The Slayer Chronicles: The Sunnydale Years

Chronicle Three: The Rat's Tale

Part Five

by

sHaYcH

(all previous disclaimers apply)

Elise Manning sat in the car next to her partner and sighed.

"Something wrong, ‘Lise?" Richards said, reaching over and taking Manning’s hand.

"No. Yes. I don’t know," the blonde detective said distantly. "It was all well and good when the vampires and demons were jokes - when they weren’t completely real. I could joke about them, attribute the nastiest of crimes to them - I could even accept what Kate did in LA to Valetenov, because I could fool myself into believing that it somehow wasn’t real. To have everything made so real, so true," she hefted the robin’s egg sized stone in her hand, "so much a part of normal life - well, it scares the hell out of me."

"Me too," Richards said softly, squeezing Manning’s hand tightly. "But it helps, knowing that some of the most perverse, nauseating, evil deeds that we have witnessed in our lives really were committed by monsters, and not Humans."

"You could be right," Manning said, sighing and pocketing the stone. "But it’s going to take me a while to get used to it."

"But you’re going to try, and I know you’ll succeed, love," Richards said, leaning over to brush a kiss against her partner’s temple.

"Thanks," Manning replied, smiling tightly.

"You’re welcome. So… how did you know, about Tara, I mean?" Richards asked curiously.

"Her reflection," Manning said softly.

"What do you mean?" Richards said, starting the car and easing out into traffic. "Don’t tell me she doesn’t have one?"

"Oh, she has one, but it’s very faint… almost like you’re looking into an old mirror where most of the silver is gone. It was sort of like looking at a CGI ghost," Manning explained, "only I knew I was looking at a live person."

"Very weird; just right for Sunnyhell," Richards quipped as their first call blared out over the radio.

***

Amy Madison stared blankly at the woman who sat across from her. Her face was flushed and her heart was racing a mile a minute. Slowly, she ran a nervous hand through her reddish-gold hair and took a deep breath. Okay, Amy-girl, you got yourself into this… She smiled weakly at Michiko, who returned the smile tenfold, dazzling her all over again. The Asian woman slowly sipped her drink, waiting for Amy to speak.

Amy could have kicked herself. Really, what had she been thinking? Sure, Buffy didn’t return her feelings, but that didn’t mean she had to run off and fling herself into the arms of the first beautiful woman to cross her path.

But that’s just what you did, right Rattison? she said silently, using the hated nickname to add to her already festering discomfort.

Right after the Fourth of July festivities, her friendship with Buffy had turned into a farce. Sure, they had all been really busy with moving into Tara and Willow’s place, and with hunting for a murderer and with attempting to decipher that manuscript, but Buffy didn’t even stick around the house long enough to share breakfast with anyone anymore. Nor did she drop by the UC Sunnydale campus to have lunch with Amy as she had when Amy first started going to school early in the summer. As a result, Amy had started sharing her afternoon meals with Michiko.

Every day for three weeks they’d eaten together, sharing bits and pieces of their food while stretched out under the shady branches of a tree. Today had been no different, until Michiko had asked one simple question.

"Amy?" the Asian said, reaching over and laying a bronze colored hand on Amy’s arm. "I’m serious…can I take you out to dinner tonight?"

Again, Amy just stared at her, knowing that if she answered, then she would irrevocably change the course of her life.

Do I want to walk away from anything that could happen between me and Buffy? she asked herself. Amy looked away from Michiko, unable to answer immediately. Her eyes landed on a familiar couple making their way over to them. An explosive sigh of relief fought to escape from her chest, but she held back, managing to turn it into a huge grin of welcome.

"Willow," she said, getting up, walking to her friend and giving the red-haired hacker a huge hug. "Tara," she added, hugging the blonde wiccan as well. "What are you doing here? Is there trouble?" she asked, in a low voice.

Willow smiled warmly and said, "Nope, no trouble. We just…we just wanted to see how our friend was doing, right Tara?"

Tara nodded, smiling sweetly. "We thought you could use some company." She looked over at Michiko and shrugged. "We didn’t know you weren’t alone."

"Oh, that’s okay," Michiko said, rising sinuously. "I have to get to class anyway. Professor Miriani always likes it if I get there a little early." She brushed by Amy and inclined her head toward the student. "Think about what I asked, Amy. Give me a call later, if the answer is yes."

"I will," Amy promised and Michiko just smiled.

"So who was that?" Willow asked after the three of them had settled down on the ground.

Amy shrugged. "A friend. She’s the teacher’s assistant for one of my classes."

Willow shot Amy a droll look and said, "Just a friend?" The hacker raised an eyebrow, causing Amy to blush.

"Well… she could be more, if I wanted. But…" Amy shrugged slightly, frowning. "I’m not sure."

"Of what?" Tara asked softly, while Amy twisted strands of grass around with her fingers.

"I…oh… I dunno," Amy replied, plucking a blade of grass and shredding it. "There’s…something… and there’s…Buffy," she finally said, shrugging again and staring down at her hands. "But, I know that Buffy doesn’t," she sighed sadly. "She doesn’t want me. But Michiko does, and I’m…unsure."

"Well, she gives me the willies," Willow said firmly. "At least Buff doesn’t do that."

Amy jerked as if slapped. "Why do you say that?" she asked, eyes going distant. "Just because she’s not part of the Scoobies doesn’t mean she isn’t cool."

Willow nodded. "I know, but I still get the willies from her."

Amy frowned. "How could you say that when you’ve just laid eyes on her. Unless you’ve been spying on me? Is that it? Are you spying on me for Buffy? Well, you can tell little Miss Slayer to can it. I’m fine and if I want to go out with someone else I will!" The student stood, brushing off her pants, then walked away, anger pouring off her in waves.

"Whoa. What’d I say?" Willow asked, stunned by Amy’s behavior.

Tara didn’t answer, just watched as Amy disappeared into a building, a pensive expression on her face.

***

Spike hated ships. Most of all, he hated cargo ships, but what can a bloke do when he wants to travel across the sea? Flying isn’t exactly the safest method of travel, though he had heard of a few vamps who’d had the stones to try it. Spike was not into risking his unlife for a chance to get into a plane though. Used to be, before all the rules and regulations, a bloke could hitch a ride almost anywhere by boat or plane, but now, the only safe places to travel were in the deepest bowels of a ship. The deepest, smelliest, most rat infested bowels, that is.

Spike grinned at the slowly rotting pile of rat corpses. Well, maybe not so rat infested. Not anymore. When he’d boarded, yeah, this place was just crawling with the little buggers, but, a bloke had to eat, didn’t he? And, if he was gonna give the "clean life" a real go, it meant giving up the blood of humans. Spike sneered, laughing wryly at himself.

"Who would have thought it, William old boy? That you’d go veggie and all that new agey rot?"

It was all that Tara chick’s fault, too. She’d shown him that a vampire could walk in the daylight. Yeah, yeah, he knew there were some real strange particulars to her case, but when you boiled it all down, she was a vampire, she could walk in the sun and she didn’t need blood.

She had it all. Immortality on a silver platter and Spike wanted that for himself. So if giving up that nasty part of him was the price, well then, he’d be more than willing to give it a go.

"Immor-bloody fucking-tality, Spike," he whispered, looking down at the recently drained rat in his hand, then flinging it away.

Strangely enough, he’d become accustomed to the musty taste of rodent’s blood.

"Best not mention my choice of diets to Amy when I get back to Sunnydale though," he told himself quietly, putting his ear to the steel wall and patiently listening for the PA. He knew the cargo vessel was nearing a port, he just didn’t know which one.

His patience was rewarded when faintly, he heard a man say, "Hong Kong harbor, dead ahead! All hands to stations!"

Both of Spike’s bleach blonde eyebrows shot up. "Well, well, well… I used to like Chinese…"

The vamp stood and gathered his few possessions, preparing to make his way off the ship in the chaos of unloading.

***

July scorched its way out of Sunnydale, blasting the city with triple digit temperatures for an entire week. Buffy was busier than ever chasing down all the newly risen vamps as well as the odd Pheros demon or two. The rest of the gang tried to help, but she pushed them all away, only grudgingly allowing Giles to ferry her around town in the Mystery Machine.

Which is what they were currently doing - making pit stops at the local vamp hangouts. Buffy looked up at Giles, who was mopping his face with a handkerchief.

"So, do I get to be the flower girl, or the bride’s maid?" she quipped dully.

"Pardon me?" he said, nearly swerving out into traffic.

Buffy’s lips twisted into a half grin. "You know, for you and mom. I mean, I assume that your intentions toward her are noble. They are noble, right, Giles? None of that ‘stevedore on the counter’ thing, right?"

Giles blinked. Once, twice, three times, then, he turned and gave Buffy a long, silent look. The slayer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Finally, the watcher took a deep breath and said, "Buffy, I’m only going to say this once, so please listen. What is going on between your mother and I is between your mother, and I. When and if you need to know about the details, I’m certain you will be informed."

Buffy sat in her seat, looking like a pole-axed cow while Giles continued to drive.

How does he do that? How can he continue to make me feel like a dimwitted school girl after all these years? Buffy shook her head in amazement, then let her mind wander while her eyes traced the contours of the people and places that slid by the window.

Her brain didn’t wake up until she spotted Amy walking into a swanky restaurant on the arm of some cute Asian chick. Pain lanced through Buffy’s heart, but she savagely crushed it down, telling herself, You snooze, you lose, Buff. Live with it. You knew she wouldn’t wait forever.

But it still hurt.

***

Michiko wrapped her arm tighter around Amy’s waist, breathing in the fresh scent of the girl’s herbal shampoo. Her nostrils flared and her eyes slid into a half-closed gaze of intoxication. So sweet, she thought, taking the liberty to briefly nuzzle the nervous girl’s neck. So wonderfully sweet. She will be a worthy offering for my master. Visions of leading a very willing Amy Madison into the arms of her coming master filled the Japanese woman’s head as a maitre’d escorted them to a table and handed them menus.

Nervously, Amy perused the menu, not really hungry, but needing the shield of the laminated plastic. She hadn’t wanted to come to dinner, but Michiko had been so sweet and so persistent, that the student felt that she owed it to the assistant for all of her kindness. So she had allowed the young woman to take her out on a date. Now she wished hadn’t. She had seen Buffy and Giles go by in the Mystery Machine. She had looked up just in time to see a look of profound hurt wash over Buffy’s face, to be quickly hidden away under a mask of cool indifference. Since she had yelled at Tara and Willow, she had avoided spending much time with the Scoobies, even skipping the "family dinners" that had become something of the norm in the short time they had all lived in the mansion.

A waiter brought drinks and a bottle of wine, pouring without question for both girls. Cautiously, Amy sniffed the drink, then took a tiny sip, managing not to wrinkle her nose at the dry, bitter taste of the alcohol.

Michiko reached across the table and ran her fingers over Amy’s wrist, startling the girl. "Would you like me to order some appetizers?" she asked silkily, lightly running her nails over Amy’s skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

Amy blinked rapidly, suddenly awash in a haze of lust. "S-sure," she nodded, her eyes meeting the assistant’s dark ones.

Michiko smiled and looked up at the waiter who’d appeared as if by magic and said, "We’ll share a lover’s special."

"Excellent choice, Miss Michiko," the waiter nodded and vanished as quickly as he had come.

Shortly, they were sharing a platter filled with all kinds of little treats. Michiko picked up a deep fried bit and dipped it into a rich, dark brown sauce, offering it to Amy. Slowly, Amy leaned forward and accepted the bite, chewing it, surprised at the crunchy, sweet shell mixed with a burst of fiery spice. Her eyes watered and she took a long drink of her wine.

"Wow," she said, setting her now empty glass down.

"Did you like that," Michiko purred softly.

"It was - different," Amy said, a little of her nervousness returning.

"Here, try this instead then," the TA said, offering a different piece of food, this one coated in something light yellow.

Amy took it and smiled. This was chicken, glazed in lemon sauce, a treat she recognized. It was Buffy’s favorite. Buffy. Amy forced herself to swallow the food, even though it had become ashes in her mouth. The lemon chicken bit settled like a lump in her stomach. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere but here, in this restaurant, eating with Michiko.

The assitant was unaware of Amy’s change of heart and looked up to see that the girl had finished the last bite. Amy was staring distractedly off into space so Michiko took a moment to refill the girl’s wine glass, then added a special ingredient of her own. Nothing much, just enough to make her pliable. She wanted Amy to be happy and loose, so she would come home with her. Home…yes, Michiko’s eyes twinkled as she imagined what Amy would look like, spread out on her bed, while moonlight etched every curve of her naked body in silver. "Delicious," she whispered to herself, picking up another piece of the spicy beef and dipping it into the honey sauce.

"Another bite?" she offered her hand to Amy.

"Huh? Oh, no, um, I have to use the powder room, actually," Amy said, getting up and patting her face with her napkin.

"All right, I’ll wait for you then," Michiko said, allowing just the barest hint of a pout to cross her face. Amy nodded and fled.

The bathroom was almost deserted. Only one stall was occupied, allowing Amy to heave a giant sigh of relief. She washed her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

What are you doing, Amy? she asked herself sternly. You should be with Buffy, even if she doesn’t want you. You should be out there, making sure she’s got the right weapon, watching her back and giving her a shoulder to lean on.

But she doesn’t want me! another part of her wailed, as she slowly allowed her forehead to come to a rest against the cool silver of the mirror.

So you go running into the arms of the first woman who beckons? Tramp. That inner voice was beginning to sound far too much like Catherine Madison for Amy’s comfort.

A stall door opened and someone exited. Amy felt a gentle hand brush her shoulder while the familiar scent of lavender danced under her nose.

"Amy?" Tara asked, concern edging her voice.

Amy turned and buried her face in Tara’s neck, sobbing helplessly. "I love her!" she managed to get out, while the completely shocked wiccan wrapped her arms around the crying girl and clumsily began comforting her.

"I know you do," Tara whispered, remembering, just briefly, how it had felt to love Willow and not know if the hacker returned her feelings. She led Amy to an overstuffed couch and sat down with her, whispering meaningless things to try and calm her.

Finally, Amy wiped at her eyes and laughed. "I’m a mess," she said softly, looking at her hands. Makeup had stained them in a peacock’s pattern of colors.

"Nothing that a little bit of warm water won’t fix," Tara said, standing and getting a dampened paper towel. Slowly, she wiped away the traces of Amy’s tears, then said, "Now, wanna talk about it?"

Amy shrugged. "I…I’m surprised you want to talk to me at all, after the way I behaved the other day."

Tara waved her hand and grinned, "It’s forgotten. You’re allowed to have bad days too."

Amy smiled sadly. "I’m in love with Buffy." Just saying it lifted a huge weight off her shoulders.

Tara nodded. "I had suspected as much. I think it’s wonderful…so does Willow," she said, reaching out and taking the student’s hand.

"Really?" Amy asked, a little fear creeping out.

"Yeah," Tara nodded. "But if you don’t believe me, you could ask her…she’s out there," Tara gestured toward the dining area, "probably wondering why it’s taking me so long to pee."

"Oh, I don’t know… I should probably get back to Michiko…" Amy muttered, shifting nervously.

Tara bit her lip, making a decision. "Amy, I don’t think she means you any good," she said in her softest, gentlest voice.

Amy sighed sadly. "Is it that hard to believe that someone might like me?"

"No! Of course not! But… I’ve seen Michiko’s aura. Well," Tara amended, "I’ve seen that she doesn’t have one."

Amy shrugged. "So? A lot of people don’t have auras. It’s probably just a natural shield or something."

Tara sighed. "I can’t make you believe anything you don’t want to, so why don’t we just not go there. Why don’t you tell me about Buffy."

Amy, who had stood up to leave, crumpled back down into the couch. "Well, it started when I was still a rat…"

***

Michiko looked at her watch. Amy had been gone for a good fifteen minutes and she was starting to think the girl had escaped her. This was not good. She was on a time schedule and she had to start cultivating an offering tonight, or the ritual would be ruined. She glanced around the restaurant to see if she could spot the annoying blonde and caught sight of someone just as irritating. Willow Rosenberg, Amy’s best friend. Michiko’s lip curled into a sneer of distaste. So that was why her chosen offering had vanished. Sen Michiko rolled her agate dark eyes and gestured to her waiter. He nodded and brought her the check, which she signed with an elaborate sigil. Then, carefully draining the two glasses of wine on the table, she stood and left the restaurant. It looked like she would have to do some hunting tonight.

The beautiful woman stepped out onto the curb and signaled her car with a wave. Getting in, she said softly, "Take me to LA." In the City of Angels she would find someone…a throwaway with no one to care where she was or who she was seeing.

***

Buffy prowled The Shady Pines cemetery, searching for newly dug graves. As the temperature rose, so did the walking dead. Vampire activity was at peak numbers and Buffy was spending up to five hours a night patrolling. Giles surmised that the increased temperature made the metabolisms of the undead speed up, causing them to need to feed more often. The slayer’s kill count had gone from zero to sixty in one night. Today was the fourth night and she had already dusted thirteen vamps and two of the heat worshipping Pheros demons.

Now, she was taking a breather, letting her duffel o’ death fall to the ground beside her and getting a long swig off her water bottle. Gods, she hated herself. The slayer sat down on a crumbling headstone and kicked at the marble bits. She had something good – something almost magical – knocking on her door and all she could do was run away and hide.

"I am pathetic," she said, tossing her water bottle into her bag. But she couldn’t help herself. Every time she even so much as thought about reaching out for what Amy had so lovingly offered, Riley’s dead face danced in her memories.

"I suck, no, wait, that’s your job, isn’t it?" Buffy said, nonchalantly pulling out a stake and pitching it into the back of a rising vampire, who barely had time to look confused before dusting out.

"Yup, suck, suck, suck. Sucky Buffy, that’s me," Buffy sing-songed, picking up her bag and continuing through the cemetery.

***

"So is it crazy to want to follow her around like a lost puppy?" Amy said to Tara and Willow. The girls had been talking for over an hour. Willow had come looking for Tara shortly after Amy had started spilling her guts afraid that "toilet demons or something" had eaten her girlfriend. Instead, she’d found Amy, curled up on the end of the couch, sadly relating her feelings for Buffy to a bemused Tara.

Willow had immediately hugged Amy and suggested they get out of the restaurant and go someplace to talk. Amy had agreed, but only after saying she wanted to make her good-byes to Michiko. She had then rejoined Tara and Willow, telling them that her date had left, which had made the student feel even worse.

Now the three girls were sitting outside of a coffee shop, drinking mochas and talking. Willow drained her cup and set it down with a flourish. "Of course not! It’s my main goal in life to achieve lost puppy-hood with Tara," she smiled fondly at her girlfriend, who giggled.

Tara nodded. "It is easy to understand that you want to be near her, and I think that’s a good thing."

"So I should just go find her and follow her around anyway?" Amy asked eagerly.

"Well…" Willow said hesitatingly, then bit off a squeak. Tara had stepped on her foot. She glared at her girlfriend, but closed her mouth.

"Perhaps you should give it a try. At least then she’ll notice you," the wiccan suggested evenly.

"Okay. I, um, I’ll see you later then," Amy said, taking a final drink of her mocha, then running off down the street.

Willow turned and looked at her girlfriend, her face a study of astonishment. "Um, you do know there are real, live vampires out there, right?"

"I do," Tara said, nodding and taking a drink.

"And that she’s unarmed, right?"

"Yup."

"So, wanna tell me why you just sent her after Buffy?" Willow asked, confusion tainting her voice.

Tara laughed and grabbed Willow’s hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing the back of it. "Because she’s supposed to go. I did a reading for her this morning. Don’t worry, if I’m right, Buffy’s just over there," Tara nodded across the street at the Shady Pines cemetery. "She’ll be safe enough."

"Oh, okay. Why don’t you tell me these things?" Willow squealed, poking Tara in the ribs.

"Because it’s so much more fun to watch you squirm?" Tara suggested with a wicked grin.

"You are so bad, Tara Walsh!" Willow accused, leaning over and poking the blonde wiccan again. "I think I’m gonna have to punish you."

"Ooo, I’m so scared," Tara quipped, closing the distance between them. "What’re you going to do, spank me?" she whispered, brushing her lips across Willow’s cheek. "Get out that big, old paddle and give it to me?" she added, allowing just a hint of her fangs to creep out as she captured the hacker’s lips in a long, passionate kiss.

"What?" Willow said after she was released. "Was I saying something?" she added, dazed. They had come a long way from being the shy, uncertain couple they had started out as. Willow ran her tongue over her lip, enjoying the lingering tingle from Tara’s tiny love bite.

At first, the wiccan had been ashamed of her fangs, but after Willow had admitted that she secretly found them sexy, Tara had taken to letting them out more. It was a change that Willow wholeheartedly loved.

"Nothing, love. Why don’t we get a refill?" Tara said, kissing Willow’s cheek briefly, "and then go home."

"Sounds like a great plan to me," Willow said, standing up and offering her hand to Tara.

***

Hong Kong bit big, fat, purple, hairy bollocks as far as Spike was concerned. Too many damned humans, and way, way too many damned demons. He took the first cart out of the city and soon found himself in mainland China. Which wasn’t too awful, if you didn’t pay too much attention to the communists, which he, being a vampire, didn’t. His money had ran out, and he had briefly thought about writing Tara and begging for more, but a stubborn streak reared up inside of the vampire and demanded that he try to wing it on his own. So he went out to the provinces, where it was less likely that he’d be spotted by a demon hunter and more likely that he’d find food.

He’d kept to his newly imposed diet of rodents, but had discovered that he wasn’t the only one that considered the rat a delicacy. Twice, he’d tried to walk in sunlight, but each time he’d had to race back into the shadow to avoid turning into a pile of smoking ash. He was down to his last cigarette, wandering through some tiny little alley in a pisspot town when he heard the scream.

"Let me go, you worthless excuse for a flea bite!" The voice was strident without being shrill. Female, definitely.

"A little action, finally!" he gloated, wondering if he should race to the rescue, or help the attacker. Maybe he could get a bit of something to eat…or another pack of the hideously expensive cigarettes.

Smokes. Yeah. Spike grinned and took another drag on his smoke, then tossed it aside. The screams were coming from somewhere nearby, maybe one, maybe two streets over.

It didn’t take the bleach blonde vamp long to find the source of the commotion. A woman with long, luxurious auburn hair was being thrust against the side of a building by something tall, dark and bumpy. Spike rolled his eyes. Slime demons. Why did it always have to be slime demons?

The vamp muttered an incantation that his sire had taught him and reached out to catch a sword that appeared from no where. A few slashes of his blade and a near dodge of the demon’s thick, viscous green blood later, and Spike was staring at the most beautiful woman he’d seen since his eyes had locked with Dru’s.

"Thank you," a cultured British voice was saying. "You’ve been ever so helpful. I should like to repay you if I can."

Spike’s eyes glittered at "pay". "Right. Well, I could do with a bit to eat, maybe some smokes…" he said haltingly, still stunned by her looks. Demon blood dripped off of his chin and collected at his feet in a viscous green puddle.

The woman, whose face was a pretty combination of fine boned good looks back by steel determination, cocked her head slightly and studied her rescuer. She sighed exasperatedly. "I suppose you’ll do," she muttered, reaching out and touching Spike’s forehead.

The next thing the blonde vamp knew, he was laying on his back on a comfortable bed. He’d been undressed, bathed and his nails had been trimmed. He opened his eyes to opulence like he had only dreamed about. Soft candlelight illuminated a room that could have come from a fairytale caste. Silk, gold, brocade, and other signs of amazing wealth abounded everywhere. It was overwhelming, even for him. His mouth felt like a whole herd of sheep had slept in it, so he looked for something to drink. On the nightstand was a capped beer stein. He lifted the lid and peered inside, inhaling deeply as he did.

Blood. Thick, rich, warm blood. Not human, but not rat or pig, either. His stomach chose that moment to remind him that his liquid diet had been severely lacking.

"Bottoms up," he croaked, draining the cup dry in several long, smooth swallows.

"Well, it’s nice to see you back among the unliving," a voice said.

Spike nearly choked on his last drink. "Bloody hell woman, warn a body before you pop in from the nether realms."

"Oh, good guess. But not quite. This isn’t a different realm, just my father’s home." There was a flare of light, then the warm glow of oil lamps filled the room. The darkly beautiful woman he had rescued blew out her match, smiling seductively at him.

"You’re father must be quite the bloke," Spike said, stretching out on the bed, taking the opportunity to run appreciative eyes up and down the woman’s body.

"D’Hoffryn doesn’t do things by halves," the woman commented, sinking down into an overstuffed chair that would have kept Spike in blood and beers for a year. The woman crossed her legs, returning Spike’s appraising glance with one of her own.

"D’Hoffryn? Would that make you his precious little Mary, then?" Spike asked, his lips twisting into a wry grin.

"No," the tone of the woman’s voice was filled with contempt. "Mary is my half sister. I am Alizelle."

Both of Spike’s eyebrows went up in surprise. "I thought you had been banished from demon circles."

"I have. My father does not know I am here," Alizelle admitted quietly.

Spike jumped off the bed and started looking around for his clothes. "If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be taking myself somewhere else then. D’Hoffryn is not the bloke I want to irk today."

Alizelle laughed, a gentle sound that splashed over Spike like falling rain. "Don’t worry. He’s not here. Mom let me in and is graciously extending to both of us her protection from Dad. For today at least. As long as I don’t piss her off - which I won’t, because I’d rather talk to you."

The vamp paused in his search and turned his head around to look at Alizelle. "What would you be wanting with a bloke like me?"

"I can think of several things," Alizelle said, her voice dropping a couple of octaves, "but right now, I’ll settle for hiring you as my bodyguard."

Spike turned fully around, giving the woman a look that clearly said she’d lost her mind. "Are you daft? Me? A bloomin’ bodyguard? For a demon that every other snot-drooling bloke on the planet would love to flay?"

"Oh, like you’re such a prized boy wonder yourself," Alizelle snapped, standing up to walk over to a wardrobe and fling it open. The vamp’s clothes, newly cleaned, repaired and pressed, hung there.

Spike shrugged. "So I’m not the wonderboy of the demon world. At least I’m not anathema."

Alizelle looked away, whispering, "All I did was fall in love."

Spike grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. "Oh love, wonderful, beauteous love. What a crock. You shagged an avatar and had a kid. The brat turned out to be one of the most powerful Slayers to walk the planet – second to Buffy, of course."

"Just because that blonde bimbo has wiped the pavement with your ass more times than you can count doesn’t mean my daughter is inferior," Alizelle challenged.

"No, but I bet that Buffy would kick her ass too," Spike returned, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Doubt it," the demon shot back. "My daughter has -"

"If your daughter’s so ‘precious’, how come she’s not clinging to you right this very moment?" Spike taunted. "What’s the matter, mommy, not up to changing a few dirty nappies?"

"She’s better off where she is," Alizelle murmured. "At least she’s not spread out on dad’s altar as a sacrifice."

"Perhaps the two of you can agree to disagree," an elegantly cultured voice said, interrupting the argument.

Spike and Alizelle turned to see a woman float into the room. Spike blinked several times, trying to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. "I see cozying up to avatars runs in your family," he quipped dryly.

Laughter like the tinkling of bells filled the room. "William, you are a precious one, I’ll give you that. I’m not an avatar, despite what you may think, my dear boy. I’m just a very good sorceress. However, that is not what I am here to discuss," the woman took a seat. Spike and Alizelle sat as well, feeling as if they were in the presence of royalty.

"Spike, may I present my mother, Lady Helen?" Alizelle said, unable to look at either the vamp or her noble-seeming mother.

"Charmed," Spike drawled, inclining his head a fraction of an inch.

"Oh you are a plucky one, aren’t you?" Lady Helen asked, pulling a small silver bell out of her robes and shaking it. A servant appeared, bearing a tray filled with small pastries and cups of tea. The lady graciously served them, then said, "William, I realize that you cannot receive sustenance from this, but I enjoin you to partake of them anyway. Tea is one of the only civilized things left in this world."

The vamp raised an eyebrow, but dutifully took a sip. Spike was never one to piss off someone who was more powerful than he, especially someone who was connected to D’Hoffryn.

Once they’d each had a bit to eat and drink, the lady set aside her cup and linked her hands in her lap. "Now, putting aside arguments over my granddaughter, I would like to bring up the idea of your working for my daughter, William. For some reason she seems to think you’re a good candidate. After speaking with a few people, I agree with her. So, it comes down to the ugly part. Payment. Obviously, you cannot be expected to risk your life for nothing, so here’s what I offer," and then, Lady Helen named a sum that made both of Spike’s eyebrows rise so high, he was certain they touched his hairline.

He licked his lips. "Your offer does sound tempting…"

Lady Helen held up a hand. "There is a caveat," she said warningly.

Spike rolled his eyes. "There’s always fine print. Lay it on me, I can take it." Alizelle sighed and began picking lint from her shirt.

"You have to maintain a low profile," Lady Helen said solemnly.

Spike laughed. "Sounds easy enough to me," he clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. "So when do I get paid?"

Lady Helen sighed. "William, I don’t think you understand. No drinking humans. No drunken bar brawls. No attempts on the Slayer’s lives. I simply cannot afford to have my daughter spotted. At least, not until the tribunal."

"Tribunal?" Alizelle piped up, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"I called a full Council Tribunal, dear. Really, what you did wasn’t that horrible – and there are some extenuating circumstances that may help to clear you, and your daughter’s names. I plan to discuss this at length," the lady said.

"When is it?" Alizelle asked eagerly.

"I can’t tell you, Aliz, you know that. Just know that someone will inform you of the decision. Until then, you must stay safe." The older woman sighed and rubbed her temples.

Spike smirked. "I know just the place."

"I am not spending gods know how long in some cheap dive, Spike," Alizelle warned.

"I was actually thinking of Sunnydale," Spike admitted with a shrug. "I’ve sorta got friends there and they’re so goody-goody that they’ll love helping. Especially when they find out about your precious daughter."

"No!" Alizelle blurted. "She must never know! I will not allow my daughter to know about me."

"Aliz dear, I do think you need to think about his suggestion further before denying it out of hand. You have one full day to discuss your plans; after that, I cannot guarantee your safety." With that, Lady Helen rose and left the room.

"You’re crazy," Aliz muttered, refusing to look at Spike.

The vamp just smirked. "I’ve been told that a time or six, but my idea is sound. Think about it, dear Aliz," he mimicked Helen’s tone, "and let me know when you’re ready to go." He reached into his pocket, cursing soundly when he discovered only an empty pack.

***

Someone was following her. That much was easily discerned, Buffy decided as she heard yet another muffled thump come from behind her. Just who it was, she wasn’t certain, but she decided they were rather clumsy. Since the slayer was feeling rather down in the dumps, she decided to have some fun with the schmuck.

Buffy led her pursuer on a merry chase over and under and around and through the cemetery, until they were right back where they’d started. Buffy was growing tired and it was time to end the game.

"All right, why don’t you just come on out and let me stake you now, because I’m way too tired to play anymore," the slayer said evenly, twirling a stake in her hand.

Amy stepped into the moonlight, both arms raised above her head. "I give up," she said softly.

"Amy?" Buffy blurted incredulously. "What are you doing here? Why are you following me? You could have been hurt!" The slayer raced to her friend’s side, babbling, "You should go right now, before any more vampires wake up, really, go. Giles is over there," she pointed through the trees to where Giles had parked the Mystery Machine.

"Buffy," Amy said softly, "I want to be here. With you."

"But, but, I don’t want you to be here," Buffy said, without thinking.

Amy rocked, as if she’d been struck. "Oh," she said sadly. "I see. Well, okay." She turned her head away, not wanting Buffy to see her cry.

You colossal idiot! Buffy screamed silently at herself. A branch broke. Dirt rustled and the slayer’s "sense" went wacky on her. "Damnit, not now!" she growled, shoving Amy aside and spinning to face whatever was coming.

Vampires. Five of them. Each bearing a weapon.

"Hey there Slayer, looks like we got you well and cornered," the lead vamp, a punk with blue and green striped hair, said.

"Heh, like, yeah," a surfer type said, brandishing his bike chain lovingly. "I wonder what Slayer tastes like?" he asked no one in particular.

"Can we please just kill this bitch and go have some fun?" another vamp asked, staring at his extremely long nails. "I mean, really, this is all so melodramatic."

"What are you, rejects from a cheap horror flick?" Buffy said, throwing a stake right into one of the vamp’s heart. The others rushed her.

"Buffy, head’s up!" Amy’s familiar call resounded in the clearing. Automatically, the slayer reached out and felt a stake land in her hand. God, I missed this, Buffy thought, sparing a second to glance over at Amy, who had pulled out a stake and was doing her level best to avoid being dinner for some nerdy looking vamp.

The fight only lasted a few minutes - long enough to irritate Buffy - before the slayer had dusted the amateurs. "You’d think they’d wait a while," she groused, turning to see how Amy had fared.

The blonde student was sitting on the ground, nursing an injured arm and shaking her head dazedly. Buffy nearly teleported to her side. "What is it, what’s wrong, what happened?" she babbled, trying to kneel and examine Amy at the same time.

"It’s just a scratch. He had a knife, that’s all. I’ll be fine," Amy growled, pulling away from Buffy.

"Let me help you," Buffy said, offering her hand to the girl.

Amy snorted. "Why? I don’t really need your help."

"But I want to help you," Buffy said, confused.

"Yeah, I want to help you too, but you won’t let me, so why should I let you?" Amy reasoned logically.

"But…but, that’s different. I didn’t want you to help because I didn’t want you to get hurt," Buffy said dejectedly.

"Whatever. I’m okay. It’s just a few bumps and bruises, really. I’ll just get going and you…you won’t," Amy’s voice cracked, "you won’t have to worry anymore. I won’t be bothering you." Amy shakily stood up, clutching her arm to her chest.

"Amy…" Buffy whispered, reaching out to steady her. "I-I’m sorry…"

Amy swayed dizzily. A trickle of red spilled over the girl’s hand, splattering the ground. "Don’t say you’re sorry, Buffy. I don’t want to hear it," she said through gritted teeth. She took a step, swaying again, and Buffy was there in an instant, wrapping her arm around the injured girl.

"I don’t care if you don’t want it, you’re getting my help," Buffy said firmly, noting the rapidly purpling bruise on Amy’s face.

"Buff-" Amy began, turning to look at the slayer.

Amy’s lips brushed Buffy’s cheek. The slayer’s breath hitched in her throat and slowly, slowly, she turned to meet Amy’s eyes. It was amazing what she noticed about this moment. The sharp coppery tang of blood. Wind feathering her hair with Amy’s. And peace, complete peace, for the first time in weeks. Buffy surrendered to the sensation and closed the last few centimeters of space between her and Amy, gently kissing the girl’s lips.

Amy moaned, nearly passing out from the relief the touch brought. Tears spilled from her eyes, painting her cheeks as she reached out for Buffy. Her injuries forgotten as she gave herself up to their kiss.

Nothing she would ever know would describe this moment for her, Buffy decided as she continued to kiss Amy. Her conscience prickled though. Nothing? What about this? Riley’s smiling face appeared in Buffy’s mind’s eye. The slayer cried out and pulled away from Amy.

"Damnit! I can’t do this! I can’t let myself love you, Amy, no matter how much I want to," she said, sobbing.

"Why?" Amy asked, her voice wooden, the light in her eyes dying away.

"Because it would kill me to lose you," Buffy whispered painfully.

"The only way you’re going to lose me is if you refuse to love me," Amy said, pleading with her eyes. "Please, don’t turn me away, Buffy. I love you. I know you feel something for me, too."

Buffy was crying. "I love you too, Amy," she said raggedly. "But every time I think about you in my life, I see Riley’s face."

Amy sighed. "I can’t and won’t fight a ghost, Buffy. If you don’t want to love me, then don’t love me, but don’t use Riley as an excuse," she said, then turned and walked away.

***

Buffy trudged back to the van, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

"Well Summers," she muttered dully, "you’ve blown it this time." She opened the door and disconsolately climbed in, not even noticing that Giles wasn’t in the driver’s seat, but was instead, in the back, having a discussion with Amy.

"No, I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m fine," the blonde student said argumentatively, crossing her arms and frowning.

"Amy, you really shouldn’t treat a head injury so lightly," Giles admonished. "And your arm…I really think it needs stitches."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I’m fine, Giles. Just give me a bottle of saline and help me butterfly it closed. Really. I’ll put some ice on my face when I get back to the manor."

Amy’s voice finally penetrated Buffy’s funk. She turned and looked at the commotion in the back. "Can I help any?" she asked softly, pleading with her eyes.

Amy looked at the Slayer, then looked away. "Sure. I could use a hand with the bandaging."

"Then I’m your girl," Buffy said, jumping out of her seat and running around to the back of the van.

Giles sighed, but assisted in cleaning and bandaging the shallow cut on Amy’s left arm.

"Thanks," Amy said, when they were done. "Buffy, are you finished with patrol?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yep. I am now. We’re gonna take you home, right Giles?" Buffy replied pertly.

"Oh yes, quite. Home. Where you will lay down and put some ice on that face of yours and let us know immediately if anything is wrong. Buffy, I believe you should stay with Amy tonight, as well," he added absently, rubbing his chin.

Buffy blinked uncertainly and Amy winced. "Okay, I can do that," Buffy said slowly, daring Amy to say otherwise.

"I guess we could play um, cards or something," Amy finally said, biting her lip.

"Hey, yeah, I used to know how to play rummy," the slayer replied brightly. "I can try to teach you to play too!"

Amy smiled wanly, chuckling a little. "Actually, I remember how to play. Mom loved to play."

"Oh, well, maybe we can play, um, spades?" Buffy suggested, not wanting to go to bad memory land.

Giles left the two young women to chat in the back, climbing into the front and starting the van.

"No, that’s okay. I like rummy," Amy said shyly, looking up at Buffy through half closed eyelashes. "Although, I’m kinda sleepy right now."

"Don’t go to sleep!" Buffy nearly shouted, reaching out and shaking her friend roughly.

Amy jerked up, wincing at the pain in her skull. "Sorry. Guess I got a little shocky there," she murmured, starting to lean toward the slayer, then stopping when she realized what was happening.

"Hey, it’s okay, you can lean on me," Buffy said gently, wrapping her arm around Amy’s shoulders and pulling the girl against her.

Amy smiled weakly. "Sorry again. I know…you…don’t like it."

Buffy nuzzled Amy’s hair, whispering, "But I do. I just like it too much."

Amy didn’t reply.

***

Everyone was already asleep when they returned to the manor, so Buffy and Amy raided the fridge then retired to Amy’s room while Giles went to the library to continue working on the manuscript with BJ. Although the ghost wasn’t very good at translation, she did have connections in the afterlife and was able, sometimes, to locate a word or phrase useful to Giles and Wesley. The other watcher had arrived in Sunnydale two days earlier with a partially translated manuscript, muttering about needing some book or other that he knew Giles had to have. Ever since, he had been holed up in the library, working feverishly to finish the translation.

Spaz followed Buffy and Amy to the bedroom, mrowing and begging for attention. Buffy picked up the huge animal and cuddled him, then admonished him to, "Go find your mommies!" and closed Amy’s door.

Amy sat on her bed, kicking off her shoes and exhaling wearily. "Buffy, could you – could you hand me the ibuprofin?" she pointed to a small bottle on her dresser. "My head really aches."

"You bet," Buffy said, hastily setting their tray of food down and grabbing the pills. She tossed them to Amy, then got a can of soda so they could be washed down. Amy smiled and took the medicine, then laid back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Buffy paced around the bedroom, swinging her arms back and forth. "So," she drawled, "are you hungry? Want me to make you a sandwich?"

A soft snore answered her.

"Oh crud, Amy, you can’t sleep," Buffy said as she walked over and shook her friend. "Come on, wake up, please? I’ll make you something to eat and we’ll play some cards and after a little while, then you can sleep, okay?"

Groggily, Amy sat up. "Mmph, ‘k. But I’m so tired," she whined, rubbing her eyes gingerly.

"Here, put this on your face," Buffy handed her a towel wrapped baggy of ice.

Amy took it and pressed it her to her face, hissing at the cold. "Brr, but thanks," she said, smiling at the slayer, who was making some sandwiches.

"You’re welcome," Buffy replied, handing Amy a plate. "Now eat up," she grinned.

The girls were quiet while they ate; Amy sat cross legged on her bed, taking a bite of her sandwich, then holding the ice pack to her face while chewing while Buffy sat on the chair across from the bed, trying not to stare at Amy.

Once they had finished, Buffy cleared away the plates and said softly, "So, do you have a deck of cards, or should I go get mine?"

"In my desk," Amy gestured to a drawer, "somewhere," she added sheepishly as Buffy pulled open the drawer to reveal a horrible mess.

"Ah, a clean desk is the sign of a sick mind," Buffy quipped, digging through the piles of stuff until she found the cards. "Got ‘em! Now, let’s see if we can’t have us some good old fashioned card-playing fun!" Buffy settled on the bed across from Amy and began shuffling the cards.

***

"I’m sorry about earlier," Amy mumbled, after she and Buffy had played a few rounds of rummy. She rolled her shoulders in a tiny shrug. "I shouldn’t have…"

Buffy reached out and put her hand on Amy’s foot, silencing her. "No. Please don’t be sorry, Amy. Not for your feelings."

Amy looked down at Buffy’s hand, following the slayer’s arm up until she met Buffy’s hazel eyes. "But…" she sighed. "It makes this very hard," she whispered.

Buffy pulled her hand away, stung. "I know. My turn to say sorry," she said sadly.

Amy laid her cards down, stretching. "I’m really tired. Can I go to sleep now?"

Buffy looked at the clock. Three hours had passed since Amy had been hit and the young woman hadn’t shown any overt signs of serious injury. "Yeah, I don’t see why not. You’re not babbling in tongues or anything weird. I’ll, um…crash on the floor, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Amy replied, tossing down a pillow. "There’s an extra blanket in the closet."

Buffy nodded, got the blanket and laid down to sleep. "Good night, Amy. Sleep well," she whispered.

"You too, Buffy," Amy replied, just as softly, then turned out the light.

Sleep came slowly for Buffy, but when it did, her dreams were filled with nightmarish images of Amy slowly being torn in two by some unseen force. Finally, Buffy couldn’t take it anymore, yelling, "Stop! That’s my friend you’re hurting!"

"But I’m not hurting her, Buffy, you are," came a ghostly response.

The answer really didn’t surprise the slayer. "I know," she said softly, shoulders sagging as the image of Amy vanished to be replaced by a field of churning colors. "I just don’t know what to do," she finally said, sitting down and putting her chin on her fists. "I want to love her, I really do, but I’m afraid that if I do, she’ll get hurt, or worse, like Riley."

A shadow appeared, rising up out of the chaotic field, then resolving into a ghostly form of Riley. "Buffy, you can’t keep beating yourself up like this," he said softly, walking over and sitting down next to her.

"Riley?" she said wonderingly. "Am I dreaming?" she rubbed her eyes, then reached out to touch him.

"Yes. But that’s not important," he said, catching her hand in his, kissing the palm briefly then holding it close to his chest. "I knew the risks and I was glad to take them. You shouldn’t be afraid to give others the same chance."

"But…what about you? I love you, Riley. I didn’t get to say that, but I did. I loved you and you died. I loved Angel, and he turned into a monster. I thought I might have loved Parker, and he was a…" Buffy fumbled, looking for the right word.

"Butt-head?" Riley offered jokingly, smiling sweetly. "Buffy, you can’t control how you feel. That’s not the nature of love. And if you try to shut off that part of your personality, then you cease to be the person you are."

"But I don’t want to hurt anymore," Buffy said softly, crying sadly.

Riley drew the slayer into his ghostly arms and comforted her. "That’s the nature of love, Buffy. The greatest and worst aspects of human emotion all wrapped into one feeling. That’s what makes it so wonderful."

Buffy sobbed in his arms for a few moments, then pulled away. "B-but don’t you want me to, you know, ‘remain true’ or something like that?" she asked, sniffling.

Riley laughed. "Oh Buffy, I would never ask you to shut off that part of your life. I know that no one will ever replace what we had, but there’s room for more than one love in your heart. Please don’t let what we shared stand in the way of your happiness."

"But…" Buffy said, looking vaguely confused.

"No buts, Buffy. I won’t be your excuse anymore," Riley said, leaning over to brush a ghostly kiss on her forehead, then vanishing.

"Dreams suck," Buffy said, getting up and dusting her bottom off.

"Yeah, they do, don’t they, B?"

"Faith!" Buffy exclaimed, spinning around. "What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be in L.A."

Faith shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno, seemed like a good idea, y’know? I mean, when your spiritual guide sorta offers you the chance to give a friend a swift kick before they go and do something stupid, you sorta gotta jump on it."

"Huh?" Buffy asked, confused.

Faith grinned wryly. "Come here, bud, I got somethin’ for ya," she said, wiggling her finger at Buffy.

The blonde slayer raised one eyebrow. "Why am I certain I am not going to like this, Faith?"

Faith snickered. Buffy took one step toward the dark-haired slayer. "That’s it, now, just a little closer…" Faith coaxed as Buffy slowly closed the gap between them. "There, that’s perfect. Now, turn around."

"Faith," Buffy said warningly, "I’m really not interested in your games."

"Come on, Buff, you owe me this one," Faith teased.

Buffy rolled her eyes, but turned around, unable to stop herself from giving in to the other slayer.

As soon as Buffy had turned away from her, Faith said softly, "This might hurt at first B, but believe me, you’ll thank me for it in the long run," and then hauled off and kicked the blonde slayer right in the butt, hard.

"Ow!" Buffy screetched, turning and rubbing her battered flesh. "What the hell was that for?" she whined.

Faith smirked. "Because you’re being a doofus, Buff. Stop wallowing in the guilt you don’t really feel and take what’s being offered to you. You’ll hate yourself later if you don’t."

Buffy frowned. "Why is it that everyone feels like they gotta stick their noses into my business. Isn’t my love life my own?"

Faith laughed. "Nope. Not when you’re the center of your little world. Face it, B. You’re the Slayer in those parts. What makes you happy, makes everyone else – well, everyone except the vamps – happy."

Buffy crossed her arms sullenly. "What if I don’t wanna be happy?" she demanded.

Faith circled her friend slowly. "Oh, come on, Buffy. You can’t tell me you don’t long to feel happy. That you don’t," she leaned in close, whispering into Buffy’s ears, "dream of feeling her arms wrap around you, her lips breathe across your skin, her thighs caress your…"

"Faith," Buffy interrupted, her face turning bright red, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Faith stopped her prowl. "Don’t you? I’m talking about Amy. And kissing. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. And touching. And loving, and all those other, wonderful, spectacular things that go hand in hand with saying, ‘yes’ to someone’s offer of love."

Buffy looked away. "But it’s not right. I can’t ask Amy to - to love me. Not when I, when I’ll be dead by the time I’m twenty five."

"Stop it!" Faith shouted, slapping Buffy across the face. "Stop making up excuses. Either step up to the plate and admit that you just can’t hack it, or eat a bowl of guts and open your eyes. Whatever you decide, I’m through with you. You’re on your own now, B. I can’t help you any more." She vanished.

Buffy woke up, clutching her cheek, which still stung from Faith’s blow. "What do I do?" she whispered into the darkness.

***

Sarah Matthews, recently of the Seattle Police Department and currently just another jobless nobody, trudged down the highway, occasionally sticking out a thumb as cars whizzed passed her. She kicked a stone down the road and shifted her pack once more. Four more cars went by, each ignoring the diminutive figure with the buzz cut short brown hair and the imitation Rayban sunglasses. The fact that it was full night didn’t deter Sarah from wearing her shades, they helped to keep the sand and grit kicked up by the big rigs out of her eyes. Besides, this way, no one could see her tears.

Oh mom, she thought again, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she walked. I fucked up so bad…I shoulda known that he’d go after you, I shoulda been there to stop him…

"He" was William Henry Danielson, a serial killer who had hacked his way through fifteen of Seattle’s finest citizens, including Sarah’s mother Anita, before Sarah had put a bullet in his brain. I shoulda made him suffer, Sarah thought, once again, kicking another rock. I shoulda ripped the flesh from his body in tiny little strips, and made him eat them.

They gave her a medal. And their condolences. And her choice of desk jobs while she "got over things." She hadn’t wanted any of it. Instead, she cashed out, grabbing what was in her pension and her savings and heading south. Maybe in another place, far away from home and all she’d loved, she could forget the pain, she could leave the demons behind.

She could understand why her lover, her beautiful Michiko, had left her.

Another car, this one a limo, cruised passed, then stopped. A window opened. A voice floated out. "Need a ride?" Cultured. Sweet. Familiar.

"Michi?" Sarah rasped, unable to understand her fortune.

A face appeared in the window. A face from the past. "Hello, Sarah."

Sarah Matthews took a step toward the car, still uncertain. "Michi, is it really you?" she whispered, afraid to blink, or breathe.

Michiko smiled, a touch ferally. "Sarah," she purred, "it’s so good to see you, my beloved old friend. Please, get in," she invited warmly, opening the car door and sliding over.

Sarah nodded dazedly, tossing her pack on the floor and settling on the leather seats. "Oh, Michi," she whispered, closing the door and buckling her seatbelt.

"Here, Sarah, have something to drink," Michiko said, handing her passenger a glass filled with a dark yellow liquid.

Sarah drank, letting the whiskey burn all the way down, then handed the glass back to the Asian woman. "Thanks."

Michiko just smiled and poured Sarah another drink.

***

Buffy watched Amy sleep. Her friend was curled up on her side, one arm tucked up under her cheek, one arm stretched out toward Buffy, like a child reaching for the jar of cookies on the high shelf. The slayer’s heart twinged as Amy murmured in her sleep, then rolled over and wrapped her free arm around a pillow.

"Love you…Buff," Amy muttered loud enough for Buffy to hear.

"Schmuck. You are a class A schmuck, Buff," the slayer told herself. Why couldn’t she just accept what was offered? Why did she have to complicate matters with stuff like guilt? Shit happens. She should just get over it and get on with herself.

But it was so damned hard to let go of that hurt. That huge, prickly ball of emotion that she’d wrapped up so tightly in her Duty as the Slayer that she couldn’t set it free if she wanted to.

Amy woke up to Buffy’s staring eyes. "You okay, Buffy?" she asked, her voice dry and raspy.

"Yeah, I guess," Buffy replied, getting up to get another can of soda for Amy. "Here, you sound like you ate a sheep."

"Thanks," Amy said, opening the can and chugging half of it. "I guess that floor’s pretty hard," she added, looking at the ground.

Buffy shrugged, then realized Amy couldn’t see her in the darkness. "I didn’t notice."

"I heard you tossing and turning a lot," Amy said softly.

"Yeah, nightmares," Buffy admitted.

"Oh," Amy said, remembering that the slayer suffered from them quite frequently. "Uh, well, I’m not, I don’t have um, fur anymore, but, um…if you…" she floundered helplessly.

Buffy frowned, trying to understand what her friend was saying. Then it hit her, and she almost burst out laughing. When Amy was a rat, and Buffy would have nightmares, she would get up and snuggle her until the aftereffects wore off, usually falling asleep with Amy curled up on her chest. "Oh gods, I want to," Buffy whispered, wondering what it would feel like to have Amy in her arms right now.

Not until Amy spoke did Buffy realize she’d said it aloud. "Why don’t you? Buffy, I swear, I won’t push you. I won’t ask for more than you can give."

"What if I want it all?" Buffy asked plaintively, her voice breaking.

"Then I’ll give you everything I have," Amy replied solemnly.

"Amy…" Buffy said, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I…I don’t…"

"I know," Amy said, scooting over so that Buffy could lay down. "Just…take it slow, Buffy. If you get uncomfortable, you can leave."

Buffy laid down, stiffly at first, then, as the seconds ticked on and lighting didn’t strike, she relaxed, turning onto her side and facing Amy. "Okay, this isn’t so bad," she said nervously.

As close as she was, she could barely make out Amy’s face in the moonlight. Amy smiled and tentatively reached out a hand. Buffy took it, twining her fingers through it. Again, no lighting.

"It’s actually, quite nice," the slayer said breathlessly as Amy took some initiative and slid closer.

They were less than an inch apart. Buffy could feel the heat from Amy’s body mingle with her own. She sighed softly. "Come here, please," she whispered, throat dry. "I want to…to hold you, if you’ll let me?"

Amy glided into Buffy’s arms, tucking her head up under the slayer’s chin. "Is this okay?" she asked softly, slowly dancing her fingertips up and down Buffy’s arm. Goosebumps followed in the wake of her touch. Buffy shivered a little.

"Yeah, yeah, it’s, um, it’s great," Buffy babbled, nuzzling her head against Amy’s.

Amy tipped her head up and smiled.

Buffy licked her lips. "Amy," she whispered, bringing her hand up to caress the young woman’s face. "If I…kissed you…you wouldn’t um, vanish, right?"

For an answer, Amy leaned up and kissed Buffy, hard. They both groaned and Buffy ran her fingers through Amy’s hair, losing herself in the moment. Amy broke away after only a few seconds and grinned. "No, I won’t."

Buffy returned the smile, then kissed Amy again. "I…think I like you Amy, a lot," she said, after several long minutes.

Amy rested her forehead against Buffy’s. "I think I like you a lot too, Buffy."

Buffy yawned hugely and Amy imitated her. Giggles filled the room. "Guess we should get some sleep," Buffy said, after yawning again.

Amy nodded. "Yeah. We should. But, Buffy, thank you."

"For what?" Buffy asked, lifting up her arm so that Amy could snuggle close.

"For finally taking a chance," Amy replied, brushing a kiss over Buffy’s arm.

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, well, all it took was a swift kick in my butt to make me see that I need you."

"Oh, who should I thank then?" Amy asked sleepily.

"Faith," Buffy said, just as sleepy.

"Mmm…thanks, Faith," Amy muttered, then surrendered to Morpheus.

"Yeah, thanks, Faith," Buffy whispered, "and you too, Riley."

***

Amy decided that she really enjoyed waking up as Buffy’s personal teddy bear. The slayer shifted, moving her hand up to gently cup one of Amy’s breasts. The young woman inhaled sharply, yet quietly. Buffy sighed and nuzzled her face into Amy’s neck. Amy fought to breathe. Oh yeah, she liked this. Now, if she could just live through this part of the relationship, when everything was all so new and exciting, life should be just peachy.

Buffy sighed again and opened her eyes. As soon as she noticed where her hand was, she practically jumped out of the bed, babbling apologies. "Oh, I’m so sorry, really, I didn’t mean to be so forward, I mean, I would never…"

Amy laughed and flipped the covers back, patting the bed beside her invitingly. "I don’t mind, now get back in here. It’s only six am."

"Six am?" Buffy peered over Amy’s shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. "Oh my god, how could I possibly be awake this early and it not be a school day? I must be insane," she declared, laying back down on the bed and pulling the blanket up over her body.

Amy started to snuggle close to the slayer, but stopped when Buffy tensed up. "I’m sorry," she said softly, turning away.

Buffy wanted to kick herself. "No, don’t be. I-I’m just not used to, um, waking up with someone. I usually just, you know, jump out of bed and…" she tried explaining, but it sounded lame, even to her.

"Not a cuddler?" Amy asked, trying to accept Buffy’s words at their face value.

Buffy laughed nervously. "Well, sometimes I am, sometimes… like now, there’s this whole new dynamic, you know, you and me, because we’re…"

"Both female?" Amy said, putting it together. "And you’re not comfortable with it."

Buffy looked away. "Yeah. It’s…it’s a little different."

"Okay, I can understand that," Amy said, smiling reassuringly.

"You can?" the slayer said, biting her lip. "Good, maybe you can explain it to me, because I’m feeling kinda silly over here." She smiled goofily, causing Amy to giggle.

"How about…you let me hold you for a while?" Amy suggested softly, letting her voice drop an octave.

Buffy swallowed. Wow. Now I think I know why Willow gets all gooey when Tara does it. "Uh, sure," she said, slowly scooting over until Amy could lightly wrap an arm over her waist. Their legs naturally twined together. Slowly, both girls let out sighs as they grew used to the closeness.

"This is nice," Amy commented, brushing a few strands of hair out of Buffy’s face.

"Yeah. Nice. I mean, last night was awesome, but today, this is really great too," Buffy replied, absently stroking her fingers down Amy’s back.

"Okay, so going slow is a good thing," Amy said, brushing her lips over Buffy’s forehead. "I can handle that."

Buffy smiled and placed a tentative kiss on Amy’s chin. "Thanks."

Amy grinned, nuzzling Buffy’s nose. "You’re welcome. Now, maybe we should try to get a little more sleep," she said, yawning hugely.

Buffy yawned in response. "Yeah, sleep," she mumbled, tucking her head under Amy’s chin and sighing happily. Maybe I can be happy. Maybe this time, it’ll work out, she thought as she dozed off.

Amy cuddled the slayer close, slowly running her fingers through Buffy’s sleep tossed hair and humming softly under her breath. "Sleep well, my Buffy," she whispered. "I’ll keep watch this time."

***

The gang was gathered in the library, preparing to listen to Wesley, who had finally finished the translation of the manuscript.

"It’s a story. Quite like a child’s fairy tale, really." He cleared his throat, adding, "this first part is in an ancient form of Latin. It’s the rest that was in Demonic. Seventh plane, I believe. Anyway, to the best of my knowledge, here is how it goes."

"From the hand of Brother William Grisham of Bath, in the year of our lord 1003. I marry these words to page to prepare the world against the future. May God have mercy on your souls.

"This tale comes to me from the mouth of a crazed woman who claims to be older than Our Savior. She came to me bearing a tattered scroll inscribed by the strange characters of the East. I offered her kindness and in return she captured me in a spell.

"For nine days and nights have I labored to pen this document as she has proscribed, may it aid you in your quest."

The dark-haired watcher coughed and took a drink of water. "This is where the language shifts," he explained, then continued.

"Three thousand years have I waited to take my revenge. Three thousand more will I gladly stand against the day that He shall rise again. No more a man, a maker was I. Oakheart's birth was seen by my hands. Her curves, her lines, her every stroke was lovingly crafted. The blade of a noble she was. A gift to a daughter of a powerful house. Then Katsuo-san came. He was a man of such power and bearing that all who came into his presence were stunned by his magnificence. He took what he wanted from the thousands of offerings; the rest he discarded as soiled.

"Only one thing could he not have - the noble's daughter. Hanako-sama’s heart belonged to Kenji-san, a samurai. In his fury, the dark one slew the man she loved, but she still refused to submit to him.

"To revenge her lover, Hanako-sama called upon dark powers to summon a fearsome demon to eat Katsuo-san’s soul, but his magics were greater. He bound the demon to his spirit, becoming the Magus Vampyr, the eater who walks by day.

"Thousands fell to his hunger.

"Then I, the maker, was called upon by the Light of Heaven to forge the weapon that would vanquish the Magus Vampyr. Long hours I labored in choosing the purest of ores, the finest barrels of water and the richest hides of leather.

"All for naught.

"The Magus Vampyr discovered our plan and marched on my village. Before I could complete the sword, he slew me.

"Kwannon is ever merciful. Her golden aura fell upon my fleeting spirit and offered me the chance to save my people.

"I am an honorable man; I accepted her offer.

"In an instant, my spirit flew into the wooden blade I had crafted as a template for the sword. My daughter Kumiko then took up the boken and slew the Magus Vampyr. But he will return. This I know. And this time, he will not be easily defeated."

Wesley stopped and wiped his brow. "This last part appears to be burned into the paper, rather than written in ink."

"To destroy the Eater Who Walks By Day, thou must discover oak's heart. With the blade of the Maker, thou must sever the life of the Vessel. Only then, wilt thou succeed. Seek the counsel of the souled dark one; it is he who will light the path to the blade. Only the chosen may wield oak's heart; all others it shall vanquish."

He laid his paper work down and looked at the group. Everyone shifted uneasily until Buffy jumped down from her perch on the arm of a chair. She began pacing the room.

"So, that’s it? No, here’s the magic wand to wave so that it all goes away? Great. So, where do we find this, ‘oak’s heart’ thing anyway?"

"I’m a translator, not a dealer of antiquities," Wesley said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

Anya shrugged. "I don’t know either. D’Hoffryn never talked to me about that kind of stuff. He was always more interested in hearing about my daily evisceration count."

"Don’t look at me, either," Xander said, holding up his hands defensively, "I’m just donut boy." The young man’s latest job was at a Dunkin’ Donuts, where he made "pillowy mounds of sugary goodness" for six hours a day.

"Maybe I can find something about it on the internet," Willow offered, while Tara nodded in support.

Buffy smiled. "Thanks Will, I knew I could count on my wicca girl."

Willow returned the smile, then got up to get her laptop and begin searching.

"Maybe Amy and I could do a locator spell," Tara suggested, looking over at Amy for confirmation. Amy shifted uneasily, but nodded.

"Now this is more like it," Buffy said, turning her gaze to Giles.

"Perhaps I could…look through the Chronicles for any mention of wooden swords," he said.

"And I’ll ask my friends on the other side," BJ’s voice said.

Buffy winced. "Oh, I wish you wouldn’t do that, Beej."

"Sorry," the ghost said, appearing in a chair at the library table. "I forget you humans have a problem with disembodied voices."

"Yeah, it’s called being labeled as completely nuts," Buffy groused, crossing her arms. "Okay, that covers the research party. I guess I’ll go and make us lunch."

"I can do that," Joyce said as she walked into the room. "Sorry I’m late," she added, taking a moment to embrace Giles, "but we had a showing at the gallery today and the turnout was larger than I’d expected. We sold quite a few paintings by a new artist. Lovely images. You’ve seen them, Rupert - the ones of Japanese villages?"

Giles nodded. "Yes, I recall them. They are quite nice." He frowned slightly, as if uncertain what to say next.

"Anyway, I’ll go make you guys some lunch; you go on ahead and finish your research," Joyce said airily, heading back out, stopping only to ruffle Buffy’s hair.

"That’s my mom, Queen of the Clueless," Buffy quipped, laughing. The others joined her, then got to work.

"So, what do you want us to do?" Xander asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Yeah, does it involve sex? Because I haven’t had an orgasm for at least six hours," Anya complained.

Buffy totally ignored the former demon. "Well, actually, yeah. Why don’t you call Angel and ask him about this sword thing?"

"Gotcha!" he said, jumping up and searching for the phone.

"What are you going to do?" BJ asked curiously.

"Practice," Buffy said succinctly, walking out of the library. "I need to work on my sword technique."

***

"No shit? Well, do you think you could lay your hands on it?" Xander cradled the phone against his shoulder while Anya danced around him, making "what’s he saying" faces. Xander shooed her away and nodded. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem, Angel old buddy. So, um, how are we gonna do this? I mean, Buff’s really determined to have this sword thing…"

"Xander," Anya finally whined, "what’s he saying?"

Xander frowned at Anya, covered the mouthpiece and said, "Just a minute."

"Fine, be that way," Anya pouted, stalking over to one of the barstools in the kitchen and sitting down.

"What? Oh, yeah, I’m here," Xander said.

"Good," Xander could almost hear Angel roll his eyes. "Look, when I found the sword, I was still not exactly the nicest of people, so I put it someplace I figured no Slayer could ever go - under the Master’s crypt."

"You mean old wrinkle puss was sleeping on it?" Xander chortled. "Man, that’s rich. Okay, so, like how do we get to it now?"

"Xander, when can we go have sex?" Anya yelled from her seat at the counter.

Again, he covered the receiver and whispered back, "In a minute, dear."

Mollified, Anya picked up a napkin and started folding it up into different shapes. Xander smiled at his girlfriend and went back to listening to Angel.

"You don’t. Or rather, Buffy does. I’ll send Faith up with the information in a couple of days. Oh, and Cordelia wants me to say ‘hey’ to everyone," Angel replied.

"Hey Cordy," Xander said unenthusiastically.

"I’ll pass on your heartfelt greetings and your delight in knowing she’s in your thoughts," Angel drawled.

"Oh give me that damn phone," Xander heard, then, "Hey Xander, how’s tricks?"

Xander rolled his eyes, while Anya began meticulously shredding paper napkins. He sighed and proceeded to spend an hour gossiping with Cordelia.

***

Sarah Matthews pulled herself up from the bed long enough to reach for a tall crystalline glass and a bottle of Jamieson’s best. She poured herself four fingers worth of the amber liquid, lit a cigarette and stared at the tiny mirror with its three lines of forgetfulness laid out in an all too inviting row.

How long had it been? A week? A day? A year? She couldn’t quite remember, not after Michiko’s ice cold alcohol, or, even better, when the Asian woman’s warm hands had touched her body. Time went fluid as Sarah fell into a routine of fucking and drugging, allowing herself to forget everything that led her to the edge of a Southern California freeway. At first, it had just been fucking and drinking, but one day, right after a particularly exhausting round of sex, Michiko had rolled off of Sarah promising more of what she’d just had. Sarah had naturally complained that she could barely move, much less fuck, and Michiko had just smiled and offered her the mirror.

Sarah had stared at it for a long, long time. She had done coke a few times in the past. Everyone did it, or at least that’s what that slimeball ex of hers had said. In that moment, with the pleasant haze of sex and booze cluttering her mind, all she could remember was how good the drug had made her feel - how strong she’d been. It was so easy to take the mirror, the straw, the tissue afterwards to catch the blood, so easy to fall onto the bed while Michiko painted hot, wet kisses over her naked, buzzing body…

She drank her whiskey, savoring the burn as the liquid slid down her throat. The lines vanished, followed by the almost erotic rush of the drug as it hit her system. She lit her smoke and took a heady drag, then toppled back onto the bed, waking the slumbering Michiko.

"Mm, good morning, my darling," Michiko purred, sliding onto Sarah’s chest, nuzzling her lovingly. "Did you sleep well?"

Sarah took a drag, considering. Then she shrugged. "I don’t remember. I guess so."

Michi smiled coyly, leaving a trail of warm kisses along the former policewoman’s throat. "It doesn’t matter. I’ll give you something better to remember."

Sarah dropped her cigarette into the remains of her drink and lost herself in Michiko’s hypnotic touch once more.