The Slayer Chronicles: The Sunnydale Years

Chronicle Three: The Rat's Tale

Part Four

by

sHaYcH

(all previous disclaimers apply)

"No, I’m not joking. Angel, when have I ever pulled your leg and been this serious sounding?" Faith asked her boss, frowning at the phone. The dark-haired slayer was in the kitchen, sitting on a barstool and staring at a blank pad of paper.

"Faith, the Magus Vampyr is just a legend," Angel said patronizingly.

"Well that legend looks pretty real from where I’m sitting," Faith said, proceeding to tell the vampire about the two murders.

Angel listened, then sighed. "All right, I’ll see what I can find out. When are you and Cordy coming home? I think Wes is feeling a little overwhelmed by the secretary thing."

"Probably late tomorrow. Mrs. S invited us over for a BBQ and fireworks," Faith said, grinning wickedly. "And you know how I love free food…"

Angel laughed and said, "Let’s not forget the fireworks part of that package. I know how you feel about things that go ‘bang’."

"Yeah, there is that," Faith drawled, twisting the phone cord around her fingers. "Listen, Angel, thanks for looking into that. B and the gang need all the info they can get."

"No problem, Faith. Tell everyone hi for me," Angel said softly.

"I will. Bye." Faith hung up and turned around to face Buffy and Giles. "No go. Angel says that the vampy magic man is a legend."

"Legends don’t leave ritually slaughtered women in their bathrooms," Buffy pointed out sarcastically. "Thank you, Angel. Could you be any less helpful?" she sighed. "It was worth a try, though. Thanks, Faith."

Faith shrugged. "No big. Now, how about we make some grub for our women? Nothing like a good breakfast in bed, even if it is," she glanced at the kitchen clock, "three in the afternoon."

Giles coughed and looked away while Buffy turned and gave him a long look. "Okay, Watcherman… three rules… one: treat her nicely. Two: use protection; I can’t deal with little siblings right now and three: I don’t want to hear any details, all right?" she said, putting out a hand.

"I think I can agree to that quite nicely, Buffy," Giles said delicately, accepting her hand and shaking it.

Then the blonde slayer turned to Faith. "Now, about this ‘our women’ thing…just what did you mean by that?"

Faith shrugged innocently while digging around in the refrigerator. "Get outta here! You mean to tell me that you and Amy girl haven’t hooked up?" She looked up and saw the stunned expression on Buffy’s face. "Oh, come on, like it’s hard to tell that Amy’s got it bad for you? Or that you’re pretty gaga for her as well? Please," she said, pulling out eggs, milk and cheese.

"I think I’ll locate a pan," Giles said, walking to the other side of the kitchen and loudly banging around in the shelves.

"Faith," Buffy said slowly, "there’s nothing going on between me and Amy. We’re just friends."

Faith found a bowl and began mixing the eggs with the milk while Buffy shredded cheese. "Yeah, and I’m a cheerleader," Faith said, adding salt and pepper, then carrying the bowl over to Giles, who was heating a pan. "Wake up and smell the coffee, B," Faith said, holding up a bag of beans. "She wants you."

At that statement, Giles began to hum tunelessly.

Buffy handed the watcher the bowl of grated cheese and then grabbed some bread and butter to make toast. The blonde slayer shot Faith a look. "Hello? Grieving here? Riley, you know, my lover? He died horribly like two months ago?" she said somewhat acerbically.

Faith shook her head. "You’re over him. I can tell," she said with a smirk.

"How do you know that?" Buffy returned acidly. "For your information, not a day goes by where I don’t think about him, miss him…"

"Pshaw," Faith said, waving her hand at Buffy. "Sure, you miss him, but you’re making yourself miss him because you think you have to. I’ve been here what, two days? And in all that time, I’ve never seen you out of Amy’s company till now. So," Faith said, coming to lean on the counter next to Buffy, "tell me you’re not thinking of her right now."

Giles’ humming grew louder, and he started tapping his spatula on the edge of the stove to prove a tempo for himself.

"Of course I’m thinking about her," Buffy snapped as she put the bread into the toaster. "How could I not be since we’re talking about her."

"Whoa, easy there, B. No harm, no foul. Don’t want to rile up them feathers," Faith said casually, smiling cheerfully. "I’m just sayin’ that I’m not as blind to some things as I am to others and right now, all I see is you and Amy, wanting each other. Sorry if I read it wrong."

Buffy hung her head and sighed. "It’s okay. I’m just real touchy because of," she looked up toward the ceiling. The toaster popped, causing them to jump.

Faith nodded knowingly. "We’ll get him B, and we’ll make him pay, just like we always do."

"I know," Buffy smiled and began buttering toast.

"The eggs are ready," Giles said casually, as if he hadn’t heard a word they’d said. "I’ll be in the library should you need me," he added after he’d made a platter for himself and Joyce.

"Later, Giles," Buffy and Faith said simultaneously.

***

Faith quietly opened the door to the guest room and smiled. Cordelia was stretched out across the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around the pillow the slayer had slept on the night before. The blankets were puddled on the floor at the end of the bed and the actress’ long, tan legs were bathed in the afternoon sun.

Carefully, the slayer set the tray down and crept up to the bed. Cordelia stirred, but did not wake. Smiling secretively, Faith slowly sat down on the bed, then stretched out next to her lover. Cordelia sighed happily and snuggled up to the slayer. Faith’s smile softened into a gentle grin as she rested her head against Cordy’s. She wrapped her arms around the actress and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her brunette hair, closing her eyes against tears that threatened to fall.

I am so lucky, she thought to herself, brushing a kiss over the top of Cordelia’s head and stroking her hands down the actress’ arms. The actress stirred and woke, stretching against Faith then rolling over to look the slayer in the face.

"What time is it?" Cordelia asked sleepily.

"Late," Faith said with a smile. "But that’s okay, because you needed the sleep." She leaned in to kiss her good morning, then said, "I made us breakfast."

Cordelia sat up and looked over Faith’s shoulder at the tray. "So you did," she said uncertainly while Faith rolled over and got the food, setting it on the bed between them.

With a certain amount of flourish, the slayer uncovered Cordelia’s plate, revealing the eggs and toast. The actress blinked in stunned surprise. It wasn’t burned, runny or, she touched it with a finger, rubbery. She looked at Faith curiously.

Faith shrugged nonchalantly. "I mixed, B shredded and Giles scrambled. It was a team effort."

Cordelia giggled and took a bite of the eggs. "And a good effort it was," she said around her mouthful.

Faith smiled and dug in to her own plate.

***

Buffy knocked on Amy’s door, then left the tray with the food on the floor and walked away. What Faith had said bothered her and she wasn’t sure she could face the young woman just yet. Instead, she went to the rooftop to see how things were progressing.

The night before, Tara had given the detectives a copy of the house key so that they could come and go at their leisure and when Buffy reached the top, she noticed that the two women were there, standing in front of the bathroom door and talking quietly. Buffy wandered through the garden, stopping to look at the flowers and plants that seemed to grow as she watched them.

Curiosity struck her and she began foraging through the plants until she’d found where the crystal-domed roof of the secret room they had found yesterday was located. She looked into the glass, but could not see the room below. A bird had built a nest on the apex of the dome and it popped its head up and gazed at her curiously.

Buffy sighed and sat down on the dirt, leaning against the glass and closing her eyes. The voices of the two detectives distracted her, keeping her from thinking about Amy.

"Elise, I want to keep this scene open. I have a hunch about these kids…they’re involved with this somehow," Detective Richards was saying.

"Van, we can’t just leave all this mess up here," Detective Manning replied. "It’s going to get quite fragrant soon. I don’t think there’s any reason why they wouldn’t be happy to talk to us whenever we had questions. Miss Walsh did invite us to her party, remember?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. If she was going to have any peace, she needed to get rid of the two detectives. She stood up and dusted herself off, then strode purposefully toward the pool gate.

"Good afternoon, Detectives," she called out cheerfully, opening the gate and walking into the pool area.

"Miss Summers, good afternoon. How is everyone today?" Manning said, coming up and putting her hand on Buffy’s shoulder, gently steering her toward the shaded table.

They sat down and Buffy looked the detective in the face. "We’re hanging in there, you know? I mean, it’s not everyday that you find a mutilated body in your upstairs bathroom."

Manning nodded. "I can imagine. Anyway, the crime scene unit has finished up with its job and Detective Richards and I are pretty sure we’ve seen what we want to see. However, we were wondering if there would be a problem contacting any of you?"

Buffy shrugged uncertainly. "None that I can see. I mean, Faith and Cordy are going back to Los Angeles tomorrow or the next day, but that’s not so far away, right? The Scoo-er rest of us are staying here for school and work and stuff."

"All right, thank you. Is Miss Walsh up and about yet?" Manning asked as Richards came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I think so. Maybe? I don’t know," Buffy laughed. "Sorry, I’m still a little sleepy. That’s why I’m up here, to get some sun and to wake up." Gah, I hate this, Buffy thought unhappily, I wish I didn’t have to dance around the subject with these two. They seem like they’d almost understand about the things that really go bump in Sunnydale’s night.

"That’s a good idea, and this is such a wonderful place to do that," Manning smiled and stood up. "Thanks again, Buffy. We need to talk to Miss Walsh now, so enjoy the sunlight."

Buffy looked up and shaded her eyes. "Okay, see you later, Detectives."

Manning and Richards walked away, followed by the officer that had spent the day guarding the door to the crime scene. Buffy sighed and leaned back in her chair, wondering if she should go ahead and start cleaning up the room, or wait until later.

Riley and Amy’s faces traded places in her mind, dancing around in circles, nearly making her dizzy. It was all very strange and upsetting, Buffy decided. Really, how was she to know how she felt about anyone since she hadn’t really figured out how she felt about Riley. She knew she had cared about him - that was a given. Yet, when he had said he loved her, she had not felt the little zing of warmth in her stomach that meant she was head over heels for him. Not like Angel, or even, Willow.

Buffy knew now that she loved Willow, yet she had come to accept that they would always be better off as friends. Angel - Angel was her soulmate. He completed her in every way; even when he was Angelus, she had been drawn to him. Yet they could never be - his curse prevented their union from being anything more than a deep friendship. She had accepted that and was ready to move on with her life.

Riley, she sighed. Right away, his boyish good looks, endearing smile and hunky body had grabbed her attention. It was his ability to look beyond the person she presented to the outside world that grabbed her heart though. That he was a marine in some secret government agency bent on capturing and harnessing demonic powers for use in weapons manufacturing meant little next to the fact that here, at last, was a guy who looked at her and saw just Buffy. Not "the Slayer" or "that Summers chick who kicks ass" or even "the pretty blonde". He had seemed to see and respond to the person she was inside, something that no one else had ever done before.

And I fell for that, Buffy realized. I needed his love because it made me feel like I was worth something to someone who didn’t care that I was the Slayer, or the ass-kicking chick or the pretty blonde. I needed to know that I was valuable, and he made me feel that way.

Buffy kicked her feet up onto the table and laughed at herself. "God, I am so pathetic," she said to the uncaring sky. "I should have stuck with Parker. At least then we would have both been using each other."

"Parker was an ass," came a softly voiced reply, causing Buffy to nearly leap out of her chair. "And he deserved everything he got!" Willow finished with a finality that brooked no argument.

"Willow!" she blurted, sitting up abruptly.

"Whoa, you must’ve really been someplace else if I could sneak up on you like that," Willow said, sitting down across from Buffy and opening a can of soda.

Buffy tipped her head back, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I guess I was pretty far away."

"So…anywhere you wanna tell me about, or is it one of those private slayer places that only those in the know can get to?" Willow asked, taking a sip of the soda, then burping slightly.

Buffy let out a short burst of laughter. "No place real special. I was just thinking about Riley…and stuff," she said, sighing heavily.

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess you go there a lot, don’t you?" Willow’s eyes filled with sadness for her friend.

"I’m kinda getting used to it," Buffy said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her crossed arms. "I mean, I meet a great guy and he either turns into a demon, turns into a dick or dies on me." She looked at Willow and frowned. "Is the grass any greener from where you sit?"

Willow laughed and shrugged. "I can’t compare them, Buff. I mean, I love Tara so much, but I loved Oz too. I’m not sure if it’s a case of one being better than the other." She scooted forward and took Buffy’s hand. "Maybe you just haven’t met the right person."

Buffy squeezed Willow’s hand and sighed. "Or maybe I met the right person and he’s now six feet under."

"I don’t believe that’s how it’s supposed to be, Buffy. I mean, there’s lots and lots of people out there… Hey, I know! Tara and I have been reading up on palmistry…let me see your hand," she said, reaching for Buffy’s right hand.

Buffy sat up and gamely stretched her hand out to the hacker, who bent over it and studied it closely, nodding and "mmhmming" over different lines.

"Well? Am I dead yet?" Buffy joked.

"No, actually, according to this line," Willow ran a finger over a crease, causing Buffy’s hand to close slightly, "you’ll live a long life - though not without it’s scares, as these breaks here indicate." Willow pointed to several small lines that bisected another, longer line on the slayer’s palm.

"Well, that’s nice to know," Buffy smiled, trying to go along with her friend’s efforts to cheer her up.

"And hey, look at this," Willow pointed to another line that stretched across Buffy’s entire hand. "This is your love line, see, here’s where your first love is," she pointed to a tiny line that intersected the larger one, "and another," she moved up the main crease and pointed out another small line, "and then there’s this one," she said, pointing to another line, one that was almost as long as the heart line, that met and blended with the heart line. "This is your true love, the one that will be with you for life."

Buffy pulled her hand back and studied it curiously, then looked back at Willow and snorted in mild disdain. "Yeah, right, you can really see all that in my hand. Thanks, Will, you tried. But, I think I’ll wallow in my own self pity for a while longer."

Willow shook her head and shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy," she said, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

"Yeah, whatever," Buffy replied, turning to look at the bathroom and the yellow caution tape stretched across the doorway. "Did the detectives tell you guys that you could clean up the bathroom yet?"

"Yup. Tara’s still talking to them." She giggled, then leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "We think they’re, you know, a couple ‘n stuff."

"Really? It’s not like they don’t touch and hold hands and all that," Buffy said, laughing a bit.

"Yeah, anyway, Tara thinks it might be a good idea for us to make friends with someone on the police force…could be useful with the slaying and all," Willow said, finishing off her soda and then trying to crumple the can but ending up mangling it instead. "Drat!" Willow said, laughing at herself.

"Oh, give it here," Buffy said, taking the can and crushing it flat. "There, happy now?"

Willow sighed and batted her eyes flirtatiously. "Oh, Buffy, you’re so butch," she drawled and clutched her hands to her chest, "I think I may just faint…"

Buffy laughed and said, "Weirdo."

"But I’m your best weirdo," Willow said proudly.

"Always," Buffy replied, smiling at her friend, then getting up. "Okay, I’m gonna go raid the fridge, if that’s okay? I didn’t eat breakfast."

"You bet, raid away!" Willow made shooing motions and Buffy waved, then walked back toward the stairs down to the main house.

***

A gentle knock at her door woke Amy up. She stood, stretching and yawning, then padded over to see who it was. She opened the door and frowned, no one was there. She looked down and noticed a covered tray. Smiling, she picked it up and carried it into the room.

Amy~

Faith and I made food. Eat and enjoy.

~Buffy

"How sweet, breakfast in bed," Amy said, chuckling to herself as she padded back into the room and sat down on the bed. She lifted the lid and was surprised by the amount of food - it was more than she could eat in two meals. Amy frowned, chewing on her lower lip in concentration. Maybe Buffy had intended to stay and eat with her, but had been called away? She frowned uncertainly. If that was the case, then the slayer would either return when she was finished, or she would not.

"Or she chickened out because she didn’t want to be alone with me," Amy told herself, snorting disbelievingly. "Because, I’m like, so attractive, right?" Amy looked up, looking at her reflection in the dressing mirror on the back of the closet. Her reddish blonde hair stuck out in all directions, making her look like she had been caught in a wind storm, and her teddy bear covered pajamas were rumpled from sleep. "Yeah, right," Amy replied glumly, futilely running her hand through her wild locks. "More like, she couldn’t stand to be around me because I’m such a pain in the butt."

Amy sighed and pushed a bite of cooling cheesy eggs around her plate with her fork. Maybe she should give up on Buffy and just go out with that cute TA of Professor Miriani’s. What was her name? Oh yeah, Michiko. She was nice, and pretty, and sweet, and did she mention pretty? Plus, she had asked Amy out at least three times in the last week alone. Yeah, maybe she should just give up on Buffy and go out with the beautiful Japanese woman…

Going out with someone would mean giving up a night of patrolling with Buffy, though, and Amy wasn’t ready to do that. Especially since Buffy seemed to enjoy her company during the long hours. She sighed again. Well, maybe she would go out with Michiko for lunch. That might work. Now that Amy could talk normally again, Buffy didn’t always come to the school for lunch. Perhaps on Monday, she would accept the TA’s offer.

Amy took a bite of the eggs and made a face. They were cold. She put her fork down so she could get up and put on a robe. Taking the tray, she once again tried to tame her hair down before going downstairs to microwave her breakfast.

***

Buffy wandered into the kitchen just as Amy pulled her now heated plate of food out of the microwave. Amy turned around when the door opened and smiled at the slayer.

"Hey," she said, giving Buffy a little wave, "thanks for the food."

"No prob," Buffy said, smiling and walking over to the refrigerator to look for something to eat.

"Are…you hungry?" Amy asked bashfully, putting the plate back on the tray.

Buffy nodded, moving a bottle of unopened champagne out of the way. "Yeah, I forgot to eat when I woke up."

"Why don’t you share this with me?" Amy blurted, then looked away shyly.

Buffy glanced over at her friend and smiled. "Okay. Wanna eat in here, or in the dining room?"

"Well, uh, I was just…um… gonna go back up to my room and eat in there, but we could eat in here, I suppose," Amy said, scuffing her foot on the ground and looking at the metal barstools that lined one side of the breakfast bar.

"How about in the garden? I think Willow said that there’s supposed to be a nice bench by a fountain somewhere up there," Buffy suggested casually. I hope I’m doing the right thing, the slayer thought to herself as Amy nodded eagerly. I could really start, no, I already do like her, but I could really fall for her…so easily. I feel so comfortable with her. Buffy studied Amy’s sky blue eyes for just a moment before saying, "All right, let’s go look for that bench."

Together, they went to the roof to look for the fountain.

***

It didn’t take them as long as they had expected, since Tara and Willow were already there, sitting on one of the two benches that bracketed the tiny marble fountain. A beautiful sculpture of a woman reaching for the sky as flowers and tree leaves spilled around her was the centerpiece of the white and gray marble fountain, which had no water in it currently.

"I think we should clean this up and see if it works," Willow was saying as Buffy and Amy approached.

Tara nodded, smiling and reaching out to brush a piece of stray hair away from the hacker’s face. "I think so too." She turned and smiled in greeting to Buffy and Amy. "What about you two? Do you think our next project should be making this fountain work?"

Buffy and Amy sat on the other bench and laid out their trays. Buffy studied the fountain for a few moments, trying to see it as her mother would - an object of fine art. Though the sculpture was old and weathered by age, the marble itself was clean of any major cracks. The carving was still as clean and crisp as it had been over one hundred years earlier, when it was new.

"I think it’s worth it," Buffy said decisively, taking a bite of her food.

Amy was tucking in happily, eating in that nibbly mannerism she sometimes had when lost in thought. Absently, she nodded, then wistfully said, "It would be so romantic." The young woman’s gaze drifted over to Buffy, who was obliviously stuffing her face.

Tara and Willow exchanged a brief, secretive glance, then nodded slightly.

"So, Buffy, what’s the plan?" Willow asked, while Tara got up and wandered back downstairs.

"The plan?" Buffy said blankly, bits of egg dribbling down her chin.

Willow giggled and said, "You know, for slayage?"

"Oh, well, I thought we’d covered that…" Buffy said, hurriedly trying to finish her cooling brunch.

"Well, it never hurts to go at a problem from a different angle. See, I was thinking that maybe later, you and I could do a little surfing around the internet. Giles told me that he thinks the Watcher’s Council has a secret site and I want to find it…" Willow said, sliding over on her bench until she and Buffy were sitting knee to knee.

Amy watched as her friends began to plan their afternoon and wondered what she should do. Since today was the Fourth of July, there was no school. A light breeze carried an all too familiar scent to Amy’s hyper sensitive nose. Her face twitched and she sneezed. The smell of rotting blood mixed with the scent of the garden, creating a mixture that was beginning to nauseate the young student. Amy’s face screwed up distastefully and she sighed. That was the one drawback of her chosen career. Recently, she had discovered that her sense of smell was far better than average, which made working around decomposing tissue less than enjoyable.

At first, she had suffered through it, getting along on sheer willpower, but one day the teacher’s assistant, Michiko had noticed her pained grimaces and had offered a wonderful solution - a little mentholated gel dabbed on her upper lip had greatly reduced the nauseating odor of rot. However, her jar of the jelly was in her locker at school, and the smell was here. Amy took one more bite of her now cold brunch and pushed the plate away.

"I-I’m going to go find something to clean up the mess in the bathroom, okay?" she said, swallowing reflexively. Buffy paused midsentence and looked at her friend.

"You okay, Amy?" she asked, concern tingeing her voice.

"I’m okay, it’s just that the smell is kinda icky," Amy said, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Willow nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s pretty rank. You don’t have to clean it up though," the hacker added hurriedly. "I think Tara mentioned something about hiring someone to…"

Amy shook her head. "No, please, let me…maybe I can spot something…another clue or something…" she had to go do something, anything to keep her mind off of Buffy and the absolutely adorable way the slayer had of just looking at her. It was one of those looks that made the young woman feel that everything she said meant something to the slayer…something important.

"Would you like some help?" Buffy offered, moving to stand.

"No!" Amy blurted, backing away slightly. "I mean, no, I don’t need any help, really. Besides, you and Willow should go look for that website…"

Buffy settled back down on the bench glumly. "You’re right. My bad. Sorry Will…but Amy, if it gets to be too much for you in there, promise me you’ll tell someone?"

"I will," Amy said solemnly, then headed toward the gate between the garden and the pool. Buffy watched the young woman until she was gone, then turned her attention back to Willow and web surfing.

***

"Rupert, you really should take a break," Joyce said, coming up behind the hunched over form of the watcher and rubbing his shoulders.

Giles sat up, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. Slowly, he blinked owlishly until he wasn’t seeing lines of crabbed, handwritten text superimposed over everything. He cleaned the lenses of his glasses and said, "I’d really like to, Joyce, but I can’t. I really must find out more about this supposed Magus Vampyr."

Joyce’s fingers continued to work magic, kneading into the knotted muscles and releasing them one by one. "I know, but it won’t matter if you stop long enough to eat something. I made us some lunch."

The two adults had been up since ten in the morning, going through both the Madison books as well as Giles’ own personal collection. It was nearing three o’clock now and Giles knew they would have to quit soon anyway, just so they would have enough time to prepare for the party later at the Summers home.

He sighed and pushed the book he had been looking through away. "You’re right," he said, reaching up to cover her hand with his, then tilting his head up to look at Joyce. "I do need a break."

Joyce smiled sweetly, her blue eyes warming with affection. "Good. I hope tuna is acceptable, it was all I could find in your cupboards."

"It sounds wonderful," Giles said, standing up and going over to pour himself a fresh glass of iced tea.

"Do you always live like a bachelor?" Joyce asked as she served him a plate with a sandwich on it.

Giles settled himself on one of the barstools while Joyce sat on the couch. "Hmm? Oh, no, I suppose not." He looked over at his kitchen and noted the almost bare shelves. "I’ve been holding off on my shopping since I’ll be moving into the Manor soon…" His eyes found the half full box by one of the bookshelves and he shrugged. "It seemed more prudent to live day to day. What about you? Will you be joining our little family?"

Joyce looked down at her glass and smiled wistfully. "I don’t know, Rupert. I’m not really a part of their lives anymore…" She stroked the glass, tilting it back and forth as if trying to read her future in the ice cubes.

Giles wiped his mouth and moved to the couch. "You know that’s not true," he said softly, putting a hand on her knee. She looked up and their eyes met. "You’re a large part of all of our lives. Buffy’s, Faith’s…mine." His voice crackled and he cleared his throat. "I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there when my…parents passed away," he added.

She covered his hand with hers. "It was my pleasure, Rupert."

Their fingers twined together as he slid closer. "Joyce…" he started, then looked away, suddenly shy.

Joyce slipped her hand out from under his and rested it on his shoulder, scratching her nails through the fringe of his hair. "Rupert, I think we both know that there’s something…"

He nodded, then tilted his head down and brushed his lips over hers.

"…Happening," she whispered as he kissed her again.

It was as she remembered, yet nothing like she remembered from the one and only time she had kissed Rupert Giles. Before, they had been under the influence of a spell and had acted with all the youthful intensity of delinquent teens. The embrace still held that power, but was somehow deepened, made more intense by the patina of maturity.

They kissed again, and again, until somehow, her empty plate ended up on the floor. It didn’t take either of them long to realize that the couch was far too small. With surprising strength and grace, Rupert lifted a flabbergasted Joyce up and carried her upstairs, where they discovered that some things are never forgotten.

***

The powers had to have been smiling on Giles and Joyce, because they were at least decent when Buffy called, wondering where they were. Joyce handily took the phone from her flustered lover and calmly explained that she and Rupert had gotten deeply involved with their work and that they would be over shortly.

"Okay mom, I’m thinking this is one of those moments when I nod, smile and let you get away with your oh-so provocative statement. Anyway, the gang’s all here and Xander’s firing up the grill. I’m doing the food thing and we need some stuff from the store," she proceeded to rattle off a list of items, which Joyce dutifully wrote down while Giles cleaned up the mess of books left over from earlier.

As he lifted a particularly ancient volume, a vellum envelope fell out, spraying a scattering of yellowed paper over his feet. He bent over and scooped them up, letting out a yelp of excitement when he did.

Joyce looked up from the phone and said, "What is it, Rupert?"

Giles held out what looked to be the cover sheet. "I think this is the answer to our prayers." The script on the paper was old and mostly illegible, but the heading was clear enough for even Joyce to read.

Two words that jumped out of the strange script that made up the document’s header were, "Magus Vampyr".

 ***

The papers were the talk of the party. Fireworks lay forgotten on an overstuffed chair as everyone gathered around the dining room table to take a stab at deciphering the strange script that covered the pages.

Xander was the first to give up. "Looks a bit like that Aramaic stuff you showed me, Giles, but not, you know?"

Giles nodded. "Yes, that was my first thought as well."

"Well, I haven’t a clue what it is," Buffy said, shrugging carelessly after only briefly glancing at the papers.

Willow, Tara and Amy were talking quietly, but the looks on their faces showed that they, too, were just as stumped.

Anya picked up one of the pieces of paper, glanced at it and shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s some kind of demon language. Probably fifth plane or lower." She squinted at the script, then looked away in disgust. "But of course, I was only a third plane demon, so I don’t understand a word of it. Sorry," she put the page down on the table and walked away.

"That’s okay honey, you tried," Xander comforted, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

"Yes, I’d have to say that in this case, Anya, you’ve been very helpful," Giles said, picking up the page the former demon had discarded and trying to read it yet again.

Faith looked up from snuggling with Cordelia and said, "Why don’t you ask Wes…isn’t he some kind of translation guru?"

Giles considered the dark-haired slayer’s words for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I do believe that languages were his area of study for the Council before becoming your Watcher. I think I’ll give him a ring later and see if he minds helping out."

"We should probably copy these originals too," Tara pointed out as Willow absently toyed with one of the wiccan’s thin blonde braids.

"I can do that," Amy offered, gathering up the documents and placing them into the manila envelope Giles had brought them in. "I need to run down to Kinko’s anyway and make some copies of body charts for class."

Buffy stood up too. "I should probably run a quick patrol before we eat, too."

"Want me to come with?" Faith offered, disengaging herself from Cordelia’s embrace.

"Actually, if you could cover half of Sunnydale while I get the other…" Buffy suggested and Faith nodded.

"Gotcha. Twice the vamps, half the patrol time. Coming, sweet cheeks?" Faith held out a hand to her girlfriend, who allowed herself to be hauled to her feet and into the slayer’s arms.

Cordelia nuzzled Faith’s cheek, then brushed her lips over the slayer’s. "You think I’d let you go alone? Not a chance, lover-mine." They kissed gently, then left the house.

"Want us to come with?" Willow offered, looking first at Tara, then at Buffy.

"Nah, I can do this myself. It’s not exactly full dark yet so I’m not expecting anything funky," Buffy replied, heading upstairs to retrieve her bag of weapons.

"I could use a little help in the kitchen," Joyce said, giving Giles a long look before turning around and leaving. The watcher’s ears turned a lovely shade of pink and he coughed delicately, excusing himself.

Willow and Tara giggled, then got up and headed for the living room to join Xander and Anya, who had curled up on the couch to watch movies.

Amy stood in the dining room, still holding the envelope. She wondered if she should wait for Buffy and drive her to one of the cemeteries, then go make her copies, or if she should just leave and let the slayer walk. She was still pondering this when Buffy reappeared.

"Oh, good, I caught you. Think I could bum a ride?" Buffy asked, shouldering her duffel bag and smiling shyly.

Amy returned the smile and nodded. "Sure, since I’ll be driving the van anyway."

From the kitchen came the sound of laughter, then, "Oh Rupert, don’t be so silly."

"Rupert?" Amy said, eyes widening.

Buffy nodded, only a little shakily. "Yeah, they’ve um…taken up where they left off after that bad candy thing, I think, I’m not sure, but I don’t really want to know for sure because it’s my mom and my watcher and ew, you know?"

Amy laughed as they walked out of the house. "Yeah, I guess it is kinda weird, parents having sex and all."

"Ew," Buffy said, covering her ears and making a face.

"What?" Amy said, opening the van doors.

"You said the ‘S’ word in the same sentence as the ‘P’ word," Buffy explained, climbing in and tossing her bag on the back seat.

"Oh, sorry," Amy replied, starting the vehicle. "Oh, did you want me to meet you after I make the copies? I could carry your bag while you slay…"

That sounded so good to Buffy. She loved spending time with Amy, more than she was willing to admit to, but she also that she was feeling happier than she probably should be, given that her boyfriend had recently died. Some part of Buffy felt that she should feel miserable and should be suffering in the wake of his loss, not feeling ambiguous and uncertain about it, and certainly not feeling all gushy and mushy around someone else so soon.

Even if we sorta weren’t really going out, she thought, sighing a little as the memory of her and Riley’s little "breakup" replayed in her mind. He did apologize before he, she swallowed, expecting a lump that just wasn’t there, died.

I don’t deserve to feel this…content. Buffy told herself firmly, then said to Amy, "No, you go ahead and go back to Mom’s. I’ll call when I’m ready to be picked up."

"Are you sure? I mean, I’m not exactly helpless out there…" Amy said, turning onto the street with the first cemetery that Buffy usually patrolled.

"I’m sure," Buffy said firmly, grabbing her bag and hopping out of the van before it was even fully stopped. "I don’t need your help, Amy," she added in a distant tone of voice, then headed off toward the back areas of the cemetery, where vamps liked to hide.

Amy’s jaw twitched as she ground her teeth in frustration. She slammed her hands against the steering wheel, then backed out of the gravel drive, scattering rocks behind the wheels.

"Damn you, Buffy Summers!" she whispered, voice harsh with unshed tears. "Why’d I have to fall in love with you?"

***

"I’m depressed," Buffy said determinedly to herself as she walked through the cemetery and checked for new graves. "I’m devastated by my loss. Woe is me." There was a distinct lack of sorrow in her voice. She sighed. "Oh who am I kidding? I’m none of those things. What I am is almost happy, which is way better than mostly sad. But," she kicked a rock, watching as it bounced off a headstone and disappeared down a small hill, "I should be wallowing in my pain. I mean, I was upset when he died. And I cried. I cried lots and lots," she sighed, rounding a corner and stopping at a special memorial.

A tiny circle of flowers surrounded an embossed plaque. "Riley Finn ~ Beloved Son ~ 1977-2000". Buffy stared at the tiny photograph of her former lover that was encased in weather-proof plastic and sighed. Right after he had died, she had been so angry that all the government would allow her to do to honor him was this tiny garden. Now, her anger seemed so foreign, as if it belonged to another person in another town. Riley deserved to be buried beside the heroes he had given his life to join, not left to rot in some demon-filled backwater town like Sunnydale.

She knelt down, pulling out a few tiny weeds that had dared to grow in the little garden. "Oh Ry," she said softly, stroking the smooth metallic surface of the plaque and willing a few tears to spill onto his smiling face. "I want to miss you so terribly it hurts. I want to feel like a part of my life has been ripped away by your death, but it hasn’t. I do miss you, Riley, but I miss our friendship more than our love. Is that okay?"

As she knelt there, pulling weeds out of the ground and tossed them away, a strange peace settled over her and she began to feel like she could finally let go of the past and look toward the future - one with someone else. A memory of Riley’s blood soaked body flashed in her mind. Or maybe not, she thought sadly, standing up and kicking away the pile of weeds. I don’t think I could handle losing someone else.

"Guess I get to be the first Slayer nun," Buffy said wryly, walking toward a mausoleum that had an open door.

A shadow broke away from a tree and watched the slayer vanish inside of Sunnydale’s newest vampire nest. Cold green eyes narrowed thoughtfully as pink lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Not the first, but surely the last," whispered the shadow as the sounds of battle began to emerge from the mausoleum.

***

Kinko’s was hardly busy, but it was open, so Amy quickly found a machine and began to make her copies. She copied the parchment documents first, then her body charts. As page after page of diagram charts filled a collation rack, she stared out of the large glass windows and watched as night fell over Sunnydale. Unlike most larger towns and cities, Sunnydale’s streets emptied of its citizens. Even the most oblivious of souls in this town knew that darkness heralded bad things in Sunnydale.

Across the way, college and high school students began to line up to get into the Bronze, the town’s only real nightclub. She spotted Faith’s truck parked up the street, then saw Cordelia walking up to a well dressed young man. The actress struck up a conversation with the boy and Amy frowned, wondering what was up. Vamp, Amy decided after watching the way the young man’s eyes seemed to linger hungrily on her friend’s long, very exposed neck. Or just really horny. She giggled, then stopped, hoping no one had heard her and thought she was crazy. Cordelia and the young man vanished into an alley, confirming Amy’s first suspicion.

Amy’s super-sensitive nose twitched seconds before a low, sexy voice said, "What’s so funny about corpse charts?"

Amy nearly tripped over her own two feet spinning around to face the speaker.

"Michiko!" she blurted anxiously, then blushed and looked away.

The beautiful Japanese woman smiled warmly and laughed. "I’m glad you remember me, Amy. Now, what is it that’s so amusing about these?" she asked, lifting up one of the copies.

"Oh, nothing, I was just, um, thinking," Amy said shyly.

"Anything you’d care to share?" Michiko asked, raising one finely sculpted eyebrow.

Amy shrugged dismissively. "It was nothing, really. So, what brings you, ah, here?" she asked, scooping up her copies and slipping them into the envelope with the others.

The TA held up a huge stack of paper. "Work, actually. Professor Miriani asked me to copy some things and I forgot until late today."

"Oh, well, it’s good you remembered before class, though," Amy said lamely, unable to think of clever or witty things to say to the beautiful woman next to her.

Michiko grinned and shrugged. "Eh, it’s not like Miriani can fire me if I forget, but I like her so I try to be good. Anyway, I spotted you and it occurred to me to wonder what a beautiful girl like you was doing out on the Fourth of July without a date."

"Uh, well, I was making some copies and then…" Amy said, more than a little dazzled by the attention.

Michiko slid an arm around Amy’s shoulder, leaning over to casually whisper, "How about I take you out for a drink?"

"Uh…uh…" Amy babbled, feeling at a complete loss for words. Warm tingles of electricity were radiating from where Michiko’s arm touched her body, making it difficult for Amy to think coherently.

"Is that a yes?" Michiko purred silkily.

"Heyaz Amy girl," A new voice said cheerfully. Amy looked up and spotted Faith and Cordelia heading toward her. Faith’s jacket bore a liberal sprinkling of dust and Cordelia was holding a slightly bloody cloth up to her neck.

"Faith, what’s up?" Amy called out gratefully. Michiko didn’t move, just smiled at Amy’s friends as they approached.

"Oh, well, Cordelia scratched herself and we spotted the van…we were wondering if you still had that first aid kit?" Faith said, giving Michiko an appraising glance. The slayer’s eyes met the Japanese woman’s and for just one instant, Faith felt her ‘senses’ go haywire, but then they subsided into the normal dull hum she felt around any new person.

"Yeah, I do. Michiko, I have to go help my friends, okay? Maybe some other time," Amy said, disengaging herself from the assistant’s arm.

"Sure thing, Amy. I’ll see you in class," Michiko said, smiling sweetly at the blonde student. "It was nice to meet you," she said breezily to Faith as she walked by her, heading for the check out counter.

"Creepy, much?" Cordelia said bitingly, watching the Japanese woman until she left the store.

"Who, Michiko?" Amy said softly, gathering her things and heading up to pay for the copies.

"Yeah, her," Cordelia confirmed, trying to keep the cloth steady against her neck. "She gave me the heebee jeebees."

"You just don’t like her because she looks that good in saffron," Faith kidded lightly.

Amy, who hadn’t even noticed what Michiko was wearing, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she’s cool. She’s Professor Miriani’s TA."

Cordelia frowned darkly. "Whatever. Can we just get this taken care of? It’s starting to itch."

"Sorry, yeah, it’s out here," Amy said distractedly, handing over the money for the copies then leading the dark-haired slayer and her girlfriend to the Mystery Machine.

***

"Tell me again how this happened?" Amy said as she cleaned out the wound in Cordelia’s neck. They were sitting across from each other in the back of the van. Faith was sitting next to her girlfriend, nervously shaking her feet and alternately running her fingers through her hair, trying not to watch as Amy cared for Cordelia.

The actress flushed and looked away while Faith frowned darkly and crossed her arms.

"I told you it wasn’t a good idea," Faith grumbled sourly.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Faith, it’s not that bad. Come on, admit it, my idea worked. So what if I got a tiny scratch in the process." The actress pulled out a compact and looked at Amy’s handiwork. A long, thin red slash that was still weeping a tiny bit of blood ran across her throat and collarbone.

Faith’s eyes were glued to the wound as Amy found a tube of antibiotic cream and smeared a thin layer of the yellowish gel onto the cut. "He had a knife," the dark-haired slayer said, her voice harsh with fear. She reached into her jacket pocket and began methodically cleaning a gun.

Cordelia reached out and put a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s thigh. "I know, and next time I promise I’ll be more careful, all right? I just wanted to help you - be with you," she added softly, moving to lean her head against Faith’s chest, allowing Amy to place a soft gauze bandage over the wound. Cordelia felt her girlfriend tense, then relax, sighing heavily.

Faith wound her arm around Cordelia’s waist and brushed her lips over the actress’ dark chestnut hair. "I know sweet cheeks, and I’m sorry if I’m all mother henny, but he hurt you and…and…and I just want to kill something!"

Amy chuckled and said, "Well, you did stake him, right?" Cordelia and Faith both shot the blonde a look, causing her to smile innocently. "Well… see? You killed something," Amy explained sheepishly.

Cordelia laughed and poked Faith in the side. "That’s true, he’s nothing but dust bunnies now, thanks to you, Faith." She looked down at the weapon that hung so casually from the slayer’s hand and raised one dark eyebrow pointedly.

The slayer rolled her eyes and said, "Can we go find Buffy? I think I need backup against you two."

***

Amy cruised the van around Sunnydale, feeling slightly foolish. Yes, Buffy had told her not to pick her up and yes, she was probably at home, eating dinner and wondering what the hell was taking Amy so long, but the student just couldn’t give up. Patrol with Buffy had become a habit she had a hard time breaking.

Which was why she was driving down a dark street. A very dark street with hardly anyone else on it, except for that hunched over, lumpy looking fellow with the sword who was getting larger and lumpier by the second.

"Shit," Amy cursed, and threw the van into reverse, burning rubber to get away. The creature chased her all the way out to the main street, howling and blubbering the whole way. As she pulled out into traffic, Amy saw it hit the hood of a car, then roll off and run away.

"Close call?"

Amy screetched and turned to see Buffy standing at the passenger door. "Buffy! You scared me!"

"Sorry, my bad. Can I still have a lift?" Buffy asked, holding up a bloodied arm. A wicked looking gash ran down the length of her forearm.

"Of course you can! Geeze, Buffy get in here!" Amy exclaimed leaning over to open the door for the injured slayer. Buffy gratefully climbed in.

"Thanks. Some big lumpy thing with a sword and a bad attitude ran smack dab into me, hit me and vanished. Stupid demons," Buffy growled, reaching back for the first aid kit and a wad of gauze. She noticed the pile of bloody gauze already in the trash. "Did Faith get hurt too?"

"No, Cordelia," Amy said softly as she maneuvered the van through traffic back to the Summers’ home.

Buffy looked up from doctoring her arm. "Is she okay?" she asked in alarm.

"She’s fine, it’s just a scratch. Vamp with a knife cut her neck," Amy explained.

Buffy winced in sympathy. "Ooo, I bet Faith was not a happy camper."

Amy chuckled. "No, she wasn’t, but somehow I doubt that Cordy will allow her to be upset about it for too long."

"You got that right," Buffy said, meeting Amy’s eyes and smiling.

The van came to a stop in front of the house and Buffy reached out with her good hand, placing it on Amy’s knee.

"How about you fix me up before we go in? I really don’t want to hear the lecture tonight."

"Sure," Amy said, having gotten used to patching up the blonde slayer’s injuries. They climbed into the back and Amy took the time to completely rinse the cut with saline.

"Ooo, that stings!" Buffy hissed, biting her lip.

"I’m sorry," Amy said seriously, though the twinkle in her eye spoke differently. "Perhaps next time you’ll remember that your arm isn’t a shield."

Buffy made a face. "Who made you my mother?"

Amy stopped what she was doing and looked at Buffy for a long moment. "I’m not your mother, Buffy," she said softly, the sparkle in her eyes dying away. "I don’t mean to nag…"

"No, I’m sorry, it just hurts," Buffy said quickly, looking away from the other woman. She half-smiled, half-winced, then shrugged. "Guess my Slayer power doesn’t extend to being an all encompassing pain-killer-slash-bitch-preventative."

The last of the dried blood washed away and Amy hissed in sympathetic pain. "Ow, I can see why you were whining. Apology accepted. Buffy, this is going to need stitches. I should take you to the hospital."

"No! I don’t want to do that. I don’t want my slaying to mess up the Fourth! Can’t you just stitch it yourself? I mean, you are a medical student, right? Haven’t you stitched up bodies or something?" Buffy babbled, wondering if she should just get out of the van and bleed all over the house. Not that her mom would let that happen, but the slayer was torn between letting Amy continue to fix up her arm - something that was more pleasurable than painful, which caused Buffy’s brain to spin in all kinds of directions - and going to the hospital where she’d spend her entire evening being clucked over by kindly old men.

Amy sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, I’ve done some stitching, but Buffy, I’m not a doctor - yet - and even if I was, I’d still say that you should have that looked at."

"Please?" Buffy gave Amy her best pouty look. Amy crumbled.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d stitched up an injury on a person, but she thought there might be something of a difference between a cadaver and a living human. She pulled out a suture kit and a pair of sterile gloves. "I won’t be able to anesthetize you, you know," she said casually as she threaded the needle.

Buffy watched Amy work, swallowing a little. "Is that supposed to scare me? I’m Buffy, the vampire killing machine, I can take it," she said bravely.

"If you say so," Amy said lightly, starting to make the first stitch. She looked up at Buffy, who was biting her lip. The slayer nodded slightly.

"Go ahead, it’s really not as bad as you’d think," she said, voice strained.

Quickly, Amy finished stitching Buffy up, then slathered on a good layer of the antibiotic cream for good measure. Buffy looked down at her arm and whistled softly at the sight of six perfect little lines bisecting the cut. "Nice work, Amy."

Amy looked up from cleaning up the trash and smiled. "Thanks. Um, you should probably take one of those vicodin you have left over from your broken arm - that’s going to hurt soon."

"But they make me sleepy," Buffy complained as Amy finished wrapping gauze around Buffy’s arm.

Amy shrugged diffidently, "It’s your call, Buffy." There was a distant tone in the student’s voice and Buffy wondered why.

"Is something wrong, Amy?" Buffy asked carefully.

Amy sighed and looked out the front window of the van. It was almost completely dark now, and the rest of the gang was probably wondering where they were. "I wish I’d been there, that’s all."

"I’m glad you weren’t," Buffy said harshly, then, when Amy’s face blanched, she added hastily, "I wouldn’t have wanted you to get stuck doing the slaying all night."

"Oh," Amy said softly, unable to look at the slayer.

"Anyway, thanks for fixing me up. I really appreciate it." Buffy leaned over and gave Amy an awkward one-armed hug. Amy returned the embrace, and if they held on to each other just a tad longer than they really should have, neither made a mention of it.

***

"Ooo-ah, that was a real pretty one," Anya droned as Giles lit off yet another of the multitude of fireworks that had miraculously appeared at the Summers BBQ. Xander leaned over and whispered something to her, causing her to smile happily.

Joyce was talking to a couple of her neighbors over the fence while Faith displayed a new skill by juggling plastic bottles of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise.

Cordelia and Buffy exchanged jibes about their respective injuries.

"Mine hurts more," Buffy said, "because I got stitches!" She peeled back the gauze to show off her stitches, again.

Cordelia huffed and said, "Mine hurts more because it’s on my neck!" She demonstrated by removing a corner of the bandage.

"Pshaw, I say! Mine is worse!" Buffy countered with a wave of one hand.

Amy frowned and growled, "You two are so awful! You’re both hurt and that’s bad enough!"

Both girls exchanged a look, then shrugged sheepishly, properly chastised.

"Sorry, Amy," Cordelia said contritely, then stood up. "Mine still hurts more," she whispered to Buffy as she walked passed her.

Buffy chuckled and shook her head. "I’m sorry too, Amy." She reached out and put her hand over the other girl’s and stroked it with her thumb. "I know how hard it is to watch those you care about get hurt."

Amy looked down at her feet and sighed. Tears fought to get out, but she held them back. She nodded and turned her head so that she could catch Buffy’s eyes with her own. "I mostly worry about you," she whispered.

They said nothing as another firework went off, filling the yard with the crackling and popping of gunpowder. When it was over, their hands were entwined and Buffy whispered back, "I know." Why do you think I don’t want you to patrol with me anymore, Amy? she thought sadly. The thought of you getting hurt just makes my stomach ache. She sighed heavily, watching as Giles lit off another fountain. But how do I tell her not to come with? She’s so good at helping and I really do enjoy her company. I wish she had night classes! A quick vision of Amy driving home late one night while hoards of vampish stalkers waited to get their hands on the beautiful young woman filled her mind. Oh wait, no night classes! Maybe…maybe I can get her interested in helping Willow and Tara with the wicca thing again? She looked at Amy’s profile as the other girl quietly watched the fireworks explode and sighed. I’m falling again, I can feel it…

Amy turned to say something to Buffy and was caught in the slayer’s gaze. She swallowed. "Buffy," she whispered, amazed at seeing her own desire mirrored in Buffy’s eyes.

"Hey girls, what’s with all the not joining the party stuff?" Faith said from over at the table where she and Cordelia were sitting. A huge plate of brownies had miraculously appeared and everyone was doing their level best to scarf as many of them down as possible.

"Brownies!" Buffy crowed, jumping up to race to the table.

Amy sighed. The moment was gone, lying forgotten on the ground like confetti after New Year’s, but one, tiny, golden green thread of hope grew stronger on that instant, and that was enough for now.

***

A woman’s naked form stood silhouetted in a window that looked out over Sunnydale. Fireworks still dappled the ground and sky occasionally as the woman watched, a sneering smile curving on her lips. She rested a delicate hand on her stomach and stroked the burgeoning life within.

"Soon, my child, soon you will show them all," she whispered as her baby visibly shifted inside of her stomach. She turned away from the window and approached a large bed. A man lazed against sleep-tossed sheets.

"Come here… I want you again," he purred as she crawled over him and settled on his legs. He rolled his hips sinuously and grinned invitingly.

She smiled wickedly. "Not right now, I’m hungry," she said, voice deepening as her face twisted and changed.

He laughed. "Shall I go out and get you someone to eat, darling?"

"No, I think I’d like to dine in tonight," she said, falling upon his chest and sinking her fangs deep into his neck.

The other vampire shrieked raggedly, then fell silent as a strange lassitude settled over him. A low, whirring sound filled the area around the woman as she fed, lasting until the body below her turned to dust.

The woman sat up and delicately wiped her mouth. "Tasty," she commented, belching lightly. She laid back against the pillows and wriggled around, enjoying the delicious feel of the sheets against her naked skin. The fine sand of the dead vampire powdered over her flesh, speckling her with a light gray ash. She had always loved the feel of death, even before it had embraced her. Slowly, she ran her hands down her body, over her breasts and stomach, rubbing softly. The skin over her belly rippled and began to glow.

"Yes," she purred in a deeply sexy tone, "grow little one, grow fast so you can seize what is yours." The woman’s head shot back and a scream of pure ecstasy was ripped from her throat as her stomach distended, giving her the appearance of a woman well into her first trimester.

When it was over, she rolled over and went to sleep, a smile of pure contentment on her ruby red lips.

***

"Here, have another bite," Willow teased as she held a bit of brownie just millimeters from Tara’s mouth. The blonde wiccan laughed and leaned forward, wrapping her lips around Willow’s fingers and sucking every last crumb of the gooey treat off.

Xander watched, eyes slowly glazing over as Willow and Tara continued to feed each other in this manner. Anya finally had enough and elbowed him in the stomach.

"Oof! Whoa, thanks, An," he whispered, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

She gave him a steely cold look and looked down into his lap. "That had better not be all used up by the time we get home, or I will be very unhappy."

He swallowed heavily and squeaked out, "Yes, dear," then ate another brownie.

Willow giggled over the exchange and leaned over to whisper into Tara’s ear, "Shall we test his convictions?"

Tara’s eyes widened. "Willow," she whispered back, "when did you get a wicked streak?"

Willow smirked. "Right around the time I started to date you. What can I say? You bring out the wicked in me."

"What are you going to do?" Tara asked, just a tiny bit worried, but also very turned on by the tone in Willow’s voice.

"Watch," Willow whispered breathily, leaving a trail of light kisses along Tara’s jaw line. "You’ve got some chocolate on your face, Tara," she said, loud enough for Xander to hear.

To give the young man credit, he didn’t look, but Anya did. Her eyes widened as she watched Willow lean in and dapple little, nibbly kisses over Tara’s cheeks until she reached the wiccan’s lips. Tara, meanwhile, was struggling to breathe properly. Her mouth had parted to reveal just the barest nubs of her fangs - which were covered in chocolate.

Willow nibbled Tara’s lips, flicking her tongue in to brush over the wiccan’s teeth. Tara moaned and reached for the hacker, burying her hands in Willow’s dark red hair and kissing her fiercely.

"Okay, who needs a cold shower?" Buffy said, fanning herself and looking anywhere but at the still kissing wiccans. Her eyes met Amy’s and for just one, brief instant, she wanted so badly to kiss the other girl that she almost did.

Giles and Joyce both winced, then shared secretive looks. Willow and Tara broke apart, grinning like fools.

"I think it worked, a little," Willow whispered to Tara.

"Yeah," Tara replied softly, nuzzling her head against Willow’s. "Just on the wrong people," she indicated the highly flushed faces of Buffy and Anya.

Willow covered her mouth and snorted softly, then kissed Tara again. "Love you," she said when they parted.

"Love you too," Tara replied.

Xander sighed and complained, "I always miss the fun stuff," and sighed heavily.

Anya stood up and grabbed his hand. "Come on honey, we’re going home and having sex now," she announced loudly.

Faith and Cordelia shrugged, then Faith said, "Looks like this is our cue to take off. G-man, did you call Wes?"

"Yes, I did. He said that he would be delighted to assist," the watcher replied, happy to have a change of subject.

"Wicked cool. So which do I take, the original or the copies?" Faith wanted to know as she and Cordy stood up.

"The copies for now, unless they prove to be difficult to translate," Giles said, stroking his face and leaving streaks of chocolate on his chin. "I’d like to give the document another crack myself."

"Right, okay. We’re out of here then," the dark-haired slayer replied, as everyone stood to give out hugs and good-byes.

***

"I hate holidays," Detective Richards said to her partner as they surveyed the crime scene.

"Ditto, Van," the other woman replied, rubbing the back of her neck and sighing sadly.

A group of teens from the local high school had obtained illegal fireworks and now three of them were dead while the others were suffering from a host of injuries. Of course, none of the still conscious kids wanted to give up who had actually supplied them with the fireworks, so Manning and Richards treated the case like a full homicide.

"I hate it when it’s a kid," Richards growled, dropping the drape over the ruined remains of Jacob Williams and moving on to Theresa Williams. She lifted the cover and recoiled, cursing harshly.

Manning stepped over the body of the boy and took a look, shaking her head sadly when she saw the corpse. "We’ll find him, Van, we always do," she said softly, putting a gentle hand on her partner’s arm. Calm blue eyes met stormy brown as the two women wordlessly leaned against each other.

Richards looked away and ground her teeth in frustration. "If I get my hands on the sonnuvabitch that sold these kids those damned fireworks, I’m gonna feed him to the first vampire I see!" She dropped the drape and strode away to try and talk some sense into the remaining teens.

Detective Manning was roaming around the scene, looking at scorch marks when an elderly woman approached her.

"Yes, can I help you?" she asked, looking up into the kindly face of the woman who patiently waited on the other side of the bright yellow caution tape.

The old woman smiled enigmatically. "Actually, I believe I can help you. I suggest you talk to my granddaughter, Tara, about those hoodlums. She may be able to assist your case." The woman turned to leave.

"Hey, wait," Manning said, walking over and ducking under the tape. "What do you mean? How can Miss Walsh help me?"

The old woman stepped up to Manning and took her hand, "Elise, you know as well as I that Sunnydale is a very unusual place. Trust me when I say that there are those who live here that live in harmony with that strangeness, and I do not mean those that walk the night. My grandchild is one of those people. If you truly wish to catch the persons responsible for this crime, seek her out and ask for her help."

The blonde detective was left speechless. The old woman’s grip was strong, leaving an almost bruised impression on her arm. She blinked, and the grandmothery woman was gone, vanished into thin air.

"Hello?" Manning called out softly, looking around for her visitor. No response. She shined her flashlight down at the ground, and almost gasped. There were no other footprints in the damp earth but her own. "Too weird," she said, rubbing her arm and shivering. The beam from her light bounced off her arm and she felt a cold chill run up her spine. Four tiny bruises - like from fingers - encircled her arm.

"Oh Vanessa," she called out, catching the other detective’s attention.

"Yes Elise, what is it?" Richards replied.

"We’re going to pay a visit to someone tomorrow bright and early," Manning said grimly.

***

Tomorrow turned into almost four weeks when Vanessa was unexpectedly called home to attend her paternal grandmother’s funeral. The day after they returned, they made a beeline for Tara’s house.

The doorbell at Chesley Manor used to be a series of earsplitting bongs. When Tara and Willow moved in, one of the very first things they did was replace the old bell with a newer, more pleasantly toned chime. However, it was not pleasant enough to allay Willow’s grumpiness at being awakened at six am in the morning by two overly cheerful homicide detectives.

Wearily, the two wiccans rubbed their eyes and led the two older women into the kitchen. Spaz, who was lounging in the window, decided that he needed to announce his presence right then and there and raced spastically through the room, then plopped down on Detective Manning’s foot and began violently grooming himself.

"Of all the strange things I have seen in this town, that cat has got to be the strangest," Detective Richards muttered, grabbing one of the barstools and sitting down.

Detective Manning bent down and scratched the orange tabby’s fuzzy ears, causing him to purr loudly. "Aw, I don’t think he’s so strange. He just sees things we can’t, that’s all. Don’t you kitty?" she cooed at the cat, who purred harder.

Tara made coffee while Willow put together a plate of pastries. Soon, the four women were sitting at a small table in the breakfast nook, sharing a small meal while Spaz begged for crumbs at their feet.

Richards looked both Tara and Willow over then, around a mouthful of pastry, said, "You both do the ‘rumpled-just-out-of-bed’ look well."

Tara blushed and ducked her head, causing her hair to spill in a blonde waterfall across her face. Willow grimaced and replied, "Well, some of us don’t get up with the chickens." She cleared her throat and gave Tara an affectionate glance.

Manning chuckled and said, "Oh to be young and hormonal again."

Richards rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we’re here because we have some questions…"

"About the body? We told you everything we could," Willow interrupted, feeling a little nervous. Tara reached out and covered the hacker’s hand with her own and smiled reassuringly.

Manning leaned back and looked into her coffee cup and took a deep breath. "There was a…an accident on July fourth," she started, biting her lip briefly before going on. "Some kids died horribly because of some illegal fireworks. Problem is, we don’t know where they purchased them and none of the kids are willing or able to talk."

"And we can help because…?" Willow drawled slowly.

"I told you we were wasting our time," Richards grunted sourly.

Manning shot her a look, then sighed. "Look, Van and I have been in Sunnydale only a short time, yet we can tell that things here aren’t exactly…normal. Stuff happens here in ways that you just don’t see elsewhere and…well…" Manning shrugged, "a little old lady told me that you," she nodded at Tara, "could help. So, can you?"

Tara and Willow exchanged blank looks. Richards slammed her hands down on the table, startling Spaz, who meowed indignantly and ran away. "I knew that old biddy was just pulling your leg. Come on Elise, let’s go try to catch a killer and let these girls get back to bed."

"No. I can help you," Tara said softly, standing up and walking toward the door. "Come with me."

Manning smiled victoriously while Richards threw up her hands in defeat. "What the hell," The dark skinned detective shook her head. "Just so long as it doesn’t involve sacrificing chickens. I didn’t put up with it from my grandmama and I sure as hell ain’t gonna put up with it from some scrawny white kid."

Willow rolled her eyes and began gathering up the remainder of breakfast, then rushed off to join her girlfriend and their guests in the tower.

***

"Whoa, nice place," Richards said, looking around at the lavishly appointed room that served as the ground floor of Willow and Tara’s tower home.

Tara smiled and sat down on the overstuffed couch. "Did you bring something connected to the person you wish to find?"

Detective Richards looked up from examining the bookshelves that lined the walls. "What do you mean? Like hair or something? Is this some kind of voodoo hoodoo?" the dark skinned officer put her hands on her hips and glared at Tara.

"It’s not voodoo, it’s magic of contagion," Willow explained softly as she located a small box with a pentacle inscribed in the lid.

"Just what is that?" Manning wanted to know.

"Like calls to like," Tara said simply, getting up when Willow nodded. "We’ll show you…unless you don’t have what I asked for."

Richards shrugged. "Guess we’ll have to come back another time."

Manning smiled sheepishly and pulled an evidence bag from her pocket. Several tiny papery fragments - bits of exploded fireworks - were held within. "Something prompted me to bring it," she said by way of explanation. She wasn’t about to say that she’d had a dream where the sweet, kindly older woman had shown up again and all but ordered her to pocket the small bag of evidence.

Tara took the bag and nodded. "These will do." She and Willow headed up the stairs to the second and then third floors of their tower.

"Do you want to go to the workroom?" Willow whispered, casting a glance back toward Manning and Richards.

Tara shook her head, whispering, "No, BJ hasn’t been introduced to them and I’m not sure that they’re ready to handle ghosts as well as magic today."

"Okay, so, we use our old spot?" Willow asked, nodding toward the center of the room where they had performed several spells just after they had moved in.

Tara nodded, smiling brightly. "Yeah. Why don’t you draw the pentacle while I prep the detectives?"

Willow smiled in return then pulled out the bag of specially mixed powder and began laying out a large pentacle.

Detective Richards frowned as she watched the proceedings, whispering, "I don’t think I’m gonna like this too much."

"Relax, Van, it looks harmless enough," Manning said, reaching out and taking her partner’s hand in her own.

"There is nothing to be afraid of," Tara said calmly as she walked up to the two older women. "This is a simple spell that Willow and I will cast for you." She looked away, biting her lower lip. "I don’t really know how to say this, but you may think you’re ready to see magic, when you really aren’t. Please don’t overreact. I swear that nothing will harm you in here," Tara tried to sound reassuring.

Manning and Richards wore similar looks of skepticism, if for different reasons. Richards shrugged stiffly. "Hey, whatever. I’ll be okay so long as this doesn’t involve chickens and blood." The detective shuddered squeamishly, recalling some of her grandmother’s more unique approaches to religion.

"No chickens," Tara agreed, laughing softly.

"It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already seen here in Sunnydale. On the weird-o-meter, I’m sure that your ‘spell’ falls on the low end of things," Detective Manning said, shrugging slightly.

"All right," Tara said, looking over at Willow and noticing that the pentacle was nearly finished. "If you will just stand over here," the wiccan directed the two detectives to a space just outside of the pentacle. "Please, do not, whatever happens, enter the circle," she cautioned, pointing down to the line of sand on the floor.

The women nodded and assumed casually ready stances.

Tara walked around to Willow, who was already within the circle’s confines and stepped across a broken area of sand. She and Willow exchanged glances and then Willow knelt down to close the circle. Tara walked to the center of the pentacle and lit the brazier with a whispered phrase, causing Richards to jump back a foot and exclaim, "Holy… what the!"

Manning just raised her eyebrows and kept her eyes trained on the two girls, suddenly very interested in this "magic" of theirs.

Tara continued to work the spell while Willow added bits of things to the fire, culminating with Tara tossing in one of the fragments of the illegal fireworks. A bell-like tone echoed through the room so loudly that the detectives had to cover their ears. As the echo died away, the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.

An intense beam of light cut through the room. "What the hell happened to the lights?" Detective Richards asked as Manning attempted to find the switch.

"Magickal energy tends to interfere with electrical things," Tara answered, snapping her fingers twice. Two oil lamps on the walls lit, throwing a golden glow over the room. The pentacle was smeared and sitting on the top of the now cooling brazier was a small, egg-shaped reddish-purple crystal. The blonde lifted it up, then stood to hand it to Detective Manning. "Here, this should lead you to the person you seek."

Manning gingerly took the surprisingly cool stone, glancing at it before asking, "How will I know?"

"Just think about finding the person who distributed those fireworks," Tara said while Willow cleaned up.

"Okay," Manning said, closing her eyes in concentration. Her eyes flew open. "I felt a tug!" she blurted in shock.

Richards walked over and snatched the crystal out of her hand. "No fucking way, Elise," she said, closing her eyes and doing the same thing. "Fuck me," she whispered in an almost frightened tone of voice. She turned and looked at Tara and Willow, eyes narrowing. "Just what the hell are you two, anyway?"

Tara shifted uncomfortably while Willow smiled smugly and said, "Just your average, ordinary, everyday practitioners of Wicca." She shrugged, her smile growing into a huge grin. "Who happen to live in Sunnydale."

"What’s so special about Sunnydale?" Richards wanted to know.

"I need a drink," Manning suddenly said, rubbing her eyes.

"Why don’t we go back to the kitchen and we’ll try to explain," Willow replied.

***

"So Sunnydale is a, let me see if I get this right, a Hellmouth? This great big giant place where lots of evil nightmarish things come to vacation?" Richards said, leaning over the table while Manning nursed a cup of coffee and muttered softly to herself.

"That would just about be right," Willow said, taking a sip of her own coffee. "Right dear?" she cocked her head to look at Tara, who nodded.

"And you two are witches? And magic really works? Then those murders…where the victim dies of ‘extreme blood loss’ really are…vampires?" Manning said, having decided to rejoin them.

"That’s correct," Willow said, nodding at the detective, who sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair.

"I’m gonna kill her," she muttered.

"Elise?" Detective Richards said, taking Manning’s hand. "You okay? You don’t look so well…are you freaking out? I mean, I should be the one freaking out, but I’m not, which means I guess I’m okay with all of this and damnit I hate it when I babble."

Willow and Tara both chuckled. "We do it all the time," they said simultaneously.

"Which, freak out or babble?" Richards asked while Manning closed her eyes and held a silent conversation with herself.

"Both," Tara said, getting up to pour a fresh round of coffee for everyone. She set the pot down and put her hand on Manning’s shoulder. The blonde detective jumped, grabbing for her gun.

"Whoa, honey, relax, it’s just Tara," Richards soothed.

Manning frowned deeply, looking intently at Tara. Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed the blonde wiccan’s shirt and pulled her down. Their eyes met, and for a long heartbeat Tara was certain the detective was going to hit her. Then, Manning licked her lips and said, "Open your mouth, Miss Walsh."

Willow, who had jumped up when Manning grabbed her lover, made a noise of protest. "Why should she? You’re a cop, not a dentist."

"No, I’m not" Manning said in an even tone, "but if what I suspect is true, Miss Walsh here doesn’t need a dentist. Now, open your mouth, please."

"Don’t do it Tara. Let me call Giles first," Willow said, suddenly afraid for her girlfriend.

"No, it’s all right, Willow," Tara said calmly, looking over at Willow and smiling sweetly. She turned back to Manning. "You want to see this," she said softly, then allowed her face to metamorphose. Richards gasped as Tara’s normally pretty features were reshaped, taking on the protruding brow and long canines of a vampire.

"I thought so," Manning said, releasing Tara and standing up to circle around the wiccan. "But why aren’t you dead? I’ve seen you outside in sunlight. I’ve seen you eat regular food. I’ve felt your skin - it’s not cold or clammy. You breathe. You," she stopped and touched her fingertips to Tara’s throat. "You have a pulse. You, unlike the horrible creatures I have seen, love. What are you, Tara Walsh?"

A look of infinite sadness crossed Tara’s face as she sat down and looked at the table. Finally, she shrugged and said, "I wish I knew. I am what you see because of my mother."

Manning sat back down, sighing heavily. "Your mother?"

"You know," Richards interrupted, "before you go off and give us yet another weird explanation, I’d just like to say that I wish I’d never woken up this morning."

Tara laughed bitterly. "Will you be offended if I say, ‘me too’?"

"You were going to tell us about your mother?" Manning prompted.

"Yes, I was," Tara said, closing her eyes sadly. "When I was a little girl, I was diagnosed with leukemia. I’ll spare you the details and say that it was ultimately fatal. My mother could not accept my death and used her knowledge of both science and magic to bring me back. As far as I can ascertain, I have my own body, but my soul has been bonded to that of a vampire’s."

"And that’s the story in a nutshell," Willow quipped, wrapping an arm around Tara’s shoulder and giving her a quick hug. "The long version takes a while to tell."

"By all means," Manning gesticulated, indicating that Willow should tell the tale.

Richards’ beeper went off. She glanced at it, cursed, then said, "As fascinating as this is, we gotta go. Elise, it’s time to work."

Manning cursed, then gave the two wiccans a long look. "This is not over. Somehow, I just know that there is so much more to this story, and you will tell me all of it."

Tara nodded. "I have no secrets, not from you, Detective Manning, or you, Detective Richards."

"We can see ourselves out," Manning said as she and Richards left.

After they were gone, Tara reached for Willow, who took her into her arms and held her close, whispering, "It’ll be all right, I swear it."

A yellowish glow encircled the wiccans and a voice whispered, "Yes, it will be all right. The detectives won’t cause you any trouble."

"BJ? What’d you do?" Willow asked, a note of worry tainting her question.

"Me?" BJ materialized, taking a ghostly seat at the table. "Why nothing. Much, at least. I just sorta looked around in their minds. They’re curious, angry that you didn’t trust them and completely focused on their jobs as homicide investigators. They know that you two are innocent of any guilt. Actually, if they’re suspicious of anyone, it’s Buffy. And they don’t even truly believe she’s guilty of anything serious."

"Oh, good. And where the hell have you been?" Willow said while Tara continued to snuggle against her.

BJ laughed. "Here and there. Watching things. Your friend Spike has gotten himself into all kinds of interesting things."

"He’s not our friend," Willow said grumpily.

"Oh really? You could have fooled me," BJ said cheerfully. "Anyway, he’s on his way back to Sunnydale…should be here in a week or so."

Willow rolled her eyes and poked Tara. "See, I told you he’d be back for more money."

Tara groaned and tightened her grip around Willow’s waist.

"And hey, I think your pal Wesley is about to have a major breakthrough on that manuscript. Of course, I think the fact that Amy is dating someone who has no aura is about the weirdest part of it."

Tara gasped and sat up. "Gaki? Here? B-but I thought t-they were only in Japan."

BJ ran a hand through her short brown curls and shrugged. "I don’t think it’s a gaki, necessarily. Perhaps a shield of some kind. Still, she is Japanese. But anyway, I thought Amy was all gaga for Buffy."

The blonde wiccan let out a sigh of relief, then rested her head on her hands. Willow gently began rubbing her back and said, "Yeah, we know. But Buffy is determined to suffer right now and there’s nothing that can be done to discourage her from being Little Miss Martyr." She sighed, then said, "What’s a gaki?"

Tara stretched, letting out a little yip of pleasure as Willow continued her massage. "It’s a type of vampire. Mom was studying them for a while, but they’re awfully hard to capture. They’re native to Japan. Typically, they don’t have an aura because they consume the souls of their victims and wear those auras." The wiccan tilted her head up, her face serious. "They’re also immune to sunlight and wood."

"Bad juju," Willow surmised. "Here’s hoping Amy’s date isn’t one. Who is she dating, anyway?"

"I didn’t get a name, but I think she goes to Amy’s school," BJ said, smiling fondly at the two wiccans who shared her home.

"A good place to start then," Willow decided, bending over and kissing the back of Tara’s neck. "In a little while, at least," she said after Tara had turned and kissed her back.