough of your impudence, Slayer."

"Oh, great now you think you're my father. Not. Shut up and fight me like a real dragon, Cain." He hissed and took a bite at her. She slashed upwards and shaved off a few scales. "Ooo, that was close, wasn't it Cain?"

He spat a ball of acid at her. Deftly, she twisted aside, and the globule struck Whistler in the chest.

"Ewie, ewie, ewie!" Whistler grimaced. "I've been slimed." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the acidic mucus the best he could. There was still a smoking hole in his shirt by the time he was done. "Now look what you've done, you useless bag of piss! You ruined my shirt!" No one mentioned the huge gaping rent in the sleeve of said garment from when Cain had tried to eat the demon earlier.

Jezebel had slipped away, and returned with a katana in her hands. Cain's eyes tracked his sister as she stepped up to be back-to-back with Buffy.

"So you choose your side, Sister. As you wish." He began to pump his wings, creating a massive wind that threw both women off their feet. Buffy tumbled away, keeping her grip on the sword, which had begun to buzz in her ears, whispering in some ancient language words that she could not consciously understand, but could comprehend, none-the-less. Grasping the hilt of the blade in both hands, she struggled to stand.

Jezebel, seeing her actions, began to take half-hearted stabs at her brother's feet with the katana, getting wing buffeted and snapped at for her trouble. The short distraction was all Buffy needed to stand, jump and flip up onto Cain's back. He shrieked, an inhuman scream of rage and fear, when he felt the slayer's weight upon his shoulders.

Cain's tail came up and thumped Buffy square in the back, but she maintained her position, absorbing the blow with a wince. "I'll feel that in the morning," she muttered. "All right it's time to finish this. I'm hungry." She looked down for just an instant to see her companions playing "tag" with Cain, racing in and thumping the dragon wherever he wasn't looking.

Whistler looked up at Buffy, who stood with the sword poised to strike between the dragon's shoulder blades. "All right go Buff!" he shouted, giving her a thumbs-up for courage. She smiled grimly, and shoved downward with the blade.

"It's Father's Day, Cain. Say hello to your Daddy for me." She twisted the blade until it pierced his heart. He choked, gasped, then changed back to his human form. Buffy fell to the floor with a thump, wincing as she felt the bones in her right ankle crunch and grind painfully. Cain lay on the floor, bleeding from the nose and mouth, the sword clutched in his hands. Futilely, he was attempting to pull it out. Buffy stood up slowly and limped over to the dying Jin Lung. Jezebel was already kneeling next to her brother, tears quietly dripping down her face. Buffy put her hand on the other woman's shoulder, silently giving her support.

Jezebel stroked her brother's cheeks, keeping her gaze locked with his as he panted and gasped for breath. At first, he had refused to meet his sister's eyes, but as his breathing got more labored, he looked up. His red-rimmed black eyes narrowed in hatred, and he whispered, "I will not go alone." He then pulled the blade from his body and swung it towards Buffy.

"No!" Jezebel leaped up and threw out an arm to block the blow. Buffy watched in amazed horror as the sword cut right through Jezebel's left arm, severing it at the elbow. The sword and limb clattered to the floor. Jezebel moaned and sank back to the floor, on top of her brother's body. Whistler actually paled at the sight, and took a step away from Buffy who wore a look as if she were ready to kill something.

The slayer knelt next to her friend, her own hurts forgotten as she lifted Jezebel up off of the dead man and laid her out. The wound was gushing blood and Buffy's brain was almost completely blank of what to do.

"Stop the bleeding, I gotta stop the bleeding," she mumbled, searching around for something with which to soak up the blood. Wordlessly, Whistler handed her his own belt. Inspiration -- memory -- whatever it was, struck and she wrapped the belt above the joint of the severed limb and pulled it tight, until the wound only oozed. Then, hoping, praying, that she was doing the right thing, Buffy re-opened the wound in her wrist and held it up to the Jin Lung's mouth. Immediately, Jezebel latched on.

Once again, Buffy was everywhere and nowhere and flying and feeling a million different wonderful emotions at the same time. But this time, she was aware of another presence beside her as she exploded. Jezebel was with her, and together they experienced the effervescent joy of the Jin Lung's gift.

Whistler, holding up his trousers with one hand, rolled his eyes and went off to make sure that Cain didn't have any other surprises waiting for them.

When Buffy opened her eyes, Jezebel's face was just inched from hers, and her forest green eyes were twinkling with mirth and something else.

"That's twice I owe you, Slayer," she said softly, and kissed her. Kissing Jezebel was everything kissing Angel was not. It wasn't better, or worse, but it was different, and it was wonderful, and somehow Buffy found her hands locking around the Jin Lung's head, holding the kiss, deepening it, opening her mouth to invite the warmth that was a soft tongue to come in and dance with hers. Everything else became meaningless as Jezebel slowly kissed her, nibbling on her lower lip, or flirting her tongue over her teeth, or just tenderly pressing their mouths together until they finally broke apart, breathing heavily. Buffy's eyes opened, and the world was different, but the same.

Jezebel's arm had healed over partially, and the Jin Lung had managed to worm her way into Buffy's lap, avoiding the damaged ankle. Cain was still dead, and Whistler was… well, wherever demons go when their pants are falling down. But it was all very different too, there was a crispness to things that hadn't been there before, and Buffy recognized the sensation. It was very familiar.

She felt as if her heart had butterflies attached to it that were zipping it about from flower to flower, tasting of the morning dew, and she knew -- she knew, that was she was feeling was the stirrings of love. And she could not, would not, subject another person to the consequences of loving her. She looked down at the woman in her arms. Jezebel had fallen into a deep sleep. Whistler was somewhere else. Buffy did the only thing she felt was right to do, in the circumstances. She fled. She hobbled outside, and got into Jezebel's car. Apologizing silently to the sleeping Jin Lung, she started it and drove away.

Inside the warehouse, Whistler looked up from buckling the belt and cursed. He couldn't leave Jez here -- she was way too vulnerable. "Good luck, Buff." He whispered. If she needed him, G would let him know.

Buffy drove as if the Furies themselves were chasing her, weaving in and out of early morning Bay area traffic like a pro until she reached her apartment. It was only minutes to shower, change and grab just a small backpack full of things. She took all the money she had, and was out the door and down the block to the bus station by the time people had started to fill the streets, going to and from work. The last thing she'd done was to leave a note on the counter to Whis and Jez.

I'm sorry. Please take care of Mr. Crunch for me, he deserves better than I can give him.

Love,

Buffy

***

The door to her office shushed open, and Jezebel looked up from stroking the purring kitten in her lap. Her arm was now in a sling, the damage to it explained away with a "car accident" that had taken place while she'd gone away on "business". Whistler was standing in the doorway, looking the same as always: black hat, leather jacket, khaki pants and a Hawaiian shirt with an eye-blinding pattern.

"Is she safe?" she asked softly.

"She's gone south, according to my sources. But yes, she's as safe as she could be, under the circumstances," he replied, sitting down in a comfy chair.

"Will she ever go home?"

"I think she will, she's still a seventeen year old at heart."

"Please keep watch over her, Whistler. She is a very lonely young woman."

"I will. It's what I do, Jez. I watch."

"Thank you." She continued to stroke Mr. Crunch, who rolled over to show her his belly.

"What about you, Jez? What do you do?" The Jin Lung looked up, and for just a single instant, a shadow passed over her eyes.

Then, she smiled enigmatically and said, "I protect, Whis. That's what I do."

fin

04/19/99