Buffy: Heart of Darkness Chapter 3

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Chapter Three

June 11, 2003

Sunnydale

“I’m not entirely sure,” Giles replied around a yawn. He cupped his mug of tea in bothhands and blew on it. Steam obediently spilled away from the piping liquid.

“Giles,” Buffy spoke, “we have to come up with some sort of a plan. We can’t just sit

here and hand out souls to every little vampire who feels sorry for themselves.”

Giles yawned again. “I don’t see why not,” he offered. “You yourself said she seems

genuine enough.” He blew on the tea again. “Maybe I should go have a chat with her.”

“Not without me,” Buffy instructed him. “I don’t like her, and I don’t trust her.” She

pushed out her bottom lip. “I should have just staked her when I had the chance.”

Giles looked up at the Slayer. “Is that what you wish to do now?”

Buffy returned his gaze and sighed. “No,” she admitted. “Not really.” She looked at thefloor and added in a quiet voice, “Maybe just a little.”

The Englishman set his tea down on the end table. “Buffy, I understand it’s difficult tohave compassion for one of these creatures. We spend our whole lives learning to hate them,

learning to fight them, learning to overcome our perfectly reasonable innate fear of them. It’s

very unusual that one of them comes to us for help. It can be a difficult thing to have compassion

for a vampire. And normally I’d say that’s how it should be. But this is an unusual set of

circumstances.”

Buffy nodded. “So you’re for giving her a soul?”

Giles tilted his head in thought. “I’d really have to speak to her first,” he told Buffy. “Tryand ascertain if this is some trick or if she’s on the level.” He reached for his tea and sipped it.

“It’s not her fault she’s a vampire, Buffy. More than likely she didn’t ask for this to happen toher. That being the case, I see no reason why we can’t at least hear her out and consider her request.”

Buffy hmphed. “I can’t believe that you of all people wanna play Mr. Nice Guy with --”

A knock on the door interrupted her.

“Hold that thought,” Giles offered, setting his tea down again and rising up off the couch.

Giles padded to the front door and opened it, surprised to see Willow and Oz at such an early

hour. “Do come in,” he greeted them, gesturing. The soon-to- be newlyweds stepped into Giles’

apartment, hand in hand, and moved to sit on the couch when they espied Buffy. “Tea?” Gilesasked.

“Sure,” Willow answered. Oz declined. “Buffy, what are you doing here so early? Did

everything go all right with Valeria?” Willow asked, seating herself on the couch. Oz followedher.

“Everything went all weird with Valeria,” Buffy informed Willow. “Get this -- she wants

her soul back.”

“So does James Brown, I think,” Oz offered. Behind them in the kitchen Giles chuckled.Buffy gave Oz a sharp look. “Or not,” he amended.

“She wants her soul back?” Willow repeated. “What for? Why? What’s she gonna do

with it? It’s not gonna make her human again.”

his entire document copyright [email protected]



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“Exactly,” Buffy concurred. “Giles, would you come in here and listen to the smart one?

Maybe you’ll give her more credit than you give me.”

“It’s not a matter of giving credit,” Giles told Buffy. He handed the mug to Willow. “It’s

a matter of compassion. Let’s hear what she has to say and see what kind of person -- or

vampire, rather -- she is before we agree to help her. Or not to help her.”

“Speaking of what type of person,” Oz segued, “what type of person would leave thiskind of thing behind?” He pulled out a small Ziploc bag from the pocket of his bowling shirt andheld it up for Giles, who squinted at it.

“Glasses,” Willow suggested, handing them to the ex-Watcher.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured, slipping them on and taking the bag from Oz. “Atoenail,” he announced, upon closer inspection.

Buffy leaned forward from the coffee table, peering. “A really teeny toenail.”

“Where did you get this?” Giles queried.

“We find it stuck in our windowsill,” Willow explained. “Some...thing had been spyingon us.”

“Thing?” Buffy inquired. “Some thing on your windowsill?”

“He was shaped like a man,” Oz continued. “A really little man, like a G.I. Joe-sized littleman. But he had wings, and he knew how to use ‘em.”

“G.I. Joe?” Giles frowned.

Buffy gave him a look. “Even you must have heard of G.I. Joe. With the kung-fu grip?”

Giles gave her a blank look.

“He’s an army doll they made in the sixties,” Willow explained. “And the seventies, and

eighties, and so on. He’s about a foot high.”

“Ah,” Giles announced. “A miniature Thomas Atkins. Right.”

The three of them stared at him.

“Can we for the moment move past the fact that there are indeed a few dimly-lit corners

of American popular culture with which I am not intimately acquainted?” Giles wondered.

“Now, Oz, you say this thing was spying on you?”

“That’s the deal,” Oz confirmed. “Never woulda known he was there if he hadn’t broken

a nail.”

“You have any idea what this is?” Willow wondered, pointing at the baggie. Giles stared at the tiny claw. “I have a suspicion, but I’ll need to run a few tests on it

first.” He set the bag down on the table. “I’ll have to go to the school lab for this. Willow, I

might need your help.”

“Me?” Willow asked. “Giles, I have wedding things to do. It’s coming up this Saturday,

and it’s already Wednesday. You know, biggest day of a woman’s life and all?”

Giles shook his head. “Of course, Willow, I’m sorry. I’ll do the tests myself. If they come

up magical -- which, given the size and type of creature you describe, they probably will, I’ll justdo the research myself. Not to worry.”

Willow shook her head. “Giles, no. I didn’t mean to --”

He held up a hand. “Willow, it’s perfectly alright. You do have bigger things to worry

about. You and Oz run along and attend to whatever you have that needs attending to, and Buffy

and I will look into this.”

“Buffy has to go running,” the Slayer piped up. “But she’ll be back later to browbeat you

into seeing this whole Valeria thing her way.”




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“I wouldn’t count on that,” Giles responded. Buffy lowered her head and glared at him,

half seriously. He met her gaze and gave her back one of his own.

“We really have to go,” Oz mentioned.

“Thanks again, you guys,” Willow put in. Oz turned to Willow as Buffy and Giles continued their game of visual chicken.

“Let’s go.”

*

Los Angeles

“A fire?” Angel repeated. “I thought you worked homicide.”

“I do,” Kate concurred, adding sugar to her black coffee. “And this isn’t your ordinary

arson.” She clicked a window open on her laptop, and a photograph of a burned corpse appeared.

“See? A dead body lying face down by the front door. That makes it a homicide, and that makes

it my problem.” She tested the coffee and found it to her liking, so she took another sip.

Angel peered at the photo; judging by the small size of the charred lump on the porch,there hadn’t been much to the man before he’d been incinerated. “Have you identified this guy

yet?”

Kate nodded. “Craig Ewaskiew, alias Scrappy.” Kate clicked to another picture, this one

of the front of the house, ashen and black; the body was no more than a lump on the porch.

“Dental records were the only thing that kept him from being a John Doe. He was a long way

from home, too. He usually worked Sunset Boulevard. He was a drug runner, snitch, small time

guy. Never did anything like arson before, and certainly never ventured out to the suburbs.”

Angel nodded. “It’s all really interesting, Kate, but what’s it got to do with me?”

Kate pulled a plastic bag out of her carrying case and plopped it on the table. “We foundthis wedged in the back door,” she informed the vampire, sliding the bag across the table. A

wickedly sharp knife glittered within, apparently untouched by the flame that had consumed thehouse. “Whoever set fire to this house didn’t want anyone getting out alive.”

“Did you find anyone inside?” Angel queried. Kate shook her head. “Not a soul. Hell of a lot of strange substances -- owner must have

been a chemist or had some very strange hobbies. But no bodies. I’ve got someone trying to

track down whoever owns the place to let him know what happened.”

Angel furrowed his brow. “Okay, so it was a murder. Or at least an attempted one.”

Angel gestured to the computer screen. “So what happened? Did this Craig guy accidentally set

himself on fire while he tried to torch the house?”

The police woman shook her head. “Nope. This wasn’t his knife.”

Angel gave her a look.

“This knife,” she explained, “was manufactured by the Huntington Blade Company,located in Manchester, England. Someone brought this blade a long way just to burn a house

down, don’t you think?”

Angel shook his head. “There are dozens of weapons places in L.A. Your guy could have

gotten this in any number of stores.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. But the Huntington Blade Company went out of business in nineteen-twenty-two. Their pieces are collector’s items, and you hardly ever find




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them outside of antique shows or the hands of private collectors.” Kate gulped some coffee. “Or,

maybe, in the hands of someone who’s a century old.”

Angel pointed to the knife. “You think someone supernatural used this knife?” he

wondered.

Kate nodded.

“Fancy that. She’s right, you know.” Angel whirled to face the door, out of his seat in a flash, teeth bared, ready to pounce.

Spike stood in the doorway, arms folded.

“Another little blonde bird, Angel. Sure the Slayer would approve?” Spike gave him a

cocky look. “Where you hidin’ the witch?”

“Hiding what witch? What do you want, Spike?” Angel growled. “How’d you get in

here?”

“You may have a soul, mate, but you’re still one of us. Barrier only works if you’re

living. And you’re not.” Spike looked around the place, but he couldn’t see, or smell, anyone

else. He regarded Kate. “I may not know much about witches, but I know you aren’t one.”

“Good call.” Kate stood up, putting her back to the counter and drawing her gun. “Friend

of yours?” she asked Angel. “He’s the guy Rachel was talking about last night,” Angel informed her.

“You’re Spike?” Kate inquired.

Spike flashed her a scowl and turned his attention to Angel. “Hard as this is gonna be to

believe, old sire, Dru and I expected to find you with someone else here. But the two of you are

all alone, nice and cozy, aren’t you?”

“Get to the point, Spike,” Angel urged him.

“Being that the one we’re lookin’ for isn’t here, I guess we settle for a chat. But I’mafraid it’s for the pulseless only. So lose the blood bag.”

Kate cocked back the hammer on her gun. “I have a better plan. Why don’t you take a

hike before I give you a case of lead poisoning?”

“Won’t kill me,” Spike mentioned. “It’ll just really piss me off, and then I’ll tear out your jugular and drink your spurting blood like it’s a water fountain.”

Angel put up a hand. “Kate, relax. You too, Spike.” He glanced at Kate and then told the

other vampire. “I don’t know who you’re looking for, Spike, but whatever you have to say, youcan say it in front of Kate. I trust her with my life.”

“And you’re too much of a poof to take the chance of bein’ along with me,” Spike added.

“Alright, if you want to share this with the living, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Pet?” hecalled out.

Druscilla sidled up to him, one long-fingered hand sliding along his arm. “Love?” she

murmured.

“Angel’s got a throbbing new little playmate. Seems he just can’t stick to his own kind.And he’s gone so soft on her, he wants her to hear your little tale of woe.” He stared at Kate.

“And put the gun down. We have enough to handle right now without worrying about you.”

“Dru,” Angel greeted her.

“Hello, Angelus,” Druscilla purred in such a voice that Angel felt the tips of his ears gocrimson. Kate raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angel.

“Long story,” he offered. “I’ll tell you some time.” Angel turned back to Druscilla.

“What’s goin’ on, Dru?”




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Druscilla moved into the room a few steps. “She,” the seeress muttered. “The one we

tried to kill last night. She has found a way, Angel. She has uncovered the secret of our

destruction. What the Slayers have tried to do for centuries, this one can accomplish. She can

wipe us out, all of us out, forever.”

Angel frowned. “What do you mean, ‘wipe us out’?”

“Death,” Dru moaned. “Horrible death, one we won’t awaken from. All of us , one byone, falling like plague children, powerless to stop it, all of us just dust in the wind. Our kind

gone, forever.”

Angel glanced at Kate, who remained silent. “That’s impossible. How could she --” he

stopped. “Who is this person, anyway?”

“Dru says she’s a witch. A right powerful one, too,” Spike explained. “We figured she’d

come runnin’ to you for help, didn’t we pet?” He shrugged. “She’s got the sight like Dru does,

and now she’s decided to use it against us. Every single one of us gone, mate, poof, up in

smoke.” He folded his arms. “Now you know why Dru and I were playing with matches lastnight. Kill her before she kills all of us.”

“So it was you,” Kate spoke.

“That’s right,” Spike said. “One life to save thousands. Even the way you foodbanks look at it, that’s not a bad thing, is it? You’d kill somebody to save your race, wouldn’t you?”

Kate frowned. “I don’t know.”

“‘Course you would,” Druscilla scolded her. “You have a noble heart, dearest. You’d

even lay down your life for...” Her eyes cast a mischievous glance at Angel. “For him, wouldn’tyou?”

Spike chuckled. “How do you do it, mate? Like bees to honey, these mortal girls and

you.”

“That’s enough,” Angel said, raising a hand. “You’re telling me you tried to kill this

witch last night, but... what happened?”

“She must’ve known we were coming,” Spike groused. “Flew the bloody coop. Now we

have to find her and finish the job.”

“I’m not gonna let that happen,” Kate warned them.

“You’re not gonna stop it, either,” Spike hissed. “Listen, you, this isn’t one of your little

police cases, cop lady. This is the end of every bloody vampire life on Earth. So don’t think youmean a piss in a pot, love. We’ll do what we bloody have to do to survive, no matter what the

food thinks.”

Kate’s jaw stiffened, and she looked over at Angel. “Well?”

“I need some time to think about this, Kate,” he admitted. “Leave the knife with me and

close the investigation.” Kate began to protest, but Angel cut her off. “The knife’s a loose end.

So lose it, and you have an airtight case.”

“But they killed that guy, and burned down the house,” Kate protested. Druscilla nodded. “And we enjoyed it,” she disclosed. “But if you let her lock us up,

Angel, you’ll never find that awful, awful witch who wants to hunt us down and turn our bodies

into fssshhht!” She spread her hands apart. “Nothing but sand.”

“I’ll handle this, Kate,” Angel assured her. “You go ahead and close this case. I’ll be intouch as soon as we get to the bottom of this.”

“You’re sure?” Kate verified.

Angel nodded. “Positive. I’ll take care of this. And I’ll let you know if we need anyhelp.”




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“That’d be a laugh,” Spike sneered.

“Just be sure to say hi to Rachel and Shelley for me,” Angel told Kate as she flipped her

laptop closed.

She nodded in understanding. “Got it. No problem.”

*

Sunnydale

“Everything fit to your liking?” the clerk inquired.

Giles nodded. “Oh yes. Excellent fit. Very comfortable, thank you.”

The clerk handed back the Englishman’s FIRST BANK OF SUNNYDALE credit card. “If you

could just sign here,” he indicated, pointing to the dashed line on the receipt. Giles took theoffered pen and signed his name. The clerk separated the carbonless receipt and handed it to

Giles. “It’s been a pleasure waiting on you,” the man said. “A rare treat to actually have a man of

manners in the shop.”

Giles smiled despite himself. “Thank you very much,” he spoke, surprised by the clerk’scomments, and headed out to his car. He carefully hung the suit and its dark shiny sheath from a

small plastic finger located just above the rear driver’s side window and slipped in the front seat,

starting the Beetle and taking off down the street. Absently he switched on the radio and frowned

when Abba blared out. I didn’t like them when they were popular, he thought as he switched

channels. He found another station playing oldies, something from the psychedelic era he

couldn’t identify, and let it play. “Suit, check,” he told himself. “My official duties as regards Willow’s wedding are done.

Except showing up for it, that is. And Oz’s bachelor party.” Giles shook his head. I’m sure I’ll regret allowing Xander to plan it, but after all Oz did make him the best man. Likely he did so for

Willow’s sake, but nonetheless that makes it officially Xander’s job. I just wish I didn’t have to

go. Even without this wedding, there’s too much going on -- a vampire who wants her soul back,some kind of imp or something tracking Willow...

Giles made a wide left turn. “I wonder if they could be connected somehow. Willowwould likely have to cast the spell to restore Valeria’s soul -- unless Daisy at the magic shop

could do it.” He hummed along with the song for a moment, considering that option, and turned

away from town, toward the university. The book he had consulted had very specifically stated

that the process of examining the toe by boiling it in a mixture of herbs and roots in a pot of

water should take no less than two hours. That had left Giles with a few free hours in the

afternoon, and with Buffy acting ornery as regarded Valeria, he decided not to push that avenue

just yet. Instead he had seen to his tuxedo, and run a few miscellaneous errands. The two hours

had passed, however, and Giles felt curiosity welling up inside of him as he entered Radley Hall.

In summer session the building would probably be empty; it had been when he’d left. Giles madehis way along the row of offices to the lab room at the end of the hall; he fished out his keys and

let himself in.

An acrid stench met him. He blinked his eyes against the horrid fumes and switched the

fan on. He moved to a window and opened it, and then he turned off the small Bunsen burner

and waited for the water to cease its roiling. Foul-smelling steam continued to waft up from the

small metal pot, and Giles held his nose as he watched the liquid slowly wind down from a boil

to a simmer. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be scalded by the heat or rendered unconscious by the




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odor, Giles grabbed a pair of steel tongs and reached into the still-bubbling water, searching

about for what he expected would be more than just a sliver of a toenail.

He allowed himself a grin as he pulled a small green leg from the water. Dripping wet,

the limb twitched as it met the much cooler air; it lacked cohesion enough to have the strength to

wriggle out of Giles’ grasp, and in a moment it lay still.

“Well, at least I know what you are,” he frowned as he placed the limb down on the black counter. “The major question is, of course, who sent you? And why are you spying on Oz andWillow?”

He shook his head and sighed. “Best get you packed up and off to show the others.

Though I wish I could do more with you than just raise a bunch of questions.” He frowned,searching around for a plastic bag, and finding one, he slipped the leg into it and sealed it up.

Then Giles very carefully poured the liquid remaining into the sink and ran cold water along with

it to dilute it. In a minute the brackish broth was gone, down the drain, though its stench

remained despite the best efforts of the fan. Giles left the building quickly and headed back out

into Sunnydale proper.

Halfway home he stopped at a red light, mulling over his the events of the last few days;

he smiled at the clerk’s graciousness again. Most unusual for an American to be so polite, hethought. The light changed, but Giles turned off his route and headed over to Buffy’s house,

humming along with Genesis on the radio. He made it there in no time and wondered, not for the

first time, why Buffy had felt the need to live on campus the one semester she did attend college

when she lived within easy walking distance of all her classes. Giles shrugged. Probably wanted

to get away from her mother, I suppose. I was the same way at that age. He hopped up the stairs

and rang the bell.

When no one answered right away, he assumed he’d been a victim of poor timing. Heshrugged and turned to go when the inner door opened, and Joyce appeared at the screen door.

“Rupert?” she asked. “Hello. What brings you over here?” Her face turned grave. “Buffy’s okay,

isn’t she?”

“Right as rain and stubborn as usual,” Giles confessed. “Actually, Joyce, I came here tosee you.”

She opened the screen door. “Oh? Come on in, then.”

He shook his head. “I can’t, I’m afraid. I have to --” He stopped. “Something to do withdemons and such. The usual, pressing as always. But before I return to that, I wanted to know if

you wanted to come with me to Willow’s wedding this weekend? I know it’s awfully late notice,

and I know that she invited you on your own, but I just thought...” he trailed off.“Rupert,” Joyce responded. “I don’t know what to say.”

Giles adjusted his glasses. “There’s no pressure -- I mean, I will be acting as an usher and

I’ll likely be very busy, and...” Giles caught Joyce’s warm glance and went quiet.

“I’d love to. And thank you for asking me,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “I guessI’ll just have to get by on other people’s daughters getting married, because mine probably never

will.” She tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it.

“You never know,” Giles admitted. “Buffy’s surprised us on a number of occasions

before. Who’s to say she won’t do so again?”

*




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“Have you been here the entire time?” Giles asked, setting his carry-case down on the

coffee table and nudging Buffy’s socked feet onto the floor.

She glowered up at him. “I went running, I had lunch with Xander -- who agrees with me

on this whole Valeria thing, by the way --”

“Yes, that’s a shock,” Giles commented.

Buffy frowned at him. “Anyway, then I took a swim at our place and ran back over here.”She shrugged. “It just takes me longer to get winded any more.”

Giles nodded. “I see. And did you give the Valeria situation any thought besides, ‘I must

oppose Giles with all of my stubborn will,’ or...”

Buffy blinked up at him. “You don’t really think I don’t want to help her just because I’mon some kind of Slayer knows best kick, do you?”

“The thought had occurred to me,” he responded.

“Giles, she’s a vampire. You yourself know we can’t trust any of them. Just because we

can’t figure out her game doesn’t mean we should play along!” She jutted her chin out at theshapeless plastic bag. “How’s the suit fit?”

“Like a charm,” he answered. “Buffy, I agree with you in theory on this -- we must be

cautious, absolutely.” He moved to the closet and hung up his suit. “But even if this is a trick --and I tend to discount that it is -- she won’t be the same person when she’s given her soul back.

Guilt will overwhelm her, and she’ll be compelled to do good, like Angel is.”

Buffy grimaced. “You don’t think this could be some kinda thing where they need a

vamp with a soul to do something for them and they know Angel won’t play along?”

“I suppose it could be,” Giles admitted. “But if we second guess the world on everything,

we’ll be paralyzed. I suggest we go and talk to Valeria -- together, if you insist -- so I can get a

better idea about just who she is and why she’s doing this. And if my concerns are not assuaged,fine. No soul for her.”

“Assuaged?” Buffy asked.

“Alleviated?” Giles returned.

She shook her head no. “Oh, wait, like the aspirin,” she grinned. “Gotcha.”

A knock on the door intruded into their verbal volley. Giles answered it, pleased to see

that Oz had gotten his call and had come right over. “Will wanted to come too, but her mother

and father are acting out the Capulets and Montagues right now, and they need a referee.”

“Anything we need to be concerned about?” Giles wondered.

Oz shook his head. “Willow can handle her folks. Better than we can, anyway.” He

looked at Giles. “So, the toenail. Animal or mineral?”

“Neither,” Giles informed him, reaching into his case and pulling out the plastic bag with

the diminutive green leg.

“Ew,” Buffy grimaced. “Where’d you get that?”

“I grew it,” Giles announced. “From that teeny tiny toe?” Buffy inquired.

Giles nodded yes. “When Oz told me the creature could fly, I knew it wasn’t an imp. Or I

thought so, anyway. Imps are about the same size, but they are natural creatures. Well, not

natural really; their very existence violates a number of theories about--”

He stopped as Buffy slumped over on the couch, making a snoring noise.

“Fine,” Giles snapped. “This is a magical creature, an artificial one. Someone created it.”

Oz furrowed his brow. “Like Frankenstein?”




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“A good deal more magical than a golem made of flesh,” Giles explained. “At least

Frankenstein’s monster was made of used parts of humans. This creature -- the proper term for it

is a homonculus -- was made whole-cloth by various rare ingredients bound together by a

powerful spell.”

“So is it alive?” Buffy queried.

Giles gestured to the leg. “Not this piece, no.” Oz bent over for a closer inspection. “You grew this from that little sliver in the wood?”he wondered. “You ought to start a garden.”

“I used the right chemicals,” Giles confessed. “It’s a good deal easier when you have a

piece from another homonculus, no matter how small. Then you merely have to create the broth

of life.”

“Broth of life?” Buffy echoed.

“That’s what the witches call it,” Giles concurred.

“So,” Oz encapsulated, “we know that some witch crafted this little guy out of some

magic soup. But why? He wouldn’t be any good as any sort of attacker.”

“Unless his bite is poisonous,” Buffy suggested. “Or his nails.”

“According to legend, neither,” Giles told them. “The homonculus, histor ically, wascreated by a witch to be an extension of herself. Being a magical creature, the witch can take

possession of it and see what it sees, hear what it hears -- from a considerable distance,

apparently.”

“Considerable as in the moon, or considerable as in San Dimas?” Oz wondered. “More the latter,” Giles said, “but the stories tell of witches being able to receive

impressions from their homonculi from miles off. I don’t think our spy’s creator is all that far

away, but she could be in, say, San Diego.”

“We sure it’s a woman?” Buffy charged.

Giles nodded. “Fairly sure. Homonculi are always linked to female magic users in the

tales about them. This woman may be working with or for a male, but we’ve no way to know

that. Safest for now to assume that she is not.”

“Are we in any danger?” Oz asked.

Giles picked up the bag. “From this? No. Even a fully formed homonculus will rarely

attack, and then only when it feels its life is at stake. They do emit a poison -- Buffy was right

about that -- but it only numbs the immediate bite area. It’s meant to ward off creatures like cats

and dogs, not attack humans. Homonculi will most often flee before they will fight.”

Oz pondered that. “What do I tell Willow?” he queried. “Physically, you two have nothing to fear from this homonculus,” Giles assured him.

“I’m kinda not hip with someone spying on me,” Oz admitted. “Or Willow.”

“Oooh,” Buffy said. “A rival witch, maybe?”

Giles shrugged. “We don’t know enough yet. Though I can’t see Willow making anyenemies like that, can you?”

Buffy nodded no. Oz shook his head with more emphasis.

“More research,” Giles announced, ignoring the frowns on the two young people as he

moved into the kitchen and put the homonculus leg in the freezer.

*




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“This was all your doing,” Ira Rosenberg growled as he sliced open his baked potato.

“You planted this idea in her head.”

“I did no such thing,” Sheila responded. “Ira, start giving our daughter a little credit.

Willow is a highly intelligent individual capable of making rational decisions for herself. She

doesn’t need me to tell her how to run her wedding.” Sheila paused, pouring herself some more

white wine. “It’s true I didn’t like the huppah myself, but I did not impose my will on our daughter.”

“Guys,” Willow tried to interject.

“The huppah is an important part of the ceremony,” Ira complained. “You know that,

Sheila. It’s a symbol that man and wife will be making a new household. It’s a recognition of that new household in our community. A blessing, if you will, that their union will grow and

prosper like a family should.” He gestured at her with his butter knife. “Why you’d be opposed

to that, I can’t understand. Don’t you want Willow and Daniel to have a prosperous home?”

“Of course I do. You know I want the best for her and Oz, just as you do. But the blind

enactment of a pointless ritual won’t guarantee them domestic bliss, Ira. It takes far more work

than that. Standing under some ridiculous canopy won’t mean a thing.”

“Guys, please,” Willow spoke up. “In a minute, dear,” Ira assured his daughter. “Sheila, if you didn’t like the huppah, why

did you agree to be wed under one?”

Sheila gave him an impatient look. “I was twenty-two years old. What did I know about

what I wanted and what I didn’t want? It seemed to mean a lot to you, and I didn’t care. So Iwent along with it.”

“This is important to me too,” Ira told her. “Why won’t you go along with this? The

Osbornes don’t have an issue with it, and young Daniel isn’t even Jewish.”

Sheila set her glass down. “Because it’s not your wedding any more, Ira. It’s Willow’s,

and Willow should be able to do what she wants.”

“Seems like my wedding,” Ira groused. “I’m paying for all of it.”

“Dad!” Willow complained. Ira looked over at her, surprised. “What, honey?” At her hurt expression, he muttered,

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean that. You know when all is said and done I want your wedding

to go off perfectly. I don’t mind paying for that. If all that money buys you one day of perfecthappiness, then it’s all well spent.”

“Thanks,” Willow said, and looked at her mother. “To the both of you.” She looked back

at Ira. “But Dad, I’m the one who doesn’t want the huppah. Not mom, and not the Osbornes.Oz’s family has been really good about all of this, and all you two have done is argue about

everything from which Rabbi we should ask to the colors my bridesmaids would be wearing to

whether or not we’d invite cousin Gwendolyn. Sometimes I think you two don’t really care about

my wedding. You’re just using it as an excuse to get at each other.” Willow looked at both of them. “It’s not gonna happen any more. We have three days until I get married, and it stops now,

okay? We do things my way and everyone gets along and has a good time.” She placed her

hands on the tablecloth flat out. “I’m only gonna get married once, guys. This is literally a once

in a lifetime event here. And I want it to go perfect. So far everything has, except you two. Now

the both of you, just stop fighting and learn how to agree for the next three days. Got it?”

Ira glanced at his wife and returned his gaze to Willow. He blinked once and said,

“Whatever you want, dear.”




67

Sheila leaned over and patted Willow’s hand. “Of course, Willow. We can live with

that.”

“Good,” Willow told them, letting out a little sigh of relief. “And that means that the both

of you will walk down the aisle to give me away. That’s what I want and it doesn’t matter whosetradition it is or it isn’t. It’s my wedding, like you just said, so we’re doing it.”

Both parents nodded. “Sounds wonderful to me, honey,” Ira commented. And while the iron is hot, Willow thought, pressing on, “And I’m going to ask RabbiWeiss,” she announced. “Not Rabbi Pfeiffer. I know, Rabbi Weiss is a lot younger, and I know

your preference, dad. But I’m more comfortable with Rabbi Weiss and that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Sheila smiled. “Good for you.” Ira frowned slightly and eventually managed a shrug ashe dug into his baked potato.

“Dad,” Willow urged.

“Whatever,” he managed. “It’s your wedding.”

Willow nodded, knowing that was the most she would get out of him. “I do have a favor to ask the two of you,” she mentioned.

Both of them looked up at her.

“I want you to come see the place Oz and I will be staying in L.A. And I want your blessing on my moving there.” She glanced back and forth at them. “I know you both wanted me

to stay in Sunnydale and Oz would have been perfectly happy to, but I just couldn’t turn this job

down. It’s everything I want to do professionally right off the bat, and the money is terrific. I

know you guys aren’t thrilled that I’ll be three hours away, but please, I’d feel a lot better if youwould come see us after the honeymoon and give our new house a traditional blessing,” she

aimed at her father, “because that’s what I want,” she fired off at her mother.

Ira shook his head. “That’s some daughter you raised,” he murmured to Sheila. “Me?” she shook her head. “She gets that stubbornness from your side.”

Ira opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly shut it again. He turned to Willow

and said, “We’d be happy to, sweetie. First weekend after you get back from Aruba. That next

Sunday.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Willow beamed.

*“Blood?” Buffy wondered, gesturing to the small plastic carton Giles carried.

He regarded the Slayer. “She might be hungry.”

“It’s not some pet, you know,” Buffy groused.

Giles frowned as he opened the door that led to the storage areas. “We brought blood to

Spike when he was ill and in our care, and you provided blood for Angel on a number of

occasions.”

“That’s different,” Buffy pointed out.

“I fail to see how,” Giles answered her.

“It just is,” Buffy insisted.

Giles stopped halfway down the stairs. “Are you sure I shouldn’t go ahead alone?” hewondered. “It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind about her.”

“Let’s go,” Buffy told him, continuing down the stairs.




68

Giles followed. “Need I remind you that you were the one who initially spared her?

There’s some part of you that’s in favor of returning her soul to her. You’re just not listening to

it.”

Buffy shrugged. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

Giles unlocked the door at the foot of the stairs. “Then could you do me the courtesy of

allowing to make up mine? I assure you, Buffy, I will not be going out of my way to be kind tothis vampire. But neither will I sentence her without a hearing, so to speak.” He gestured. “After you.”

Buffy entered the storage area. At one time these had been assigned one to each

apartment by the landlord. Nothing more than little wooden cages, they stood perhaps four feet

wide by six feet deep, with a hallway, dimly lit, running between them. When the landlords had

gotten the enterprising idea a few years back to start charging a monthly fee for them, most of

Giles’ neighbors had cleaned out their pens and saved the twenty-five dollars. Giles, however,

had used his to house Oz during the full moon, and on occasion the odd vampire, like Angel or

Spike. He had inquired on Oz’s behalf into renting other units. The supers had been more than

willing to accept his money, and so now Giles rented four of the twenty pens; the rest lay empty

except for one at the far end, where Oz’ band, Monkey Pants, stored some of their excess gear.Giles had reinforced his holding areas with help from Xander, adding extra wooden support

beams and metal bars when he could get them. Oz had never broken out of this area in the four

years he had spent the full moon here, and Giles doubted if even Buffy could escape from the

little cells.

Valeria sat on the floor on a piece of carpet remnant Giles had provided to each cell.

Lonely brown eyes went wide as she glanced up at him; they flicked to Buffy and back to Giles

again. She rubbed her arms and looked back down at the floor.

Giles raised an eyebrow. I’ve never seen a vampire look so vulnerable before. Is that

some trick to gain my sympathy, or is she really as miserable as she looks? “I brought you

something to eat,” Giles greeted her, sliding the plastic container beneath the raised slats at the

bottom of the door.

She looked up at him warily but moved for the blood quickly; she tore off the cover and

drained it, closing her eyes as the cool blood slid down her throat.

“I apologize for the accommodations,” Giles told her. “But I’m afraid we don’t haveanyone to spare to watch you.” He slid his hands in his pockets. “You already know Buffy. I’m

Rupert Giles.”

“Valeria,” she mumbled, wiping her lips on the back of her arm. She inclined her headtoward Buffy. “She has told you about me?”

Giles nodded. “That she has. If I could just ask you a few questions, it would be very

greatly appreciated.”

“Can you give me my soul back?” she asked him directly. “In theory it is possible,” he replied. “But I wish to get to know a little bit about you

before we do.”

Valeria nodded. “You do not trust me. You don’t understand why one of my kind would

want this. You are careful.” She shook her head. “I do not blame you. We are not a race worthtrusting, are we?”

Giles nodded. “Why exactly do you want your soul back?” he asked her.




69

Those brown eyes peered up at him again, and Giles nearly caught his breath. My God,

she’s beautiful, he thought. “I want to be human again,” she explained. “Or as human as I can be.

And I do not have a chance without a soul.”

Giles exhaled, mulling that over. “What would you do with yourself if we were able to

restore your soul?” he queried. “You couldn’t go back to your human life.”

She stood up, rubbing her arms again. “You’d be surprised. I used to stay up all nightanyway, and hardly ever saw the sun. I was out all the time, at clubs, or parties, or just simply

out. We would party all night and retire when the sun came up. It was just our way.” She made

eye contact with Giles. “That would be a life I could get used to again very easily.”

“How did you become a vampire?” Giles asked her.

“A friend of a friend knew a wealthy man,” she told them. “He had seen me modeling.

He wanted to meet me. I was young, I didn’t know what that meant. I thought he was a fan. And

I thought that making friends with a rich man couldn’t be so bad. When we met I knew there was

something different about him -- this I could tell. I knew right away he didn’t want what mostmen want. He had a different hunger.” She shrugged. “We got drunk -- I was always drunk in

those days -- and the next thing I know, he starts kissing me, this older man with all the money,

and then he bites me, on the neck. I try to break free, but he is stronger than any man I have evermet, and he holds me to the bed with one hand while he drains my blood. ‘You are going to die,’

he tells me, ‘unless you drink my blood like I drank yours.’” Valeria frowned. “I was twenty -

two. I did not want to die. So I drank his blood, from his mouth. It was hot and bitter, disgusting,

and I could barely swallow it. And I passed out.” She shivered. “But when I woke up, he was

already dressed, and he tells me that I am a vampire, and that I should not go out in the sunlight.”

She looked at Giles again. “And the rest of my life I have been one, trying to stay out of the way,

unnoticed, so humans would not come kill me.”

“When was this?” Giles wondered.

Valeria bit her lip in thought, one long incisor showing against the pale pink flesh.

“Thirty years ago, maybe? Forty? I don’t keep track of time. It means nothing to me anymore.

I’m supposed to live forever, that’s what he told me. I only know I haven’t aged a day.”

“Lucky you,” Buffy muttered.

“Slayer, I know you do not trust me. I wish I could make you understand. I hate what I

am. I used to love people, being around them, being with them, hearing them laugh, talking to

them. I didn’t even care about what. I just liked being in a crowd, being in a group, talking and

laughing and drinking. And now I am denied that, forever. My favorite thing in this life -- simple

contact with other people -- I cannot have. Because I see the pulse in their neck, I smell the life

in them, and I crave their blood. It drives me crazy to be near humans and not to eat. And I

know, I could mingle among them and feed from them, and I would not be caught for a long

time.” She bowed her head. “But I would still be lonely, and they would still fear me. I do not

want to be feared any more.”

“Returning your soul won’t take away your need for blood,” Giles explained to her.

“You’ll still have the hunger. You’ll still need to feed.”

“I understand,” she admitted. “But it will give me the willpower and the strength to say

no to those urges.” She moved toward the bars. “I know this all sounds silly. But I would doanything to stop being this lonely. Anything. Vampires are not the same as you. They are cruel

and disgusting.”

“So are some humans,” Buffy observed.




70

“Some,” Valeria agreed, “but not all. There are so many of you that are good. But none of

them. They are all evil. Every single one. Except Angel.”

Buffy started but said nothing.

Giles nodded. “Thank you for talking to us,” he told Valeria. “Buffy and I have to godiscuss this in private.” He glanced at her. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I am chilly,” she said. “I feel the cold very much.” “I’ll bring you a jacket,” he promised.

“I thank you,” she spoke.

“ I’ll bring you a jacket,” Buffy said, eyeing Giles. “Come on, Mr. Sympathy, let’s go.”

“Buffy, now just a minute. I--”

She smiled mirthlessly. “We can continue this argument outside in the sunlight, okay?”

Giles frowned. “Very well.” He nodded to Valeria. “She’ll be back with your coat.”

Valeria nodded in response, and dropped back to the carpeting after they had left.

*

Santa Monica

“Kate!” Shelley greeted her. “Hey, come on in.”

“Sorry to come over unannounced,” Kate apologized. “I’ve been trying to get here sincethis morning. But I had a court case, and all this stupid paperwork that was due at noon, and the

traffic...”

“I heard something about an accident,” Shelley mentioned. “I think I sat in the traffic jam it created for about a half hour.” Kate frowned. “I would

have called, but the battery on my cell phone went. Nice timing.”

“Like there’d be a good time,” Shelley empathized. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?

Soda?”

Kate shook her head. “I’m good. Better call in the whole gang, though.” Shelley arched an eyebrow. “Trouble, huh?”

“I think so, yeah,” the cop replied, following the younger woman into the kitchen.“Have a seat,” Shelley spoke. “I’ll go fetch Pike. Rachel’s out somewhere.”

Kate nodded in reply and sat down.

A few minutes later Shelley returned, Pike in tow. A few days’ stubble colored the

bottom of his face a pale grey, and Kate thought he looks like Fred Flintstone. “Pike,” she spokeup. “You stopped shaving.”

“I’m gonna try it,” he shrugged. “Never grew a beard or even a mustache. So we’ll see. If

Shell likes it, I keep it. If not, off it goes.”

Shelley poured water into the Hot Shot brewer and pressed the HEAT button. “Kinda

scratchy right now,” she commented. “But I like beards. So I’ll put up with this.” “She’s a peach,” Pike grinned. “Shelley tells me you have bad news?”

Kate nodded as the Hot Shot gurgled. “Spike’s back in town.”

Pike glanced at Shelley, who moved up behind him and slipped a hand to his waist. “You

sure?”

“Saw him myself,” Kate responded. “Angel introduced him.”

“Angel introduced him?” Shelley echoed. “What’s that all about? Don’t tell me that

Angel’s...”




71

“No, he’s still good old Angel,” Kate informed them. “Spike and Druscilla dropped in

unannounced and certainly uninvited. Told him there was something bad about to go down and

they wanted to stop it.”

“Doesn’t sound like them,” Pike offered as the Hot Shot hissed that the boiling water stood ready.

“Bad for vampires, I mean,” Kate clarified. “Something’s gonna rise up and kill all thevampires in the world. All of ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad to me,” Shelley spoke up.

“Apparently some witch has stumbled upon some something that will kill all the

vampires. Spike already burned down her house and killed someone trying to get to her.”

“That’s Spike for ya,” Pike agreed, dispensing the piping water into a mug of instant

coffee. “Did he say exactly what it was that would snuff out the undead?”

“I got the impression he didn’t know,” Kate admitted. “They only seem to know that this

witch is involved. She was right under our noses, out in Burbank, but now she’s flown the coop.We’re trying to track down the records on who she is, but the house seems to have been owned

by Wolfram and Hart.”

Pike and Shelley both stared at her.Kate held her hands up. “I had the same reaction. But we buried them for good two years

ago -- you two were there. Right after Angel came back from his little vacation in Sunnydale.

None of those creeps are left.” Kate furrowed her brow. “I guess the state sold off their assets,

and she got a great deal on a nice house. Or what was a nice house until the other night.”

“We need to know what they’re up to,” Shelley told Kate. “Is there any chance you can

get close enough to Angel and find out? Spike would recognize us, I’m pretty sure, and then

we’d have to kill him.”

Pike frowned, seating himself. “He couldn’t possibly be involved with anything good.

Maybe we should kill him just to be on the safe side. Anything he’s trying to prevent can’t be all

that bad, if you think about it.”

“If it’s some kind of spell -- you know, she is a witch -- it might kill Angel too.” Katelooked at both of them. “I won’t have that. He’s paid his dues. He doesn’t deserve to go down

with the rest of those scum.”

“I hate to say it,” Shelley posited, “but maybe one guy is worth wiping vampires off theEarth.” Pike scowled but said nothing.

“I don’t agree,” Kate told her. “I know we’re talking about genocide here, and with the

vampires, that’s not really that ter rible an idea. But not if it means losing Angel. That price is too

high.”

“I like Angel too, Kate,” Shelley agreed, “but I bet even he would give his life gladly in

order to save all the people killed every year by vampires.”

“That isn’t fair,” Kate argued. “If you figure in all the people’s whose lives he’s saved,and you look at --”

Pike held up his hands. “Ladies,” he said, standing up between them. “Maybe we should

find out exactly what this magical cure for vampires entails before we get into fist f ights tryin’ to

figure out whether we should use it or not.” He sat back down. “If it’s a spell or a curse or adisease or somethin’, we may have an issue. But if it’s something else, maybe it can kill

vampires and leave Angel alone. Or something.”

Both women stared at him with doubt in their eyes.




72

“I’m just sayin’, let’s wait until we have the facts before we get completely bent, that’s

all.”

Shelley, behind him, nodded. “So how we gonna find out?”

*Sunnydale

Buffy flicked channels rapidly, her hazel eyes barely seeing what was on; a group of

teens in a sit-com here, a talking head discussing investment there. She passed by a black and

white film and stopped briefly on VH1; some young ingenue sang about being in love. Buffy

kept going.

“Hey,” Xander offered as he came through the front door. “Sorry I’m late. Stopped for

dinner. Pizza and Pepsi, your favorite.” He stopped, setting the pizza down as she failed to

respond. “Not your favorite?” he asked in a softer voice.

“Hey,” she offered listlessly, tossing the remote down on the couch.

“Bad day?” Xander asked, putting the soda next to the pizza and sitting next to her. Buffy leaned over and kissed him briefly on the lips. “Not really... well, yeah, a little.”

She pouted. “Giles wants to give that little bitch her soul back.”

Xander nodded in understanding. “And Slayer -girl doesn’t want that because...”

“I can’t think of a good reason,” she complained. “I mean, not a really really good reason.

I tried arguing with Giles, I tried everything I could think of.” She sighed, leaning back against

him. “I just don’t feel right about it.”

“That’s a good enough reason for me,” Xander told her, kissing the back of her neck.

“Fate picked you, babe. You got the heebies jeebies, I say hold on, Mr. Giles, just s low down

there.”

Buffy reached behind herself, over her head, and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s my

Xand,” she murmured. “Always on my side.” He kissed her neck again. “Always on the right side, you mean,” he told her.

Buffy spun to face him. “You really think I’m right about this?”

Xander nodded. “If you feel strongly about it, then I think you’re right, yup.”

“Too bad Giles doesn’t see it that way,” Buffy groused.

“Buff, I think I see a lot of things that Giles doesn’t see.” Xander frowned. “W ait, that

didn’t come out right.”

Buffy slid an arm around him. “You know what I really need tonight?”

He shook his head.

“I need to forget about that. No vampires, no patrol, no bitchy blond teary eyed ‘oh, Mr.

Giles, please help me, I wanna be good!’” Buffy made a spitting noise. “Forget about that. I

don’t wanna talk about that, any of it.” “We could talk about the wedding,” Xander offered, sliding an arm around her. “Okay,” Buffy ventured. “How’s the tux fit?”

“Great,” Xander told her. “Your dress?”

“You’re gonna love it,” Buffy told him, grinning. “I think I’m gonna go commando.”

“You can’t,” he told her. She raised an eyebrow. “Sure I can. And you’ll be going crazy all night wondering if I

am or not.” She smiled mischievously at him.




73

Xander leaned in and kissed her, tenderly, and Buffy slid into his arms, kissing him back.

He reached up and undid her ponytail, letting her blonde mane spill down her back. She slid a

hand under his shirt to his stomach, caressing the soft skin and tight muscles there. They came up

for air and Buffy smiled at him widely. “You let my hair down,” she teased him in a quiet voice.“You must be really horny.”

“I’m sittin’ next to you on a couch,” he breathed, kissing her again. “Of course I’mhorny.” He slid his hands over her shoulders and up through her hair. Buffy nuzzled his neck and

slid her lips up to his, kissing him deeply, slipping up atop him, pressing him into the couch.

After a long moment they parted, and Buffy smiled at the intensity of emotion that shone from

his eyes. He loves me so much, she mused as she kissed his nose. You can see it written all over

his face.

“Buff,” he whispered, kissing her again.

“Mmm?” she mumbled, opening the top button on his shirt and kissing the top of his

chest.

“Do you...” he trailed off as she opened another button and moved her lips toward one of

his nipples. He issued a grunt of pleasure and she smiled, working open another button and

taking the nipple in her mouth.“I mean, you think we aaaagggahhhh....” he managed as she flicked her tongue against

the pink nubbin.

“Talk later,” Buffy growled. “Slayer horny now.” She glanced up at him, smiling, and he

grinned back, like only a fool deeply in love can. She kissed his chest again. “My clothes comeoff too, you know,” she purred, and Xander sat up on the couch, sliding his hands down her torso

and grabbing the bottom of her t-shirt. Buffy helped him strip it off, and then she pulled his open

shirt the rest of the way off. She sighed softly as warm flesh met its match, smooth simmering

skin melding together as they clutched at one another, tongues fencing hungrily. He broke off the

kiss and moved down to her neck, his tongue gliding gently over her skin. Now it was Buffy’s

turn to issue a wordless noise of pleasure.

Xander reached down, his hand stroking her flesh slowly, and found her bra. She wore a

type that snapped in the front; he’d had trouble with the kind that fastened in the back, and Buffy

found it really didn’t matter either way to her. He snapped open the black bra and slid a hand to

her breast, caressing her gently.

“I love you,” he breathed in her ear. “More than anything else I’ve ever loved in my

whole life.” He kissed her ear lobe, his tongue lancing in her ear, and she writhed in delight.

“And you have a terrific way of showing it,” she sighed as she nibbled on his ear inreturn.

He slid his hand to her other breast when Buffy pulled back and muttered, “Bedroom?”

He nodded and scooped up her slim frame in a single motion. She smiled and kissed him

as he carried her inside, setting her down gently on her bed. Buffy shed her bra and her denim

shorts and sat in front of him in just her panties. Xander disrobed similarly, except that he sat

naked next to her.

“Promise me something,” she spoke as she snuggled up to him.

“Anything,” he rasped as he slid his arms around her back. “If anything ever... happens to me, promise me you’ll forget about slaying and have a

normal life.”

“Okay,” he breathed, inhaling the scent of her hair as he slid a hand between he r breasts

and over her stomach.




74

Buffy glanced over at him. “That was easy.”

“‘Course it was easy,” he sighed. “Nothing’s ever gonna happen to you.” He rolled over

on his back and pulled her atop him.

“I’m serious,” she laughed, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“So am I,” he replied, one hand moving down her back to her buttocks.

“Something could happen to me,” she offered. He shook his head, kissing her so passionately it took her breath away. “Not on mywatch,” he spoke. “I won’t let anything happen to you, ever. I can promise you that, too.”

Buffy closed her eyes and rolled him over, so that she lay on the bottom. “I love you,”

she whispered, kissing him.

Xander’s features grew tender. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he told her, kissing

her again. “Ever.”

Buffy smiled, eyes still closed, as his hands slipped down her hips and wriggled the

panties down past her thighs. You keep this up, and I’ll never get tired of saying it, she mused,

sliding a hand up behind his neck and pulling him to her, kissing him, forcing her tongue into his

mouth and sighing as the two of them became one in an instant.

*“So Rabbi Weiss was cool with it?” Oz asked.

Willow nodded, scooping up another spoonful of ice cream. “A lot cooler than myparents. I think I kind of shocked them by laying down the law, but I just got tired of them

fighting, you know?”

Oz nodded. “Makes me kinda glad my parents are doin’ the laid- back Osborne thing. I’dhate to think what it would be like if they were actin’ up like yours are.”

Willow nodded, running her foot up and down his shin, smiling around the ice cream. “I

should go talk to them and thank them for being so great during all of this.”

Oz shrugged. “They know the score -- weddings are for the girl. I think they’re just surprised that I’m actually gonna go through with it, that I’m moving away from Sunnydale, and

that I’m marrying someone who’s gonna have a great job.”

“Please,” Willow poo- poohed him. “Okay, the money will be pretty nice, but I’llbasically be a glorified programmer. Metacortex isn’t exactly holding their breath waiting for

me.”

Oz slid an arm around her. “They sent the biggest limo I’ve ever seen -- and I’m amusician -- to pick you up to take you to the airport that time. That thing had its own zip code.

And they sent that just for you. So they must think you’re pretty special. And they’re right.”

Willow smiled, kissing him on the cheek and leaving a drop of ice cream there. “Oops,”

she spoke, licking it off. “It’s not like you don’t have a job,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but being a studio musician hired on because I know Devon is a long way from

turning the entire computer industry on its ear.”

Willow put down the ice cream. “Stop it. You’ll be playing guitar all day and getting paid

for it. And you’ll have time to look for something else if you want to.” She cozied up to him,laying her head in the crook of his neck. “Sounds perfect to me.”

“The perfect part is when I get to come home to you,” he told her, kissing her hair.




75

Willow smiled and looked up, kissing him back. After a moment they parted, both

smiling. “I almost forgot,” she told him. “Did Giles figure out anything about our mysterious

little green man?”

“It’s a homonculus,” Oz informed her. “He cooked it up in some soup and that littletoenail grew a leg. Neat trick if you can swing it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he know who created it, or why?” Oz shook his head. “Apparently homonculi are usually made by witches.” He looked atWillow. “Contemporary of yours keeping an eye on you?”

Willow leaned over and put the cap on the ice cream. “Whoever she is, she must be

powerful. I’ve looked at the spell, just out of curiosity, and it’s a really hard one. Not justanybody can cast that spell. The ingredients alone would be a bitch to gather together.” She

frowned. “I wonder what she wants with us?”

“Assuming it’s a she,” Oz put in.

“Giles is rarely wrong with research like that,” Willow pointed out. “He’s very thoroughwith magic, because if you make the wrong assumption or recite the wrong spell, poof, you

could be in big trouble. Like him and Ethan were with that demon Eyghon.”

Oz ran a hand over her hair. “That’s something you’d never do,” he muttered. “Summon a demon?” she queried. “You betcha I wouldn’t. Those things are way more

trou ble than they’re worth. They’re constantly looking to get out from under your control and

wreak havoc all over the place. You can’t trust them to do anything right, and you have to watch

them all the time.” She rubbed her nose. “But a homonculus would be easier. They’re like littleliving spy systems -- you can see and hear everything they do, if you concentrate. Some

descriptions say the originating witch can even control their movements if her will is strong

enough.”

Oz stroked her cheek. “Would my Will be strong enough?”

She smiled. “No way, buddy, the only little creature I’m ever gonna create is gonna be

with you. I’m not makin’ any imps or pixies or anything like that.”

“I dunno,” Oz replied. “Ken and Maureen made Jordi the natural way, and he’s a l ittle

imp.”

“No, he’s a demon,” Willow chuckled. “He needs an off switch. It’s a good thing he’s so

smitten with Buffy or we’d never be able to control him.”

“Yeah, she gets all the luck,” Oz laughed.

“Hey,” Willow changed the topic, “is everything set up for the reception with the Pants?

They’re all okay with it?”

“Evan hasn’t gotten back to me,” Oz informed her. “He’s still in Utah. Be back

tomorrow. But I’m sure Lina and Tony would be up for it. Be kinda neat to jam one last time

with the guys.” He kissed her. “That was a good idea.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “You know, I’ve lived my whole life here,” Willow told him. “It’shard to believe in three days I’m gonna leave town forever.”

“Maybe not forever,” Oz pointed out. “Maybe only for a while. Who knows? Sunnydale

is kinda like a really good memory -- you never know when you’re gonna revisit it.”

Willow nodded silently and laid her head on his chest.

*




76

Valeria shifted her weight on the rug, trying to find a comfortable position. I’ve beentrying to get comfortable for the last forty years, she ruminated. I’ve always hated being trapped in this horrible body, this living death. She sighed; the reflex was unnecessary -- she didn’t

breathe -- but it made her feel a little better. The Slayer hates me so much, and I suppose that is

her job. She is supposed to kill us, not like us, but if anyone would understand, I thought it would

be she. She glanced at the plastic bowl that had held the blood; she’d licked it clean and capped ittightly, but still her sensitive nose could smell it. The cell next to her stank thickly of something

she didn’t recognize; a horrible musky odor that wrinkled her nose when she inhaled too deeply.

She had also noticed the wide scratch marks on the metal and wood that helped reinforce the

cage, and wondered what caused them. Whatever it is, they have kept it here often and recently.

The stink is very strong. She turned away, staring across the hallway at the empty, dark locker

across from her.

Giles had not left the light on, and she saw no reason to ask for it. Valeria could see

perfectly well in the dark, and in any event there was little here to look at. She could hear cars

pass by outside, and the occasional footfalls of those coming or going from their dwellings,

likely oblivious to the bloodthirsty killer that lurked mere feet away from where they stood. It’snot my fault, she tried to console herself. I didn’t want to be a vampire. I never asked Vittorio todo that to me. And I never felt guilty that I staked him two days later. He could have at least

asked me if I wanted immortal life.

Eternal hell, she told herself for the thousandth time. That’s what this is, eternal hell. Noescape, no way to reverse it. I can never go back, but I can still have a chance to pretend, if they

will only give me a soul. I can make people think I am human, and pass among them after dark.

And I won’t have to kill anyone else. I can live off butcher’s blood like Angel does.

She doubted he would remember her. They had only met once, recently, ironically while

she was on her way to Sunnydale to try to find the Slayer. The boat had docked in Los Angeles,

and her escorts -- Gianni and that rat-faced-one, Vincenzo -- were moving her to a safe house

when they had happened across the tall, handsome vampire. Angel had made an understandable

mistake; he’d thought Vincenzo and Gianni were abducting her, to take her back to their lair to

feed off her. Four decades too late, she thought.

She had never seen a vampire king before Angel. She had only known low vampires,

those who would feed off dogs and rats if it suited them, those who puffed out their chests and

acted like they were warriors. But Angel needed none of that posing. He attacked them quickly

and made short work of them. And briefly she had met his dark eyes and seen the soul there, the

goodness, the humanity that lurked inside of him even though he was a vampire. A demon with a

soul, she remembered. And at that moment I knew what my destiny was. To be like him. To do as

he did. To join him, and protect the humans who normally fear us.

She supposed in some small way she harbored feelings for him. Vampires were not

supposed to love; it was considered an aberration, and she believed that so strongly that she was

still unsure why she thought about him every day. And I cannot confess this to the Slayer if she is

his lover, or his former lover. Then jealousy will rule an already suspicious heart and I will find

a stake in my chest for sure. Maybe it was merely because Angel was a king, and unconsciously

she felt the need to follow him, as all lesser vampires innately bowed to the greater ones among

them. She’d never understood why, but she’d been told about it from those older than her enough

times to know of it. Doesn’t make any sense, she reflected. We’re all despicable.




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A scritching noise along the floor caused her to look up; she shifted her features to the

hunting face so that she could see even better in the darkness. She spotted no one, but a deep

inhale carried the scent of some creature, one that raised the hair on the back of her neck.

“Who’s there?” Valeria challenged, her voice sounding thin and scared. A leathery flap sounded, and a strange little imp stood by the door of her cage; scarcely a

foot high, his long wings were tucked behind him, furled up. A long nose poked through thewooden slats, and beady red eyes glowed at her. “You, vampire,” it hissed in a high, squeakyvoice.

“What do you want?” she wondered.

“If they do not give you your soul back, I will. I promise you. But be pat ient and play

along with them, whatever they do. They are not killers and they will not harm you.”

“Who are you?” Valeria asked.

The little man unwrapped his wings. “I must go. I will contact you if it is necessary. Take

heart! I will be watching and I’ll make sure you get what you want.” With that, the little manleapt up, his wings beating, and flew out the open window at the end of the hall.

I’m not sure I like this, Valeria considered, but maybe I better just stay quiet about it.

* Los Angeles

“Spike?” Druscilla called out. Her partner woke from his dozing, nearly slipping out of the chair he had balanced on its

back legs while he slept. “Pet?” he called back.

“Spike, I’m hungry,” she complained.

“It’s bloody daytime out there, Dru,” he replied. “We aren’t doing any feeding for hours

yet.” He closed his eyes. “Bloody summer.” “I’ve got some extra blood,” Angel offered. “You caught me at a good time. I just

stocked up.”

“Cold blood?” Spike queried. “I had enough of that last time I was back in t he states,

thank you very much. They even had me drinkin’ it out of a mug like it was bloody tea.

Completely degradin’, it was.” He folded his arms. “Dru, dear?” he raised his voice.

“Spike?” she answered. “Angel’s got some of the cold dead stuff if you’re desperate.”

A pause, then, “Maybe a sip or two. I am famished.” Dru strolled into the room. “And I

get so faint when I don’t eat regularly.”Spike righted the chair and stood in one fluid motion, coming over to Druscilla.

“Nonsense, love. You’re in perfect shape. Fit as a fiddle and ready to tackle our little missdangerous witch.”

Druscilla pouted. “I can’t find her, Spike. None of the spirits would talk to me, and eventhe cards led me to a blank wall.” Druscilla’s eyes widened. “She knows we’re looking for her,

and she’s hidden herself from us.”

“‘Course she knows you’re looking for her,” Angel spoke. “You burned her house down. Not quite as effective as a telegram, but almost.”




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“That’s enough out of you,” Spike said, pointing at his sire. “You haven’t even decided

which team you’re playin’ for, nancy- boy, so don’t you go criticizin’ our methods unless you can

do better.”

Angel ignored Spike for the moment. “Blood’s in the fridge, Dru.” He scratched his ear.“Do we even know what this witch of yours is planning to do? Some kind of curse? Eternal

daylight? A virus of some kind?” Druscilla had moved to the refrigerator and removed a mostly empty bag of blood.

Eschewing the convenient stopper at the top, she bit into the bag and began slurping down the

thick liquid.

“Baby, when you’re done, our sire has a few questions,” Spike conveyed. Dru held up a finger and continued to drain the bag.

Angel looked away. Would it really be such a bad thing if we were all wiped out? We’rea race of leeches, feeding off other living things. We can’t reproduce, and most of us can’t even

love.

“All done,” Dru sighed, dropping the empty bag in the garbage. She turned to face both

male vampires. “Now, what is it you want to know, Angel?”

“These visions,” Angel spoke. “What exactly did they tell you? Did you actually see thiswoman? Could you tell what she was going to do?”

“If we knew that, we wouldn’t had to bothered coming to you now, would we?” Spike

snarled.

“Is your name Dru?” Angel asked him pointedly. “My lovely boys, sparring over me,” Druscilla smiled. “You make mommy proud.”

“The visions, pet,” Spike instructed her. “Focus.”

“I am focusing,” she sulked at Spike. “It wasn’t very clear, but I remember that she wastrying to find a man who--” Druscilla stopped, her eyes almost bulging out of her head, and she

screamed.

“Dru!” Angel exclaimed, standing up.

Spike was faster. He leapt from his chair and caught Druscilla as she sagged to the floor.

“If you’ve hurt her,” Spike growled, his hunting face showing. “You always were jealous

of what we had.”

Angel shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“That blood you gave her,” Spike charged. “What was in it? You drugged her!”

“Take it easy, Spike. I drank most of that bag myself. Dru just finished it off. There’s

nothing wrong with it. I didn’t even get it out of the fridge for her -- she picked it at random.”

“Maybe they’re all drugged,” Spike suggested.

“Then what would I drink?” Angel wondered.

Spike merely snarled at him.

“Runes,” Druscilla babbled, curled over in a ball on Spike’s lap. “Runes, fire... raven hair in a mane, all about her...” She convulsed.

“Easy, pet,” Spike murmured, smoothing her hair.

“She’s having a vision,” Angel said.

“I know bloody well what she’s doin’,” Spike barked. “Seen enough of ‘em.”

Druscilla shivered. “An army,” she mumbled, her eyes twisting shut. “Eyes, eyes,

everywhere she has eyes. They can see us and hear us and we’ll never find them.” She began to

shake violently, and Spike held her tightly, wrapping strong arms around her so she wouldn’tflail about and hurt herself.




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“Tell us more, Dru,” Angel prompted.

“You shut up!” Spike roared.

“Spike, I’m on your side with this,” Angel hissed. “The more Dru can tell us, the more

we can do to stop whatever this is.”

Spike was incapable of a coherent answer; he merely growled.

“Fangs,” Druscilla whimpered. “Rows and rows of fangs to tear at us...” She put her hands over her eyes. “No!” she screamed. “No!”

“Dru,” Spike shook her, trying to break the vision. “Dru, baby, snap out of it.”

“She sees me!” Druscilla wailed. “Spike! Help me! She can see me!”

His fingers dug deeper into her shoulder. “Dru, honey, please, stop it.” He glanced up atAngel, who wore a concerned look. “You’re scaring Angel. And me, pet.”

Druscilla cried out again, a shrill wail that nearly broke glass. Then she slumped into

Spike’s lap, her body limp.

“Dru, honey, baby, say something,” Spike pleaded. She moaned softly and shivered again, and he held her tight. He kissed her long dark hair

for a moment and looked up at Angel, murder in his grotesque yellow eyes.

“How long you gonna stay sittin’ on that pretty fence of yours, mate? You can’t help thefood bags and help us. You gonna stand with your own when it counts, or you gonna let some

human witch do this to Dru?”

Angel frowned down at him but said nothing. He folded his arms and after a long

moment, he said, “Let’s try and make sense of this vision, first, after she recovers. Then we canfigure out what to do.”

“That’s your problem,” Spike rumbled. “You been livin’ like one’a’them so long you

forgot how to be one of us. I know what we bloody have to do. We have to track down that bitch

that’s hurtin’ Dru and wants to do us all in, and drink every drop of her blood, that’s what.”

“Spike,” Angel pointed out, “Dru herself said the woman can see us. Don’t you think

she’ll see us if we make a beeline for her?”

Spike chewed on that, his jaw working back and forth. “Well, what then?” he exploded. “I don’t know,” Angel admitted.

*Sunnydale

“I don’t really know if I’m up for this,” Oz protested weakly, staring up at the flashing

neon lights.

“Ah, come on, Oz,” Tony teased him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Tomorrow you’regettin’ hitched, and you’ll never be able to go places like this again.”

Oz furrowed his brow. “I never really wanted to go places like this before,” he offered. “If Oz isn’t interested,” Giles began, but Xander cut him off.

“Oz, man, I know this isn’t your scene. But it’s a rite of passage. We took my Uncle Roryhere all three times he got married. It’s something you gotta do for yourself.” He glanced at the

other guys. “Look at it this way -- it’s symbolic, okay? You’re lettin’ go of your bachelorhood in

one final burst of flesh and sequins.”

“Mostly flesh,” Giles observed.




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Oz half-frowned. “I dunno,” he spoke. “It’s not like I have anything against it. I just don’t

have anything for it.”

“One drink,” Evan spoke up, putting his arm around Oz’s shoulders. “We have one drink,

Oz, and if you just can’t stand the place, we make tracks. Sound good?”

“Speak for yourself,” Tony grinned. “I’m staying ‘till they kick me out.”

Evan smiled. “Like I said, one drink.” Oz’s green eyes flicked around to all of them. He had no serious desire to enter anestablishment called the Wyld Stallyon, but he also didn’t care to disappoint the rest of the gang.

And they did, Giles naturally excepted, seem to expect that a bachelor party would involve

copious amounts of liquor and somewhere along the way some female flesh. Better than a

stripper at the apartment, I guess, Oz shrugged. “One drink won’t kill me,” he announced.

The young men whooped, and Giles rolled his eyes and followed them inside the place. I

know I’m going to regret this, he told himself in the last second he was capable of thinking.

Loud music assaulted their senses as they stepped inside the door. Giles couldn’t hear athing, but Evan held up his hand and gestured them through. As Giles passed he saw the young

man hand over a number of bills to the doorman, who parted the curtain obstructing the door and

ushered them inside.Giles didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. A cluster of round tables

filled either side of the room; a stage dominated the rear wall, with one long catwalk extending

up the center of the floor. Lights flashed on and off all over the stage, though a spotlight

remained trained on the featured dancer, a buxom young blonde woman in a brief silver outfit

who gyrated as if possessed. “Good lord,” Giles muttered as a balding man stepped u p to her and

slid a twenty in the thin strap of her g-string.

Xander tugged on Giles’ sleeve so the Englishman didn’t stray too far. “Just one or twonumbers,” he hollered into Giles’ ear so he could be heard over the music. “I know this isn’t your

kinda place.”

“It’s not Oz’s, either!” Giles called back, but Xander had already blended into the crowd,

oblivious to his remark. Giles moved past two men coming up the aisle and frowned as he peered

about the place, trying to find the rest of Oz’s party. To his dismay, Tony had led them to a table

right by one side of the catwalk. Men hooted and hollered, cheered and whistled, and a few

called out to Giles to sit down and stop blocking their view. The girl dancing noticed him and

blew him an exaggerated kiss. Giles, turning a bright pink, sat down in the nearest chair.

“I think she likes you,” Xander teased him.

“First I’m going to kill you, and then I’ll explain to Buffy where we were and why I didit.”

Xander laughed. “She knows I’m here,” he hollered back. “Come on, Giles, it’s not like

I’m even tempted by anything this place could offer. I’m dating Buffy.”

Incongruous as the setting was for such a declaration, Giles could not help but be touched

by Xander’s words. He settled for patting the young man on the shoulder and ordering a

Guinness from the waitress, who sauntered off to fetch their beverages.

Oz looked up at the woman as objectively as the situation would allow and had to admit

in a generic sense she was attractive. She snapped off her glittery silver bra and swung it around,

to the obvious delight of the other patrons. Oz frowned, his mind automatically comparing this

curvaceous uber-maiden to his Willow. This thing fell far short. Not even a comparison, really.




81

Tony hopped up and waved a ten; the girl slid one silver cowboy boot in his direction,

and he stuffed the bill inside it, running his hand over her shin briefly before she spun away. He

sat down grinning like an idiot.

“You’re not supposed to touch them!” Evan scolded him. “What, I was putting the tenski in there and my hand slipped,” he laughed.

The waitress returned, setting a pitcher of beer on their table and handing Giles hisGuinness. Tony handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. The waitress told him,

“One warning, kid. You touch anyone again and you’re outta here.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry!”

The waitress gestured to his upraised palms. “Just keep ‘em to yourself.”

Oz shook his head. Just have one beer and we can get the hell out of here, he consoled

himself. Evan poured the beers all around like a pro, with hardly any head, and they raised their

glasses. “To Oz,” Evan called out. “Poor bastard!”

They laughed and drank, and even Giles cracked a grin at Evan’s brief joke. When they had finished their long drink, Xander raised his glass and offered, “To Oz.

The guy lucky enough to marry Willow.”

Oz gave him a long look. “Thanks, man.” The group clinked glasses, and Xander nodded his head. “Just keep makin’ her happy,

man,” he advised Oz, who smiled in return. Hi s heart’s in the right place, anyway, Oz realized,

slurping down a long draught of beer.

The blonde dancer, named Misty or Kristy or something like that, had spun off stage, and

the lights dimmed briefly, announcing that another girl would be taking to the floor. The P.A.

system boomed out, “And now, all the way from sunny southern Florida, give a warm welcome

to Miss Miranda!”

A wild cheer went up, throaty roars and whistles, and the curtain parted to reveal another

shapely young woman, this one with a mane of dark hair spilling down her back. Loud music

began to thrum as she strode out to the center of the stage and struck a pose. Her face was

obscured by a shiny police hat, and she wore a loose blue mock-police shirt, unbuttoned to her

navel and showing off a skimpy black bra. Her legs were bare down to a pair of shiny black

police boots, but she did wear a pair of blue undies, a different shade than the shirt. Oz grimaced

slightly as she began to gyrate across the stage, moving toward the catwalk, but by the way the

rest of the room hooted, she was apparently skilled at her art.

Xander frowned as he watched her move; she seemed familiar somehow, and for a brief

second he thought of Cordelia. But Cordy was taller than this woman, and her hair was brown,

not black. And Cordelia would commit suicide before letting herself perform like this in front of

an audience. Xander shook his head and took a long pull off his beer. Whoever she is, she sure

as hell knows how to move. Idly he wondered what Buffy might look like in such a get up, and

then swore to himself he would never, ever ask her.

Tony cheered loudly; the girl spun around by their table, waving a nightstick at them

naughtily; before he could hand off a bill to her, she danced away, moving up the catwalk and

slipping toward the other side of the runway. She threw her head back in a wild move, showing

off an expanse of extraordinarily well-toned abs; then, framed by the spotlight, she pulled the

handle off the police baton, revealing a sharply pointed wooden stake.

“Giles!” Xander hollered, but the Englishman had seen it first. They stood up, but in the

general din they couldn’t make themselves heard.




The dancing girl calmly threw the stake, end over end, a perfect shot, pinning a spectator

to his seat. For a brief moment the room went quiet, save for the music; then the man burst into a

cloud of dust, and the crowd went wild, jumping up and down and howling for more.

The girl turned and tipped her hat to Xander, giving him a mischievous smile.

“Faith,” he muttered.

* * *

Buffy: Heart of Darkness Chapter 3

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