Fic: Intervention 1/3 Vampire Stories B/W/X NC17

[Crys Loch <pagansoul@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Yes, I finally completed another one.  Since there was so much delay, I 
thought I should keep posting it directly here.  That is... if anyone is 
still reading this series.  Thank you for your patience.  Hope you enjoy.
Crys


Title:  Intervention

Series: Vampire Stories, story 3

Author:  C.L.

Email:  pagansoul@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx <mailto:pagansoul@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>

Feedback:  Yes, please.

Distribution:  I have no site, but any of my stories can be found on 
MysticMuse.net  If you also have my other works, feel free.  If any one 
else wants, ask and I'll probably say yes.

Spoilers:  The series starts just past 'Chosen'.  All things canon and 
implied are fair game.

Rating:  NC-17 (overall I guess.  The erotic isn't the solo: it's the beat.)

Pairing:  B/W/X

Disclaimer:  I did not create, nor do I own the characters or their 
premise.  Joss Whedon did and does.  This is for fan fun and no profit.  
Also, whatever fictional original characters come and go, are just that- 
fictional.  The town is real, but nothing is literal or exact.

Summery:  There are some who know what happened.  There are some who 
have also been betrayed.  Enter Giles, Jenny and Cordelia.  

One Last Thing:  Characters move separately through the same nights.  
Also, time passes and skips through the story.  (Which when taken 
literally is a silly image.)  Oh, and there's a scene dedicated to 
Susan.  It was her idea after all.  Hope I did alright.



Intervention

By C.L.



"What do you think?"  Willow asked suddenly.  She rolled onto her side 
and tucked some strands of hair away from Buffy's face.



Buffy wondered at the question, confused.  She continued to watch the 
TV.  Her hand readjusted itself with Willow's movements and started to 
caress the small of Willow's back.  "About the movie?  Will, we've seen 
Blade Runner a million times.  I don't have to think about it anymore."



Willow hadn't been paying attention to the movie for a while.  Her mind 
drifted to thoughts and plans for a new start.  It was daylight and they 
were still in the cheap motel room they had quickly found as they pulled 
into Bellingham, Washington.  She spent some days arranging the money 
for a large purchase.  Tonight, they were meeting with a realtor about 
buying a more permanent place to live.  She'd been wondering, though, if 
this is where Buffy and Xander wanted to stop, or if they were resigned, 
apathetic, disaffected; the kind of dormant emotions that one of these 
days could erupt and maybe even tear them apart.  They had a history 
with circumstances beyond their control.  Could they even recognize that 
where they lived now was something they could control, for the first 
time, ever?  Were they settling or settling down?  Willow watched as 
Buffy absently watched the movie.  Glancing over Buffy, she saw Xander 
doing only the same, his arm stretched over Buffy's back, his fingers 
playing with her hair. 



These were their days now.  A cheap VCR hooked to the small motel TV.  
The three of them laying on their stomachs at the foot of the bed, 
watching whatever movie sounded better than nothing.  Tangled: their 
limbs always tangled into the others', their bodies always in contact, 
hands stroking, the touch moving; sexual, friendly, sub-textual.  The 
intangible mysteries of their lives before, condensed now, into the 
texture of reality: life, death- the feel of blood across their lips; 
love- skin sliding across their own.  Simpler now; needs easily sated, 
the void of a missing soul readily and constantly filled, conscience 
merely a play of memories, a trick of the mind.  In the muted light 
behind the safety of a curtain, they spent the days adjusting to a life 
of sensation and texture.  No one had asked any of the big questions in 
a long time.



Willow tried again.  Snuggling closer to Buffy, Willow's hand joined 
Xander's in playing with Buffy's hair.  "I mean, what do you think of 
this place?"



Buffy shrugged, her attention held by the slow violent hunt at the end 
of the movie.  "It's a motel.  I think the housekeeping lady doesn't 
like us.  When I pass her in the evening, she always crosses herself 
over her chest.  It sends a chill down my spine."



Willow smiled and glanced at the TV to see what was keeping Buffy's 
attention.  She looked across Buffy's back and found Xander watching 
her, quietly listening.  "Well, yes, I think we've overstayed our 
welcome here.  She whispers the Lord's Prayer to herself every time she 
passes our door.  But what I meant was what do you think of the town?"



Buffy rolled onto her back so she could focus.  She smiled as she felt 
Xander roll onto his side in response and resettle his hand between her 
breasts.  Willow's hand moved to her stomach and her own rested on her 
thighs.  Buffy stared at the ceiling a moment, wondering why she was 
still getting all the questions.  "I don't know.  It seems like a nice 
enough place.  Definitely more than one Starbucks.  Of course, this 
close to Seattle, there's espresso at every corner.  We've only been 
here, what, a week?"



"Over two weeks now," Willow corrected.



"Well then, there you are."  Buffy concluded.  "Time flying means having 
fun, right?"



Willow was distracted for a moment, tracing patterns over Buffy's skin.  
They had stopped wearing clothes in the day time.  She couldn't remember 
when in the past two weeks this had started, only that Xander had 
started it.  Shaking the thought from her head, Willow kept probing.  
"Well, this isn't the most romantic city in the world.  Do you realize 
we could live anywhere we wanted to?  Anywhere in the world, we could 
settle there.  Or never settle at all and explore.  I just want us to be 
sure before we buy a house."



Buffy closed her eyes and pictured the world, all the places and people 
in the world.  She opened her eyes and shook the images from her head.  
"Willow, I've had to carry the world on my shoulders for years now.  
I've finally shrugged it off.  I'm more tired than restless.  You know, 
someday, yeah.  But hey, this is a place, right?  In the world?"  Buffy 
looked up at Xander.  She brought her hand up and started stroking his 
hair.  "You've been quiet since we've been here.  What do you think?"



Xander looked down into Buffy's eyes then up and across to Willow's.  
His gaze dropped to their bodies, stretched out against each other and 
before him; breasts, stomachs, thighs touching, the bend of their 
knees.  His days were very different than the nights.  Day time was 
filled with these two women; with their scent, their voices, the curves 
and form of their bodies, the softness of their skin.  The memories of 
everything they have been through wrapped around them and kept them near 
each other.  The experiences they shared now burned like a hearth fire; 
sometimes cracking, popping, sparking into sudden flame, but always the 
embers of desire providing a warmth one associates with living, with 
being alive.  Walls collapsed at his turning and pieces of his life were 
ripped asunder and he knew there were parts of himself, subtle parts he 
never bothered to name, that were now just missing.  He guessed it was 
the same with them, because there was an openness now between them 
without the walls and he felt something within that gap that he had 
never felt before: permission.  He spent the days experiencing them, 
exploring all that was once inaccessible.  Bringing his thoughts back to 
the present, he made a mental note to not limit the discoveries to their 
bodies, but to start searching their minds as well.



Xander considered his own dilemma, question.  His nights, so different 
from the days, held wondrous experiences as well.  He heard in the night 
a howl, the sound carrying past his ears to vibrate down his spine.  
Something deep, eternal and unknown called to him.  He felt the 
connection each time his fangs slipped past his victim's skin and 
reached for the darkest part of them, a part that was in everyone.  It 
pulled at him easily past the rubble of his life before, reaching 
through these non-existent walls to beg him join, release, destroy.  He 
ached each night to shake off this pretense of human existence and 
stretch out beyond it, above humanity and reign his rage upon it.  
Instead, they hunted discreetly on the college campus while they did 
their laundry.  And now, they were going to buy a house.  Xander watched 
Willow's fingers start to run along the inside of Buffy's thighs and 
smiled to himself.  The answer was an easy one.  He loved them.  The 
grip of Buffy's hand stroking his cock pulled him suddenly from his 
thoughts and startled, he looked into her eyes before sensation closed 
his own.



Buffy smirked as Xander's eye fluttered shut and his jaw slacked open, 
his hips rocking in time with her hand.  She stilled her movement but 
kept her hand loosely around him, her thumb slowly stroking the 
underside of his cock.  His eye opened and she held his gaze, making 
sure she had all his attention.  "When I asked you what you thought, I 
didn't think it would lead to thinking."



Xander smiled and tried to restart her hand with insistent thrusts.  He 
glanced over to find Willow intently watching them.  His cock twitched 
as she licked her lips.  He noticed Willow's hand move up Buffy's thigh 
to her center.  His own hand crossed to one of Buffy's breasts, roughly 
kneading it, pinching the nipple between his fingers.  The sun was 
setting soon.  Each day as they felt it fall, their hunger grew.



Buffy's mouth opened and partly smiled in response.  She opened her 
thighs to Willow's touch and felt sure fingers slip through her folds.  
Still, her hand remained motionless.  "Not until you answer the question."



Xander paused and looked each in the eye in turn.  "As long as I'm with 
you both, I'm where I belong."



Buffy held his gaze and stayed still, considering his answer.  She could 
feel their connection, yet had no clue as to the thoughts that had 
preoccupied his mind.  She wanted to know.  He had remained so quiet 
these last weeks here, so reserved since those first two nights.  Buffy 
felt Willow's fingers penetrate her and her concentration was broken.  
She arched her hips and looked over at her smirking friend.  "You're 
making this hard, Willow."



"No," Willow countered as she continued to thrust her fingers and 
pressed her thumb to Buffy's clit, "he's hard, I'm helping."  She cut 
off anything Buffy might say in response by leaning over and kissing her.



Buffy's hand started stroking Xander's cock again as her other hand 
tangled in Willow's hair, pulling her closer.  She pulled Xander almost 
gently over her, spreading her legs wide to accept him and guided him to 
her center.  Buffy felt Willow slip out to allow him in, the fingers 
repositioning themselves over her clit and stoking.  Xander thrust into 
her as Willow's tongue slipped into her mouth and any questions were 
pushed aside by the overwhelming sensations.



Xander braced himself above them on one arm.  He caressed Willow's ass 
before sliding two fingers into her center, matching his rhythm with 
Buffy, smiling when he felt her thrust back in response.  He remembered 
dreams, he remembered fantasies; each time this happened he couldn't 
remember anything comparing to this.  He watched Willow kissing Buffy 
and Buffy responding.  He smiled.



Buffy opened her eyes as Willow moved her hungry mouth to her breasts.  
She almost laughed at the expression on Xander's face.  "You look like 
you have us right where you want us." 



Xander openly allowed the hunger to show in his gaze.  "I do.  And 
whatever town, whatever condition, it doesn't matter."



Buffy ran her hand through his hair and raked her nails down his back.  
She closed her eyes again and let herself get lost in the feel of her 
friends over, in and around her body.  She lay back and relaxed; smiling 
as their hunger ravaged her, opening and accepting their desire, touch, 
connection.  She remembered the times, over years, she had tried to push 
them away; from the danger that was her life and from the darkness she 
hid in her psyche.  But the world had tilted and everything shifted, and 
now, instead of finding the balance, she let passion propel her.  She 
felt her friends' passion devour her, and it was thrilling and freeing 
and right.



* * * * * * * * *



Deep in the center of the Sunnydale crater, a small group of people 
stood in a circle.  Around them, trees lay under boulders and shards of 
earth stuck skyward at odd angles.  Bits of broken tombstones littered 
the uneven ground and the debris of collapsed buildings surrounded the 
small barren clearing.  They stood, patiently waiting for the sun to 
fully set; men, women, all wearing black clothing as if gathering for a 
funeral.  Everything here was already buried and gone, though.  Some 
held candles, others gently swung small hanging cauldrons of burning 
herbs.  A couple of men began to circle the others, tossing salt and 
water around them and dropping gold coins into the center, then a stake, 
a lit torch, a human heart, and finally, the picture of a beautiful 
young woman.  The men returned to their places in the circle as the 
sun's light left the crater, a full moon started its rise and night 
entered.  An old woman sat down on a fallen tombstone.  A clear globe 
rested in front of her and darkened inside with her chanted words.  The 
others stood silent and still and waited.



The evening had passed into true night when the old woman collapsed and 
the globe shattered.  The others jumped, startled, then started as one 
voice to chant.  All eyes focused on the ground at the center of their 
circle.  They chanted and waited.  Finally, there was movement; pebbles 
rolled aside as first fingers, then a hand, burst through the dry 
earth.  Still, they chanted and watched.  A second hand pushed up and 
through, and they clawed at the dirt around them, frantically digging 
and tossing the hard, dry earth aside.  Only when the head of the young 
woman in the picture appeared, followed by her torso as she pulled 
herself up and out, did the chanting stop.  No one moved to help her 
past the remains of her grave.  No one knelt by her side as she lay 
stunned on the ground.  One did break from the circle to go to the side 
of the fallen old woman, offering her water and helping her up.



A man stepped forward then and addressed the young woman prone on the 
ground.  "Janna, of the Kalderash Tribe, you are summoned."



Jenny Calendar rose onto her elbows and twisted to look up at the man.  
Tears ran freely and streaked the dirt on her face.



* * * * * * * * *



Rupert Giles sat alone at the bar of the quiet pub.  Over this past 
week, the American interpretation of an English staple had quickly 
become his reclusive hide-away.  The owner didn't quite get it right and 
he was all the more grateful for it.  The pub remained quiet, perhaps 
dangerously low of customers, and provided him the perfect place to 
drink and think in peace.  The American tint, or taint as Spencer would 
call it, insured that the pretentious, young, old Council survivor would 
never wander inside.  The nature of the place gave him confidence that 
the not too young slayers would not stumble across him here as well.  He 
took some pains to keep his patronage of the pub unknown to any others.  
He could, or even should, drink alone in his apartment; and his 
apartment was nice enough, but any and all could reach him there.  Only 
Faith had bothered and managed to follow him here.  And thankfully, her 
only reaction had been to drink quietly along side. 



Giles smiled to himself when he remembered that night and signaled the 
bartender for a refill.  The Guinness was bottled in deference to the 
local microbrew on tap, but the scotch was good quality and what he 
preferred anyway.  Tonight, he would pace himself; merely sip.  He had a 
lot to think about and think through and felt confident that the very 
bulk of it ensured he would still stumble and weave himself back to his 
apartment after last call. 



He yet again, as has become habit, put off thinking about the center and 
cause of his current state of mind: the disappearance of Buffy, Willow 
and Xander.  Instead, he resolutely focused on the everything else that 
brought the glass to his lips each night.  They had set east to settle 
in Cleveland.  He swore he had been half joking at the suggestion, but 
still, there was a Hellmouth here, so it made sense for the present, for 
the reconstruction of a Watchers Council.  It had turned out to be 
simply a matter of a carefully named website and mailing list; something 
of Dawn's doing.  Only five Watchers were known to have survived and 
make the pilgrimage to another mouth of hell.  He thought perhaps there 
were others who were too frightened or had too much sense.  His old 
friend Robson was of the second variety.  Robson had agreed to keep in 
touch and continue in an informal capacity in Europe, but he expressed 
reluctance at the idea of a formal reformation of the Watchers Council 
and Giles couldn't help but agree with his concern.



The castaways of the old regime that have joined them are young and were 
too insignificant to have been assigned a potential or been called to 
the Watchers' headquarters when it was destroyed.  Spencer had 
proclaimed that he was a rising golden child and had been out on 
assignment when the Council perished.  Indeed, the man had ambition, 
confidence, charm, and no small amount of inside information.  To be 
fair, Giles also detected a strong intellect, a large cache of knowledge 
and a well honed ability to research.  What set off Giles' own well 
honed warning bells was Spencer's constant reference to 'an army of 
slayers'.  It was a phrase that had almost caused Faith to snap his neck 
more than once.  Still, he was more asset than threat. 



Giles sipped his drink and considered Faith.  She had become the leader 
again, though reluctantly.  She often sought counsel from Robin and 
himself before major decisions, though the decisions remained clearly 
hers.  Giles smiled at what the last couple of weeks, and the 
necessities of surviving the year of the last apocalypse, had brought to 
light.  Perhaps this is how it should have been all along: watchers as 
valued tools of the Slayer.  Faith knew a little of his relationship 
over the years with Buffy, and what she didn't know, he believed she 
idealized.  Not such a bad thing he reasoned.  He had always valued 
ideals in a leader.  He watched and supported Faith as she tried to 
transform herself from her past towards her own personal ideal; and 
negotiate a new relationship between the traditions of the Council and 
the novelty of thousands of slayers.  He trusted her as well.  Giles 
toasted the air slightly and tossed the remaining scotch down his throat 
when he realized and accepted the irony that it was Faith who he trusted 
most at the moment and for this task and period of readjustment.  
Shivering through the welcome burn of the liquor, he signaled the 
bartender for another.



As it turned out, the first priority wasn't the Council at all, but the 
slayers.  Just as they settled in, they started to reach out and find 
their newly awakened sisters.  With the help of the Coven in Devon and 
the fact that the Council's bank accounts didn't collapse with their 
building, this was happening at an ever increasing and organized level 
and pace.  Not all, indeed, very few new slayers were joining them in 
Cleveland.  This was the first major point of contention between watcher 
and slayer.  The slayers insisted that their sisters be warned and 
informed first, invited second.  Spencer, of course, was adamant that 
they be recruited.  Faith nearly settled the matter with violence.  He 
supposed it was obvious and inevitable, these reactions.  He was certain 
there would be more power struggles along these lines in the future.  On 
the other side of this same coin, some of the Sunnydale Slayers as they 
were now called were choosing to leave.  Rona was the first to go.  She 
left a pager number with instructions to find her if the world was 
ending again and later joined the mailing list, providing an email 
address where she could be reached.  With heartfelt hugs of goodbye from 
the slayers and mutterings of 'traitor' from Spencer, Rona returned to 
her own life.  Only a couple of the others followed.  Most, Giles 
imagined, knowing what they know now and having seen and experienced 
what lies in this world, are unable to go it alone, and so they have 
stayed. 



Giles remained on the sidelines, though at Faith's side, through all of 
this.  He felt here by default and envied Robson his semi involvement 
from home.  He was really here for Dawn, though 'here' could have been 
anywhere Dawn chose to be.  Giles was cornered now by his own thoughts 
into considering the notes left and subsequent disappearance of Buffy, 
Willow and Xander.  He allowed the pace of his drinking to increase.  
Something, and he had become very good at telling this, something wasn't 
right.  Kennedy had accepted her note with some heartbreak, but no real 
surprise.  She didn't know Willow, or any of them, well enough to have 
any idea how out of character this was.  In her mind, Willow had run off 
with Buffy.  While Giles thought that maybe Willow would indeed do that, 
he knew that when Buffy ran, she ran alone.  Andrew, the insufferable, 
romantic sap, was actually happy to have received a note at all.  Giles 
wasn't sure how Faith had taken all this.  He only heard her speak of it 
once, the night she found him and joined him at the bar.  She raised her 
glass and spoke a simple toast, "To B; selfish, deserving and damn 
lucky."  He hadn't responded, merely sipped at his own drink, and she 
hadn't elaborated, only quietly matched him through the night.  He 
guessed her own past wouldn't allow her to blame them.  The others 
followed Faith's lead and were probably relieved to no longer have Buffy 
around. 



This left himself and Dawn as the two, the only ones, still concerned, 
angered and betrayed.  Even that was tempered and confused by history 
and recent events.  Dawn had become a young woman in the chaos of the 
apocalypse.  A fact that almost, yet maybe not quite, had gone 
unnoticed.  It was possible that the three that knew her best had felt 
her push for independence amidst the struggles of the last year, and so 
had granted it.  It was not probable.  The note to Dawn had been filled 
with just such sentiment, but deep inside Dawn was the pain of getting 
just what you wished for.  What Dawn could not understand or accept with 
ever increasing anger and frustration at each dead end was the total 
severing of a connection.  He knows she has tried and continues to try 
to find them.  He knows she has great skill and experience with research 
and inquiry.  They both know that her inability to locate them means a 
deliberate break on their part. 



It is also this fact that leaves him with a bitter knot of anger mixed 
with a near panic helpless concern.  They might do this but they 
wouldn't do that.  As his thoughts spun around the churning in his gut, 
his hand sped the scotch ever faster into himself.  The bartender, 
familiar now with his patron, set the bottle on the bar top nearby.  
While it was true he had been the first to leave.  And also true, his 
return was only the result of dire need.  He still could not help but 
feel hurt when the gesture was returned in kind and in this manner.  
What Buffy proposed, what the three of them accomplished in the end, had 
shocked him into stunning admiration for them all.  He had quietly hoped 
for reconciliation, had intended reconnection.  They had risked and 
shared everything they had and every part of themselves to win this last 
battle.  He had... well, he still had guilt over how he reacted and 
behaved.  And now, he was left with that.  And the deep understanding 
that something wasn't right.



Giles was unable to explain or justify any of this to Dawn, however much 
he wished to.  He could only try to comfort, console, encourage an 
attempt to move on.  Test scores provided a graduation equivalent and an 
early admission into college.  He could hardly deny her funds for such, 
over Spencer's objections and with Faith's approval.  He couldn't offer 
her the answers she so desperately needed and it turned out, his 
influence over her was also severely limited.  Against all his 
persuasions, she had chosen to enroll in Kent State University, a mere 
30 miles or so from Cleveland and the Hellmouth.  And he knew, she would 
never stop looking for Buffy and the others.  She would always stay 
available to Faith and the slayers.  She was, in the end, as destined as 
any of the chosen and old guard.  And so, he remained here.



Giles kept steadily at the drink, kept toasting the remarkable courage 
and abilities he witnessed in these three young heroes, kept replaying 
his guilt at realizing it all too late, and kept his own pain and anger 
at bay.  Maybe, someday, he would have his chance to convey to them how 
truly proud he is.  Maybe, he reasoned through his dull, drunken state 
of mind, he got what he deserved; and Dawn was just an innocent victim.  
Wishing, at the point of the evening when his anger was blunted enough 
for such wishing, for just one more chance to talk with them, Giles 
finished the last of his drink and left enough bills on the bar top to 
cover his tab.  With unsteady but practiced ease, he made his way out of 
the pub and the short distance to his apartment; a full moon his lone 
witness.  Dawn's future and his slight hope of tomorrow, the only things 
leading him to this home each night.



* * * * * * * * *



Buffy, Willow and Xander, with secret glances and smirks to each other, 
stepped out of the realtor's car and reconvened in front of an old brick 
building. 



"I knew we should have found a quick bite before meeting with her."  
Buffy whispered to her friends.



"It was hard enough to get her to meet us this late and after dark as it 
was."  Willow shrugged as she eyed the young woman pausing to retrieve 
notes from her briefcase. 



"Well, don't blame me if this ends poorly."  Xander chuckled.



Willow slapped his arm.  "Both of you can manage to hold it together for 
a little while I'm sure."



"Us?"  Buffy protested and tried not to laugh.  "You're the one that 
kept staring at her neck the ride over here."



"Do you think she noticed that she couldn't see us in the rear view 
mirror?"  Xander wondered out loud.



Buffy shrugged.  "She didn't say anything."



The hushed conversation stopped when the realtor walked up to the 
group.  She offered them a dazzling smile and started her pitch.  "When 
we talked on the phone, you mentioned wanting to find something large 
and spacious, with no immediate neighbors.  Well, we certainly have a 
number of estates outside of the city that fit that.  But when you also 
mentioned you wanted it close to downtown if possible, and given your 
age, I thought we'd start with something like this."  She swept her arm 
towards the large two story building.  "It used to be a garment factory 
of sorts.  I believe the company made aprons and kitchen towels and the 
like.  The building's been empty for a couple of years, but it is in 
great condition.  This whole area of downtown has recently been rezoned 
to include residential complexes.  Unfortunately for the owners, this 
building is located blocks away from where the condo renovations have 
been happening.  The area here still houses active businesses.  But you 
did say you didn't want any direct neighbors.  Shall we look inside?"



Before she could receive an answer, the realtor stepped up to a simple 
door near the side of the building and opening it, motioned the group 
inside.  She turned on the large overhead lights and walking past the 
group, started to gesture around the room.  "This was a small reception 
area for the business and just down that short hall is a bathroom 
facility, the elevator to the second floor and beside that, the 
emergency stairwell.  It could become a dramatic entry foyer for your 
apartments.   Through this other door, we have what used to be the 
shipping, receiving and storage area."  She hurried the potential buyers 
through the door and turned on another set of lights.  Before them was a 
vast, open and empty room.  On the side facing the street was a large 
roll-up delivery door.  The high ceiling was lined with large beams and 
vents for heat and air.  Industrial shelves lined the walls and massive 
tables were spaced through the room.  The floor was a dirt tinted 
concrete.  Willow, Buffy and Xander started wandering around the space.  
There were few windows and plenty of dust.



The realtor patiently watched them as they started to take in the 
enormity of the space.  She was trying to judge if any of them were 
creatively imagining the possibility of walls and rooms, if they were 
designing a living space in their minds or if she would have to start 
that process for them.  She watched as they moved together into the 
center of the space then started to separate on their own.



Xander started to explore the back of the building.  Large deep shelves 
covered the back wall.  He arched his view up and over, through the 
space, noticing high brick outer walls, beamed towering ceiling and only 
a couple windows tucked up near the top above the shelves.  In the far 
back corner he noticed a room breaking into the massive space.  Finding 
the door almost hidden beside the shelves on the back wall, he let 
himself inside.  It was a furnace room, darker and dustier than the rest 
of the space.  In the center sat a large old furnace.  He opened the 
large door at the front of the burning chamber, then eyed the 
corresponding network of pipes and smiled thoughtfully. 



The realtor noticed Xander slipping away to the back and started again 
on her pitch to the two young woman who stayed nearer the center, 
circling with their heads tilted up, trying to take in the enormity of 
the space.  "As you can see, even just this floor can be divided into at 
least two large apartments.  You can easily split the whole of the 
building into three living spaces, or more, if you wish to rent some of 
it out.  If you can find the creativity and imagination, this building 
can be a wonderful blank slate to dream up your perfect living space."  
Willow brought her head level and eyed the young woman, smiling.



Xander exited the furnace room and returned to the main space.  "Does 
the furnace still work?"



The realtor quickly looked through her notes on the building for an 
answer.  "It doesn't say.  The building was updated years ago to a more 
efficient natural gas furnace.  The entire building is equipped with a 
modern heating and cooling system.  An inspector will be able to answer 
any further concerns you have about the structure or older systems."



Buffy eyed Xander suspiciously and he offered her only a shrug and smile 
in return.



"I think what you'll find even more interesting is the second floor."  
The realtor suggested as she lead them back through the door to the 
elevator on the other side of the hall.  "How cool would it be to have 
an elevator in your home?"  She quickly pressed the button to open the 
door and silently prayed that after all this time, the elevator didn't 
make too much noise in protest.  Everyone entered the small elevator car.



Silently relieved the owners had kept their equipment to selling 
satisfaction and strangely uncomfortable at being in such a closed space 
with these three young people, the realtor stepped quickly out of the 
elevator and turned on the lights to the second floor.



Again, the group stepped forward and moved into one large, empty room.  
The whole of the building was mostly these two spaces; one above and one 
below.  This one was cleaner than the one below, and emptier.  There 
were no tables, no shelves, just a vast expanse of hardwood floor and 
brick walls.  The ceiling was just as high as the room below and also 
lined with beams and vents.  On the side facing the street was one very 
large window, taking up two-thirds of the wall, giving a view of the 
more industrial part of the city as it sank down the hill and towards 
the harbor.  Further in the distance, the lights of ships could be 
seen.  On the side wall, opposite the elevator,  a set of stairs climbed 
up the side, an iron handrail the only break between it and the room.  
It led to a lofted room perched out and over the corner.  The two inside 
walls defining the loft were not walls at all, but glass windows, 
letting the loft become part of the overall space.  Buffy, Willow and 
Xander moved as a group to the center of the room and roamed their eyes 
over the space.



"This place is huge."  Willow whispered to the others.



"And cool," Buffy added, "Don't forget cool."



The realtor smiled when she overheard those words and hung back, hoping 
they'd start to see what could be done on their own.  She continued to 
listen though, ready to step in with ideas if need be.



"Explain cool."  Xander prodded, his neck beginning to strain from 
looking up, over and around.



"Think about it."  Buffy became more animated as she tried to explain 
what she could suddenly see, drawing the focus of her friends.  "We live 
here, together, on this floor.  A nice big open space to spend the days 
in, instead of small divided rooms.  No walls.  We just spread our stuff 
to be around.  Like have the plasma TV and stereo over there by the 
window with furniture in front of it.  And, I don't know, put the 
kitchen there against the back wall.  And a table kinda in front of that."



Willow laughed.  "Plasma TV?  Someone's already been thinking about 
shopping."  Willow looked around the space, picturing what Buffy was 
seeing.  "Oh, I could have an office in this corner next to the window 
at the end of the stairs, open to the living room part but facing the 
corner."



"Okay, I'm starting to see the cool myself."  Xander joined in, turning 
slowly around the space and not minding the image of a plasma TV on the 
wall at all.  "But a kitchen?  Buffy, we don't need a kitchen."



"Yes we do."  Buffy insisted.  "For popcorn, and..."  Her mind raced for 
a suggestion and reason Xander might share.  "And pizza."



"Don't you mean pizza delivery boys?"  Xander pointed out and countered.



"We'll argue about it later."  Buffy looked over the open room again, 
seeing the immense space as inviting.  "Can't you see it, guys?"



The realtor was surprised and pleased at the turn in the conversation.  
She was glad she answered the initial call and not one of her older 
colleagues.  The possibilities of what she overheard intrigued her and 
she let her mind wander to images of the three young friends together.  
She enjoyed this subtle side benefit of the job, this eavesdropping, 
overhearing, and learning little details of how her clients might live 
their private lives.  She let herself picture it only a moment, closing 
her eyes and smiling.  She decided to abandon any further suggestions of 
splitting the building into apartments, but reminded herself not to make 
assumptions.  Besides, the suggestion that they did not need a kitchen 
didn't make any sense.  Maybe she was not understanding what they needed 
at all.  Hearing her name, she shook the thoughts from her head and 
refocused on the sale, whatever their intentions.



Finally receiving the realtor's attention, Willow tried her question 
again.  "What's the story with the glass room?"



"Oh, I believe that was an office space."  The realtor walked over to 
the group, ready to recount what she knew of the building's history.  
"This floor was where they actually made their products.  There used to 
be tables and sewing equipment all through here.  And the room upstairs 
was office space for the owner and his secretary.  He liked to watch 
over everything I guess."  She watched as the three of them followed 
each other up the stairs.  Overhearing Willow mention that it could be 
their bedroom, she smirked and crossed over to the window, letting the 
view distract her thoughts before she was caught.



When they had all entered the loft room, Buffy turned to Willow, a smile 
that threatened to turn to laughter on her face.  "Okay, you know she 
heard that last comment, right?"



"Well, I had to distract her from the no kitchen talk before."  Willow 
defended with a shrug and a smile.  "You know she's been listening to us 
the whole time."



"I don't care what she's thinking."  Xander wandered over to one of the 
inside windows and looked down.  "She's looking like dinner more and more."



Willow walked over to him and slapped his shoulder.  "Don't make me find 
another realtor."  Turning away from the window, she glanced around.  
"Seriously, what do you guys think?  This really could be the bedroom.  
And the rest of the room looks so cool from up here."



"I love it."  Buffy joined them at the window.  "We could have the bed 
right here by the windows."  Looking past the realtor and through the 
large window below, she stared out at the night and the city lights 
beyond.  "That window has a great view of the city."



"And it'll just be loads of flammable fun during the day."  Xander 
looked over the whole of the room below, admitting at least to himself 
that the idea of an open space did appeal. 



This time Buffy slapped his shoulder.  "I know you can manage to hang 
curtains and shades.  Come on, Xander, make us a home like you've always 
done."



Xander turned to Buffy, caught a little off guard by her words.  He 
smiled and gave her a quick kiss before wandering around the room, 
considering.  "Well, other than the one big window, there aren't that 
many to brick in, so that's no problem."



Willow and Buffy turned to Xander.  Leaning beside each other and 
against the window wall, they watched and waited expectantly.  There was 
a small walled off section of the room at the inside back corner.  
Xander crossed over to it and peeked inside its door. 



"Bathroom?"  Buffy guessed.



"Bathroom."  Xander confirmed.  "No need for that either."



"Oh, yes there is."  Willow protested.



"Shower."  Buffy elaborated and stressed for them both.



"Okay," Xander conceded, "I can replace the toilet with a shower.  A 
very big shower.  With two shower heads."  Xander wiggled his eyebrows 
unnecessarily.



"But no bathroom mirror."  Willow adamantly announced, her hands waving 
for emphasis.  "It wigs me out the no reflection thing."



"Check," Xander started counting on his fingers as he repeated off the 
features of what was apparently to be their new home.  "No windows, save 
the heavily, heavily curtained big one; a large shower in the 
see-through bedroom's bathroom; no neighbors to notice our comings and 
goings; in the city, so easy hunting; no mirrors," he paused to nod 
towards Willow, "and please, no unnecessary kitchen."



"There will be a kitchen."  Buffy announced with her slayer decisive 
voice.  "Blame it on my history of needing normalcy if you have to, but 
there will be a kitchen.  Again, we can argue about it later."



"No, I'll just save us some time and give in now."  Xander walked up to 
the women and took each by the hand.  "So?"



"Yes."  Buffy took Willow's other hand with her free one and squeezed 
them both.



"Wait."  Willow interrupted.



"What wait?"  Buffy let go of Willow's hand and looking worriedly into 
Willow's eyes, stroked her cheek.  "Big open space to spend the days 
in."  Her voice softened with a pleading tone.



Willow's face softened with the gesture and she leaned over to give 
Buffy a quick reassuring kiss.  "Not that wait.  I mean let's just think 
it over for a night.  This is cool, yeah.  But we hardly know the city 
at all."  Willow wrapped her arm around Buffy's waist and brought her 
closer, then squeezed Xander's hand and pulled him towards them.  "I 
just want to be sure.  We should explore the city tonight.  Maybe even 
split up and really look around.  All we know is the college campus."



"Okay, then we get it, right?"  Buffy smiled at each of them, relieved 
and reassured when they laughed in return.



The realtor watched the display in the loft window.  When they started 
towards the door, she quickly turned around towards the large window so 
she could casually turn to them as they made their way down the stairs.  
"Well, was I right?  Isn't this the place?"



Buffy, Willow and Xander descended the stairs and Willow walked over to 
the realtor, hedging an answer for them.  "It might be.  We're going to 
think about it for a night and call you tomorrow."



The realtor tried not to show her excitement in her smile.  She could 
read people of course and hear what they mean in their words.  The 
wealthy were the most fun.  These three friends were so young.  She 
guessed only one had inherited the fortune and the others were the lucky 
along for the ride.  When Willow was the one to speak, she was sure it 
was her.  Feeling more relaxed now that the sale was done, she let her 
mind create a story of how all that came to be.  She almost missed 
Xander's question.



"What's behind the doors on either side of the elevator?"  He noticed 
them for the first time and started over to them.



The realtor quickly brought her mind back to business.  There would be 
all night to imagine everything.  "The door to the right is to the 
utility room.  The newer gas furnace, in line hot water, industrial 
electrical service.  You can certainly put in a washer and dryer.  The 
one to the left leads to the emergency stairwell and beside that is 
storage space stretching the length of the wall."  She waited patiently 
for any other questions.  Searched her mind for anything she thought she 
should add.  Nothing came.  They didn't even look through the doors.  
When they gathered back at the elevator and pressed the button, she 
quickly followed, turning off the lights as she stepped in.



As soon as the elevator door opened, she quickly stepped out and moved 
away down the hall.  She wasn't sure what made her so nervous about 
these clients.  She thought maybe it was what she could now confirm 
about their sexuality, but such things had never made her nervous 
before.  In fact, it had always been the opposite reaction.  Something 
about these three set her on edge when they were near.  She grew nervous 
again thinking about the car ride back.



"Hey guys," Buffy halted the progress to the door out.  "What are we 
going to do with the space down here?"



"I don't know."  Willow shrugged.  They had all forgotten the rooms 
below.  "You don't need a training room anymore.  Too bad, it would have 
been perfect.  I know, we can put in a jungle gym."



"A jungle gym?!"  Buffy scoffed, then chuckled at the image.



"No," Xander entered into the conversation excitedly.  "A play room."  
When the women, even the realtor, all turned to him with incredulous 
looks, he corrected their assumptions.  "As in pool table, video games."



"Oh, I know!"  Buffy joined in.  "A spa."  She looked at Xander as she 
elaborated.  "As in a Jacuzzi, a sauna."



"We can put it all in."  Willow offered as she started them moving 
towards the door out. 



"We're not installing a jungle gym."  Buffy laughed.



"No, not that part, the rest of it."  Willow glanced one last time 
around the small entry space and followed the others out the door. 



The realtor turned off the lights and locked the door behind her.  Her 
nerves about the drive back were abated somewhat by the growing 
certainty of the sale.  Taking a deep breath, she turned and made her 
way to her car.



Xander stepped in front of her before she reached the car.  Smiling at 
her startled expression, he stepped closer.  "We're going to walk back, 
take some time to check out the area, that kind of thing."



"You sure?"  The realtor stepped back.  "You know where you are and 
won't get lost?"



Buffy shook her head and grabbing Xander's hand, pulled him away and 
down the sidewalk.  "We're sure."  She called back over her shoulder.  
"We'll call you tomorrow."



The realtor watched them disappear into the shadows.  There were some 
street lights, but for blocks around, everything was closed this time of 
night.  She shook her head and started for her car again.  Rich people 
sure were an odd type.  Still, she had the sale and planned the rest of 
her night in celebration.



East Holly street.  Buffy, Willow and Xander stopped a few blocks down 
the hill under the street sign indicating what street their new home to 
be was on.  Retail stores and lunch counter restaurants lined the 
streets here: futon shop, clothing store, toys, travel, books, art 
gallery; all closed.  The streets were quiet, deserted.  They looked 
around them, then back to each other, deciding what to do.



"I'm hungry."  Xander paced a short circle in front of Buffy and Willow, 
stopping at times to bounce on the balls of his feet.



Buffy casually watched him.  "Well, there's a whole city full of people 
out there.  I'm sure you can find something as we check this place out."



"Should we split up?  We could see more of the city that way and compare 
notes."  Willow suggested.



Buffy shrugged.  "Sure, sounds good.  The motel is back up the road and 
a right on Samish Way, right?"



"Yeah," Willow confirmed.  "I was thinking I'd head back towards the 
college anyway, only down by the water.  With the moon out tonight, 
it'll be nice."



"Well then, I'll just take off.  See where this road goes.  Maybe find 
the edge of the city."  Xander gave a quick kiss to each of the women 
and not waiting for a reply, set off quickly down the road.



Willow watched him disappear.  "It's different for him, isn't it?"



"This is different for all of us."  Buffy gently reminded Willow.



"I mean it's different for him than it is for us."  Willow clarified.  
Anxious eyes looked into Buffy's for some reassurance. 



Buffy shrugged and looked down at the sidewalk.  "I get it.  He's fine, 
Will.  He's a vampire... he's fine."  She looked back up and into 
Willow's eyes.  "You're going to hunt, right?  Not just walk by the water."



Willow stepped up to Buffy and placing her arms around her shoulders, 
started playing with Buffy's hair.  She gave Buffy a quick kiss then 
smiled as she looked deeply into her eyes.  "The way you keep asking me 
that, I'm starting to think you're worried about me or something.  
Haven't I hunted every night?"



Buffy matched her gaze and shook her head slightly.  "Not really.  
Hunted is a definite stretch of the term for you."



Willow glanced at the ground as she considered Buffy's words.  She 
raised her eyes back to Buffy's, letting a touch of self assurance shine 
clear in her look.  "Well 'hunting' as you call it is a little new for 
me.  I do feed.  Besides, do you forget who turned you?"



Buffy wrapped her arms around Willow and pulled her close against her.  
"I never forget that."



Willow's eyes hardened and she kissed Buffy again.  Lowering her arms 
around Buffy's back, Willow crushed her to herself with a vampire's 
strength.  The kiss was hard, passionate, consuming, possessive and she 
only let up when she heard Buffy's moan.  Willow pulled back and smiled 
when she saw the touch of defiance mixed with passion in Buffy's eyes.  
Willow softened her face, started stroking Buffy's hair again and 
whispered, "I've always been able to do what I felt I had to do.  I even 
worried less about the consequences than I think you did.  Don't worry.  
I'm just trying not to lose myself again.  But I remember what I am."



Buffy stepped back when she felt Willow's arms release her.  She ran a 
hand through her hair and slowly a smile formed as she looked at the 
woman, the only person, that could have turned her.  "Okay, okay, you're 
right.  Besides, I don't want to lose you either, Will.  Go on, grab a 
bite, take your midnight stroll.  I'm just gonna check it out around 
here I think."



"Okay."  Willow stepped back a few paces.  "I'll meet you back at the 
motel."  She turned to start down the side street and towards the bay 
then stopped and smiled back at Buffy.  "And maybe one of these nights, 
you'll teach me how to hunt."  Not waiting for a reply, Willow took off 
quickly down the side street.



Buffy watched as Willow disappeared down the now abandoned street.  A 
small smile formed when she remembered the Willow she first met and her 
head shook slightly at the image of teaching that Willow, this Willow, 
any Willow to hunt.  She had assumed it was instinctive to the demon and 
thought Willow had just been fighting it.  Maybe Willow's personality 
really was overwhelming the demon.  There had always been a prevailing 
force inside her.  However unsure or insecure she seemed, a 
determination would spark in her eyes and suddenly a great force was 
standing beside you, or sometimes in front of you: opposing.  It wasn't 
just with the magic, Buffy realized.  She remembered it was Willow who 
stopped her from running away again after that summer in LA.  It was 
just Willow who confronted her, called her out on everything.  Buffy 
shook the thoughts from her mind, her hunger roaring past the din of her 
musings.  This wasn't the time to figure it all out.  Heading downhill 
on East Holly street, Buffy considered that maybe she should make the 
time, though.



Buffy strolled down the street, peeking in the windows of closed shops.  
When she caught herself pausing in front of a travel agency and staring 
at the pictures of a tropical beach, she picked up the pace and walked 
determinedly towards the lights and noise of the part of the city still 
open and awake.  Railroad Ave. the sign named the still busy cross 
street.  Cars slowly circled its length, searching for parking down the 
side and even against the center median.  It seemed more parking lot 
than road.  Open stores and restaurants lined the area on either side.  
This, it seemed, was one of the centers of nightlife in the city.  Buffy 
turned down Railroad and started her hunt.



Groups of friends, couples, solitary men ducking into the adult video 
store: Buffy could hear the roar of hearts beating, smell the unique 
scent of everyone walking past her, ahead, behind, all around her on the 
sidewalk.  She walked slowly, allowing someone to approach her if they 
liked, hoping that no one would, that it wouldn't be that easy.  Her 
mood was growing more predatory as she passed an easy victim standing 
alone and checking his watch.  She hoped to find someone who would give 
her more trouble.  The street ended at a city transportation station.  
Busses pulled up and left, train tracks laid in close.  Buffy crossed 
over to the station and started towards its shadows, hoping she would 
find the element that always seemed to hang out at these places.



There it was, at the end of a parking lot; two guys in sports team 
jackets and baseball caps standing around a car off and away from 
everything.  Buffy watched as another car pulled up beside them and a 
short conversation took place through the window.  A moment at most, the 
guys stepped back and the car pulled away.  Buffy smiled as she crossed 
the parking lot.  She needed a fight as much as a kill.



"Hey guys, what'cha doin'?"  Buffy called over to them as she neared.  
They eyed her warily and willingly as she approached.  Buffy kept her 
hands loosely at her sides and her face a calm mask.  Only her eyes 
betrayed an edge of aggression as she stared unerringly into theirs and 
stopped a few feet away.  Buffy could see their breaths faintly in the 
cool night air.  She easily picked up the skip of their heartbeats.  Her 
tight t-shirt and jeans were in sharp contrast to their oversized 
jackets and baggy pants.  They were large men; their posture and 
gestures designed to make them appear powerful.



They eyed her appreciatively and their surroundings suspiciously.  
Finding no one else in the vicinity and nothing out of place, they 
nodded and smiled in belated confidence.  "Well, hello and welcome.  You 
needing something to keep you going tonight?"



Buffy smiled as she appeared thoughtful.  "You know... I do."



One of the men stepped closer.  He quickly glanced around again then let 
his eyes travel over her body completely.  "We can be enterprising."



"And accommodating," his partner added.



In the end, they proved very accommodating, fight for their life 
included.  Two guns lay kicked aside under the nearby car.  Two men lay 
dropped on the pavement, broken bones jutting their limbs at odd 
angles.  Buffy rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms and back.  
There was a bruise fading on her jaw and another on her eye.  She had 
let them take their swings; needed to feel raged aggression directed at 
her, engrave itself on her.  They were tentative at first, then foolish 
and assuming, and finally mindless as the violence escalated in pain and 
fear.  When they realized they were fighting a monster, she got from 
them what she needed and took from them what she wanted.  It was over 
now and she should move away from the scene.  Satisfied was too strong a 
word, but it took the edge off.



Buffy kept to the shadows and reemerged at East Holly.  Turning right 
and keeping an eye out for Xander in case he was still around, she 
continued down the now busy street.  It was a personable town.  Not 
bright lights, big city: this wasn't LA.  But there were restaurants and 
clubs, the odd retail store still open.  People were busy parking and 
walking, meeting up or just wandering around.  She didn't detect an 
implied threat or a scene.  It all felt laid back and casual.  A drug 
store that stocked a bit of everything was still open.  The fish taco 
place was busy.  A record store held a large population of the college.  
Buffy started to cut randomly down the darker side streets between the 
closed office buildings.  Somewhat lost, she came back out to the busier 
streets downtown.  She noted an underground parking garage and continued 
down the road and found the city's main theater.  Posters advertised 
upcoming concerts and traveling Broadway shows.  Buffy pocketed one of 
the calendars and decided to circle back. 



Every part of the city held the scent of the sea in the air, the 
moisture carried through the streets by the wind.  Moss clung to every 
crack in the sidewalk, the underside of benches, the crevices of 
buildings.  Buffy could smell the rich earthen scent of it against the 
man made fumes of the city: the oil on the streets, the exhaust of cars, 
the perfumes and soaps of the people, and conflicting mix of foods from 
the restaurants.  The natural aroma of moss and sea overlaid and 
overpowered all of it.  Seeing the city only at night, and so mostly 
hidden in shadows, it left Buffy with the impression that the city was 
only a mirage on a scenic slope down to the sea.  The conversations 
Buffy could overhear were filled with speculations of weather; plans for 
hiking and skiing and boating, tales of eagle and whale sightings.  She 
heard there was a volcano that towered over a mountain range nearby and 
always overheard an evening update on how it looked that day.  Buffy 
wondered if she would ever see it some night if the moon rose close. 



A main street down the hill brought Buffy to a small park just before 
the main harbor and behind the old court house.  Dutifully reading the 
sign, she smiled at the dedication to the maritime history.  Buffy sat 
on a bench next to a fountain, deciding to take the moment alone to 
start to sort some things out.  This wasn't her favorite activity, but 
events this staggering deserved some attention.  She was a vampire.  
Xander was a vampire.  And Willow was a vampire. 



The fact that she was turned was mostly her not doing.  She didn't fight 
it, accepting her death and relenting to Willow's intentions.  She could 
have done any number of things instead she supposed, but it was Willow.  
And Willow had always surprised her.  She always seemed to blindside 
her.  Buffy focused her thoughts back over the years with Willow.  Just 
when she thought she had Willow figured out, knew what was happening or 
would happen next... Willow manages to return Angel's soul,  Willow 
gives up life plans to stay in Sunnydale, Willow confesses she has a 
girlfriend, Willow pulls her back from the dead.  Buffy remembered all 
the wayward spells that came with Willow gaining power faster than 
proficiency and the havoc they caused.  But she only smiled now when she 
thought of them.  It wasn't like life on the Hellmouth was calm anyway.  
Besides, there were more times when it went right, in key moments, when 
she counted on her, or when Willow was blindly raging in grief.  Willow 
always had an unerring accuracy when she was angry, with words or 
magic.  It was just always surprising what Willow would choose to aim 
at.  Willow's intentions over the years had played as much of a role in 
her life as her calling.  And her calling changed Willow's life beyond 
the influence of intentions.  Buffy relaxed her thoughts and laid her 
head back on the bench's backrest.  She smiled when she accepted there 
wasn't anything else she could have done that night Willow turned her.  
From the moment she entered and altered Willow's life, Willow 
continually influenced hers.  The dynamic spiral of their relationship 
was stronger than the mortal coil.



Buffy readjusted herself on the bench, leaned against the armrest and 
brought her feet up.  She listened to the fountain and refocused her 
thoughts on Xander, confident now that this time spent going over events 
was actually helping.  The fact that Xander was turned was all her 
doing.  She remembered the reasons she told herself, used to convince 
Willow.  She wondered every now and again why she really did it and what 
she was expecting.  It had happened before.  Her and her calling came 
barreling into his life and ever after she had felt responsible.  Buffy 
smiled when she guessed how much Xander would hate to hear that.  It was 
true, though.  It was also true he had grown into a man she admired.  
His loyalty, courage, compassion: traits tempered to such strength by 
years in her life and over the Hellmouth that she knew these last years 
would not have been survived without him, that the world would not have 
survived without him.  He saw everything from the sidelines she hoped to 
keep him safe at; and more than was comfortable, was the voice of 
nagging conscience.  When he lost his eye, the group lost their focus.  
And now... what does it say when she stopped his heart.  It was 
inevitable: Willow and her were turned, their heart had to stop.  She 
had to do it.  Before, she felt it was her responsibility to keep him 
safe, even against his own wishes.  Now...what?  Was she supposed to 
keep him in check?  Years of controlling her darker nature gave her the 
strength of choice, the power of free will, even after the severing of 
the connection to humanity.  She no longer felt the burden, the sacred 
duty, a righteous calling to keep humanity safe.  She couldn't even 
sense a normal obligation to the morality and rules set within humanity 
to protect it.  She could remember them, list them in her mind, but she 
couldn't feel it.  She had choices though, and could choose not to seek 
its destruction or even to cause it pain.  Buffy wondered how much 
choice Xander really had.  He had tried to speak with them once about a 
calling he felt, and stopped when he realized they did not feel it.  
Xander was a vampire.  Still, he chose to remain with them.  Were they 
less evil?  She had been the lawman for years and broke the law all the 
time, herself.  She could never completely reason what was actually good 
or evil, and the checklist humanity offered was never really a help.  
Even Xander was for bending a law or two by the end.  What right now did 
she have to influence him against his nature?  Buffy ran her hand 
through her hair and considered purposely sighing for effect.  She is 
his sire, his friend and now, even his lover.  She has some rights.  And 
he did choose them.



Buffy got up from the bench and started to wander slowly around the 
park, no longer able to sit still.  The level of contemplation had 
inevitably sunk to a depth she always found suffocating.  Good and 
evil.  Layers and layers of gray seemed to bury her when she thought 
about it.  If she had simply allowed herself to be molded by the Council 
instead of just trained, she was sure the questions in her mind would 
have been long muted.  Of course, so would her life.  She was certain of 
that as well.  So she had always trusted her gut when the questions came 
up and shot from the hip.  Now her gut was eerily silent.  Were they 
simply all evil now?  Willow was adamant that they weren't.  Willow was 
a vampire now.  Buffy stopped and stared unseeing at the lights of ships 
in the harbor, a full moon giving a surreal glow to the unfocussed 
scene.  The fact that Willow was turned was what... a vampire's doing?  
A sublime act of chaos?  It couldn't have been fated.  After everything 
they had been through, after defeating the blackest of gray and what 
claimed to be and clearly was actual evil, it couldn't have been fate.  
Maybe Willow was right, and there is no God.  If this could happen, 
after all that, and there is a God; she only questioned more the line 
between good and evil.  It could have been Karma, Buffy reasoned, then 
shook her head and the thoughts purposely away.  It had happened, and 
everything past that had been carried along.  Buffy knew Willow had a 
deep need to make everything all right in the aftermath.  Willow formed 
a plan and set everything up as her way of easing consequences, and 
Buffy simply went along with it; supporting Willow till she slowed down 
enough to find her balance.  Here they stood.  In a city that felt far 
from the Hellmouth and as open to possibilities as the sea it merged 
into.  Buffy took a deep breath, letting the scent settle her.  
Questions remained unanswered but events that had happened anyway lay 
easier in her mind now.  It was time to move on.



Buffy noticed it was Holly street that crossed the front of the park and 
started back.  At Railroad Ave., she turned to dutifully explore the 
other side; remembering she was supposed to give a report of what she 
found in the city.  This side of the road ended in a parking lot 
surrounded by a no-tell motel and what used to be warehouses.  The 
buildings now held restaurants, condos and clubs.  The two buildings at 
the end had blacked out windows at street level.  Curious, Buffy walked 
down to check it out.  The first building at the end was obviously a 
club.  Music slipped out the door as college age kids walked down dark 
stairs and inside.  A discreet sign over the entrance named the club 
Rumors.  Remembering what Willow said about how you can always tell by 
the sign, Buffy followed her hunch and entered the club.



Flyers tacked to posts and a wall were the only real give-away.  It felt 
like a college hangout.  It felt a little like the Bronze back home.  
There were a couple of pool tables up front.  Booths lined the walls, 
tables with comfortable chairs filled the center, and of course a bar 
along the side.  Men, women, the odd couple; it seemed to be just 
friends talking with friends, though she was sure there was some 
flirting and pick-up lines tossed in.  Buffy heard the music drifting 
into the space from a hallway beside the bar and investigated further.  
Peering around the corner at the end of the short hall she found the 
dance floor in the room behind the bar wall.  It was filled; gay, 
straight, groups; a good DJ keeping everyone moving.  Buffy smiled.  It 
was a slightly bent, over 21 only Bronze.  It was a spot of normalcy and 
she couldn't wait to tell the others about it.  Buffy slipped out of the 
bar and continued down to the other building at the very end of Railroad.



Again, a small sign: The Hungry Ghost.  A heavy steel door blocked most 
sound from escaping and made entry uninvited and intentional.  Buffy 
decided to try it anyway, never fearing to enter a place before.  The 
music was much louder here, stronger; an industrial, dark, penetrating 
vibration.  A bar opened to tables that opened to a small dance floor.  
A balcony lined the far wall, the edge crowded with onlookers and people 
seeking conversation.  It took a moment to register over the music, but 
as Buffy made her way to the bar, she heard all her internal warning 
bells go off, every latent Slayer sense assaulted.  There were demons 
here, and vampires, and looking again around the place, the distinct 
scent and heartbeats of humans.  Buffy smiled as some memories came to 
mind.  She missed the good ol' days when she would just bust into a 
place like this and feel the fear of the patrons as she'd confidently 
get what she came for like an old west sheriff.  She missed the 
confrontations.  People just weren't a challenge and she wasn't the law 
anymore and had no reason to come storming in now.  Buffy quietly made 
her way to the end of the bar and sat down.  She wanted to sit back and 
see what a place like this was about. 



The bartender, a young handsome vampire with a friendly smile, quickly 
came over to Buffy to take her order.  "You're new here," he called over 
the music.  "I'd have remembered you.  I'm great with faces, especially 
the pretty ones.  What can I get ya?"



Buffy smiled at the compliment but hesitated, not sure what to order.  
She didn't really drink and the few times she did, she didn't really 
enjoy Spike's brand of whatever it was.  The bartender seemed sweet, and 
she didn't want to call much attention to herself, so she tried some 
charming innocence.  "Hi.  I am new.  At this.  What do you recommend?"



The bartender considered quickly and his smile grew when he had just the 
thing.  Leaning closer to Buffy, he kept his voice low as he made his 
suggestion, knowing she could hear him.  "A Long Sloe Comfortable Screw."



"Excuse me?!"  Buffy pulled back slightly.



The bartender laughed gently and straightened back, giving her some 
space again.  He raised his hands up in mock defense.  "It's the name of 
a drink.  I swear.  You've never had one?"  He paused and let the double 
meaning play.  Seeing her raise her eyebrow, he continued.  "I can do 
that for you.  You'll try one now."  He winked at her and turned to the 
center of the bar to make the order.  He guessed she was a newbie.  They 
were so much fun to play with.  Still, the boss wanted to know each time 
one came in.  The bartender caught the attention of a young man standing 
amid the crowd at the other end of the bar and motioned with a nod of 
his head towards Buffy.



Buffy caught the look, the motion, and watched as the man excused 
himself and started slowly over to her.  She hoped the young vampire 
tending bar couldn't sense she had been a Slayer.  She missed parts of 
the old days, but had a whole new life to think about now.  She really 
was trying to fit in.



The bartender set the drink in front of Buffy and waved her off when she 
tried to pay.  "First time is on the house."  He smiled, winked again, 
and returned to helping other customers.



Buffy warily turned the tall glass in her hand.  She recognized orange 
juice, but had no idea what else to expect.  Taking an experimental sip, 
her eyes widened as the hard alcohol burned her throat slightly.  Still, 
it wasn't that bad.  The juice mellowed most of it.  Plus, she admitted, 
it had a fun name.  Buffy noticed the man was completing the circuit of 
handshaking around the bar and was almost to her.  She took a deeper 
drink and braced herself.



Buffy watched as he silently took the seat next to her.  Asian eyes, 
short black hair, black slacks, black button-up silk shirt: all of it 
well cut, tailored, styled.  Clearly, he was the owner, Buffy realized.  
She remained as silent as he.  It was a simple, old game; and she would 
wait and drink her drink.



The bar owner gave this new vampire a moment to say something.  He 
always gained information from the way they first reacted towards him.  
This one, he realized quickly, wasn't near as young as she first 
seemed.  So he would take the time to get to know what might be a new 
player in town.  It always proved the best way to keep his place 
peaceful.  He motioned for the bartender to bring him a drink and 
settled comfortably and confidently in his seat.  Turning to young 
woman, he held out his hand.  "Hi.  I wanted to introduce myself.  My 
name is Jack."



Buffy smiled to him and shook his hand.  She caught herself as she 
started to reply 'Buffy' and switched to her alias.  "Joan.  Joan 
Morte."  He didn't start off with calling her 'Slayer', so she thought 
maybe no-one had guessed it.  Maybe it was just the owner checking out 
the newest demon in his bar for trouble.  Buffy tried to relax, 
continued to sip her drink and appear non-threatening.  "So you're the 
owner?"



"Yes."  Jack nodded gratefully to the bartender and accepted his 
martini.  "Yes, this place is my sanctuary."



Buffy smiled and nodded her understanding.  "So, you're here to give the 
rules and regulations, then?"



Jack smiled and sipped his drink.  "Something like that.  You're new 
here, aren't you?"



Buffy nodded.  An easy enough question but she worried how many more 
would follow.  She kept her eyes mostly on her drink but stayed aware of 
his demeanor.  "Yeah, we just came into town."



"We?"  Jack tried to keep his voice conversational.



Buffy ran her finger down the length of the glass.  "A couple of friends 
and I."



"And, you've been to places such as mine before?" Jack gently pressed.  
He leaned back, offering her space and sipped at his drink.



Buffy shrugged.  "Never much of a patron before, but ya."  She sipped 
more of her drink, enjoying the slight burn of it now, and wondered how 
much to reveal.  She liked him.  There was something peaceful about the 
man.  He wasn't challenging, though he did seem curious.  He was 
confident and she had no doubt he could hold his own if provoked.  Buffy 
had the sense it would take a great deal of provoking to move this man 
into violence.  He reminded her a little of Giles.  She was suddenly 
surprised he wasn't drinking tea. 



Jack continued to watch her patiently.  There was something familiar 
about her.  There was something he should know, something she wouldn't 
tell him.  He was certain the name she gave him was new, not only by her 
hesitation, but the name itself, Morte, was clearly a name given to the 
vampire.  She appeared controlled, confident and tired.  He could tell 
she was exhausted.  He guessed it was the accumulation of experiences 
that led to the confidence more than a cocky self assurance.  She kept 
looking at her drink and away from him.  He grew less worried and only 
more curious.  He hoped she wanted peace.  "You look familiar.  Forgive 
me, have we met before?  Forgive me again, may I ask how old you are?"



Buffy laughed.  "You aren't supposed to ask a girl that question."  She 
turned to look at him.  "No, we haven't met.  I could counter with how 
old do I look to you?"



Jack laughed.  "I'm old enough to know better than to answer that.  I 
only meant...  I swear, I should know you."



Buffy shook her head slightly.  "I'm sure we've never met.  You'd have 
remembered me.  How about you start.  How old are you?"



Jack noticed her drink was getting low and signaled the bartender to 
refill it.  He motioned away any protest.  "Again, on me.  It is not 
often I get to know such a beautiful woman.  I am old, I'll admit it.  
Perhaps even too old for you.  This place, it keeps me feeling young, 
though."



"I'm not here to find anyone," Buffy gently asserted.  "Moving on 
though, I don't think I have a 'too old for me'.  Trust me.  And you 
didn't answer the question."



Jack laughed again.  It felt good to laugh.  She was quick, aware his 
'getting to know you' questions weren't simply mild flirtations and 
skilled at answering without revealing anything more.  Plus, she took 
the opportunity to gain information as well.  All while remaining 
civilized and even playful.  There were very few he considered friends, 
and even less who intrigued him.  He hoped this strange woman whose name 
he still didn't know could become one.  "I am a little over 600 years 
old.  Passed 300, you really stop counting between them."



Buffy was surprised.  She thought by that age, vampires looked less and 
less human.  This one appeared no older than 25 and handsome as well.  
"Wow.  Okay, you win.  You are old."



"And you?" Jack gently reminded her it was her turn.



"Oh, I'm 22."  Buffy accepted the drink refill with a silent thank you 
to the bartender.  "I promise, legal to drink.  I can show you my ID."



Jack shook his head.  "I meant total years."



"That is total years."  Buffy shrugged.  "I'm totally 22.  Your 
bartender guessed it right, you know.  I'm new."



Jack shook his head slightly again and leaned back in his seat.  "Then 
may I ask where you're from?"



Buffy considered the question and her answer.  She took a few sips of 
her drink and wished her gut could tell her something.  Her mind liked 
him, though.  He was treading softly and respectfully in his inquiries.  
She reasoned that if there were enough demons in this city to support a 
bar then someone, someday would recognize her.  It would come out.  She 
didn't want it to come out just yet, though.  She could hint and see how 
he reacted.  "I'm from Sunnydale.  Have you heard of it?"



Jack was grateful she decided to honestly answer the question.  He had 
watched her and knew this was a deliberate choice.  Her answer helped to 
piece some of the puzzle together in his mind.  And it was enough for 
now.  He was certain he hadn't gained any real knowledge of her yet, but 
experience told him he would not gain it by pressing.  "I've heard of 
it.  Rough town.  A Hellmouth and a Slayer.  The greatest Slayer by all 
the accounts that drifted up here."  Jack was surprised by her short 
laugh as she waved off his comment.  "I didn't mean to pry.  As you 
guessed, I came over to clarify the rules in this establishment."  He 
smiled when she turned to him, clearly open and listening to him.  "As I 
said, this is my sanctuary.  I only want peace.  So, please, no fighting 
inside, and no hunting.  If you find prey here, take them far, far 
away.  I deplore police even more than violence."  He watched as she 
nodded her assent and held her eyes with his own for as long as he 
could, hoping to show her he meant no harm.  "And I honestly hope I'll 
see you here again soon, Joan."  He rose from his chair and offered his 
hand again.  When she brought her hand to his, he raised it to his 
lips.  He returned her smile and went back to mingle with the patrons.



Buffy finished her drink and waved good bye to the cute bartender.  It 
was deep into the night now, but there was still plenty of time before 
daylight.  The air was sharply cold and she could almost see the 
moisture condensing through it.  The cars, the road, even her skin 
collected the droplets.  Buffy smiled and started towards the motel.  
This wasn't her old home, this clearly wasn't Sunnydale.  Sunnydale held 
its heat long into the night, the dry pavement radiating the days sun 
back into the wee hours.  This could be a new start.  Buffy was sure by 
the way that Jack said her name at the end that he was aware it was only 
an alias.  She knew that the Slayer part of her had teased the edges of 
his senses.  He would probably figure it out.  She was cautiously 
certain of two things after that: that he would be all right with the 
knowledge and that he would be more curious than ever.  She hoped so, at 
least.  If he asked her questions, she could do the same.  A 600 year 
old vampire who looked that well preserved and deplored violence 
intrigued her.



The alcohol swayed her walk a little and Buffy giggled in concentration. 
She should grab something to eat before making it back to their room.  
She had entered and exited a demon bar without even threatening anyone.  
My, how the world had changed.  She looked up at the stars and almost 
expected them to be in different patterns.  She did miss the violence.  
She could admit it now as she missed it more and more.  People couldn't 
provide the challenge she was used to.  She shouldn't even call it 
hunting anymore.  It felt nothing more than selecting and killing.  Even 
earlier tonight, it wasn't a real fight.  Buffy wasn't sure what she 
felt about that.  She craved the blood; and the power of their life as 
she drew it inside herself felt amazing still, and sated her.  But she 
was used to some risk: an adrenaline rush very different than what she 
experienced now.  Buffy noticed a young man leaving a group of friends 
and walking to his car.  She approached him vampire visage in place.  
Maybe she could at least have the chase.



* * * * * * * * *



Jenny Calendar lay curled in a tight ball on the motel bed.  The room 
remained darkened; even the pale, broad illumination of the now setting 
full moon burned too vivid.  The sound and smell of the sea washed into 
the room through an open window and she breathed slowly through the pain 
and willed the ocean outside to carry her out of this jagged and rusted 
reality.  Jenny wished for anything and anyone to take her away from 
this.  The tribe, her people, they brought her to this place, the last 
place Buffy, Willow and Xander were alive.  They provided a little food, 
some water, clothes, money and the reason she had been summoned.  Their 
voices remained calm and neutral even as they detailed a great injustice 
that would forever haunt this place, the tear in the order of things 
they felt so compelled to mend.  She would be their seamstress in this 
darkness.  They tied her to the thread of these three lives and charged 
her to fix it.  Then they left.



Jenny replayed their stories again and again in her mind.  They would be 
canon Romani tales soon: these three friends who rose to battle every 
challenge; who passed stumbling and bloody, yet standing at the end of 
each gauntlet; who stood through their trials free at each verdict.  Her 
tribesmen retold the journeys of heroes as myths with an already 
practiced ease and she was certain these three kids she barely 
remembered were to be legends.  She replayed their story because she 
couldn't remember the epilogue to her own.  She could only remember the 
last act, her own attempt at a redemption and the face of her beast, the 
feel of his hands on her head and then there was nothing.  She had 
failed.  They had lived on and Angelus faded into their past as just 
another trial.  The climatic end of her own story was just an early 
chapter in their own.  Years had gone on since she passed out of the 
tales and she could scarcely believe what the fates put these three 
children through.  The tribe had continued to watch them since Angelus 
intersected their destinies and ancient Romani magics were resurrected 
at the crossroads.  They loved them now as their own.  Romani traditions 
allowed her tribesmen to recognize the journeys for what they were even 
as it passed unknown to the participants.  And the end to the tale of 
heroes was not an undead existence as vampires.  For her people, stories 
were the order of the world.  People were only players in tales retold 
over ages: tales of love, vengeance, and honor.  And ever so rarely, 
tales of heroes.  There was a tear in the order of this world, and she 
was summoned to repair it. 



Jenny's only memory of the years passing since her death was a deep 
feeling and understanding of warmth that was now gone to the pain of 
being confined to a body, to the constant assault of physical sensations 
in this world.  She couldn't imagine living again.  So she replayed 
impossible tales that really happened and let herself love these 
children too.  She couldn't believe her own people would do this to her, 
yet she clung here near the shore to the corner stone of her life 
before: loyalty to the tribe above all others and the tales that kept 
the order of the world.  They told her where to find the vampires.  As 
dry sobs shook her body again, she despaired at the fate that would ask 
her to do this alone.  She would find Rupert.  He had remained a part: 
entering and exiting the stories.  He still lived.



* * * * * * * * *



Willow smiled to herself as she imagined Buffy's reaction to her parting 
comment.  The empty side street quickly lost the classy retail shops and 
transitioned into a warehouse district.  Continuing down the hill, 
Willow noted the name: North State Street.  Just as she guessed, the 
warehouses gave way in the end to massive commercial docks and 
Bellingham Bay.  Wharf Street skirted the docks and Willow stood still 
and watched a large man trudge his way up towards her and the city.  He 
was easily twice her size and strong, hard work on the docks evident in 
the breadth of his shoulders and the calluses on his hands.  Willow 
breathed his warm, heavy scent, letting the demon hunger and offer the 
man a gentle smile as he glanced curiously at her in passing.  She 
imagined the only thing he feared and considered stronger than himself 
was the sea.  She didn't let him pass far.  A few quick steps and she 
was behind him, pulling and twisting his arm painfully behind his back 
and pushing him to his knees.  Her fangs slipped into his neck from 
behind as her other hand tilted and held his head still.  He 
frantically, uselessly tried to pry her arm away and free himself, 
gradually growing weaker until he collapsed into her embrace.  Willow 
pulled the last of his life into her and licked the wound clean.  She 
dragged him to the shadows beside the street and whispered "thank you" 
in his ear as she laid him down. 



It was something Willow remembered the members of the Devon Coven always 
doing: acknowledging with gratitude the life that was sacrificed for 
their meal.  At the time it made Willow wholly uncomfortable and many 
times resulted in a loss of appetite.  Now, she understood; or maybe, 
she acknowledged, it was merely the trick of a lack of conscience.  
Either way, it was a good habit to begin.



Willow walked to the end of the street and away from the body.  To the 
right, Wharf Street led around the massive docks.  On the left, she 
noticed a park sign indicating a walking trail.  Willow turned to the 
left and started down the dimly lit paved path.  It followed the edge of 
the bay, tucked between some railroad tracks leading to the docks on the 
left and the low bank to the shore on the right.  Willow could hear cars 
passing by on the road above the tracks.  A wooded hill beyond that, the 
lights of houses breaking and spotting the black monotony.  Softer and 
more constant than the cars passing was the rhythm of waves lapping the 
rocks below.  There was little wind tonight and the bay was protected by 
the many islands dotted just off the shore.  Still, Willow promised 
herself next storm, she would return here.  Willow congratulated herself 
on finding this city as she slowly walked down the even and well 
maintained path.  It was a kind, enlightened community that would 
designate and design a stretch of its shoreline for public use.  Path 
lights were sparse and distanced, clearly a cursory attempt at 
discouraging the criminal element more than an intent for night use.  
Willow easily imagined days with the path full of people: the swell at 
lunch hour, the thunder of early evening joggers, the weekend bedlam of 
children.  It didn't matter.  She had fed, her hunger abated, and there 
was no need to find anyone on the path tonight. 



Things were going well, she reasoned.  They would have something that 
they had always deserved soon, especially after not only saving the 
world again, but changing it for the better, the good of mankind.  They 
would have a life of their own.  Okay, yeah, so a couple things had 
happened that really twisted that up and it wasn't the reconstruction of 
their relationship that she had imagined.  She had always been able to 
adjust and adapt circumstances.  And it looked like they had everything 
they needed to finally have a future.



A couple things had happened... there really wasn't any oversight to the 
universe.  One thing leading to another, sure, but that was only an 
infinite amount of decisions clashing into each other.  Willow sat on 
one of the benches that lined the path and watched the water expend its 
energy onto the land.  She noticed even the subtlest wave would rock and 
turn a pebble on the beach, toss a bit of shell further down the shore.  
There was a rule in Wicca, the first rule it was even called, and it was 
meant to be the guide for a moral life filled with fewer consequences:  
"And it harm none, do what you will."  Tara spoke of it often, the Devon 
Coven offered her a more complex interpretation.  Still, Willow thought 
it inevitably impossible.  For every action there was a cascading 
unpredictable reaction.  And that reaction is itself an action and it 
continues till butterflies flap their wings and storms rage on the other 
side of the world.  The Chaos Theory.  Willow remembered reading about 
it in college.  Even if the universe was chaos and repercussions 
essentially random, there was an order that emerged apparent: the 
mathematical symmetry of a snowflake, a flower, the outcome of a series 
of coin tosses.  If any action could harm, maybe it was the motive that 
defined the moral.  Try to help another, you're in the light.  Try to 
help yourself, all sorts of shades of gray.  Try to end the world cause 
you just can't deal with it, you've pegged into the black.  Willow 
laughed to herself out loud and tossed a rock into the water, watching 
as ripples broke waves and wondering if now the surf's up in Hawaii.  It 
was simplistic and useless and there was no-one keeping score.    



Willow knew these thoughts were only circles.  She hoped to find a 
tangent she could steer by.  Her mind was spinning, her gut was silent, 
and the vampire was only a simple beast that craved.  Or maybe that was 
herself as well.  She still chose not to be evil, the memory of the 
experience still chilling her spine.  It was empty and meaningless and 
so consumed you that no amount of sated desires could fill it.  She 
never wanted to feel that way again.  She didn't feel that way now.  But 
aside from the obvious, she had no idea what that meant.  Don't kill 
people for fun, check.  Kill one to feed and survive, deal with it.  
What about when it was more hunger than need?  Both Buffy and Xander 
hunted as they called it, allowed pleasure and desire to play a part in 
their actions.  Willow found herself unable to trust those reasons 
anymore.  Maybe she should just flip a coin, and let chaos and its 
underlying order decide.



Willow heard the faint fall of footsteps and turned to peer through the 
dark and down the path.  Her motion halted the slow stalk of a man 
approaching in the distance, his eyes glaring and filled with intent.  
She decided this was what passed for providence and turned back to the 
water, allowing the man to believe he was not seen.  She fished a 
quarter out of her pocket and flipped it into the air while assigning 
sides: heads he lives, tails he dies.  Willow caught the quarter, 
flipped it to the back of her other hand then revealed the answer.  She 
waited for the man to approach.



She could smell him even before she could clearly see him.  He was dirty 
and greasy, his hair unkempt and his clothes a ragged mess.  He was just 
the sort the meek lights along the path were meant to keep away.  A 
switchblade was flicked to life in his hand as he drew near and jumped 
in front of her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet.  Holding 
the weapon up between them, he sneered, "Well look at what my big pole 
caught tonight." 



Willow couldn't stand to let this continue any further.  She knocked the 
knife from his hand and sent her fist across his jaw, knocking the man 
out cold on the ground.  Willow stared at him, grateful she didn't have 
to bite him and regretting that she would let him live.  But a scientist 
wasn't supposed to judge the outcome of the experiment, so she shook her 
head and leaving him there, continued down the path.



The moon's arch was beginning its decent into the west over the water.  
A full moon tonight.  It cast the opposite of a shadow, a path of 
shimmering glow that stretched out over the black sea, inviting.  The 
invitation between the moon and Willow seemed to follow her as she 
walked slowly down the path beside the water.  She smiled and blew a 
grateful kiss to what was now her sun.  It hurt still, though, the 
knowledge that she would never see the sun again, that the moments of 
its strength were now her weakness.  She had taken that side of Wicca 
for granted before, her powers always better expressed attuned to the 
moon and practiced at night.  Now, after learning a balance, it was lost 
to her before she could even reach for it.  Even the earth itself would 
burn her now.  That was a grief and loss she couldn't share with 
anyone.  They wouldn't understand.  'Well, maybe Buffy,' Willow 
corrected herself.  She could still do cursory magics, the slight 
adjustments of elements and energies that didn't require an outside 
reservoir of power and could be done without grounding.  Willow 
acknowledged that if in dire need, blood magics were certainly now an 
available and powerful option.  She was also pretty sure that the use of 
blood magics pegged you into the black as well, so it was only an option 
if the need was extreme. 



She needed to figure this out, she had to know: why it was so different 
now, how she was still so connected at all, what it was about draining a 
slayer that made it feel so close again.  With research, investigation, 
inquiry into where vampires come from and everything about them, maybe 
Willow could find the answers she needed. 



Willow's musings were broken by the sound of footsteps and she turned 
from the water to notice a young woman nearing on the path.  Only a girl 
really, maybe just starting high school.  Already, Willow couldn't 
remember looking or feeling so young.  The girl had a bounce to her step 
and a smile and seemed so spirited in this experience, that even the 
chill in the night went unnoticed and she left her small jacket open.  
Willow closed her eyes from the low neckline of the girl's shirt visible 
past the jacket; hunger and desire suddenly begging her to take this 
girl and taste her life.  Willow shook the impulses away and instead 
pulled the quarter from her pocket and flipped the coin.



Willow called out a passing comment as the girl drew closer.  "Beautiful 
night, isn't it?"



"Yeah."  The girl stopped, smiled, and drawing a big breath, spun in a 
slow circle, arms out.  "I love a full moon night.  The only thing 
better is a stormy night."



"A bit late for you to be out."  Willow kept a light tease to her voice, 
not wanting to appear as a disapproving adult.  She wondered if this 
girl is what Buffy would have been like, without the calling.



"Eh," the girl shrugged and smiled.  She walked up to Willow and stood 
beside her, gazing out into the water.  "I snuck out for a walk.  Had 
some thinking to do." 



"It could be dangerous out here," Willow pointed out.



The girl turned to Willow, a smug smile complimenting another shoulder 
shrug.  "Part of the fun."  She turned the tables and nodded towards 
Willow.  "And what are you doing out here, then?"



"Me?"  Willow smiled and let her eyes travel over the girl's body, 
setting her on edge for the first time.  "I'm hunting."



Before the girl could run, Willow grabbed her and held her close as her 
face morphed and fangs slipped into her neck.  Willow opened her eyes 
and her mind to the experience of it: the warm copper tang and the burn 
of the girl's spirit and life as it slid down her throat.  She closed 
her eyes and slowed her pace, lapping and gently pulling as the girl 
weakly struggled, feeling every nerve ending spark, buzz and tingle.  It 
still seemed to end too soon and Willow dropped the girl and stepped 
back, dizzy and searching for balance.  Willow was elated and terrified, 
understanding now what Buffy had meant, what Xander craved; and haunted 
by the memory of Rack.  It might have been better if she had just kept 
this locked behind a wall in her mind, be easier if she never let 
herself know.  A poor and cynical excuse for a conscience- a coin toss, 
and she let it grant her permission.  Could it really be the only line 
now between wanting and taking?  Willow remembered again Coven lessons 
on power and temptation.  They were only words in her mind, choices 
maybe, distracted by the sensations flowing and filling every part of 
her body.   She smiled and stretched and also remembered what the Coven 
members said when she would pick at her food, "The sacrifice is all the 
more meaningful for the enjoyment."



Willow bent down and scooped the girl into her arms, standing and 
holding her close.  She whispered, "thank you," in her ear and carefully 
started down the bank to the water's edge.  She laid the girl's body 
where the moon's path seemed to reach the shore, stroking her hair from 
the girl's face and arranging her as if she were sleeping.  She imagined 
the girl's soul traveling the moon path out over the water and dipped 
her fingers lightly into the waves.  She was so young.  If she was to be 
continuing this for an eternity, she would at least have to draw a line, 
however arbitrary, on what was to be too young.



Willow splashed the cold and gritty water on her face and looked down 
the moon's path to the expanse of sea.  It was beautiful here, even only 
in the night.  She reached her sight to what she imagined was the 
horizon, a varying dark shade between sky and sea.  It was believed you 
could fall off the edge once.  Simpler times.  It's known now, as you 
approach, the line is pushed forward until you've come full circle, 
never really crossing it.  Willow had come full circle a different 
person than she began.  She had pushed, always reassured the line she 
shouldn't cross was well in the distance.  Just because there wasn't an 
edge to fall from didn't mean you didn't change.



She danced colorful magic sparks through the water with her fingers, 
remembering that first flush of excitement when she finally, 
successfully floated a pencil.  The water sparked her back.  Willow 
pulled her hand up in reaction, anticipating the burn she got now when 
the earth reverberated back its power.  The pain never came.  Only a 
cool tingle vibrated along her hand like a soothing balm.  Tentatively, 
she placed her hand back in the water and slowly opened herself to the 
sea's energies.  A force much greater than the waves lapped rhythmically 
into her psyche.  Gaining confidence, she reached out, deeper, extended 
her consciousness into the sea and felt herself overlap and intertwine 
with a powerful and primal force.  It was dark, deep and cold; but it 
was not empty: a vast reservoir teeming and stirring with the very stuff 
of life.



Willow spent the night, forgotten.  Only when she felt the dawn 
approaching did she withdraw from her explorations and discovery.  
Regret at parting, excitement at the flood of possibilities and 
meanings, anticipation of sharing this with Buffy and Xander: they 
tumbled her thoughts and the journey up the hill and across the dark 
campus towards the motel went mostly unnoticed.  Only when a pre-dawn 
jogger could be seen crossing the campus did Willow rouse herself to her 
surroundings.  A young woman, the dedicated type Willow imagined, 
whatever was playing through the headphones keeping her sole focus.  
Absently, Willow pulled the coin from her pocket and flipped it.  She 
nodded to the woman as she jogged by and they continued in separate 
directions.  A sudden, excited joy filled Willow and she sprinted back 
to the motel, back to Buffy and Xander.           



                                          



* * * * * * * * *



Giles supported and steadied his body with his hand on the door jam as 
he consecutively attempted to insert the key into his apartment door's 
lock.  Smiling with eventual success, he stumbled into his apartment and 
shutting the door, leaned against it while his eyes adjusted to the 
unexpected light.  Giles saw her then; Dawn stretched out asleep on his 
couch.  His hand rubbed his forehead and straightened his hair as he 
prepared himself for this unexpected visit.  With great concentration, 
he carefully and quietly made his way across the room and into the 
armchair opposite the couch, worried that any noise might startle her 
awake.  He wished he could let her sleep.  He ached himself for rest.  
But if she was here it was because she needed him.



Giles leaned heavily on his elbows and gently encouraged Dawn awake.  
"Dawn, Dawn, wake up.  Dawn..."



"Giles?"  Dawn opened her eyes and covered them with the back of her 
hand as she sat up on the couch.  Waiting until her eyes adjusted to the 
light, she lowered her hand and smiled at him.  "You made it home.  I 
was worried.  And then I guess I was a little sleepy.  Sorry."



"There's no need to apologize."  Giles returned her smile briefly before 
evidence of worry clouded his face.  "What's wrong?"



Dawn shook her head a little and yawned.  She waved off his concern.  
"Nothing's wrong.  I just..."  She looked intently into his eyes and 
watched as he quickly broke the contact and retreated back further into 
the chair, resting his head on the high back.  "I can see you're beat.  
But not beat up, so no worries.  I should just let you go to bed."  Dawn 
sighed, relief and exasperation leaving her feeling all the more 
exhausted.  "It's late.  Can I just crash here tonight on the couch?"



"No."  Giles amended the reply with a smile as he shook his head.  "No, 
you take the bed.  I'll stay on the couch."



"I can't ask you to do that," Dawn protested.



"And you didn't," Giles reminded her.  "Now go on."



Dawn nodded in defeat, far too tired to protest any further.  She rose 
from the couch and stumbled to the bedroom.  Turning and leaning on the 
door jam, she watched as he fell onto the couch, making no apparent 
effort to arrange it comfortably or even to turn off the light.  She 
shook her head and gathered a blanket and pillow from the bedroom.  Dawn 
slid the pillow under his head and though she couldn't understand his 
slurred mumblings, chose to assume there was gratitude in them.  She 
removed his shoes, pulled the blanket over him and stroking his hair, 
willed him into a peaceful sleep.  She couldn't do this for him every 
night, though she knew with the smell of liquor on his breath again, he 
was doing this every night to himself.  She worried about him and 
wondered when she went off to college, if he would be able to take care 
of himself. 



Dawn wiped an escaped tear from her eye and turned off the light.  She 
made her way to the bedroom and removed only a few of her clothes before 
slipping into bed.  She lay curled up, wrapped the covers around herself 
and carefully wished without wishing by the full moon setting past the 
window that she could just find her sister and friends.  If she could 
find them, she could answer all his questions.  She would be moving off 
to college soon.  If she could find them, she could make it all right.



* * * * * * * * *



After a quick kiss to his two girls, Xander sprinted down East Holly St. 
and into the night.  Willow wanted him to explore the city.  He wanted 
to tear into it and let it fill him.  Close enough he reasoned.  At the 
bottom of the hill he pulled himself to a stop, the flush of people 
making him dizzy with hunger and choices.  He breathed deep their varied 
scents, his eye scanned and prowled the groups of people along the wide 
and busy street, searching for the ones standing alone.  He smiled when 
he noticed a young woman gazing through the window of a tattoo parlor.  
Xander crossed the street quickly then slowed to a casual approach.  He 
could smell the fresh spice of fear tang the mix of humanity that 
radiated off her as she hesitated at the door.  Willow would know the 
science behind that, he just barely contained a growl at the 
experience.  Soon, there would be overwhelming fear to taste.



Xander reached for her.  Containing a scream with his hand, he pulled 
her with him into the narrow space between the buildings and buried his 
fangs into her neck.  As he let the body drop, he watched a group 
noisily pass by the slim opening.  He smiled, slipped quickly into the 
open and casually rejoined the community.



The wide cross street, parking lots: this area was busy, open and on.  
He knew even without knowing the city, he was in the cool part of town.  
Xander craved the edges though.  He wanted to find the parts the happy 
people never ventured into at night.  He continued down Holly.  He 
noticed an all night diner not far from the populated center.  Good 
find; he realized it would be handy for a bite to eat late at night.  
Next to the diner, the roll of deep music could be heard ebbing from 
behind a simple door.  Xander paused enough to investigate.  The Wild 
Buffalo, a silly name, but the flyers lining the windows showed it to be 
a blues club.  He leaned against the window and allowed the pulsing bass 
and dancing guitar to lull him into a rhythm for the night.  Smiling, he 
continued down the road and into the deepening shadows, a light easy 
dance to his step and pace. 



By the time he reached a small park meeting the main harbor, the night 
crowd, the open and in part of the city had faded away.  Here were only 
the sounds of waves, the subtle work of night crews and anchor lines 
clanking and keeping time.  Suddenly the city was stretched out above 
him on a hill, shadowed between street lamps, the full moon providing 
enough light to give his heightened senses a glimpse into its depths.  
His city now.  He would spend his nights finding what hides in every 
shadow. 



Xander took off past the park and impulsively turned onto Broadway and 
started quickly up the hill.  Every city had a Broadway he reasoned, and 
every Broadway was the heart of the city.  Except this one, he realized 
as he stopped at the top of the hill to catch his bearings.  Office 
buildings, closed business, nothing.  Growling low, he crossed the empty 
street and turned onto Meridian.  A wide street, significant name, there 
had to be a rest of the city somewhere.



Car lots and parts stores: the businesses were still closed, but he 
started to sense people around again.  They were tucked in the houses 
that remained stubbornly un-demolished between business lots.  Their 
music overrode their car's engines as they passed.  Fast food places, 
good food places, both started to dot the blue collar strip. 



Xander noticed her immediately, just like everyone else, as she ducked 
into a bar far down the road.  He picked up his pace to follow.  'Latin 
music and Spanish lyrics?  This far north?' he wondered.  He entered 
quickly but remained to the back, sliding away from the entrance.  A 
restaurant, bar, dance club; he wasn't sure what to name the 
surprisingly large space.  Well dressed men and women; laughing, 
drinking, dancing in front of the band on a stage in the corner.  The 
music stirred his mind even as the lyrics passed through his ears 
without translation.  He was obvious, disoriented and mostly ignored.



Xander felt the patrons' curious focus though when instead of leaving, 
he crossed the entire room to the bar.  She was there.  The beautiful 
woman he had followed into the unexpected.  He nursed a beer at the 
other end of the bar as he openly watched her laughing with her 
friends.  He glared with envy as an older gentleman led her through an 
intricate and intimate dance, just one song, and it was enough.  She 
noticed him of course, but grew more alarmed when after the dance he 
started to approach.  She quickly pulled her girlfriends across the room 
and outside.



He followed.  Leaving some distance, he smiled as they strode quickly up 
the street, resolutely not turning around to notice him, and entered 
another bar.  Xander picked up his pace when they were inside and also 
entered, scanning the room for her.  Louder, younger, far more crowded; 
a simple bar with a dance floor.  The DJ kept up a mix of hip hop and 
Latin pop; the space was so filled with movement, he almost missed it as 
she kissed one of her girlfriends on the cheek and slipped out the back 
door.  He turned, left the bar, and chose to hide in the shadows of the 
parking lot beside the building.  He took a deep breath hoping to find 
her scent and growled as he was assaulted with everyone's and realized 
he didn't know which might be hers.  He would have to work on that.  He 
was growing impatient and frustrated that he might have lost her when 
the click of high heals on pavement got his attention.  Turning, he 
found her crossing the street.



Xander smiled and followed more cautiously now.  Keeping silent, to the 
shadows, and more distant, they moved further up Meridian.  They left 
the open restaurants and bars behind and passed vacant lots.  He could 
take her now.  He knew with a burst of speed, he could close the 
distance before she could scream.  She jumped as a car raced passed, 
music vibrating into the night and comments directed at her in the 
passing.  She turned and searched behind her.  Xander slid to an easy 
stop into the shadows.  He drew her scent to himself; fear, yes, and 
more.  She smelled of the sun: sand, lotions, hot peppers and alcohol.  
It reminded Xander of his last time at the beach: a stolen vacation with 
Buffy and Dawn.  Even at the time it felt like something he would never 
feel again. 



She knew he was there, he realized with a smile, certain she could not 
see him.  Her eyes swept the surface of the dark shadowed spaces behind 
her.  She was beautiful and Xander simply watched the light wind stroke 
dark hair away from her face and ripple her deep red dress across rich 
brown skin.  Then she turned and quickly continued down the road.  A 
low, narrow, long building became the apparent destination, and Xander 
let her slip inside.



As Xander approached the building, he paid more attention to his 
surroundings and what he might be walking into.  It was obvious the 
woman expected to find safety here.  He noticed the cars and trucks that 
filled the parking lot were tricked out, customed and there were as many 
motorcycles as anything else.   Smiling, anxious and ready, he entered 
the building.



The front room was small, nothing but pool tables, chairs, a bar and a 
jukebox in the back playing a Spanish Rap music Xander had never heard 
in his life.  He scanned the room searching for her.  He heard the 
conversations stop and watched everyone stand ready.  A grin subtly 
hardened across his face as his gaze continued to sweep the room.  There 
were about ten guys, maybe more in the back rooms and one woman, his 
woman, standing at the back near the jukebox.  A couple men entered from 
the back then, one clasping the woman's hand as she whispered something 
in his ear.  The man turned to look at Xander.



Xander openly smiled at him and moved further into the room, finding a 
more open space where he could move around.  He watched as the man 
started forward, grabbing one of the pool cues as he came.  Xander had 
to remind himself that the pool cue was now an actual lethal weapon but 
other than that, they didn't have a chance.  He didn't even give the man 
time to give the prerequisite threat and quickly slammed his fist into 
his face when he was close enough.  The fight was on. 



A couple others immediately jumped in, one simply being knocked out but 
the other... Xander felt a rush as he heard the satisfying snap of ribs 
being shoved into a lung.  The man fell to his knees on the floor, his 
scream choked and gurgled by the blood leaking from his mouth.  Xander 
breathed deep the scent of it and licked his lips.  He didn't have time 
to enjoy the moment long.  It seemed everyone left in the room suddenly 
rushed to attack him. 



Xander let his reflexes take him and marveled at how much easier this 
all seemed now.  He fell into a grace and rhythm, blocking blows and 
cutting down each of the attackers in turn.  The occasional strike of a 
pool cue snapping across his back got through on his blind side but 
Xander barely took notice of it.  The smell of blood and the cries of 
pain dulled all his other sensations and the lust to kill blocked any 
other thoughts.  When one of the few remaining left standing screamed 
his attack, the broken remains of a pool cue descending in a strike, 
Xander growled from deep inside, his fangs challenging the man's roar.  
Xander knocked the weapon from the man's hand and grabbed his head in 
both hands, looking him in the eye as he gave his head a twist, snapping 
his neck.



As suddenly as the fight started, it ended.  A quiet filled the room.  
Broken glass, broken chairs, broken bodies littered the floor.  Xander 
looked down at himself.  Bruises, cuts, his own pain sliding into 
awareness as he pulled a knife from his side and tossed it to the 
floor.  He looked up across the room.  She was still there by the 
jukebox.  Frozen in fear, her hands clasped tightly around the arm of 
one last old man, guarding her, a gun pointed in Xander's direction, 
shaking.  "What are you?" he heard from a voice just as stuttered as the 
hand holding the gun.



The question made Xander remember what he used to be, almost.  Vague, 
muted memories of the boy who could barely hold his own in a fight 
staring down Jack O'Toole.  Probably looking a little like this old guy 
right now.  Xander smiled; the fangs, the ridged forehead, the one 
yellow eye glowing in humor, the eye patch where the other should be, 
the whole thing scarring the effect and still, it was his regular goofy 
grin.



"Good question.  I'm what I've always hated with abilities I've always 
wanted," Xander admitted to the man.  "Life's funny that way."  He tired 
of the standoff.  He was so close now to the prize.  Xander suddenly 
leapt into an arc and rolled with the landing, easily dodging the 
belated shot at where he'd just been standing.  Momentum took him up 
under the hand holding the gun and with fluid motion, he batted away the 
weapon and held the man's head in his hands.  There was never a pause, a 
thought.  Xander simply twisted the neck and let the body drop.  He 
grabbed the woman then; finally, holding her in his hands.  He smiled 
again.  Watched the fear flooding her eyes, choking her attempt to scream.



"Death has its moments as well," Xander confided and slowly slipped his 
fangs into her neck.  He held her close, content to let her pulse set 
the pace of his feeding.  He drew in a breath, relishing her scent and 
relaxed into the moment as her own strength ebbed.  It was eternity 
disappearing in a blink.  There was small regret as he let her slip to 
the floor even as joy, warmth and excitement buzzed and bounced through 
him.  He wondered how anyone could hate this kind of power.



Xander left the bar, the dance returning to his step as the music he'd 
heard all night played in his mind.  He continued up Meridian, noticing 
at a sign that somewhere 'Guide' had been added to the name.  
'Guide-Meridian', well, he would see where it would lead him next.  The 
road had dimmed and quiet long stretches of tree lined space now 
stretched out.  He watched curiously as his wounds started to heal.  He 
passed a golf course, peeking into its depths to see if any naughty kids 
were about.  He let his buzz simply propel him further into night.



The street suddenly dropped into retail sprawl.  The freeway passed over 
and in the center of surrounding strip mall suburbs stood a large 
shopping mall.  Xander crossed over to the expanse of parking lot.  It 
wasn't really where he wanted to be, but he did want to see what movies 
were showing.  It had been so long since he had a chance to go to the 
movies. 



He was crossing through the lot, ignoring most of everything around 
him.  A couple was approaching, holding hands.  High school kids, Xander 
noted, the guy's letterman's jacket being the give-away.  Neither were 
willing to yield the right of way and they almost collided in passing.  
Xander easily heard the snide remark.  "Loser," the boy derisively 
whispered, relishing his girlfriend's responding giggle.



Xander stopped, turned and quickly jotted up in front of the couple, 
halting their progress.  Smile in place, he looked at the boy, sizing 
him up, then openly stared him in the eyes.  He wondered at the fact 
that this, this arrogant spoiled brat, was once the bane of his 
existence.  And the girl, well he had once had the girl, the pretty 
popular bitch.  He shook his head at the fact that he had ever wanted 
any of it. 



"What are you looking at?" the boy challenged, snide smirk automatically 
in place.  Years of practice putting people like this down, experience 
of having never lost, clouding his judgment, blocking his instinct to run.



"Nothing,"  Xander shook his head.  "I'm looking at absolutely 
nothing."  When the boy dropped his girlfriend's hand and took an 
aggressive step towards him, Xander snapped his fist into the boy's 
gut.  While he was doubled over, he sent an uppercut to his jaw, jerking 
the boy upright and unconscious.  Xander then grabbed the girl's hand 
and the boy's collar and pulled them both behind a nearby SUV.  He let 
the boy drop to the pavement and covered the girl's scream with his 
hand, holding her against the vehicle. 



"You wouldn't believe the personal demons I'm confronting tonight."  
Xander had the strange urge to confess.  "It's like a soul cleansing.  
Or would be, if I had a soul."  He bent down and ripped his fangs into 
her neck, pulling the blood from her, then letting her drop.  He started 
to walk away then turned back to the boy laid out prone on the 
pavement.  Raising his foot over the boy's chest, Xander brought it down 
with all his strength.  He heard rib bones give and snap, piercing heart 
and lungs.  The movies forgotten, he left the parking lot.



At the edge of the lot stood a small bus stop shelter.  Xander noticed a 
bus approaching, the sign in the front letting everyone know it was 
headed for downtown.  He decided to hitch a ride back.  The bus rumbled 
back down Guide-Meridian and Xander smiled at the police cars 
surrounding the bar as they slipped past.  He hopped off on Broadway, 
sure of his direction.



Xander wandered the side streets through the closed office buildings.  
He could feel the night winding down, the full moon beginning its 
decent, and fought the inevitability of having to let it go.  He wanted 
to miss the girls and wondered what they had been up to all night.  He 
couldn't feel the loss, though.  This night had been what he'd been 
craving those nights when they hunted discreetly on campus.  Sated, 
excited, he easily leapt to the first platform of a fire escape stairway 
and raced up to the roof.  He smiled, stretched his arms wide and 
circled slowly.  This was his city. 



The view was amazing from the vantage of roof.  Hills dotted with lights 
surrounded a small high-rise downtown core.  The darker menacing peaks 
of mountains crowded beyond.  The ocean yawned out from its edge.  
Tankers lit and littering the stretch of the bay.  The darker shadows of 
islands protecting the city's fragile existence from most of the rage of 
storms.  Nothing could protect it now from his rage, though. 



Xander noticed a taller building just across a small alley.  Eyeing the 
distance, the height difference, he bounced on the balls of his feet.  A 
giddy confidence at all his new found strength and speed filled him and 
spurred him on.  He took a running start at it and leapt from the edge 
of the roof.  Xander grabbed onto the rim of the taller building's roof 
and easily pulled himself up.  This was even better, though there was no 
real difference in the view.  He laughed.  Seeing another building, he 
judged its distance as well.  This one was farther away, across one of 
the city's streets, but the roof was lower.  He was sure he could make 
it.  He could do anything; he felt it. 



Xander stepped back a few paces then ran with all his speed to the edge 
and took off.  He laughed at the sudden feeling of flying then looked up 
to see the next roof escaping him.  His momentum slammed him into the 
side of the building and his mind registered the breaking of a window, 
then the feeling of falling and the solid impact of the sidewalk seven 
stories below.



Xander groaned as he regained consciousness.  He opened his eye relieved 
that the sun would not yet find his prone broken body.  Everything 
hurt.  He was sure he broke more bones than he was aware of having.  He 
knew that damn sun would be rising soon, and whatever damage had been 
done to his body, he better just make it get him back to the motel anyway.



Xander stumbled into the motel room and winced as Buffy ran up to him 
and wrapped her arms around him, holding up his twisted form and guiding 
it to the bed.



"Xander, what happened?!"  Buffy tried to be gentle as she arranged him 
fully on the bed and started to remove his shoes.



Xander smiled despite the pain.  "I tried to leap tall buildings in a 
single bound."



Buffy looked puzzled at him.  "Okay, you know that only works in comic 
books, right?"



"I know it now."  Xander tried to shrug and his smile faded.  "Still, 
how cool is it that I can fall like that and still make it home?"



"Xander," Buffy whispered as she laid down and stretched out beside 
him.  She started to run her fingers through his hair.  She shook her 
head and smiled as he smiled back.  "So, what other crazy things did you 
do tonight?"



Xander's smile faded a little.  He closed his eye and let her touch 
comfort him, easing the pain.  He remembered his night and yet with her 
touch, her naked body pressed so gently against his own, he also 
remembered his days.  Their years together, experiences, softly tumbled 
and blended in his mind.  Blindly, easily, his lips found hers in a 
gentle kiss.  "I did some things you'll probably hate me for," he 
admitted, opening his gaze into hers.



Buffy kissed his forehead and continued to run her fingers through his 
hair.  "I could never hate you, Xander."



"Then things Willow will definitely hate me for."  Xander grimaced as he 
moved his arm to rest over his stomach.  He had no guilt, was even 
incapable of it he realized, but here in Buffy's arms, he felt strangely 
conflicted.



Buffy smiled and shook her head.  She reached over and gently let her 
arm rest on him, taking his hand in her own.  "She could never hate you 
either.  After all, you never hated her," she gently reminded him.



"Well, you'll see it on the news then, anyway."  Xander squeezed her 
hand and groaned.



"Okay," Buffy nodded and let it go.  "I'm a little more worried about 
you right now.  I know you'll heal, but I remember how much it hurts in 
the mean time.  I bet I can speed that up and lessen the pain."



"How?"  Xander was loosing his focus.



"You up for one last drink tonight?" Buffy whispered in his ear then 
moved a little up and forward, arching her neck within reach.



"Really?"  Xander had half expected her to be disappointed in him.



"Yes, of course really."  Buffy shifted her head so she could look into 
his eye.  "We love you.  I love you."  When his goofy grin appeared on 
his face, she smiled back and brought her neck within reach again.  She 
felt the sting as his fangs slipped in and groaned as the blood was 
pulled from her.  Forgetting his injuries in the heat, bond, need; her 
leg slide back and forth over his own and her hand tightened over his.  
He couldn't hold her, so she melted into him, creating as much contact 
as possible.  He groaned, sucked harder, didn't protest as she covered 
his body with her own.  Then she felt his fangs slip away, watched his 
face morph back to human, his head turned to the side and his eye shut 
in deep sleep.



She was now feeling drained as well.  She should worry that Willow 
wasn't back yet.  She could feel the sun's approach, but sleep was 
claiming her as well, and she let herself believe in Willow's safety and 
abilities as she curled up beside Xander and her eyes closed in rest.



Not long after, Willow let herself into the room.  She was grinning in 
excitement that faltered as she took in the scene on the bed.  One naked 
Buffy curled against a clothed Xander, both asleep.  A little 
disappointed that she would have to rouse her friends to tell them her 
news, Willow removed her clothes and stretched out beside Buffy.  "Hey, 
sleepy-head, you in there?" Willow called into Buffy's ear, smiling at 
the answering moan.



Buffy rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes, smiling at the 
obvious proof that Willow was safe.  "Willow, you're home."



"And here you are looking so worried," Willow gently chided her.  
Nodding her head towards Xander, she started her inquiries.  "Why is he 
still in clothes?"



Buffy glanced back at Xander to see how he was doing.  She turned back 
towards Willow.  It still unnerved her how they just looked dead while 
they slept.  "He fell down, went boom.  From a tall building.  I think 
he broke a bunch of bones, so I didn't want to move him too much."



"He got in a fight?"  Willow was suddenly worried that maybe there was a 
slayer in town.



"Oh no," Buffy corrected, amusement in her tone, "silly boy jumped all 
on his own."



"Why'd he do that?"  Willow glanced over to him, wondering now what the 
others had been up to all night.



Buffy shrugged.  "Who knows."



Willow laughed and brought her gaze back to Buffy.  "So, why do you look 
so tired?  You look like you didn't feed at all."



"Hey!" Buffy protested with an arm slap.  "You're only to say I look 
beautiful."



Willow rolled her eyes in response and waited without comment or 
altering her statement for the explanation.



Buffy smiled a little and turned her head so Willow could see the bite 
marks.  "I thought he could use the boost."



"Ahhh."  Willow kissed Buffy's lips.  "That's so sweet."  Willow scooted 
over closer to Buffy and draped her arm just under Buffy's breasts.  "I 
had a great night.  You know how I haven't been able to ground myself or 
tap into the earth?  Well, tonight, I found out I can tap into the sea 
instead."



"That's great, Will."  Buffy weakly smiled.



"It is!" Willow stressed, sensing a lack of excitement on Buffy's part.



"So you can do magic now again?  Real magic, I mean."  Buffy watched 
Willow's answering nod.  "See, that's good news."



"You don't seem like someone who's just heard the best news ever," 
Willow mildly admonished.



"Sorry.  Sleepy."  Buffy emphasized her point by closing her eyes.



"I could help with that," Willow whispered in Buffy's ear.



"You don't need to.  I don't need to."  Buffy opened her eyes and smiled 
at her friend.  "I'll be fine."



"I know."  Willow brushed some of Buffy's hair away from her face.  She 
brought up the arm that had been resting over Buffy to her lips and 
morphed her face, ready to cut her wrist with her fangs.



"Do you even have enough to share?" Buffy chided.



Willow simply smiled around her fangs in response, her eyes glowing in 
the darkened room.  "Yes, I do."  She bit her own wrist and brought the 
wound to Buffy's lips.  She moaned, shocked heat flooding through her, 
when she felt Buffy's tongue swirl and tease, her lips gently brushing 
her wrist.



Buffy's face didn't morph and with human eyes she watched Willow as she 
gently sucked the blood offered, pausing to lick and suckle gently at 
the wound.  She smiled and stroked Willow's arm, watching as Willow's 
eyes closed at the sensation.  Buffy relaxed and relished the 
connection, the intimate bond.  A moan escaped her lips as she felt 
Willow dip down and tease her ear with her tongue.  Skin slid across 
skin and the blood was pulled slowly from one to the other.  Feeling a 
little strength return, Buffy licked at the wound and allowed it to close.



Willow opened her eyes as she felt Buffy pull away slightly.  Raising 
her head, she captured Buffy's lips with her own in a passionate kiss.  
"Feeling better?"  Willow grinned knowingly.



Buffy smiled in return and started stroking Willow's back with her 
fingers.  Her other hand reached beside her and clasped Xander's.  "Oh 
yeah.  Of course you know I'm even sleeper now."



"I know."  Willow laid down and rested her head on Buffy's shoulder.  
"Sun's up anyway.  We should sleep."  She reached across Buffy and 
brought her hand to theirs.  Connection hummed and lulled their minds 
into peaceful rest.





*   *   *




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Willow: "It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in."
Buffy:  "I kinda love you."
                     'Choices'

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