Buffy opened her eyes. Had she been asleep for a long time, or for just a few minutes? She couldn’t tell. Dawn was sleeping soundly beside her, which didn’t give her much of a timeframe, as the girl could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Buffy shifted onto her side, now facing the bedroom door. Counting sheep never worked, especially when certain faces kept popping into her head, landing on the bodies of the sheep and creating surreal and disturbing images.

Spike.

Having dealt with one boyfriend coming back from the dead before, she found herself quite capable of adapting to his being alive again. It was his mysterious humanity that she was having difficulty processing, especially since she still couldn’t tell if he found it to be a good thing.

Buffy’s eyes widened when she heard voices down the hall.

“Angel?” she whispered, rising out of bed.

Her feet padded lightly on the carpeted hallway as she made her way towards the door to the study. She rested her fingertips on the door and listened, trying to discern who was in the room with him. When she realized who it was, the door opened.

His hands were on her arms and his eyes were set intensely on hers. Their faces were close, and all that dealing Buffy had done during the past week went through the window when she saw Cordelia whip her head around to discover the identity of their intruder.

“Buffy,” she said evenly, standing from the desk. Angel stood also, his eyes bouncing from one girl to the other.

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked, her voice small. “I-I thought you said Cordy died.”

“I did. Listen, Buffy. I’d love to stay and chat about the hows and whys, but I came to give Angel a message, and now that it’s done, I’ve got to go.”

She turned to Angel, her eyes filled with longing. “Next time I won’t be corporeal. It’ll make things easier.”

And she was gone.

Angel sank back into the armchair, his mind at rush hour with the new information flying about. Next time?

Buffy remained in the doorway, unable to move. “Angel?”

He stood quickly and walked past her through the door, not looking at her as he muttered “I need to talk to Spike.”

 

* * * *

“You know, one of the perks of humanity is the sunshine. Haven’t felt that in years. Seems a crime that I’ve been human a week and I haven’t caught a single ray.”

Illyria cocked her head to the side. “I haven’t seen much of the sun myself.”

Spike grinned, despite the conflicting emotions wrestling in his gut. “Well, you an’ me ‘ave got a beach date, then. We’ll get ourselves a tan, see if we freckle.” He looked her over. “Reckon you’d turn purple?”

“Spike.”

Spike looked up at the sound of his name. Angel stood by the kitchen counter, standing as if he had a sixteen ton weight resting on each shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

Buffy appeared behind him. Great. The two people he had been avoiding all week suddenly wanted to chat. This couldn’t be good. “OK,” he acquiesced, following Angel as he walked towards the door to the apartment, Buffy following behind them.

“Buffy,” Angel whispered, suddenly aware of the sleeping people in the living room. “I kind of need to talk to Spike alone.”

“No way,” she said. “You expect me to walk in on your visit from the dearly departed and let you talk with him alone? I don’t want to be in the dark.”

“You won’t.”

“Right. You want me to just sit back and knit booties?”

“Buffy,” he growled in frustration. “It’s personal.”

She looked over at Spike, who was standing on the other side of the door, looking as confused and perturbed by that statement as she felt. “Fine. But you better tell me what’s going on.”

Buffy glared at the door as it closed, disgusted by the fact that she couldn’t decide if she was angry or confused. Or both. Neither, even.

“Too much,” she muttered breathlessly, walking into the kitchen. She jumped once she entered, having forgotten that Illyria was in there.

“Are you their leader now?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

Illyria swiveled in the chair and faced her, somehow managing to seem like she was standing though she was seated. “Before you Angel was in charge. Now everyone seems to follow your orders. Yet you are so small.”

Buffy couldn’t suppress a quirk of the brow as she sat beside the blue woman, who seemed to glow a bright blue in the moonlight. “You think you could take me on?”

Illyria frowned and looked away. “You mortals break too easily.”

They sat in silence. Buffy was dying to know what Angel and Spike were talking about, but Illyria had other things on her mind.

“Tell me about your Cyclops.”

 

* * * *

Spike leaned against the guardrail with his arms folded across his chest, staring at his former Grandsire as he waited for him to speak. Angel joined him at the railing, resting his hands on the cool steel and raising his eyes to the night sky. He sighed deeply before speaking.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Spike merely stared at him, waiting for clarification. If he meant the nightmare-induced insomnia that had plagued him for the past few days, the answer would have to be no.

“Being human,” Angel continued, his eyes still on the stars. “Being able to feel the sunlight, you’re heart beating in your chest. Knowing that you can be with…” He couldn’t say it. Thinking about Spike and Buffy gave him a headache, voicing the idea could only be worse. “I bet you’re feeling pretty good about now. Fulfilled.”

“Bollocks,” Spike muttered. Angel faced him, startled by his reply. “You think you’ve got the pointy end of the stick, do you? Figure now that you’ve got no prophecy to fulfill, it’s time to put back on your 24/7 broody pants? Thanks for the little tête-à-tête, but I don’t fancy listening to you whine about losing.” He walked towards the door, his hand on the knob when Angel spoke.

“Spike, you’re not human because of the Shanshu Prophecy.”

Finally, something worth listening to. “Right,” he said, his tone still cocky despite the mingled fear and excitement dancing within him. If this was only temporary, he would go back to what he was. The thought thrilled him as much as it terrified him. “How do you know that?”

“Cordelia paid me a visit.”

“What, the cheerleader? I thought she died.”

“She did. She had a message from the Powers, Spike. Information we needed so that we can continue the fight.”

“The fight against who?” he asked curiously. “The Partners?”

“I don’t know. She said something big is coming, and that regaining your mortality was your destiny.”

“As a reward, I hope. They better not expect me to be some kind of human sacrifice for the greater good or some rubbish.” He sighed. “I’m tired, Angel. I don’t want to be a puppet anymore. I don’t want to fight.”

Angel’s eyebrows met in the middle as he looked away. “That… really doesn’t sound like you.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “I know.” His smile faded as he placed his hand over his heart. “I thought that this would be the end of it. That somehow I would be happier, feel complete. Thing is, I’ve been a vampire for so long, it’s all I know. It was, at least. Now you say we’ve got to fight… and I can’t.” He looked into Angel’s eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “What is it, then?”

“What?”

“What is it that made me human?”

Angel blinked, trying to fight back the memories and emotions that the words he was about to speak brought forward. “It was a Mohra demon. You must’ve fought one in the alley. Its blood has restorative powers.”

He looked up at Spike, prepared to see amazement on the man’s face, but instead he found confusion in his eyes. “You mean if I’d wanted to be human this whole time, all I had to do was go out and slice me up a Mohra demon?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Is it permanent?” Spike’s voice was small, and the vampire could sense his fear.

“Yeah, it is.”

Spike sighed with relief, but again felt like part of him had been cut off. He knew he could deal with this. It was what he’d wanted, after all.

 

* * * *

Buffy turned away from Illyria and locked eyes with Spike as he walked through the door. She felt her heart skip a beat and realized that maybe she wasn’t quite as accustomed to his presence as she’d thought. As her pulse gradually slowed, Buffy remembered the night when she had been brushing her hair and she’d felt a sharp pain in her heart. That had been the same night that Angel and Spike had fought the horde of demons. What did that mean?

Buffy stood from her seat and moved towards the duo, prepared to demand information from them when Dawn appeared beside her, Buffy’s cell phone in her hand.

“Dawn, what…?”

“It’s Faith.”

 

* * * *

Connor cried out as something smacked him roughly in the head. He shot up, detangling himself from the sheets as his head whipped around the room. He was prepared to fight. Xander sat up in the bed beside him, breathing heavily and staring forward… and his eye was completely white.

“Hey,” Connor began uneasily, realizing that Xander had been his attacker. “Are you OK?”

He didn’t answer. Instead the man continued to stare forward, his hands twisted in the bed sheets. A moment later Xander blinked and shook his head, and when his eye reopened it was back to its usual brown.

“What was that?” Connor asked, fearing the answer he knew was coming.

“Oh,” he gulped, attempting an air of casualness. “Just a vision.” Xander scrambled out of bed and towards the door, and as he passed Connor rubbed the bump on his head and frowned. Why did he always have to sleep with a Seer?

 

* * * *

“You OK?”

Spike and Buffy hadn’t spoken much that week, not since their conversation at the hospital. When they did exchange words they were often monosyllabic.

“Yeah,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of the headrest in front of him. “’m fine.”

He’d been sitting alone since they’d left L.A., and Buffy had decided to suck it up and join him. They sat together in silence, both sighing as Xander ran past them in the aisle, his face a pale shade of green.

“Never did travel well, did he?” commented Spike, finally glancing her way.

Buffy smiled. “No. You should’ve seen him on the flight over.”

Spike chuckled and then returned his eyes to the window. “Why are we riding the train again?”

“It’s cheaper; especially since we’re hauling eleven people across the country. Plus,” she added sadly, turning her head in the direction of the luggage car where Angel was riding. “Less sunlight.”

Spike closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the window, soaking in the last rays of the setting sun. He really did feel sorry for his former Grandsire, he did. Somewhere, deep inside. It was hard to think of anyone else when he felt the unfamiliar warmth of the sun on his skin.

“Spike? You falling asleep?”

“Let’s see,” he replied. “Eyes closed, head against the window… it’s a fair assumption.”

“Oh,” Buffy replied. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

His eyes flew open and his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist as she moved to stand. “Don’t,” he pleaded softly, his eyes locking with hers. “I don’t mind.”

Awkward.

Buffy nodded and settled back in the seat, her eyes falling to the hand that still gripped her wrist. Spike coughed in embarrassment and pulled away. “So how’s Dawn? Haven’t talked to her since…” Another uncomfortable cough. “She was in Italian school, I know. How’d that work for her?”

Buffy smiled. “Dawn’s fine. She’s just having trouble with the whole… you issue.”

Spike watched her as her body jostled slightly from the train’s movement. “Oh,” he replied. “And uh… how are you doing?”

She turned to him. “With you? I’m good,” she replied, her voice an octave higher than she’d like it to be. “I’m fine. It’s…” She sighed in defeat. “Weird.”

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, you know,” he quietly confessed. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

Buffy closed her eyes. This would be angsty traumatic confrontation number seven hundred and eight. “I know.”

“I’m just confused is all. Not quite sure how to deal with this…” Spike struggled for the words. “Mortality bit.”

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, as if any gap in his response would lessen the meaning of his words. “I fought for it. I wanted it so I…” He wasn’t exactly where he stood with her, so he didn’t finish that sentence. Spike had known that if he were human he would fit in with the normal life he’d thought she’d been leading, but now, as they rode on a train towards the Cleveland Hellmouth, Spike new that he didn’t fit in well at all.

“Are you scared?” Buffy asked him quietly, so that no one else could hear. She wasn’t sure if the question would offend him or not, but she needed to know.

“Of what?” he asked, his voice equally as soft.

“Robin was human, Spike. He was strong and well-trained and they still got him.”

Spike bowed his head. Faith’s call last night had been nothing short of frantic. She and Wood had been on patrol, breaking in a couple of confused Slayers in nocturnal combat when they were attacked. Two of the girls had also died.

“Can’t say that I’m not, luv,” he replied, meeting her eyes. “But I can’t stay behind. Neither can Dawn, Xander, Giles or even Andrew. Just because we don’t have superpowers doesn’t mean we can let you risk your lives alone. Hate to remind you, luv, but as strong as the rest of you are, you’re human too. Well, ‘side from Peaches. And I still don’t know what Illyria is supposed to be.”

“I’m just worried that you’ll do something stupid.”

Spike raised both eyebrows and laughed. “Thanks, pet.”

“I’m serious. You’re not immortal anymore. You get hurt and you die.”

Spike placed a hand on the scar forming on his abdomen where a deep cut had been days before. “I think I’m getting’ that, don’t you worry.”

The sun set as they continued in silence, both looking forward with tired eyes.

“I’m scared,” Buffy admitted, tears slowly forming in her eyes. “I don’t want this to keep happening. I thought… I thought that I could live my life without having to worry about demons and... I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.”

“Hey, you will,” he said comfortingly, watching the tears fall from her eyes. “There are hundreds of Slayers in Ohio, you know. Why do you think Faith called you? You’re her friend, or something like one. She doesn’t know what to do, and she knew that you could help her. And she gets the rest of us because we go where you go.”

Buffy laughed and sniffed. “Maybe I’m more afraid of never escaping you guys.”

Spike smiled sadly. “I don’t like these tears, luv.” He gently brushed a tear away from her eye with the back of his finger. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“I haven’t been like this the whole time. You saw a lot of crying, moping Buffy the past few years but she… well, I thought she’d gone away.”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. You cry as much as you need to. I just hate that you do – need to.”

Buffy let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. She leaned against him and turned her body to meet his, their shared body warmth creating an intense heat between them. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

Spike closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as her warm breath met the skin at the base of his neck. He’d longed to hear her say those words, but he was shocked by the meaning he heard behind them. His nose brushed the top of her head and he could smell it – her scent, or what he could make of it. That was one thing he would miss.

Buffy froze, a look of mingled horror and amusement dancing across her features. “Spike, did you just sniff me?” He didn’t need to respond. “That’s kind of creepy.”

He smiled at that before pressing his nose against her temple and inhaling deeply.

Buffy quivered as he wrapped his arm around her. Somehow that moved from kind of creepy to incredibly erotic.

 

* * * *

“Your skin is a different color than when you left,” Illyria observed. Xander looked across the aisle to the seat where she sat, still slightly unnerved by her common appearance. The blue of her eyes and hair were replaced with dark brown, and her skin was no longer tinged with blue. The color had been the most shocking thing about her, so much so that Angel had suggested she take on the form of Fred Burkle, the girl whose body she’d infected, while they were in public. Xander shuddered, partly from motion sickness and partly from the creepiness of the thought.

“You’re not the only one who changes colors,” he quipped, pulling the thin blanket up to his neck. “Just look at Michael Jackson.”

Illyria ignored his comment and stared out the window. Hills and trees sped past them as they traveled through the night. She found the sight to be curious. “Odd how your world is so large yet you choose to restrict it to smaller units.”

“It makes it easier to live in,” Xander replied. Two sets of brown eyes locked onto each other. “Don’t have to worry about everything if you limit yourself to a smaller…” Belch. “Space.”

Illyria grinned. “You make funny sounds.”

 

* * * *

Connor’s mouth was set in a frown as he made his way to the luggage car. A week ago he’d told his father that he was grateful for what he’d done for him, but that’s as far as he wanted to take it. Now he was traveling across the continent with a bunch of strange people to help him fight something that could kill Slayers. Although, there were more than two now, from what he heard. Kennedy, the girl with the long brown hair was one. Connor grinned. All Slayers must be incredibly hot. This may not be such a bad trip after all.

He sighed as he entered the luggage car. “Dad?” The sun had set an hour ago and Angel hadn’t left the car. Connor hoped he didn’t plan on staying in here the whole time. He may be a vamp and all, but this place had a smell.

It just occurred to him that he’d been calling Angel “Dad” this whole time. Great, more issues to be dealt with.

“No need to raise your voice. Vampiric hearing.”

Angel appeared from the shadows, his usual entrance. Connor heaved a sigh of relief, the irrational part of him having thought that he wouldn’t find him. “Got some of that myself.” He laughed. “You won’t believe what this lady up front was telling her kid...”

“Connor,” Angel said gravely. “I’ve been thinking.”

Connor frowned. “Great.”

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re life back in L.A.; it’s what you wanted. It’s what you deserve. It’s all I can give to you and I don’t want you to risk your life in a fight that isn’t yours.”

Connor held his arms out beside him. “It’s too late. I’m here.”

“When we stop at the next station you should get off, get a ticket back to L.A.”

“It’s not happening.”

“Why are you here, Connor? You almost died already.”

Connor stepped closer, his chin raised high as he met his father’s eyes. “I’m here so that I can be sure you won’t risk your life. I may have another life now, but I don’t want you to go away. I won’t let you.”

Angel stared at his son with grateful eyes.

Connor sighed. “You gonna come join the rest of us or what?”

 

* * * *

Giles approached Xander’s seat on the train cautiously. While he could sympathize with the man’s motion sickness, he didn’t want to be the victim of its effects. “Xander,” he spoke quietly, aware of Illyria’s presence across the aisle as he sat down. “I was wondering if you could tell me more about the vision you had. You’re sure it’s related to Faith’s message?”

Xander nodded. “I know it is.”

“What did you see, exactly? We don’t know exactly what it is we’re up against. Could you say whether or not it was a demon you saw?”

The younger man shook his head. “No demons. And when I say I have a ‘vision’, you should…” Belch. “You should realize that’s just a nice word for it. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on when I get these ‘visions’.”

“What on earth is that supposed to mean?” Giles asked, completely bewildered.

“Look, Will said something about awakening some kind of… I dunno, awareness or something. I’m not just seeing things, it’s more than that. I can’t exactly explain it.”

“Right,” Giles replied, even though he didn’t quite understand what the boy was talking about. “So this ‘vision’ you had… did you see, o-or hear or perhaps become aware of…. anything useful?”

“I saw Slayers. Lots of them. All fighting, some dying. How do I know they were Slayers, you ask? That’s where the weird ‘awareness’ part comes in.”

Giles nodded. “Yes, I see.” He turned in his seat to face Illyria. Her brown eyes bore into his, and it was obvious that she had no intention of covering the fact that she was eavesdropping. Not that she could help but overhear. “So,” Giles continued as he turned his head back around, whipping off his glasses. “How do you think Buffy’s doing?”

“With Spike?”

Giles frowned as he proceeded to clean his glasses. “Not that I’m not worried about all the other problems facing her right now, such as returning to a Hellmouth, especially one where Slayers are being killed… but yes. This miraculous humanity is much more significant that regaining his soul…”

“Is it?” Willow interrupted. Giles and Xander both looked at the seat by Illyria in shock. Willow had appeared out of nowhere.

“What?” said Giles, expressing both his surprise at her sudden appearance and his confusion at her words.

“Well,” she replied. “How is his humanity more significant than his soul? His soul is what made him good.”

“I think there are a couple of us who’d like to argue that Spike has never really been good,” Xander replied.

“He saved the world, Xander,” Willow reminded him.

“I’m not saying that the fact that he can no longer kill people with his bare hands means less than his choice not to do so,” Giles continued. “It has a greater effect on Buffy, however, though not in the same way. We all know she was…” Giles looked back several rows behind him where Buffy and Spike sat. He couldn’t see the former vampire, but he could see his Slayer. He could see the conflicted emotions on her face. “We know that she and Spike had some sort of… relationship.” Xander made a gagging sound beside him. “This has to be very confusing for her.”

“Well, yeah,” said Willow. “If it’s weirding me out this much it’s got to be giving her the major wiggins. I mean, did you see him this morning when we left? In the sun! Sunlit Spike! I thought I needed sunglasses or some… thing… what are you doing?” Willow turned to Illyria, whose face was mere inches from her own.

“You have great power. It oozes from every pore of your body.” Illyria cocked her head to the side. “I can smell it.”

Willow winced nervously. “Umm… I’m sorry?”

 

* * * *

“Spike?”

They’d been sitting for the last ten minutes in a comfortable silence when she suddenly spoke. He faced her. “Yeah, luv?”

OK, he is so going to think you’re crazy, she thought. Then again, he is Spike. He dated Drusilla for a century so I’m sure he won’t have you committed. Not that he would, or could, even. Could he?

“Buffy?”

She shook her head quickly, dispelling the chattering thoughts in her head. “Sorry, it’s just…” Just say it. “That night, when you and Angel were fighting in L.A. … did anything weird happen?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Come again?”

“When you guys… that night. I was brushing my hair…”

Spike eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I felt a pain,” she said quickly. “In my heart. It was cold, like it had stopped or something.”

Spike stared at her in disbelief. She mistook it for dubiousness.

“I dunno. You guys were in another time zone and everything, it’s probably nothing. It was probably just…”

“I felt it too.”

Her eyes widened slightly with relief. “You did? W-What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. Well, I know, it’s just… you felt it?”

“Yeah. What was it?”

“Angel. He died.”

“Huh?” Her face was almost comical.

“I saw him die right in front of me. I was covered in his dust, and I felt the pain in my heart. But the stupid bugger was wearin’ an amulet,” he grumbled. “Those things are bloody dangerous.”

“He died?” she repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah, one-upped us both on that one,” he replied with a grin. “Not that I feel like catching up.” Spike’s smile faded as he watched her, her eyes wide and her mouth set in a confused frown. “Buffy, I don’t know how you felt it, but that feeling in your heart, the feeling like something’s been lost, that only happens with vampires.” She was too disturbed by what that could mean to respond. “Listen,” he continued. “It’s some kind of blood link. Angel was my Grandsire, so when he died it’s like I lost something. What is it?” he asked when she faced him. He could almost see the light bulb lighting up over her head.

“He drank from me,” she said, touching the faint white scar on the right side of her neck. “Does that mean we’re connected?”

Spike sat back against the wall of the train as he shifted in his seat. “Angel drank from you?” Buffy stared at him awkwardly in response. He mumbled as his eyes fell to his hands. “Never let me do that.”

Buffy’s face contorted with disgust. “Gross, Spike! It wasn’t something we did for kinks. He was dying.”

“Right, sorry. Don’t want to know.”

And the walls they’d broken down started to slowly build themselves back up as he turned away, his gaze on the window as he thoughtfully chewed on his thumbnail. Buffy struggled inwardly with the decision to get up and walk away, but that seemed childish. She wasn’t mad at him, but she didn’t know how to respond to his suddenly cold demeanor.

“What about the Master?” he asked after a lengthy silence. “And that ponce, Dracula? Killed them both, didn’t you? Did you feel it then?”

Buffy’s went wide. She hadn’t thought about that. Her fingers outlined the scar on her neck that had been formed by three different vampires. “No.”

Spike leaned towards her and Buffy shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting from left to right as he came closer. His eyes were on the scar on her neck, and despite the fact that she knew he wasn’t a vampire anymore and the fact that her vamp-detector sense wasn’t tingling, it still made her nervous. Spike slowly brushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the scar to the dim light. His head tilted to the side as he scrutinized the small white marks that barely visible to the naked eye. He squinted and leaned in closer, touching his fingers to the small white dots where fangs had pierced through her skin.

“S-Spike?” she stuttered. This situation was becoming increasingly disturbing, and she wondered what was going through his head.

“Why don’t you scream? It’s no fun unless you shout.”

He shot back in his seat, pulling his fingers away as if he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he apologized, averting his eyes.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed in bewilderment. She wanted to tell him it was OK, but she wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. Was it for the fact that she’d gotten bitten? That was not his fault, though it wasn’t like he’d never tried. No, more than likely he was apologizing for the awkward scar-touching. Buffy pulled her hair back over her shoulder to cover the scar, feeling like it was somehow obvious to everyone around her. At least she knew what had happened that night, though the connection between herself and Angel was still somewhat dodgy. Her eyes drifted to the man beside her. She'd felt it the day he'd died as well.

 

* * * *

Angel stopped dead in his tracks upon arriving in the passenger car. They were sitting four rows ahead, their backs to him, but he could still see his fingers on her neck. The beast inside of him roared as he watched another man touch the place where he’d claimed her, but Angel, the man, felt an emotion equally as powerful at seeing Spike’s hands on her neck.

“You wanna sit down?” Connor asked behind him, reminding Angel that there were other people in the world besides himself and Buffy and Spike. “Sure,” he muttered in a low voice, sitting in the nearest vacant seat. The man in the seat in front of him snored loudly, and with his nerves in the state they were in Angel found it difficult to resist snapping the man’s neck.

 

* * * *

“Why are we walking?” Kennedy yawned, wrapping an arm around Willow’s shoulder for support as the group lumbered down the sidewalk.

“Faith’s apartment isn’t far from here,” Buffy explained, leading the herd with Giles at her side. They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the station, but there was an unspoken understanding between them regarding their return to a Hellmouth. Her Watcher was going to stand by her side. “Everyone keep close, though. We still don’t know what to expect from this place.”

Dawn and Andrew exchanged glances, silently agreeing to stick together. Connor watched them from behind, unsure of these two members of the group. He knew the least about them, aside from the fact that they were humans. He experienced a feeling of déjà vu at that moment, although he knew it to be one of his real memories bubbling to the surface more than a reminder of a dream he’d had. He was charging at Angelus, prepared to kill him, but the anti-demon violence spell on the hotel zapped him. The reminder that he wasn't human made him feel more compelled to protect the ones who were less capable.

Once they arrived at the modest apartment complex Buffy knocked on the door. Moments later it opened, and Buffy’s heart sank at the sight in front of her. Faith leaned against the doorframe, the only color on her usually make-up covered face was the red under her eyes.

“Hey,” she greeted weakly, putting on an overly cheery smile. “Gang’s all here.”

“Faith,” Buffy greeted sadly, moving to embrace the woman.

“Hey, it’s cool, B.,” she replied evenly, stepping away from the threshold. “You should let the little ones in. Moon’s still up, the beasties are out and about.”

Buffy smiled weakly in understanding and turned to the others behind her. “Come on, guys.”

Faith nodded her head at each member of the group as they came in, her eyes setting on Angel as he stopped in the doorway. “Angel,” she whispered, a smile slowly creeping onto her face. “Didn’t know you were in the party. Guess you need an invite, huh?”

He smiled politely. “Yeah.”

“Well, come in. Haven’t got all night." She walked forward as he stepped through the doorway. "Ahh, see you’ve brought the rugrat. Guess we’re all…” she froze when she saw Spike walk in behind Connor. “Holy shit. Didn’t you die?”

“Er,” Spike began, moving aside as Illyria walked in behind him, the last of the party. “Yeah.”

“Long story,” Buffy muttered before Angel spoke up.

“Amulet made him a ghost. He became corporeal and then a Mohra demon made him human. There you have him.”

Spike glared at him. There was something in Angel's tone that didn’t sit well with him, like he was trying to make it sound like nothing about his being back mattered.

Andrew broke the tense silence by tripping loudly over the suitcases he, Willow and Kennedy were putting in a pile by the sofa. Luckily they’d packed light. Willow’s charms on the weapons bag also helped to lighten the load.

“Look, as much as I love company, you can’t all stay here. I’ve only got two rooms and they’re currently occupied.” She turned to Buffy. “Amy and Patrice, the girls from last night. They’re still scared.”

“And you?” Buffy asked.

Faith shrugged, though Buffy could tell it was all for show. “Five by five.”

“We’ll leave soon,” Giles told her gently, moving closer to the two Slayers. “But we need to know what danger we’re facing, what sort of demon to look out for.”

Faith shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor. “They weren’t demons. Demons I can handle.”

Everyone stared at her. “Then what were they?” Connor asked.

Faith’s lower lip quivered with rage as she returned her eyes to the people standing in front of her. “They were Slayers.”