The nightmare was always the same. She was in an unfamiliar place. It was dark and damp and cold. The cold seeped into her bones, almost becoming a part of her. She looked different, always different. So pale, almost white, the only color her unnatural sapphire blue eyes, her black hair and her blood-red lips. She stood in the darkness, the pale skin of her naked body the only light.
Slowly the darkness faded, disappeared, into her, filling her, leaving her in an unknown, blank space. There were no definitions, no walls, just a dull light. Feeling the darkness imbue her, she spun slowly, a smile growing on her face, a smile of triumph.
Out of the light, a figure walked towards her. He had pale blonde hair, sculpted cheekbones, wore black leather. She knew him, deep inside her, in her bones.
She embraced him, brought him to her, welcomed him. His essence filled her, his blood pounded through her veins. Exultation screamed inside her and she opened her mouth to shriek it to the world.
The image shifted. Rock walls surrounded her, sand was beneath her feet. He sat on a throne surrounded by his subjects. Three young males, a female, all laughing, smiling. Music blared through the cave, echoing off the walls. It was a cave, she realized.
And she stood, strong and proud before her lover, the wounds in her throat throbbing with the beat of the rock music. He took her hand, drew her to him, onto his lap, to kiss her.
He was cold as ice against her hot skin.
Again a shift and she was watching the woman and the man kiss, watching him slide his hand beneath her skirt and up her leg. Her blonde hair flowed to her waist, caught beneath his other hand.
She could feel the woman's joy and fear, a strange combination. She could hear her heart pound with lust and love.
She knew this woman. Her identity was caught at the edge of her mind, mired in the truth that had been hidden from her for too long.
One more shift, the last one. Back to the formless space. Mirrors appeared before her, hanging from nothing, surrounding her as she spun, laughing, a hint of hysteria in the harsh sound.
There was no reflection.
A scream sounded, a woman, screaming the word 'no'.
And the dream ended as it always did.
The world went red.
*****
With a start and a muffled curse, Zara sat up in bed, trembling from head to foot. Her stomach clenched and she cursed again, clutching at her waist beneath her thin nightgown. Right on time--the dream and her menstrual cycle. Blinking her eyes at her alarm clock next to the bed, she saw that it was nearly time to get up anyway.
Her mind was already forgetting the dream, denying it as it always had, every month since she hit puberty.
Sliding from the bed and wending her way past boxes, she made her way to the bathroom and an attempt to prepare herself physically for her first day at Sunnydale High.
Great, her first day at a new school, in the middle of a bizarre heat wave, and she had her period. Could life get any worse?
*****
Cat sat on top of the island in the middle of her pristine kitchen eating a bagel and wondering what kind of idiots could deliver a tiny box with a gravy dish in it, but lose three bar stools, when her daughter slouched into the room.
To match her mood, Zara was dressed in a black shift with a black sheer blouse over it, black hose, a pair of those ugly, clunky black shoes she insisted on spending her allowance on, and her black sunglasses.
If Cat didn't know better, she'd think her daughter was hung over. "Your breakfast is over there," she said, gesturing to a tall glass of thick pinkish liquid. "Are you sure you don't want me driving you to school?"
As she picked up the glass and downed half of it in one gulp, Zara rolled her eyes behind her shades and curled her lip. "Mother, do I look five?"
Cat decided that answering that would get her nowhere. Hopping off the counter and straightening her brightly colored full skirt, she walked over to the sink, her body jingling from ankle and wrist bracelets. Her feet were bare and her long, blonde hair was pulled back by a silk scarf. There was another one wrapped around her neck.
Standing next to her daughter, she looked up a good eight inches--partly thanks to the heels and partly because she herself was so short--and frowned slightly. "You're too pale."
"Gee, thanks mom." Zara finished her protein shake and stuck the empty glass in the sink, then grabbed a bottle of vitamins, popping several into her mouth. "Happy now?"
Cat sighed at the aggressive tone in her daughter's voice. "Zara, I know you're not happy about moving here, but the opportunity was too good to pass up."
"In the middle of my senior year, you drag me to Sunnydale. Mother, the sun does not like me." Zara punctuated her protest by waving her arms wildly and stomping out of the kitchen.
Following Zara down the hall--which meant squeezing between boxes--Cat felt the usual guilt and the usual anger. Zara had been bringing up her infirmities a lot during the whole move, quite obviously on purpose because she knew how it made her mother feel.
"I could use your help in the store after work," Cat said, changing the subject as she hunted for her shoes in her living room. All the furniture was in the middle of the room, as she hadn't decided how she wanted it organized. The flow of the room just wasn't right.
"Sure," Zara answered in a flat voice, as she grabbed her backpack. It was black, of course, covered with buttons, some of which had been her mother's from the olden days.
"I'm hoping I get some response to my ad." Giving up on the shoe search, Cat opened the front hall closet and pulled out her black ankle boots, sitting on the arm of the couch to put them on.
"Me too." The girl's heartfelt response sent a wave of sorrow through Cat. Only a few years before Zara had loved working in the shop in San Francisco. Now she hated everything her mother did.
But, then, Cat still had no interest in her father's chosen career. Maybe it was a normal teenage thing.
As she turned around to say goodbye, she saw that her daughter was already gone.
*****
Buffy sat at the library table looking into Cordelia's hand mirror, examining the makeup job she had done to cover the ugly bruise on her chin. Sighing, she accepted the powder and brush from the cheerleader and plastered on some more concealer.
Ten minutes until the start of the second semester and the Scooby Gang sat quietly, uncomfortable. Willow and Oz were at one end of the table talking quietly, so obviously back together but taking things slowly. Xander hovered by the card catalogue, afraid to sit, trying very hard not to look at Cordelia.
And everyone was quite surprised, although they were managing to hide it well, that Cordelia had joined them. They hadn't seen her at all over the holiday break.
Giles came out of his office carrying a large book which he proceeded to set in front of Buffy. She gladly returned the makeup to Cordelia and looked at the picture before her.
A tall, dark female, drawn in faded ink stood under a fading sun, surrounded by demons of various sorts. She had fangs, but her face was smooth, almost like a mask.
"Nice."
Sighing, Giles pointed at the sun. "This is a book I just received from someone on the council with a one word note, 'dire'."
"What's this mean?" Buffy asked, pointing to what possibility might be words written underneath the demons.
"Darkness from light...roughly."
"And the chick?"
"Um...no one knows. This is the Kristoff Treatise, a very dry book on obscure demons of the Etruscan period."
Everyone at the table stared at him and Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well, this page was marked with the note. Nothing on the surrounding pages seems to refer to the picture."
"So...I'm guessing this demon lady's coming to the 'Dale?" Buffy quipped.
Giles flushed slightly and sat down next to her. "I'm not certain. Going through proper channels in the Council... doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere. I do not know who sent this book."
"Could this have something to do with why you didn't get the message about Ms. Post?" Willow asked.
"Quite possibly."
*****
Zara left the principal's office as quickly as possible. What a troll! Maybe he was under a curse. Glancing at the schedule in her hand, she saw that she had all of six minutes to go to the library and pick up her books for the year-long classes, then get to her British Literature class.
She finally found the library in an out of the way corner of the school and pushed open the door. Several teenagers sat around a large table. An older man glanced up at the intrusion and all sound died.
"Yes?" he asked, approaching her.
"I'm new here. I was told to come here for my books." Zara handed him the slip of paper.
"Oh, yes, I have them here somewhere." As he moved behind the check-out counter, he glanced at the teenagers and en masse they rose and stampeded out the door. As the blonde girl passed her, a chill ran down Zara's spine, but she quickly forgot it as the librarian handed her a stack of books.
"British Literature. Good subject."
"My mom's favorite country." She began to stuff the books in her back pack.
"I hope you enjoy it."
"Thanks." Taking her schedule back, she hurried out of the library.
*****
Lunch time and the Scooby gang minus Cordelia sat at an out of the way table, all but Xander ignoring their food-like blobs. Willow was skimming the classified ads of the local newspaper.
"I can't believe your dad is making you get a job," Buffy said.
"He thinks I'm spending too much time hanging around bad influences," Willow responded, then gave her friends contrite looks. "Sorry."
Buffy shrugged and popped her gum. "It's okay. I freely admit that I'm a bad influence."
"Actually, I think he's referring to me," Oz said softly. Willow wrapped her fingers around his, then looked back at the job advertisements.
"Do I look like the Burger Barn type?"
"Can you get us free food?" Xander asked, mouth full of soggy fries.
"You'd smell like grease all the time, Will. There's got to be something better. Something...bookish?" Buffy grabbed the paper and read down the list. "Here's one, 'Part time, after school and some weekends, new speciality shop. Flex hours, good pay, students welcome.' It's just a few blocks from my mom's gallery."
"Hm, I must have missed that one. But...selling stuff? Me?" Willow gave her friends hesitant looks. "I was kind of hoping for a quiet, unassuming sort of job."
"Nothing in Sunnydale is quiet and unassuming," Xander quipped.
*****
Zara stood in her art class watching the teacher flip through her sketch book to determine her level of talent. She knew she had talent, but most people found her art disturbing to say the least.
"Well, Ms. O'Neill, these are very interesting. Do you always use pen and ink?"
"Sometimes charcoal and I paint at home. Oils."
"Hmm. Well, we have a pretty unstructured class. We study techniques usually two days a week and work on projects the other three. Although all four projects must be in a different medium, it's your choice which mediums to use. Have you done any sculpting or carving?"
"No. Just drawing and painting."
"That's fine. One other requirement is that one of the four projects must be a portrait and one must be some form of abstraction. The other two can be anything you wish." The teacher handed Zara back her sketch book and told her to take a seat.
The girl Zara sat next to looked familiar and she realized she had been in the Library that morning. The stately brunette's eyes ran over her, sizing her up. Zara stared back blatantly.
"Find something you like?"
"You're new."
"Yeah."
"I'm Cordelia Chase. The Goth look is out."
"Zara O'Neill and I make my own look." She remained cool, her eyes holding Cordelia's until a hint of warmth entered the brunette's and she smiled.
"So do I. As long as we don't clash or copy..."
Zara smiled back slightly. "I don't think we have to worry about that." Cordelia was dressed in a pair of tailored navy pants and a white cashmere turtleneck.
"Oh...I don't always look like this. You should see me in spandex. Why don't you come by the Bronze tonight and I'll introduce you around, although my circle has dwindled recently."
"The Bronze?"
"The only decent club in town. Well, decent is being a little kind. There just aren't very many places to go in Sunnyhell."
"I like that. Sunnyhell. It...fits."
"You're not wrong," Cordelia mumbled as the teacher called the class to order.
Zara's eyes narrowed at that, but she turned her attention to the teacher.
*****
Willow recognized the store as she crossed the street. It had been the occult shop until... Opening the door, she smelled the lavender incense and smiled slightly.
Unloading books onto the shelves in the middle of the store, Cat looked up, smiling. "Can I help you?"
"Um...I've come about the job."
Cat brushed off her hands and walked forward, her eyes running over the young woman. "You have a powerful aura."
"Um, do I?"
Cat smiled and gestured for the girl to follow her to a round table set in the front corner of the store. Sunlight streamed through the windows, falling on a bowl of crystals and a small icon of the mother goddess.
"Please, sit and tell me why you'd like this job."
They both sat at the table and Cat watched the girl fidget with her fingers and a braided bracelet at her wrist.
"I didn't know that anyone new had taken over this place, since the last owner..." Willow flushed and dropped her eyes.
"I knew Maureen and I mourn her loss, but I'm a good businesswoman and took the opportunity. My name's Cat O'Neill."
"Um...Willow Rosenburg."
"Willow, what a lovely name. Now, why do you want the job?"
"Well...actually...I didn't realize what kind of store it was. Not that I have anything against witchcraft," she added hastily. "The opposite, actually. Um, my dad wants me to get a job."
"That's a good reason. So, you have no problem working in a new age/pagan/witchy kind of store." Cat smiled gently and idly ran her fingers through the crystals.
"Oh, no. Um, it's an interest of mine, so I kind of know about this stuff."
"Do you have any experience?"
"I've cast a few spells."
At that Cat laughed in delight. "I meant in retail, but that's wonderful, Willow."
Willow turned bright red and mumbled, "I don't do well with speaking. At writing...do you have an application or something I can fill out?"
"No, and you're doing fine. I need someone to work three or four afternoons a week and the occasional Saturday. I've found that afternoons tend to be the busiest time in this business. The store's open from ten until five, but I can handle it on my own until three or so. It will basically entail making sales and keeping the inventory on the shelves; the occasional dusting is also helpful. You'd never be alone here, partly because I handle all the herbs, which is a large part of my business."
"Herbs?"
"Yes. I sell fresh as well as dried. I know that Maureen was a pure Wiccan and she managed to make a living out of it, but I'm a little more eclectic, as you may notice by looking over the inventory. Some of my most regular customers are people who come here for my fresh herbs... to use in cooking."
"Oh." Willow glanced around the store and took in the differences. "Are those Buddahs?"
"Yes. I sell objects and books related to most pagan religions as well as a few not so pagan. And, I'll tell you right up front, that I also sell to people who practice the black arts."
"Why?" Willow squeaked, surprised.
Cat shrugged her shoulders. "I have no reason not to. What they do will eventually rebound on them, and most of the time they fail anyway."
"You're not from Sunnydale, are you."
"No. I have a store in San Francisco. As I said, this opportunity was too great to pass up. The occult business is booming in this small town."
"And...you're not worried that the two previous owners... were murdered?"
"I can take care of myself. Now, I pay fifty cents above minimum wage and you get a twenty percent discount on everything but the jewelry. So...would you like the job?"
"Don't you want to check my references, not that I've given you any..."
Cat looked into Willow's pretty, honest eyes and smiled. "No. I'm an excellent judge of character."
The door opened and Zara stomped in, pulling her shades off and yanking a thin scarf off her head. "It's a million degrees out there," she complained.
"There's a snack in the fridge in back," Cat said. "Would you like to..." Zara was already disappearing behind the tie-dyed curtain and Cat sighed, turning back to Willow. "My daughter, Zara."
"I have poli sci and Latin with her, but we haven't actually met yet."
"She'll be helping some in the store, but...she's at the age when hanging out with your mother just isn't cool.
*****
Zara flopped down in an easy chair in the tiny break room and unscrewed the top of the thermos. Panting for air, she gulped down the contents, then wiped the perspiration off her forehead. At least it was air conditioned everywhere, but the walk from the school had nearly wiped her out.
Maybe she could wheedle a car out of this move.
Beginning to relax, Zara finished her protein shake, then set the thermos aside and slumped in the chair, staring at the ceiling. The redhead with her mother--she had been in a couple of her classes and in the library that morning.
She seemed a little mousy to be into all this occult nonsense. Well...maybe she just needed a job, but surely fast food was a better option over herbs and weirdos.
Zara knew perfectly well that her financial well-being came from her mother's business, but she just couldn't believe in any of it. Too many of the people coming into the shop in San Francisco had been tourists or people looking for joke gifts or a neat piece of jewelry. How many orbs and Buddahs sat around as decorative pieces in peoples' homes? How many people used the herbal teas for company and not for spell-casting?
It was all a bunch of hooey.
And that her mother believed and practiced some of it was just beyond her. Zara had never seen one instance where her mother's spells or prayers had actually worked.
Nothing witchy her mother had ever done had helped Zara.
*****
Night fell on Sunnydale. Alone in her store, Cat had finished the jewelry display and was sitting at her computer making sure that all her files and programs had remained intact during the move. Zara had gone home under orders to eat a well-balanced dinner and do her homework before watching MTV.
And, Willow had left with a packet of herbs to induce pleasant dreams and instructions to bring her social security card back with her the next day at three o'clock to start her new job.
Cat thought the girl would work out nicely. They had chatted for about twenty minutes and Willow had displayed an amazing grasp of arcane trivia. She had also squealed in joy at finding that the whole business was run on computers and that Cat even had a web site and mail-order business.
Yes, Willow was obviously very intelligent and eager to learn, maybe a little too eager, but that eagerness could be reined in and channeled properly.
After all, this was a Hellmouth. Spell casting by amateurs would probably work here and it was obvious that Willow had real ability and a real gift. Just one look had shown Cat that. So, making sure the girl didn't use her abilities for evil or just by accident, was probably a good thing.
Moving to her word processing program, Cat typed in a password and stared at the journal entries--eighteen years of them. They had begun as a scholarly examination of her pregnancy--every little thing that happened. After giving birth, it had only made sense to record everything that Zara did and experienced as well. When Cat had discovered that computers weren't the tools of the devil, it had been a time-consuming but worthwhile task to transfer all the entries to the hard drive and into a searchable database.
Recorded there was every thing she had ever done to try to help her daughter. Every spell she had ever cast, every prayer she had recited.
Nothing had ever worked. Cat knew why. She had always known why. She wasn't a witch. She believed, she worshiped, but her spells were useless. She did have a talent for precognition which came in useful in card readings, but she couldn't cast a spell that actually worked.
She had avoided the Hellmouth for eighteen years, but Zara was nearly an adult and deserved a normal life. Perhaps here, the spells and prayers would actually work.
Cat forced away any thought that using the Hellmouth's power for good might backfire on her. She couldn't afford doubts.
Turning off her computer, she stood and stretched, then glanced at her watch as her stomach rumbled from hunger. Nearly nine o'clock. If she hurried, she'd make it home in time for South Park.
As she walked out the back door and turned to lock it, she pulled the scarf from around her neck and stuffed it in her purse, then walked to her car.
*****
Spike sat on a ratty leather sofa in their new home in an abandoned library on the western edge of Sunnydale watching Drusilla flit around, humming to herself. he had done what he said he would. He had tortured her and beaten her--even though he had hated doing it--until she had mewled and begged for him to take her back.
Her only concession was that they return to Sunnydale.
Spike wasn't thrilled to be back and was certain that once the Slayer found out he had broken his word again, she'd be after him with a stake or something even worse, but Drusilla had wept crystalline tears and babbled about needing the Hellmouth's power to make her feel alive.
What the Hell vampires needed to feel alive for, he didn't know, but he found it terribly hard to deny her anything.
So, here they were, back in Sunnydale for two weeks and under a perilous truce with the wanker who had come in to assume control in the power vacuum left by Spike's departure and Angelus' little side trip to Hell. After a couple bloody fights, it was decided that Trick and his men would control the eastern half and Spike would control the western half of the town. Conveniently in the middle was Slayer Central, better known as the high school.
Spike knew the truce wouldn't last, so he was quietly building his forces and staying out of the Slayer's way. Actually, two Slayers now. That was just bloody perfect.
"Spike," Drusilla sang.
"Yes, pet?"
"My tummy's growly. Can we go eat?"
"In a few minutes, luv. I'm waiting for Lucian to get back with his report."
Drusilla pouted and stomped her foot, sending her latest pet--Sunshine II--skittering across the floor, howling. Sighing, Spike covered his ears, wondering for the hundredth time why he had thought that allowing her to vamp her dog would be a good idea.
Suddenly, Drusilla keened and grabbed her head, then dropped to the floor. Spike was at her side in an instant, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the sofa. Gently he lay her down, then perched next to her.
Her eyes fluttered open and she moaned. "Oh, Spike...She's coming. Such darkness. Such evil. Out of light. Full of power. She'll bring him back."
"Who, luv? Who's coming?"
"Her."
"Her, who?" he asked patiently.
Drusilla rolled her head. "Don't know. Can't see her. She's...oh, Spike, she's so powerful. She can walk in the light. A creature of darkness, like us."
"A vampire who can walk in the sun?"
"...No...not a vampire....Oooh, I don't know. The vision's fading and my head hurts." She mewled in pain and clutched at his arms. "She's new."
Spike caressed her forehead tenderly, soothing her. "It's alright, Dru. We'll figure it out. Just relax and when you feel better, we'll go hunting."
"Goody." She was quiet for a few minutes leaving Spike to ponder over her vision. Just as he was putting all the verbal images together, she spoke in an eager voice. "Do you think we'll see my Angel?"
Rolling his eyes, Spike rose to his feet and saw Lucian walk in the door to his study. "Good. Finally. What's the word?"
*****
Cat walked into her dark house and sighed, wondering where her daughter was at nine o'clock on a school night. Flipping on a light, she headed for the kitchen. On the refrigerator was a note. Reading the terse message, her heart sank.
'Gone to a club, back later.'
"Damn it."
*****
Zara had upgraded her outfit by the addition of several silver stars, ankh and hoop earrings and a black velvet choker with a silver moon dangling from it. She walked into the Bronze and felt the hard rock music flow over her. Moving forward, she glanced around at the crowd of teenagers and finally spotted Cordelia sitting at a table by herself near the back of the club.
As she made her way towards the table, she saw Cordelia staring at the dance floor. Following the direction of her gaze, Zara saw a tall young man in the most hideously mismatched brown pants and olive green sweater dancing with the blonde girl from the library.
Arriving at the table, Zara stopped and Cordelia looked up. A smile crossed the other girl's face, almost grateful. "Hi, I'm glad you decided to show."
"I'm always up for a good band." Zara sat down in the empty chair.
Cordelia laughed. "Too bad they're not that good a band."
Peering past the dancing bodies to the stage, Zara read the name on the drum set. "Dingoes Ate My Babies? What kind of name is that?"
"You'll have to ask the lead guitarist; he named them. He's the strangest person. No, that's not quite true, but he is odd."
"You know the band?"
"Sunnydale's a small town with one public high school and one private, a small college and a smaller community college. By the time you're eighteen, you tend to know just about everybody in their teens."
"It's going to take me awhile to get used to how small this town is."
"You're from San Francisco, right?"
Zara gave her a slightly baffled look. "How'd you know that?"
Cordelia sighed slightly. "I still have connections."
Before Zara could respond, four young women stopped in front of the table. They were all dressed in various colors of spandex, smelling of expensive perfume.
"I see you're downward mobility is just assured, Cordelia," a snippy looking blonde said, sarcasm ringing in her voice. "First a dork, now a goth."
Cordelia's spine straightened and her eyes flashed. "Harmony," she purred. "Do you remember that talk we had last year about sheep?" Harmony gave her a puzzled look. "You're still one. Go baa somewhere else."
Harmony reddened and glared at Cordelia. "No wonder you lost homecoming queen. I don't even know you any more." With a regal toss of her head, she spun around, stumbled on her four inch heels, then stomped off, followed by her clique.
Zara raised her eyebrows and Cordelia rolled her eyes. "My former friends."
"Ah, sheep huh?"
Cordelia nodded. "I moved on to another group of friends, but now..." Her eyes again drifted to the dance floor.
"Those are the people you were with in the library this morning."
"Yeah."
"Who's the guy?"
"...My former guy."
*****
Xander collapsed on the couch in what had become Buffy's territory, and Willow and Buffy took chairs across from him. "Did you see how Cordy was alone for most of the evening?"
Buffy gave him a look and sighed. "Xander, go apologize to her."
"I tried that," he replied flatly.
"She's not alone anymore," Willow chimed in. "The new girl is with her. My boss' daughter."
Buffy glanced towards Cordelia's table and her eyes widened. "That's a new look in Cordy friends. Is your new boss a goth, too?"
"Cordy's hanging with a goth girl?" Xander asked, looking over his shoulder. "I must have driven her nuts..."
The girls ignored Xander as he turned on his knees to gaze at his former girlfriend.
"No, Cat is really neat. You should come with tomorrow when I start. She's got a lot of neat stuff and really cool jewelry."
"Shopping? I'm there. I can't believe you actually got a job, and sort of in a chosen career."
Willow grinned. "Yeah, budding wiccan in a magic store. Makes sense."
"So, is she a witch?"
"I don't think so. I mean, i didn't ask, but if she was a wiccan, I don't think she'd be selling to the baddies."
Buffy frowned. "What do you mean, the baddies?"
"She told me she sells to people involved in the black arts."
"That's not good."
"Well, she said that whatever they do will rebound on them. I gotta admit, it made me a little uncomfortable. I mean, she's new in town and probably doesn't realize just how bad the baddies can be."
"Well, maybe you can subtly inform her." Buffy glanced over at the object of Xander's desire and said object's companion. "So, what's her daughter like?"
"Don't really know. She kinda burst into the store and stomped into the back room. I don't think she's very happy about moving here from San Francisco."
"Who would be?"
"True. Even if you don't know it's the Hellmouth."
*****
Zara was answering some questions about the fashion scene in San Francisco when a chill ran down her spine and she stopped talking in mid-sentence. Glancing up, she saw a tall, dark man approaching their table. She noticed that he made no sound walking.
Looking up to see what Zara was staring at, Cordelia sighed. "Hello Angel."
"Cordelia," he acknowledged, glancing briefly at Zara, then away, then back again, before slightly shaking his head and turning his attention back to Cordelia. "Is Buffy here?"
"Of course, why am I not surprised that you're still sniffing around her." At Angel's continued stare, Cordelia huffed and pointed across the club. "In her corner with her minions."
He nodded briefly and headed through the crowd, still silent as a mouse.
"Weird guy."
Cordelia looked at her new friend and nodded slowly. "Way weird. Trust me, you don't want to know him."
Zara dropped the subject, even though she had gotten the weirdest vibe off the guy. He was handsome, gorgeous even, and dressed the way she liked her men--all in black-- but she was still shivering. There was something just...wrong about him.
"Um, where were we, oh, yeah, my mom's jewelry." She fiddled with her choker. "People seem to like wearing bits of pagan stuff. I see you wear a cross. In fact, I noticed a lot of people today wearing crosses. I tend to notice jewelry since it's a passion of mine. Is this town really religious?"
"Oh...not really. Just...I guess we wear crosses like you wear moons and stars. Let's hit the dance floor and I'll introduce you to some of the cool guys at Sunnydale High.
*****
"Oh, joy, deadboy," Xander dead panned, turning around on the couch as Angel joined them.
Ignoring Xander, Angel sat down next to Buffy. "The rumor mill is rampant. Something big is coming."
"Yeah, dark light lady, I know," Buffy replied. "Giles is on it."
"No one seems too happy about it."
"Now, that is odd. Usually vamps are all for more baddies."
"Unless she's bad to them, too," Willow added.
"I also heard a rumor...Spike and Dru are back."
Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes. "Why me?"
"I'm going to try to find their lair, find out why they're here."
"Um, Angel," Buffy began. "Spike hates your guts, remember?"
He gave her an uncomfortable look, his eyes shifting away from her. "Dru doesn't."
"Oh right, because you were banging her silly last year," Xander chimed in maliciously. Both Angel and Buffy shot him hateful looks, but he just grinned back. Willow sighed.
Buffy started to rise, but Angel gently pushed her back down. "I want to come with."
"No...I'll let you know what I find out. You stay and enjoy yourself."
"I can't enjoy myself knowing you're in danger," she protested.
"I'm in danger all the time," Angel replied, slipping into the crowd.
Buffy made a frustrated noise, then flopped her head back on the chair back. "I can't believe Spike came back here after I told him not once, but twice to stay out of Sunnydale."
"I don't think Spike's one for taking orders," Willow said slowly.
"At least it looks like he got his girlfriend back," Xander added. "Hopefully he won't feel the need to hit me in the head with a microscope again."
Buffy shook her head at his joking tone of voice. "Or kidnap any of my friends." Her eyes wandered towards the door through which Angel had exited.
"He...won't do anything with Drusilla, Buffy."
Looking over at Willow, Buffy tried to smile. "I know. It's just...he did stuff with her. They have a past. A really big past."
"But, that was demon him, not good him, not Angel."
Buffy nodded abstractedly. "My head knows...my heart?"
*****
Spike stood on a hill overlooking the town, smoking a cigarette and silently contemplating his next move. His minion base was growing, but not too rapidly to be noticed by the Slayer. His truce with Trick was holding. The mayor had decided to turn a blind eye to his presence. Spike knew the guy definitely wasn't human and was up to something, but it didn't seem to be an imminent something.
And something big was coming, something...new.
Maybe it would take out Trick, the mayor, the Slayer and, as a bonus, his poof of a sire. All he had to do was remain standing in the end, Drusilla at his side.
Now, how to ensure that...
*****
Drusilla wafted through Restfield Cemetery on her way home from hunting. She knew Spike didn't like to let her out of his sight, but she was strong and well, no longer his weak little princess, and had insisted she be allowed to hunt on her own when she wanted.
He had taken a whip to her, marking her as his, warning her that he would do the same every night for the rest of eternity if he found that she had strayed again. His mastery of her sent shivers through her spine even now and made the healing lash marks on her back tingle.
Quickening her pace, Drusilla turned down a dimly lit path and came to a sudden stop. In the distance, in the glow of a flickering yellow light, stood her sire.
"Angel?"
Angel stepped out of the light and walked towards her, stopping a few feet in front of her trembling form. "Drusilla."
One hand came up, the lily white fingers brushing over his black silk covered chest. "Spike told me you were back." Her eyes flashed to his and she smiled. "Back from Hell, back in flesh and blood and bone." Her fingers caressed as she stepped closer. "He told me to stay away from you, that you're a bad daddy again." The hand slid inside the open neck of his shirt and she leaned against his solid body. "You reek of her," she whispered, then stepped back, removing her hand.
Angel's face had remained impassive through her entire display. "Why are you back, Dru?"
"The Hellmouth sings to me, makes me strong."
Angel shook his head. "Is it worth becoming a target?"
"Would you really let your bitch kill me, my Angel?" she purred, her fingers playing with the lace edging around her low-cut bodice.
"I...don't want you dead, Dru, either of you, but..."
She laughed, a trill of sound. "You have no control over the Slayer. Helpless, powerless, impotent." The flash of anger in Angel's eyes made her smile even more. "You don't like that word? Or, is it because it's the truth? Impotent or celibate or both?"
Angel's hands flew out and caught her shoulders, his fingers digging into her pale flesh, as a low growl of anger rumbled from him. Drusilla giggled and pressed herself against him, moving languidly along his hard body.
"Maybe not so impotent after all," she murmured before breaking free and dashing down the path.
Cursing under his breath, Angel clenched his hands into fists and snorted angrily.
"Does B know about your honey on the side?"
Whirling around, Angel glared at the other Slayer.
Faith ran her eyes slowly over him, lingering on his groin, before grinning at his narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. "I've heard about your time on the dark side. It's still there, isn't it, just under the skin. Just waiting to break free." She nodded in the direction Drusilla had run. "You want to tear her to pieces...or fuck her brains out." As he glared even harder, she grinned even wider. "Or me."
Turning, Faith strolled back the way she had come, whistling tunelessly, leaving one incredibly frustrated vampire to wonder just when the evening had gone to Hell.
*****
Zara felt the drum beat pounding through her as she danced, twirling with Cordelia and a group of jocks from the high school. As she spun, her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for anyone interesting. Jocks really weren't her type and unfortunately there was a deplorable lack of goths and punkers in this town, or at least, this club.
Her eyes fell on a young man leaning against the stairs, watching her, and she stopped spinning. He wore a pair of khakis and a navy polo shirt, but that wasn't what caught her eye, nor was it his clean-cut good looks or wavy blonde hair.
He was staring at her as if she was the most glorious creature on Earth and Zara felt a spark of interest, even though preps usually were one step above jocks on her dateable list. Flashing him a smile, Zara nudged Cordelia and yelled in her ear over the loud music. "Who's that?"
Cordelia followed Zara's line of sight and groaned. "No one you want to know."
"Why? He taken?"
"Him?" Cordelia asked in disbelief, then groaned again as the young man walked towards them. The dance song ended and a ballad filled the air, as he stopped in front of them.
"Hey Dee," he addressed Cordelia, before turning his attention quickly back to Zara. "Hi. Would you like to dance?" He held out one hand and Zara slipped hers into it, letting him pull her to the middle of the dance floor. His arms slid around her waist, his hands resting smoothly on her lower back, as Zara found herself melting against his slender yet muscular body. Her fingers caught in the lapels of his polo shirt and she looked up into his warm brown eyes.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Tris...and I've been waiting for you all my life."
*****
Cat woke with a start, sending her black kitten, Maggie, flying off her lap. She had fallen asleep on the couch after the news, and strange dreams had assailed her. Heart pounding, Cat fumbled with the remote and turned off the television before staring blindly at the front door.
Her daughter was in danger. Everything Cat had done to protect her for seventeen years was beginning to come undone, and she didn't know how to stop the truth from breaking free.
She didn't know if she had the right to stop it.
Fingers fumbling with a chain around her neck, she drew a ring from its usual spot between her breasts. Holding it up to the light, her eyes moved over the familiar inscription, and tears filled her eyes.
Seven days. Seven days and it would be eighteen years.
A cold chill ran through her and the tears fell.
To Be Continued